#to be so curious but also be afraid of what awaits

[noxtivagus]

no way october's in a few days

[charliedawn]

"Marry me."

How I think marriage proposals would go for those characters.

Sandor Clegane:

"…Wanna get married ?" You asked as both you and Sandor were sleeping side by side in the forest. Sandor blinked—half asleep. He had back pain and a headache. He had hoped that the wine would help him to fall asleep quicker, as to not have to hear you say any other crazy thing or request for the day. But, of course. He was mistaken.

"Huh ?" When the information seemed to eventually settle in his brain, his whole face seemed a perfect depiction of confusion. He finally turned around and you could see in his eyes that he wasn’t exactly sober either. You decided this was the perfect moment to ask—since he would probably not even remember you asked the next morning. It gave you courage to ask again.

"Wanna get married ?" You repeated with a little more determination and this time, he answered.

"No."

"Ah."

"…"

"…"

"…You. Wanna get married ?" He asked this time—more because he was curious than awaiting an actual answer. But, you took your chance and answered truthfully.

"Sure."

He was momentarily surprised by your confidence before he huffed a laugh and wrapped an arm around you.

"…Fine. We’ll get married in the morning. Now, hush."

There was then a moment of silence before you both bursted out laughing. Just two drunks having the most normal conversation ever. You knew that by tomorrow, he would have surely forgotten all about tonight. But for now, you were satisfied with the knowledge that his subconscience hadn’t said no.

Oberyn Martell:

"Would you like to marry me ?" You asked Oberyn while he wad writing and whose lips curved slightly into a small smirk at the request. He was used to your rather straightforward nature. He liked it even. It made him laugh and enjoy your presence at parties. You were curious and completely unashamed or afraid of any consequences your requests or demands would bring. This is why he always caved. But, he could also be playful and this is why he answered with a small grin:

"No."

He was curious to see your reaction, but his smile slightly faltered when he saw the hurt in your eyes at his rejection. It was the first time he had seen you so upset and he immediately regretted his words.

"Oh. Okay then." You were embarrassed and turned around quickly to get back to your own private quarters. But he was by your side in an instant and wrapped his arms around you from behind.

"I was only kidding. I would LOVE to marry you, sweet peach."

He then kissed the back of your neck lovingly. You let out a sigh of relief as you leaned back against him.

"…Really ?"

He chuckled.

"Yes. Really."

He then kissed your temple and you stayed in his arms for a while before he started nuzzling the back of your neck.

"But what brought the subject, sweet peach ?"

You sighed before closing your eyes.

"…You’re the only one who truly enjoys my presence. You laugh and smile at me, even when my words are nonsense. So I thought…why not ask ?"

Oberyn seemed taken aback for a moment before his smile widened and he pressed your back further against him to kiss your shoulder and whisper in your ear.

"Let me tell you a little secret. I would marry you for your nonsense, my dear. Because your nonsense makes more sense to me than this whole world does…"

Tyrion Lannister:

"Do you want to marry me ?" You asked Tyrion one night and the man was so stunned that he spilled his cup of wine.

"What ?"

Tyrion was the most decent between all the Lannisters. He had helped you more than once and there was no doubt in your proposal. You would never find better husband.

"You heard me."

He stayed silent again and made you nervous. Would he refuse ? Would he tell you that he has already found someone ? Would he tell you that he has no interest in you ? But, he didn’t. He simply sighed.

"…Why ?"

Why ? You could tell him a thousand reasons why. Because he was one of the few good men you knew. Because you had no intention of marrying any other. Because you knew he could be gentle. Because he was funny. Because he could be brave. Because he had the heart of a true lion…but no. You wouldn’t tell him like that. Because even if you did, he wouldn’t believe you.

"Because I want to." You settled for instead and his eyes widened slightly in surprise before he smiled a little and shook his head.

"Why would you want to marry an imp ?"

"It is not an imp that I am marrying, but a prince." You retorted. You both stared at each other and his gaze softened as he started actually considering it for a moment.

"You would be miserable." You frowned in incomprehension at his words.

"Why ?" He glanced away for a second.

"Because I am not a good man."

You huffed a bitter laugh at his words.

"Haven’t you heard ? There are no good man left, my prince."

Tyrion seemed taken aback, but he couldn’t deny the truth behind your words and drank a little of his wine.

"Tell me, Tyrion. If I was to become your wife/husband. Would you hit me ? Would you abuse me ? Would you lie to me ?"

He shook his head with a small smile. No. He wouldn’t. You smiled back and Tyrion finally nodded understandingly. It wasn’t about love. It wasn’t about finding a good man. It was always about finding the one who wouldn’t hurt you…And hence, he understood and maybe…maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to have a wife/husband ?

Jaime Lannister:

"Jaime…" You sat down next to him at the feast prepared for the Lannisters and even though you could feel Cersei glaring daggers at you—you grabbed his hand. He didn’t react, but you could feel his fingers slightly curving to hold yours.

"Hello, buttercup." He finally greeted you in a whisper and you couldn’t help but smile weakly. You knew of his heart and his loyalty to his sister. It wasn’t really your business to interfere, but you didn’t like how Cersei was treating him. And, you also knew that his heart could maybe be won over.

So, you did the most nonsense ever and challenged him. You stood up and faced him—catching the attention of everyone in the room as you declared loudly.

"Jaime Lannister. I challenge you to an arm wrestling competition !"

That ought to have gained his attention as his eyes finally met yours and what he found in there made his eyes widen in surprise. You were determined and even though he was a knight—you didn’t seem scared of losing. He tried to laugh and wave it off as a mere joke—but you didn’t back down and even provoked him.

"Are you perhaps not a lion ? But a scared chicken ?"

That oughta do it. He was up before you could even pronounce another word and the fury in his eyes made you smile. He had taken the bait.

"If I win, you must agree to one single demand of my choice without knowing what it is !"

"And if I win ?" He quickly shot back and you bit back a laugh.

"Then I will give you whatever you want."

In a matter of minutes, everything was settled and you were both in position. Everyone assumed you were mad or had consumed too much wine to challenge Jaime Lannister—but it couldn’t be further from the truth. You had planned it carefully. You had trained and trained your body and your mind. You had worn big sleeves to hide the muscles hidden underneath. This could be the most important challenge of your life and you wanted to win. More than anything.

The moment Jaime gripped your hand, his eyes stared straight at you as he realised what you had done. This was not the strength of the Y/N he was accustomed to…but it was too late to stop and in a matter of seconds—Jaime Lannister was on the floor.

Everyone was stunned.

But, you only gracefully stood up from your seat and looked down at him before smirking.

"…I will be waiting for that marriage proposal." And with that, you were out of the room—leaving a very confused Jaime and a very angry Cersei behind. But, you knew that a lion never backed down from his word. And Jaime would be yours.

Petyr Baelish (Littlefinger) :

"Marry me." Littlefinger didn’t even seem surprised by you sudden demand. Everyone knew that your father wished to marry you off to Ramsay Bolton. And even though Littlefinger wasn’t sure why you would come to him with such a request, he didn’t show it.

He didn’t even look up as he simply asked.

"Why ?"

You huffed a bitter laugh. The man would sell mother and father for a throne. And he dared to ask why ?

"Does it matter ?"

He licked his thumb to turn the page of the book he was reading nonchalantly, even though you knew that he was secretly weighing the pros and cons of such an alliance.

"Depends. What will it bring me ?"

You looked away.

"Don’t pretend not to realise how advantageous it would be for you to be a part of the Lannister family. You’d have an easy access to the iron throne."

He hummed and pretended to think about it. It was true marrying you would be a fast way to get access to all the nice advantages of being a part of the so-called prestigious Lannister family. But, it had its own set of disadvantages to consider. He would become more than just a little man in the shadows that no one would deem worthy of being a threat, he would become a lion. A black lion.

"…Tell me why you would lower yourself to such an alliance with me. Surely, there would be one handsome young man who would say yes to such a proposal without even blinking. Why go to me, princess/prince ?"

You hesitated before sighing in defeat.

"…Because if I am to marry a snake, better be one I know than one chosen by Tywin Lannister."

At that, Petyr finally dignified you with a glance. You held his gaze and after a few seconds, he smiled.

"Very well, my beauty. Lead the snake to the lion’s den then."

Sansa Stark:

You and Sansa had been longtime allies and friends. You were maybe the only friend she had ever had after the almost complete destruction of House Stark. You had developed feeling for her over time and knew that asking her for her hand wouldn’t be easy—but you were willing to try.

"Please, Sansa of House Stark." You knelt on one knee before her with a rose in your hand and the other hand on your heart. "Would you marry me ?"

Sansa was surprised by the proposal. She had married twice and both marriages weren’t a success. She had lived through nightmares and pain out of such a dream as marriage. She used to want to get married with someone she loved so badly, but not anymore.

"My heart is not so easily won by a rose and pretty words anymore." She replied instead—thinking that she would succeed in breaking your resolve. But, she was mistaken.

"I know. I know that I may never be worthy of even your eyes on me. But…I am a fool, and my heart beats for you. And if you want it ? Then it’s yours. And even if you don’t want it. Let me fight for you. And prove my loyalty to the most beautiful and strong lady the North has ever seen." You pleaded and Sansa was rendered speechless.

She looked into your eyes and saw only love and adoration. She then glanced down at the rose you offered her and after a moment of hesitation, she finally took it.

"…You may try to win my heart, Y/N. But, I cannot promise you success."

You smiled and shook your head.

"Just having you acknowledge my feelings is enough for hope to enter my heart."

Sansa smiled back.

Maybe…romance wasn’t utterly dead.

Jon Snow: (Before the tragedy 😭)

"Marry me." It was said with such confidence that Jon himself was stunned as he looked up at you with widened eyes.

"What ?"

"You heard me."

There was a moment of silence before Jon smiled and he suddenly pulled you into his arms. There was no yes or no. Just a moment of pure euphoria as he couldn’t stop laughing as he buried his face in your chest. He was so happy, he forgot to form words.

When he was finally calm once more, he kissed you passionately.

"Yes. Yes. Yes, I will."

You both started laughing together and Jon even fell back on the snow as you held him tightly.

Daenerys:

"Marry me." You demanded and Daenerys looked back at you. She didn’t seem surprised or even mildly confused by the demand. She knew of your feelings for her—and she was more than happy to reciprocate.

But, marriage ?

Marriage meant boundaries. Marriage meant attachment. Marriage meant she would have to think about you and a possible future where she wasn’t all powerful.

She sighed before stroking your cheek and offering you an apologetic smile.

"My dear Y/N…If only I could, do not believe for a second that I would say no. But, as the future queen of the Seven Kingdoms…I cannot."

You closed your eyes and a few tears rolled down your cheeks. You had expected such an answer of course, but still…your heart ached.

"I…understand." You forced yourself to say and Daenerys nodded. She was a queen. A khaleesi. And you were just…human.

Ser Jorah:

"Please. Marry me." Ser Jorah was stunned at the unexpected request and turned towards you with widened eyes. He was about to answer when you quickly added.

"Love me. Hate me. I want you and you want her. But, I am not asking for your love. But for your protection, kind ser Jorah." He closes his mouth and seemed to think about it for a moment. He knew that you were a young lady/man who had left her/his family to join Daenerys. He had no idea you held such feelings for him…

"You can have my protection, but why go to such lengths to have it ?" He finally asked and you sighed before taking his hand in yours.

"Because it is not only physical protection I seek." You then laid his hand flat upon your heart and Ser Jorah seemed taken aback once more. He looked at you and you didn’t shy away from his gaze.

You knew Ser Jorah was honourable and even if he would never return your feelings, he would make a far greater husband than anyone you ever knew. He would respect you and your heart. And that was more than you could ever wish for…

Ser Jorah accepted.

After all, it was only his name that you were going to bear and his sword that would protect you. You would call him husband, but only in name.

[fyodoro]

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐆𝐞𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥 - 𝐑𝐢𝐧 𝐈𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢

-> It's no secret Rin is horrible with words, let alone feelings. So he may need a little bit of help capturing the heart of the girl of his dreams... (1.2k words)

fem!reader (one time only thing) implied high school au, rin is bad at feelings but he manages, he also does not listen to anyone ! but he tried, kinda.

“It’s been six months, and you’re still afraid to tell her what you want?” Isagi said, astonished at the taller male’s way of going about this. 

“I’m not afraid of anything, dumbass.”

“Then why don’t you tell her already?”

For the past six months, Rin had been pursuing his feelings for you. But has he gotten anywhere yet? Nope. And was it his fault? Absolutely. 

Itoshi Rin was helpless, there was no doubt about it.

Anyone could see you felt the same way about him- hell, everyone has seen it. The way you swooned whenever he brushed his hand against yours, complimented you, or just looked at you. It was clear beyond a shadow of a doubt you shared romantic feelings for the younger Itoshi. 

Rin knew it too, deep down at least. So why has he been taking his sweet time confessing? Avoiding it at all costs? It was simple really, Rin was scared.

“What if she thinks I’m insane?” He said flatly, putting his cleats back in his bag before exiting the locker room. 

“Dude, if she thinks you’re insane for waiting so long, then that just makes her a hypocrite.” Isagi’s words were harsh yet true. You’ve both been going in circles for one another, waiting for the other to open an opportunity to declare their feelings.

Nonetheless, neither you nor Rin took the opportunities when they were presented. Leading to his current position, annoyed and confused with himself. Why was this so hard for him?

With a deep breath, Rin asked for a favor he never thought he’d ask any of his teammates. “I need advice.”

Isagi was stunned, not even he could see that one coming. He was more curious about why Rin thought he had that much experience with women, but that's besides the point. 

“I got it!” A louder, higher pitched voice came from around the corner. “Bachira?”

“Just tell her! Say you waited so long because you were testing her loyalty!” For once the boy was dressed in the locker room, but it didn’t change the fact he was giving horrible advice. “Rin, never say that. Use the word ‘test’ and she’ll shut you out.” Isagi clarified. 

“I don’t need your advice, bobcut.” 

“What about mine? I have an older sister, so I’ve heard a thing or two.” Another voice added himself to the conversation, an unreadable expression plastered on his face. 

“Because a princess knows what other princesses like…” Isagi mumbled to himself, a little confused on where Chigiri came from. Before Bachira popped in, he was sure he and Rin were the only ones in the locker room. 

“I’d take yours over bobcut’s anyday… what do you have to say.” Rin looked in Chigiri’s direction, awaiting his response.

“Just tell her you like her. I mean, it’s clear she likes you back. But if she needed time or anything like that, say you would wait as long as you had to.” Chigiri’s advice was simple and straight to the point, something Rin should have been thinking from the beginning.

“And tell her if you ever did something wrong, you’d fix it right away. Girls like that sort of reassurance… I think.” An orange haired muscle man appeared from behind Chigiri. Apparently, that was Isagi’s last straw. “Where are you all coming from?!” 

“This is the Blue Lock team’s locker room… and we just finished practice? This isn’t your personal hang out spot y’know.” Chigiri cut in, deadpanning at their prized striker. “Anyways, Kunigami also has a good point. Let her know she’ll be okay with you, even if something goes wrong.”

Rin piled all the advice up in his head, organizing it into a sentence he knew he could say. “Right…”

“So, are you gonna do it? Like right now? Today?” Bachira questioned excitedly, face brightening more than it was before.

“It’s none of your guy’s business.” Quite sick of being surrounded by what Rin could only consider ‘lukewarm idiots’, he rose from the bench he was seated on. “I’m leaving.”

“Not even a thank you, seriously?” Chigiri exclaimed as he watched the monotonous boy exit the locker room. Unbeknownst to him, Rin was actually considering thanking him. That is, if everything went smoothly. He was still trying to wrap his head around the fact he was actually doing this, afterall.

Outside of soccer, Rin isn’t exactly the smartest. Sure, he’s good at english. But you might as well factor English in with soccer since that was his only motivation behind understanding it. Though he’s not an idiot. He wasn’t blind to your feelings, the same way you weren’t blind to his.

In short, Rin knew there was no way you’d turn him down. 

The walk felt longer than any other. He had been sure to give you a heads up that he’d be over, so at least he wouldn’t have to wait any longer once he showed up at your door. Then again, that didn’t change the fact he was getting more and more nerve-wracked with each step he took. 

Too lost in his thoughts, RIn didn’t even realize it had started raining by the time he was at your door. And even when he had noticed, he forgot almost immediately once you opened the door. 

“Walking in the rain, seriously?” You deadpanned at the male, who looked unphased by his dripping hair. 

“I didn’t realize.” ‘Shut it’ is what he’d add to that statement if it was anyone else. 

“You didn’t realize it started pouring on your way here?” 

“Just let me in already…” He groaned.

You stepped aside, allowing him to get through the door. He’s lost count of the amount of times he’d been in your home, but somehow it felt different this time. Perhaps it was the rain, making the lights look warmer than before. Or maybe it was because he knew things would be different once he left this time.

“How was practice?” You asked while grabbing a towel for him to dry off with, throwing it in his direction.

He caught it effortlessly, using it to squeeze the water out of his dark strands. “Lukewarm. No one learned anything outside of scoring their own goals.” 

“Same old, I guess…” You mumbled.

It was quiet for a moment, finding peace in each other’s company. The peace alone said a million words, but neither of you said a single one. Until Rin finally spoke up.

“Listen…” He paused briefly, trying to align his words in order to not make a fool of himself. “I have something I’ve been meaning to tell you.” You both said in unison.

“I’m sorry! You go first, Rin.” Somehow, you already had a feeling you were going to say the same thing.

With a deep breath, Rin stopped cowering. “I know you know I like you… and you know I know you like me. So…”

“Do you wanna be my boyfriend? Officially?” You finished his sentence for him, tired of the agonizing wait.

Rin showed a rare smile, a real smile. It wasn’t a grin, but it showed the male’s genuine deep rooted feelings. For once, all his anger and resentment disappeared. 

“I wouldn’t mind that. As long as you wanna be my girlfriend, officially.” He mimicked your words from before, earning a giggle out of you.

“So, do you think anyone will notice a difference?” 

“Difference as in…?”

“Like how we act. Do you think anyone will notice we’re a couple now?” You elaborated.

Ah. Rin had almost forgotten half his team knew what he was doing, and probably the entire team by now. He grimaced at the teasing that was to come tomorrow, annoyed in advance. His expression didn’t go unnoticed by you, however.

“Who knows already…”

“The whole soccer team… probably.”

You both were in for quite a treat tomorrow…

© enassbraid 2024. i do not permit plagiarism, translations, or reposts of my work on any platform.

[desafinado]

𓆩♡𓆪 oblivious crushes hcs

their crush on you is as clear as day, but you seem to be wearing sunglasses

°｡⋆ kaveh, alhaitham, kaeya x reader (separately)

°｡⋆ fluff, maybe a bit ooc alhaitham, lots of touchy/clingy :( and some angst in kaeya's part

note: i haven’t gone too far into sumeru yet D: (purely bc of laziness and college) so that’s why alhaitham might be a bit ooc… but! i hope yall enjoy, i had fun. (ps. this was inspired by my short convo with @kana-dayo , i hope u don't mind the tag just tell me if you want me remove it!!)

kaveh ♡

it threw for him a loop the first time. you were both walking down the port at sunset when he asked if you liked him, and you said of course you love him and you couldn’t ask for a better friend.

he thought you had rejected him when and was genuinely heartbroken for a day, until you visited the next day acting as if everything was fine.

he did not know how to proceed, but he did with caution… when he realized, you genuinely did not understand, he decided to build up the romance before asking you again.

he started making it known to you (and everyone else in the room) that he wanted to spend time with you.

“alhaitham, if you could give us a moment or tw-” “no.” “we’re having dinner out then, dear, lets go.”

of course, he would never do anything that might make you uncomfortable, the moment you express any discomfort or hesitance, he backs off.

that being said, you have never really done such, most times you’re even encouraging him

“kaveh… hugs now please :( “

and how can he not deny you?

speaking of which, he also tried to make more gentle subtle touches, taking your hand when you both walked, placing a hand on the small of your back, hugs that lasted just a second too long.

by the end of it he was extraordinarily clingy, one of his favorite moments is when your head is on his lap and he gets to caress your head.

he acts nonchalantly about it, and so do you. little did you know was that he never did that with anyone else.

“what do you mean kaveh doesn’t like hugging? we spend hours cuddling on the couch..”

to be honest he doesn’t really think much of it either, touching you is like second nature to him. you don’t mind either, because for some odd reason, it just feels right.

he’s almost certain that you like him too, but he’s too afraid to confirm it. he’d much rather stay like this in some sort of limbo between friends and lovers.

but eventually, it eats him up. he needs some sort of closure, even if it meant the collapse of his lovey-dovey facade.

everything’s in place. he had gone through all the scenarios, he knew you were in a good mood, and alhaitham was all the way in sumeru city. everything was perfect for him to make his move, all he needed was you.

“kaveh, what’s all this?”

a picnic blanket was spread out on the grass, a strawberry shortcake, sandwiches and wine laid on top. kaveh stood before it, his familiar smile inviting you to come closer. “ah, i have to admit, it is something a bit special so, please have a seat.”

you follow his advice and gently rest on the blanket, careful not to disturb kaveh’s work. he does the same and sighs. “hm… is this an anniversary or celebration of some sort? did you finally pay off your debt?” you start to ask excitedly, getting a bit ahead of yourself. kaveh simply shakes his head, chuckling softly.

“no, dear. on the contrary, if this all falls through, it could be my funeral.”

you give him a curious glance, tilting your head. he takes both his hands in yours and squeezes them gently.

“nothing that serious, do you remember when i asked you if you liked me?”

“yes… and i still do, if that’s what your concerned about.”

“when i said that, i meant to ask if you liked me as more than just a friend.”

…

…

“you mean… like family? like sibli-”

“no, no, dear god no. i mean like… lovers.”

your face turns red at the mention of that word, lovers. it implied romantic love, of course; you weren’t that dense. he’s looking straight into your eyes, awaiting a response, but your lips feel as though they’ve frozen in place. a few more seconds of silence pass, and his lips purse into a heavy frown.

“ah, i’m sorry, if you don’t… i just couldn’t go on like this, pretending that we were something more, living in ignorant bliss. i truly am sorry.”

“no, wait. kaveh…”

you finally build up the courage to speak, letting go of his hands and caressing his cheek. if there’s something you can’t ignore, its the way he’s putting himself down.

“i-i like you that way too, i just didn’t want to believe it either. i… i didn’t want to delude myself into that, so i never entertained the possibility that-”

his tender lips find yours in a kiss, interrupting your rambling along with any doubt the two of you had left. just like all of his other touches, the kiss felt right, familiar, and simply satisfying.

alhaitham ♡

feelings, specifically love, are a far too strong force that many times they most certainly overcome any logic of even the most robotic of personalities; enter alhaitham.

normally, he would be upfront about these sorts of things, giving them the ultimatum. letting them choose to accept or reject his feelings.

but this time, he didn’t want to give you that chance. he needed you to accept him, he couldn’t imagine any other possibility.

so what does he do? he takes a chance with the whole concept of “romancing” in order to win your heart.

he makes an effort to be around you more, he’ll listen to your long winded rants about the most random topics.

“so, why do you care about this again?” “i just do, i’m not quite sure why honestly.” “that’s understandable, please go on.”

he’s never been one to care about how others might perceive him, how others might react to his actions, but he cares so much about you and he wants you to trust him.

once he notices the way your lips curl up when he enters a room or the way you look at him when you feel a bit overwhelmed, he takes this as a sign that he can try being a bit more touchy.

he never really understood the appeal of it, until he felt how warm you were, how your skin brushing against his made him feel a bit more understood and loved.

and you don’t mind one bit, in fact, you’re happy that he has you to lean on (literally and metaphorically)

but you imagine his roommates' surprise to find alhaitham on the couch cuddled up with someone he had never even met.

“wake them up, and you will sleep outside.”

he truly believes he’s being subtle, but everyone (well those who have the courage to) teases him about it.

he brushes it off, but warns them not to tell you or else…

however, when he starts moving onto more overt and blatant shows of affections, he is sorely disappointed to realize that you are not catching on.

he’d gift you flowers before every outing, call you cute nicknames, and even be more honest with his own feelings.

a polite smile, a thank you, and enthusiastic nod was all you ever responded with.

he was disappointed in himself, he thought he must’ve done something wrong, that he must’ve made you uncomfortable.

he needs to confront you about this in his own way, for his sake and yours.

“it’s you…”

his voice rings out like a bell in a cathedral, snapping you back into reality. he had requested for you to meet him at one of the gazebos near the akademiya. stars had been showered upon the night sky, and it was all you could look at, until alhaitham’s voice, of course. you turn around and chuckle at his awe-stricken face.

“glad to see you too. your letter sounded quite urgent, is something the matter?”

upon seeing you, he can’t control his movements, rushing towards you and taking you into a dramatic hug. you’re quick to hug him back, offering him any and all support he might need. he buries his head into your shoulder, taking in your scent, and touch, enjoying it while it lasts. his voice almost cracks as he speaks.

“yes. i’m sorry for making you uncomfortable with my… advances. i understand if you never want to see me again.”

the shock is almost enough to knock you over, but you simply pull away and look at him with deep concern. you didn’t know where he was coming from, and you had never seen him like this.

“advances? what sort of advances?”

“the romantic ones?”

“oh! towards who? i don’t mind at all, really.”

its his turn widen his eyes, he closes his eyes and pauses. he needs to pick his next words carefully, he really wants this to be a swift death, no point in dragging his heart against the pavement.

“towards you…? the one i love is you.”

he finally admits, hoping you finally understand. he’s run out of words to say, ways to express his unwavering love for you. you flicker between his eyes and lips, confirming if what he says is true, and what he feels is real; after a moment, you speak up.

“i’m sorry, i never… i knew you were opening up, but i didn’t stop to think…”

you calmly take him back into your arms, letting his head rest back on your shoulder. you stroke his hair slowly, trying to soothe him. “i was already so happy that you seemed to be opening up to me, i didn’t realize you meant it in that way. i didn’t want to push it any further than necessary.” he allows you to touch and pamper him, allowing himself the privilege of your tender care.

“i see. so you weren’t comfortable with it? you’re not comfortable with me…?”

“no, alhaitham. i’m more than comfortable with you, and i’d do all those things with you again.”

you blush, understanding the implications of what you had just said. you just opened yourself to him, laid yourself out for him to accept or reject. you close your eyes, bracing for what comes next, when you suddenly feel yourself being lifted up and spun around gently.

“alhaitham!”

“that’s all i needed to hear, darling. from this day on, we can do all those things and more… again and again, everyday.”

kaeya ♡

he likes to tease, that is no question. making others red in the face, in anger or embarrassment, is a pastime of his.

but why is it that you of all people, his one and only crush, remain unaffected?

its not like you even have a snarky remark back or try to hide your embarrassment, you simply let it pass as though it was the cool summer breeze against your skin.

“oh my… shouldn’t you take me out to dinner first?” “uh why?”

you surely enjoyed his company and the silly jokes he’d make, even though there would be times you just didn’t understand what he was talking about.

other than that, he’d often be extra chivalrous towards you, holding the door for you, taking your hand as you walk down the stairs… but i mean that’s how knights just are, right?

though you can often feel his overprotective step out, especially when it comes to your safety, you once again chalk it to him in his cavalry captain mode.

only his closest friends and allies can detect the minor difference in his behavior around you, except you, of course. it doesn’t bother him, because it only solidifies his love for you, how serious he is about you.

sometimes he truly is just amazed with the way your mind works to rule out all romantic possibilities, its like the notion of love does not even exist to you.

he doesn’t mind it one bit, though. if anything, he wishes to be the person who introduces you to love.

he knows he can reveal his feelings at any moment, but he wants you to figure it out for yourself, that epiphany of love is something he feels everyone should experience…

that is until he catches you blushing with another person.

“oh yeah! they’ve been talking to them the entire night… they’re really hitting it off, i don’t-”

every word after that is just muffled noise to him. he didn’t understand the feeling coursing through his vein. it was a poignant mixture of jealousy, sadness, and disappointment in himself.

he immediately steps out of angel’s share, not even bothering with a drink to drown his feelings. he thought he was special to you, the way you were to him.

that’s when the creaking of the tavern doors catches his attention, revealing you.

“oh, hi.”

your voice was timid in the chilly night atmosphere, the silence between you and kaeya almost deafening. he huffs and crosses his arms, trying to pretend as if he hadn’t just felt his heart rip, shatter and

“hey, so what are you doing here? i know you’re not one for taverns, most specially on a wednesday night.”

he doesn’t miss a beat, starting his investigation. your eyes widen at his unusually stern demeanor; its not like you haven’t seen this side of him, but you don’t know have a clue as to where it's coming from. you start to sober up, feeling the excitement and adrenaline of the bar leave you. “honestly, i had nothing better to do… and i was trying to get out of my comfort zone.”

he raises an eyebrow at your seemingly simple explanation; you didn’t have any reason to lie, and to be fair, it wasn’t like he had a right to know anyways. his posture relaxes as gives you his arm, gesturing for you to take it; you, having no reason to deny him, take his arm in yours. you both start walking down the streets, no definite destination in mind.

“Is something wrong, kaeya?”

the glazed look in your eyes is something he can’t ignore, and he knows you won’t ignore his furrowed eyebrows either. he sighs letting the cold air entering his lungs, as if numbing himself before the storm truly begins.

“yes, actually there is. could i be a burden to you?”

“kaeya… you know you can always talk to me about your feelings, you’re no burden to me.”

a bitter chuckle escapes his lips, acting as if he truly had nothing left to lose. “that’s why i love you, you know? ah… i thought i’d be saying this in a drunken stammer or you’d hear from rosaria or lisa, but i’m more sober than ever and… i love you so much it hurts.”

suddenly, his touch feels much colder than it ever has, sending a shiver down your spine. you pause for a moment, the adrenaline and heat rising back up.

“k-kaeya, wait… i love you too. i’m-”

“you needn’t spare my feelings or lie. perhaps it was my fault for letting my pride get the best of me, and now you’ve been swept away by someone else, someone who makes you blush.”

your eyebrows curved into a straight line, clearly baffled by kaeya’s assumptions. yes, you were a bit oblivious when it came to love, so you feel like you’d take note if “someone swept you away”.“kaeya, i have no idea what you’re talking about, but if you’re referring to my demeanor in the bar, i was…” you face only gets redder by the moment. “i-i don’t hold my alcohol very well…”

kaeya pauses for a second, his lips parting in a small o-shape. he feels like such a fool for jumping to assumptions so quickly, but he quickly regains his composure realizing something far more crucial, a smirk plastered onto his face.

“i see. so you like me after all? and i’ve finally managed to fluster you”

“n-no, you didn’t! the alcohol just hasn’t-”

“aha, so you do love me? dear, just say the word, and i’m all yours.”

requests are open!! please do not reposts on other sites.

[silenzahra]

Green, Orange and a bit of Purple✨

This story was originally written and posted on 14th February 2024 in two different posts. My dear friend @itsavee4117 reblogged them, which I obviously appreciate, but I'm afraid some time after he did, I edited both posts to add the chapters to Tumblr so people could read them here as well.

That's why I thought of redoing them, and I decided to share the entire story in just one post so as not to drive everyone crazy 😅 You can find the story on AO3, where you'll see it's divided into two chapters (and I even added a title to them 🤭), or read under the cut to find the entire story. It's long though, so make sure to grab a snack and/or a drink. Of course, likes, comments and reblogs are always more than welcome, as well as kudos on AO3! 💖

My original source of inspiration was @sarahrsketches's comic Plumber's Bouquet, which you can see dubbed here!

Special thanks to @itsavee4117 @whippedcremepi and @mario-movie-brainbug for reblogging the old posts and to @elitadream for leaving such wonderful feedback on them 💖 (You can find them here and here if you're curious).

For those of you who will read this for the first time or would even like to give it a reread: I really hope you enjoy! Thank you so much for your support, and please remember that my asks and PMs are always open for you. Reblogs are deeply appreciated 💖

Also, this story got many lovely comments on AO3, which I'm obviously very thankful for! Still, it didn't get much feedback here on Tumblr (no disrespect to those mentioned above of course 🫂). I hope it's not too much to ask, but would you please consider leaving some feedback here, even if it's just one sentence? 🙏 I'd love to hear your thoughts on my beloved Luaisy story! 🥰

@vulpixfairy1985 @bberetd @peaches2217 @ask-rosalina-and-her-family @aqua-peri

@kimasousparky @megamagimugi @jellyfishinc @pepperycar @keakruiser

@teegeeteegee @supergay-64 @kelbreyworshipper @dragon-fly34 @artycomicfangirl

(Of course, if you want your tag removed, just let me know! 💖)

Without further ado: Luaisy for the soul! 💚🧡✨

Chapter 1: The beginning of the date

Luigi can’t believe it.

What he has been wishing for months is finally going to happen.

His first date with Daisy is about to begin.

Nervously, he smooths out the green shirt he’s wearing, the most elegant in his closet, so that there’s not a single wrinkle on it. From the corner where he waits, the one closest to his building, he takes quick and constant glances at the pipe through which Daisy is going to arrive, located at his back. Fortunately, it’s hidden in a seldom-traveled alley, so the chances of New Yorkers stumbling upon it by accident are slim. Of all the pipes in Brooklyn that are connected to the Mushroom Kingdom, this is the one closest to Luigi and Mario’s former home.

Which makes it the perfect pipeline for the brothers and their new friends to travel between dimensions while going unnoticed by the inhabitants of Earth.

As he patiently and with growing anxiety awaits Daisy’s arrival, Luigi goes over and over in his head the places in his city that he wants to show her. Everything will be fine, he repeats himself. He has been planning this date for months, long before he could even muster the courage to ask Daisy to go out with him.

He recalls that instant in his head very often. The way his legs trembled. His dry throat. His back sweating from nerves. How he kept fiddling with his fingers as, step by step, he approached the spot where Daisy was sitting in the garden of Peach’s castle, with whom she was having a lively conversation. Mario’s words of encouragement echoed in his head, along with the sentences they had rehearsed together so Luigi could say them to Daisy later. He remembers that Mario was waiting for him not far from there, hidden behind a corner and ready to intervene should Luigi require his aid. He remembers that Peach, as soon as she saw him arrive, apologized to Daisy and hurried to join Mario, giving Luigi a quick nod of encouragement as she passed him.

He remembers that Daisy, upon noticing his presence, smiled and greeted him by waving her hand with her usual energy, which made a smile blossom on Luigi’s lips. He remembers that, when he finally reached her side, she got up to give him a quick hug, causing his heart to bounce in his chest and her sweet vanilla scent to envelop him, before inviting him to sit next to her.

Of course, Luigi obeyed. Smiling nervously, he listened to her chatter for a few minutes, his eyes fixed on the dimples that appeared when she smiled and on the constellation of freckles that dotted her cheeks. Meanwhile, he was trying to find the right moment to start talking and the courage to push the words out of his mouth. From the corner of his eye, he distinguished that Mario and Peach, from their hideout, were gesturing to him. She did so discreetly and sweetly, but he was waving his arms and vocalizing in an exaggerated way, to incite him to finally start.

And Luigi, after swallowing, chose to do it in the same way as when removing a band-aid: in one go and without thinking.

“Daisy.”

His voice was barely a nervous whisper, but it was enough for the desert princess to interrupt herself and give him a warm smile.

“Yes, honey?”

“Er...” Luigi looked down, flustered by the affectionate nickname, and took a deep breath before continuing. “I-I thought that... W-well, I thought that m-maybe... you’d like to... c-come to B-Brooklyn?”

He scolded himself for his stammering. He’d practiced endlessly with Mario until he managed to deliver his sentences without stuttering, but standing in front of Daisy, the first person he’d been drawn to in a very, very long time, and trying to carry out the plan as intended was a very different thing.

“Luigi.” Her voice, full of curiosity, caught Luigi’s attention, making him set his eyes on her at last. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

Her voice sounded defiant, of course, but Daisy accompanied it with a mischievous and amusing look that Luigi even found... suggestive? No, he must have been imagining it, he was too nervous and his eagerness to spend more time with her was playing a trick on him, Daisy could not be...

... Or could she?

“Uh-huh... W-well, uh...”

What should he answer now? Why hadn’t it occurred to Mario that Daisy might react like this? Why hadn’t it occurred to him?

“W-well, uh, I-I don’t know, I mean, o-only if you want to, I mean, I thought you might want to, but if you don’t, it’s okay! Of course you don’t want to, why would you, it’s a stupid idea, I-I’m very sorry...”

With every mumble that escaped his mouth, he felt himself shrinking more and more, to such an extent that he wished he could disappear, bury his head in the ground like an ostrich and never have made that suggestion to Daisy. Why did he think she would be interested? Why did he think she would want to spend time with a simple, clumsy, skittish plumber like him?

However, Daisy surprised him with a soft chuckle in which there was no trace of mockery, but rather... tenderness?

“Oh, Luigi,” she exclaimed, and slapped him on the shoulder so hard that Luigi thought she had just broken a bone. “Don’t underestimate yourself, sweetie! Of course I want to!”

Despite the pain in his back, Luigi sat up like a spring and turned to her with wide eyes.

“R-really?”

“Of course!” Daisy nodded vigorously, her grin so wide that it brought back those dimples that made Luigi feel like he was melting inside. “I really want to see Brooklyn, and I can’t think of a better guide than you!” she added with a wink.

With his back leaning against the red bricks so characteristic of his district, Luigi smiles, his cheeks flushed at the memory. Daisy’s joy at his suggestion was genuine, as was her eagerness to tour Brooklyn with him. Luigi really hopes, wishes, to be up to the task and get Daisy to have fun by his side. He fiddles with the flower he holds in his fingers and wonders if the desert princess will be much longer in coming.

He can’t wait to see her again.

A hand on his shoulder startles him so much that he lets out a shriek and is about to drop the flower. At the last moment, he manages to hold it close to his chest and places his other hand around its petals to protect it. As his fluttering heart tries to calm down, he hears a well-known chuckle, and a familiar and adored vanilla scent reaches his nose.

“D-Daisy,” he mumbles with a smile, beginning to turn his head.

“Sorry, honey,” she apologizes. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Luigi is about to reply that it’s okay, that it’s his fault for being so easily scared, but he can’t do it.

He’s speechless.

Daisy looks gorgeous. More than that: she looks stunning, dazzling, radiant. Her pretty auburn hair shimmers in the evening sunlight, and a sparkle under her ears reveals the golden, daisy-shaped earrings she has chosen for the occasion. Her lovely eyes, as deep blue as the sea, gaze at Luigi with affection. He notices the eye shadow that Daisy has applied, a beautiful shade of purple that matches the full skirt she is wearing, which reveals the lower half of her legs. Her sandals, on the other hand, are orange, and the heel of them causes Luigi to see her even taller and slimmer than usual. Her blouse, matching her shoes, is adorned with yellow flower patterns, and leaves her slender shoulders bare. As he notices them, Luigi swallows, wondering what it would feel like to put an arm across them and thus touch her beautiful skin, just to see firsthand if it’s as soft to the touch as it seems.

But what catches his attention, no matter how hard he tries to avoid it, are her lips. Daisy often puts on lipstick, but today she’s wearing a nice earthy color that matches her beautiful brown skin, and Luigi is seized by the sudden and compelling need to find out what they taste like. He reddens immediately and chides himself. This may be a date and they may have both dressed up for the occasion, but it’s not like him, nor right for Daisy, that that, kissing her, is all he can think about at that moment.

He wants to say something, anything, make some silly joke to try to relax and make her feel welcome, but only one word comes to his mind.

“Beautiful,” he whispers.

Daisy covers her mouth with her hand to hide a giggle as her freckled cheeks light up under the blush she has applied.

“You think so?” she says playfully. “How cute.”

Luigi gasps. Did he just say that word... out loud? He feels his whole face burning immediately with embarrassment, and he’s about to apologize when he finds Daisy looking him up and down intently.

Suddenly he feels ragged, disheveled, very far from the elegance of the young princess. Almost unintentionally, he takes a quick glance at himself, searching for any wrinkles or stains on his green shirt or his blue jeans, even though he has carefully washed and ironed them for the occasion. His brown shoes are also shiny, as he has rubbed them incessantly, and he has used more shampoo than usual when showering, as well as making sure that not a single hair was left out of place when combing his hair. Including his moustache.

All in the hope of making a good impression on Daisy, but it wasn't enough. How could it be? He works non-stop day after day, he gets dirty often, so he's sure he's left something out, some tiny detail that he's missed because of his nerves, and Daisy has noticed it immediately and is judging him and is going to leave at once, because how could she want to go out with him?

“Handsome,” she then says, slowly, looking him in the eye.

“Wh-what?”

“You just used an adjective to describe me,” Daisy says, and winks at him. “So I just used another one to describe you.”

Again, Luigi is speechless. He pants, trying to find his voice, but he feels like a fish that has been plucked from the sea and thrown to the bottom of a volcano. A green, clumsy fish that doesn’t know how to react to the fact that the girl he’s getting crazier and crazier about every day has just paid him a compliment. To him, no less. Does that mean, then, that there’s no problem with his appearance?

In a reflex action born out of fear that Daisy will laugh at him or, worse, get tired of waiting for an answer and leave, Luigi stretches out his arm in her direction. She gives a start and looks down, and a beautiful smile lights up her face when she notices the gift he is offering her.

“A daisy?” she says, delighted, and brings both joined hands to her cheek. “And it’s purple!”

“Y-yes,” he manages to murmur, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I-I grow them in my garden, in my house in the Mushroom Kingdom.”

“I love it! Thanks, Luigi!”

Daisy reaches out with both hands to take the flower, and Luigi struggles to ignore the tingle of excitement that runs up and down his body as her fingers brush his and send a pleasant electric shock sensation to his nerve endings. Daisy brings the flower to her face to inhale its scent and admires its pretty purple petals with delight. Luigi smiles tenderly as he sees her take the aster to her head to try and pin it in her hair.

“Wait,” he offers without thinking, reaching out his arms to her. “I’ll help you.”

Daisy slowly lowers her hands and lets him do it. Luigi holds the stem of the flower and carefully moves a lock of Daisy’s silky hair aside, taking care not to muss it. He places the plant so that it’s held securely to the side of her face and its purple petals sparkle almost level with Daisy’s lovely blue eyes. Which, Luigi suddenly notices, are watching him attentively. Surprised, he turns away from Daisy and takes a step back while letting out a nervous giggle, blushing again. He hadn’t even noticed coming so close to her, nor that his tongue, as it usually does when he’s focused on something, was sticking out between his lips.

Fortunately, although Daisy is observing him with interest and a wide smile on her face, she does not utter a word. She just stares at him, as if seeing him for the first time, and Luigi suddenly finds himself at a loss for what to do with his arms.

“W-well... D-do you want to...?”

He points forward with his hand, unable to finish the question, as his throat feels dry and he needs to drink urgently. Daisy’s jump, as if her mind had wandered away from there and just suddenly returned, disconcerts him and makes him wonder if he has inadvertently done something wrong because of his usual clumsiness.

But Daisy soon pulls herself together and gives him a dazzling smile.

“Sure!” she exclaims enthusiastically. “Where are we going?”

“Not far from here.”

Luigi starts walking in the direction of Punch-Out Pizzeria, which is almost at the end of the street. It’s one of his favorite places in Brooklyn and he can’t wait for Daisy to try their famous pizzas. He really hopes she likes them, because then he’ll always have an excuse to invite her to dinner.

As they walk down the street, Daisy stops to look in the windows of the various stores they pass. She points at them with her finger, which she presses against the glass, and talks to Luigi about how much or how little she likes the products for sale and how exorbitant or affordable she finds them depending on the price. He listens to her without interrupting and smiles, his heart full of tenderness at the genuine enthusiasm with which she examines everything.

When they get to the bookstore, however, it is she who listens to him talk. This is Luigi’s favorite bookstore, the one he goes to at least once a week to browse through the new releases and, if possible, take home a new book. The same thing happens when they reach the florist’s shop, although this time the enthusiasm is shared, as they both have a passion for gardening.

By the time they finally get ready to enter the pizzeria, it’s almost dark. Luigi can’t help but be surprised, as the walk from his house to the establishment usually takes him no more than five minutes. But he’s not going to complain, since, almost unintentionally, he’s had a chance to take a nice walk with Daisy and show her two of his other favorite places in Brooklyn besides the pizzeria.

Luigi opens the door and steps aside with an exaggerated bow.

“After you, milady,” he pronounces with feigned refinement.

He hears Daisy let out a soft chuckle that, unexpectedly, makes him feel connected to her in a way he’s unable to explain.

“Very gallant, gentleman,” she replies as she passes him, imitating his tone.

Luigi stands up straight, laughing as well, and enters after her. Daisy moves to a free table by the window and Luigi follows her without hesitation. He feels strange: on the one hand, he’s on familiar ground, in the pizzeria he has been coming to with his brother since they were teenagers, which floods him with an intense sense of security so powerful that he believes nothing could bring it down. In fact, he knows for sure that, if he’s been able to make that little joke with Daisy when opening the door for her, it’s thanks to that feeling.

On the other hand, his companion is none other than the ruler of the Kingdom of Sarasaland. A warrior and brave princess who’s won his heart with her exorbitant and inexhaustible energy, her desire to prove herself all the time and her lively personality. A princess, a young woman, who has the power to make him feel as if his limbs were made of butter, his face a burning coal and his heart, an organ foreign to his body that belongs entirely to Daisy, so that it accelerates like a runaway horse when she is near.

And now she is near.

She’s sitting across from him, flipping through the menu, but the tables at the Punch-Out Pizzeria aren’t too wide. Luigi knows that, if he stretched his arms out just a little, there’s a good chance Daisy’s hands would brush against him when she drops the menu. He swallows. Should he do it or not? Would it be too bold? Would it be too brazen to try to hold her hand? Would Daisy even want their fingers to touch?

“What do you recommend?” she asks, her eyes still fixed on the food list.

Luigi gasps. He feels as if he’s been caught red-handed, as if he’s been doing something wrong. He shakes his head a little and ducks it to see his own menu as he tries to sort out his thoughts to answer Daisy.

“W-well, Mario and I always order the bell pepper pizzas.”

“Let me guess,” she asks him, her voice laden with a challenge that causes Luigi to look up, curious, and their eyes meet over the table. “He orders the red bell pepper, and you order the green bell pepper.”

Luigi laughs and rubs the back of his neck, his cheeks slightly flushed.

“Is it that obvious?” he asks, embarrassed.

Daisy laughs softly, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, just below the flower.

“Actually, I just went by the colors you two usually wear. Is it a coincidence that your favorite colors match your favorite pizzas?”

“I guess so.”

Luigi shrugs and she giggles again.

“If there was a purple pizza, I’d order it,” she states, returning her attention to the menu.

“You can try mine if you want to.”

Luigi purses his lips as he realizes he just said that out loud. It’s just a silly idea that has crossed his mind, but Daisy most likely doesn’t want to share. Why would she? He should’ve thought better before saying such a silly thing.

To his surprise, however, Daisy looks at him decisively and nods.

“What’s your second favorite pizza?” she asks, very seriously, pointing her finger at him.

“Er… C-carbonara,” he stammers, dumbfounded.

“Perfect.” Daisy picks up both cards and winks at him. “How about we order carbonara and green bell pepper? Then we can both try each other’s pizza.”

Relief floods Luigi with the intensity of the swell. Daisy’s solution seems perfect, so, trying hard to overcome his shyness, he raises his arm to call the waiter and places their orders. When the man leaves, Luigi places both elbows on the table and drops his hands over the edge of the table, close to his stomach. He doesn’t know where to look, so he wanders his gaze absentmindedly around the room.

Inevitably, his eyes end up meeting Daisy’s, so he forces himself to compose a smile. He’s so nervous, however, that it comes out weak and insecure.

But Daisy doesn’t seem to notice.

“Well,” she says lightly, also leaning on the table, and watches him intently. “So what else do you like to do?”

“Uh... Sorry?” Luigi feels lost.

“Apart from reading and gardening,” she says, smiling sweetly at him. “What other hobbies do you have, Luigi?”

“Oh! W-well...” Luigi shrinks back a little. Will he bore her if he goes into detail about his other hobbies? “I-I like photography. I like... to be able to save an instant, a memory, a place, and freeze them in time so that they become eternal.”

“Wow,” she exclaims admiringly. “That’s very profound.”

“Really?”

Luigi looks at her with wide eyes, unable to believe that, as is practically his case with the rest of the world, Daisy doesn’t think he’s being too intense or ridiculous in expressing himself that way. The young woman nods vigorously, a sincere smile glowing on her face, and her expression of sheer interest is all Luigi needs to launch into speaking.

He tells her that sometimes ideas or images come to his mind, and he needs to get them out of his head, to bring them to life. They drive him to write or draw, depending on what comes to him, which is why he collects notebooks and sketchbooks. He tells her that, every Christmas, he gives his brother a wool garment he knits himself, because Mario is quite a mess and his clothes hardly last from one year to the next. He tells her that on Saturday nights, he and Mario stay up late watching a movie in the living room of their new home, and that they always have trouble choosing because their tastes are so opposite. She listens to him, attentive, and from time to time lets out a giggle or makes a comment but does not interrupt him. Luigi, finally, tells her that on Sunday afternoons, and sometimes also on Fridays, he and Mario play videogames, and at his explanation about them, Daisy’s eyes light up more and more.

“That sounds amazing!” she exclaims, excited. “Oh my gosh, now I need to try those... What are they called?”

“Videogames,” Luigi clarifies, and leans forward, his eyes sparkling, sharing Daisy’s enthusiasm. “And you’re more than welcome to come try them out! I’m sure Mario would love to play with someone who’s not as clumsy as I am,” he adds with a laugh.

“Oh, I’m sure you’re not that bad.” Daisy playfully punches him in the shoulder, which makes Luigi’s giggles increase. “Keep in mind that I’ve never played. Of course you’re going to be better than me!”

“That is, until you get the hang of it,” Luigi says, massaging his shoulder. “And I’m sure it won’t take you long at all.”

“Well, thank you for your blind faith in me!”

Daisy laughs too and brings a hand to her chest, but, in the midst of their chuckles, she stops and gives him another intense glance. Luigi’s laughter barely lasts a couple more seconds before it stops abruptly, as he feels overwhelmed by the intensity of her deep blue eyes.

“You’re very sweet, Luigi. Did you know that?”

Daisy’s cheeks glow as she utters those words, but her smile remains, serene and confident, no trace of nervousness or embarrassment on her beautiful face. Quite the opposite of Luigi, who is convinced he could fry an egg on his forehead.

“Th-thank you,” he mumbles, looking away, and rubs the back of his neck again, flustered.

Daisy giggles.

“And you look so cute when you do that.”

Luigi’s blush grows, which causes Daisy’s laughter to increase in turn, and Luigi, despite his rosy cheeks, suddenly finds himself feeling that he can go on behaving like this forever if it will make her chuckle in such an uninhibited and sincere way.

At that moment, luckily, the pizzas finally arrive, accompanied by their drinks, and the young woman’s attention turns to the food. She contemplates both pizzas attentively, almost as if they were works of art, and this time it is Luigi who has to hide a giggle. He watches, expectantly, as Daisy takes her first bite of her carbonara pizza, and waits, on the edge of his seat, for the girl to pronounce her verdict. Her face, thoughtful as she chews, doesn’t even hint at a simple clue, which makes Luigi, almost without realizing it, hold his breath.

Until Daisy, after swallowing, gives him a beaming smile.

“It’s delicious!” she nearly squeals, waving her other hand in the air in excitement.

“Yes!” Luigi exclaims in turn and raises a victorious fist.

For the next few minutes, he finds himself devouring, not even knowing how, small bites of both pizzas, his and Daisy’s. He cackles, half surprised, half overwhelmed, when Daisy, without so much as by his leave, moves her head forward to take a rather savage bite of the slice of green bell pepper pizza he holds in his hand. Her expression is so delighted, so self-satisfied, that Luigi can only cover his mouth with his free hand to try to stifle the fit of laughter that assails him.

After finishing the pizza, Luigi suggests they have some tiramisu. And, if Daisy was already impressed by the flavor of the pizzas, she’s completely thrilled when she tastes the dessert.

“Oh my goodness, Luigi,” she mumbles after devouring the last slice. “No wonder this is your favorite place in Brooklyn. You have to bring me here often!”

“Anytime,” he offers before finishing his tiramisu.

“How about...?” Daisy begins to say, casting a casual glance around the place before laying her eyes on Luigi as she rests her chin on her hand. “Tomorrow?”

Luigi almost chokes on his tiramisu. Daisy hurries to bring his drink closer to him, and even though there’s barely a sip left, it’s enough for Luigi to stabilize himself. Speechless, he stares at Daisy, astonishment dancing in his expression.

“T-tomorrow?” he repeats, still gasping for air.

“I mean, if you want to,” Daisy replies, though she keeps smiling.

“Yes!” Luigi almost shouts, unwittingly stretching out on the table. “Yes, I mean, yes! Of course I want to! B-but you…”

“Me what, honey?”

“You...” Luigi lowers his gaze, unsure, and begins to rub the tips of his index fingers together, wanting to look at her, but not daring to do it. “Y-you want to?”

“Of course!” she assures him. “I love what I’ve seen of Brooklyn so far. I want to see more... and I want,” she adds, gazing at him purposedly, “to see my handsome guide again.”

The air disappears from Luigi’s lungs. His heart is racing, galloping so hard against his chest that he thinks it’ll end up opening a hole in his skin and running away to Daisy’s arms. She, in the meantime, stares at him casually as she bites her lower lip.

“I know I’ve told you this before,” she says softly, “but I love it when you do that.”

“A-actually,” Luigi replies with a nervous chuckle, “y-you said I’m v-very... cute... w-when I do th-that...”

His voice trails off as he realizes what a stupid thing he’s doing. Why does he stop to point out something so silly when the important thing is the message Daisy is conveying? Why is he unable to come up with an answer according to what she has just told him?

“Both options are true,” she replies without raising her tone, shrugging her shoulders.

Still flushed and uneasy, Luigi gives a weak smile. He is thankful that Daisy hasn’t for an instant pointed out the ridiculousness of his remark. In fact, it doesn’t seem to bother her one bit that he’s been the awkward, embarrassed bundle of nerves he’s always been all dinner. Quite the contrary: judging by her words and the intensity with which she contemplates him, Daisy loves that Luigi is so... like this. So him.

And he loves that Daisy is so her.

He swallows slowly, determined to tell her so too. His eyes remain fixed on the wooden table. His fingers, again, fiddle with each other. His cheeks burn, as they’ve been doing for most of the night. His voice comes out hoarse at first, as if it wants to remain a prisoner inside his mouth, and Luigi is forced to clear his throat to force himself to speak.

“I-I t-too... like you. V-very much.”

He lets out a small sigh of relief, pleased with himself for finally daring to say it out loud. He even breaks into a small smile, the urge to laugh bubbling in his throat.

“Just... very much?”

Daisy’s voice sounds suggestive. Insinuating. Provocative, even. Luigi, very slowly, dares to raise his head. Daisy hasn’t wiped the playful, cheeky smile from her mouth, as mischievous as the wink she gives him when their eyes meet. Luigi purses his lips. Blushing as he is, he plucks up his courage and holds her gaze, even though inside he feels like he’s made of jelly. When he speaks, he gives his voice all the seriousness he can muster so that she understands that he’s not playing games or exaggerating.

“Very much so.”

He almost feels like applauding himself for being able to say it without stuttering. He smiles again, trying to appear confident, and he doesn’t take his eyes off Daisy’s. He wants her to read in them the sincerity with which he speaks, just like him, in her gestures, in her smile, in her beautiful gaze, has been able to see from the beginning that she was not joking when she expressed how much she liked the way he is.

Daisy’s smile widens slightly, in a barely appreciable way, as she hears the vehemence of his tone, but Luigi notices it. She then places her hands on the wood and leans on it to stand up.

“Luigi, you are adorable,” she states as she gets up, and the way she says it, her voice filled with fervor, her face as if she were simply talking about the weather, completely disarms Luigi. “I’d love to take a walk with you. Would you like that?”

“Oh!” Luigi’s throat has gone dry at the compliment, but he struggles to find his voice and stands up too. “S-sure! Th-there’s a park near here. W-we can... stroll there. I-if you want t-to.”

Daisy smiles and nods, smoothing her skirt with her palms, and touches her hair for a moment to make sure the flower is still firmly attached to it.

“That would be great.”

She places both hands on her purple garment and smiles at him, and Luigi grins too, staring at her. It takes him a few seconds to realize that Daisy is waiting for him to move first, as he is closer to the exit than she is. Feeling clumsier than he has ever felt before in his entire life, Luigi stumbles until he reaches the door and, again, opens it and steps to the side to give way to her.

As Daisy walks past him, she gives him a low chuckle that has no mockery in it, and Luigi, his face burning, imitates her, though his laughter sounds a little louder because of his nerves, which, though they had settled during dinner, have returned more impetuously. When she steps out into the street, Luigi closes his eyes for a moment and takes a slow breath, trying to calm himself, before following her.

The blush on his cheeks increases when his eyes meet Daisy’s, who gazes at him with a smile full of affection. After clearing his throat, Luigi puts one hand in his pocket as he raises the other.

“The park is that way.”

As he drops his arm, a slight electric shock elicits a soft cry of surprise. He staggers back in surprise and carefully examines his hand. Behind it, he notices Daisy’s confused gaze, watching him in astonishment, her own hand raised. They both drop them slowly, their breaths a bit shaky, their eyes caught in each other’s. Luigi does not understand what just happened. Bewilderment washes over him, and Daisy’s expression tells him that she, too, feels disoriented.

Until, suddenly, she smiles a somewhat... shy smile?

“Wow,” she says. “Looks like we have chemistry.”

“W-what?” Luigi raises an eyebrow in confusion.

Daisy covers her mouth with her hand to hide a giggle.

“We accidentally brushed against each other,” she explains. “And sparks flew.”

Luigi lets out a low “oh” and looks down at his hand again as his brain processes what has just happened. His cheeks start reddening again as a smile, much more self-conscious than Daisy’s, blooms on his lips. When he returns his attention to her and finds her as flushed as he is, Luigi feels again that tug of affinity inside him that pulls him towards her and makes him understand that, without a hint of doubt, they are somehow connected.

“I guess we’ll have to be careful,” says Daisy, “or we’ll short-circuit each other.”

Luigi laughs and nods, though the immensity of his feelings doesn’t diminish for an instant. Then Daisy extends her arm, smiling warmly at him, and Luigi stares for a second at those fingers waving in his direction in a silent invitation.

“Shall we try again?” Daisy suggests.

Luigi looks up at her again with a cheerful grin and, without hesitation, stretches out his own hand. At the first touch of his skin against Daisy’s, he does not feel a new electric shock, but a mixture of excitement and disbelief that only increases as his fingers slowly intertwine with the princess’, their palms touching, as if this is their place, as if this is where they belong, as if this is where they always should be.

United. Glued. Together. Being one.

That’s exactly how Luigi feels when, as he lifts his fascinated gaze from the union of their hands, his eyes meet Daisy’s. She smiles at him, a slight blush covering her tanned skin, but Luigi, to his surprise, doesn’t feel insecure or embarrassed for the first time all night.

For the first time, he knows that what he’s doing, holding Daisy’s hand and pressing it lightly, feeling his bond with her deepening, is okay. It’s more than right. It’s perfect. It’s the right thing to do. It’s what he wants to experience all the time, every day of his life, if she feels that way too.

And, judging by the speed with which Daisy is quick to return his squeeze, Luigi has no doubt that the young woman does, indeed, reciprocate his feelings.

With a soft chuckle, Daisy nods her head in the direction Luigi pointed when he left the pizzeria. Luigi responds with another giggle and, not letting her hand go, starts walking.

Chapter 2: The end of a wonderful night

Walking with Daisy hand in hand is a very different sensation from walking with her by his side. Now, even if Luigi still finds it hard to believe, he is touching Daisy’s warm skin, which turns out to be much softer and silkier than he had imagined. He is feeling her slender fingers wrap around his hand. He is feeling her palm press against his, seeking his touch the same way Luigi seeks hers.

He feels so exhilarated, so euphoric, so blissful, that, almost without realizing it, he begins to swing his arm, rocking Daisy’s as well. She laughs when she notices the movement, but she doesn’t try to stop him, quite the contrary: she starts swaying her arm with so much momentum that soon is she who leads the motion, which makes Luigi laugh out loud while, thrilled, he lets himself be carried away.

They soon leave the hustle and bustle of the city behind to dive right into the greenery of the leafy park where Luigi goes for a walk from time to time. Daisy smiles, delighted, as she notices the dense nature around them, and reaches out her hand to brush the trunk of one of the trees they pass. She can’t take her eyes off all the beautiful flowers that populate the area, her eyes wanting to capture it all, and Luigi gazes at her with a deep feeling of tenderness flooding his heart.

“I used to come to this park a lot when I was a child,” he tells her, his eyes also wandering around the place. “My Mom used to bring my brother and me here when we were just babies. We’d play together in the sand,” he adds, pointing to a section in the park where a children’s area is visible, “although at first Mario preferred our mom to swing him. It was too scary for me,” he confesses with a chuckle, “so I’d rather stay there building castles with my colored blocks.”

Even though he was very little, Luigi still remembers one of those occasions when, after he had finished building a big fortress with his blocks, a boy suddenly stormed in and stole the flag he was trying to crown it with. Luigi recalls the feeling of helplessness when the boy, with a brutal kick, smashed his castle, and the momentum caused him to fall backwards and crumple to the ground while the boy cruelly taunted him. 

Until, behind his aggressor, something red unexpectedly appeared, hit him on the head and snatched the flag from his hand. Luigi still remembers how surprised he was when he noticed Mario, who, standing protectively in front of him, held out the flag without turning to him, his defiant and furious expression fixed on the boy. The latter, after getting up, gave them an angry look before running away. Only then did Mario turn to Luigi with a reassuring smile from ear to ear, and Luigi, still somewhat stunned by what had just happened, tried to return the smile, though he could barely compose a weak grimace. 

From then on, however, Mario began to play more often with him in the sand. He still went on swinging, of course, and soon began to go down the slide without their mom’s supervision, but he never took his eyes off Luigi. Years later, moreover, that park was crucial in Mario’s recovery after his first love breakup, since Luigi, after several days of taking care of him and comforting him while his brother cried his heart out in his arms, managed to convince him to leave the house and go for a walk together. The fresh air of nature felt so good and cheered him up so much that, soon, it was Mario himself who began to look for Luigi to go for a stroll in the park.

A sigh escapes Luigi’s lips as he recalls those memories. This park is very important for him, so he’s glad to be showing it to Daisy. Since she wanted to see his favorite places in Brooklyn, this little garden hidden in the heart of his district could not be missed.

“What do you think?” he asks, turning to her, his hand firmly clasped in hers.

“I love it,” Daisy declares, looking everywhere to soak in the beauty of the park. “It’s a very beautiful place.”

She turns her face towards him as she takes a step to cover the short distance between them. The fingers on her other hand lightly brush Luigi’s arm, making him give a start. The touch is so faint and intense at the same time that he feels himself melting.

“Thank you for sharing it with me, Luigi.”

Her head rests gently on his shoulder as she releases a sigh, her hair, and the purple flower, tickling his ear. Luigi’s heart, at this point, has jumped into a runaway gallop that brings a smile to his lips, nervous and plethoric at the same time. His skin burns so much, it’s been burning so much all night, that he wouldn’t be surprised if the next day he finds burns all over his body, as if he had gone to the beach and forgotten to apply sunscreen.

By then, their footsteps have led them to the pond that rules the place. It’s a large lake inhabited by several families of ducks, where, during the day, passers-by can sail in small boats. Luigi promises himself to bring Daisy here again soon, so that they can ride together in one of the boats in the sunlight. He knows for sure that she’ll like the experience.

Right now, all they do is gaze at the calm waters under the bright light of the full moon, along with many other couples also strolling through the park. Luigi notices that there are some clouds scattered across the sky but hopes that they won’t rob the moon of its brightness and allow them to continue enjoying the peace and warmth of this summer night. 

“Luigi, look!”

Daisy’s alarmed voice, together with the light tapping she gives him on the arm, makes Luigi lower his eyes again. He gapes at a duck that is approaching them, swimming calmly across the pond, tracing a clear straight line that emerges from the small house in the center of the lake, where all the ducks live, and concludes, without any doubt, at the exact point where Luigi and Daisy are standing in this moment.

“How strange,” Luigi murmurs, puzzled. “I thought all the ducks would be sleeping at this hour.”

“Maybe it’s a vampire duck,” Daisy suggests.

Luigi gives a snort and looks sideways at her. 

“You think so?”

“Maybe it’s coming to drink your blood,” adds Daisy, running two fingers along his arm.

“Or yours,” Luigi counters, ignoring the shudder that runs through him at the young woman’s touch. 

She laughs, and the sound of her laughter makes Luigi’s heart beat faster, full of tenderness.

“I don’t think so. My blood is blue,” Daisy points out, gazing at him with a raised eyebrow. “I’m a princess, remember?”

“Then maybe it’s a bewitched prince who needs to be kissed by a beautiful princess.”

The words have come rushing out of his mouth, not even thinking them, his eyes fixed on Daisy’s. He scolds himself once again, convinced he’s gone red in the face again, but Daisy’s sly smile silences the apology that was about to burst from his lips.

“I can think of a much better candidate than a prince to kiss this princess.”

Again she runs her fingers along his arms as she speaks, so slowly that Luigi thinks he’ll pass out. Her eyes, two glittering sapphires, gaze at him with intensity, even brighter in the moonlight. Luigi is breathless, but the beauty of her look so mesmerizes him that he is unable to take his eyes off her. 

A sudden squawk startles him so much that it makes him stagger and fall backwards, a shriek of surprise escaping his throat. Luigi closes his eyes just as his lower back hits the grass and he lets out a soft moan of pain, but Daisy’s screams immediately catch his attention.

Opening his eyes, Luigi gasps when he sees that the princess has placed herself in front of him in a protective attitude to defend him from the duck, the cause of his fall.

“Get away from here!” she shouts at it angrily, trying to shoo it away.

The animal flaps its wings, still quacking, but Daisy’s impetus, her eagerness to keep it away from Luigi, ends up causing the duck, although reluctant, to begin to waddle in the direction of the pond, to which it finally returns. Only then, Daisy lowers her arms, her breathing accelerated, and turns to Luigi with concern painted on her face. 

“Oh, my, Luigi, are you all right?” she asks, holding out both arms to him.

And Luigi, who had been staring at her, completely fascinated, blinks suddenly, trying to get out of the state of confusion in which he’s immersed, and shakes his head.

“Y-yes,” he murmurs, laughing nervously, as he raises a hand.

Daisy clutches it at once, her fingers closing tightly around his palm and wrist, and Luigi feels that warm, pleasant shock again as soon as his skin comes into contact with the princess’. Daisy pulls him to help him up, and he embarrassedly massages his back with his free hand. His other hand is closed tightly around Daisy’s, and he has no intention of opening it. 

“Sorry,” he apologizes, embarrassed. “It caught me off guard.”

Daisy, not letting go either, lets out a faint giggle.

“Don’t apologize.” She removes her hand from his wrist, only to place it under his chin and sweetly turn his face towards her. “It wasn’t your fault, but the vampire duck’s.” 

They both laugh, sharing a knowing glance, and Luigi can’t help but stare at her, spellbound, still unable to take in the fact that this brave princess has just saved him. Even if it was from something as random as the attack of a duck from the pond.

“Thank you, Daisy,” he says wholeheartedly, his eyes shining with emotion. 

Daisy’s face lights up with a smile that, once more, brings out the dimples in her freckled cheeks. 

“You’re welcome, Luigi.” Her eyes stare at him again. “You’re... so charming.”

Luigi’s legs tremble, and not because of the fall. He feels that his smile is like jelly, flimsy and unstable. A scream rises in his chest and spreads throughout his body but does not reach his throat. His cheeks, of course, burn, even more intensely. And his heartbeat is so loud, so booming, that he’s convinced Daisy can hear it clearly.

She keeps looking at him, her expression full of warmth. Is it Luigi’s impression, or is her face now a little closer to his? His eyes, as if deciding for themselves, drift to those beautiful lips, so full and suggestive, that he so badly wants to kiss. Is it possible that Daisy... also wants to... kiss him? Him?

Suddenly, a soft melody reaches his ears. With his eyes still locked on Daisy’s, Luigi doesn’t lose any detail of her reaction: a new sparkle, naughty this time, shines in her eyes, while her smile turns mischievous. With a giggle, the princess puts a finger to his chest and pushes him gently, making him back away, at the same time that she herself takes a step backwards. Luigi laughs, stunned, though his mirth dies when Daisy’s hand slowly slides across his palm until the touch is broken, leaving him with a sensation of emptiness that makes his chest feel hollow.

“Wow,” Daisy exclaims playfully, as she places both hands behind her back. “This music is perfect for a dance, don’t you think?”

Luigi laughs again, but, somewhat confused, he takes his eyes off Daisy for a moment to search for the source of the melody. He then notices a figure, under a tree near the pond, sweetly sliding a bow over the strings of a violin, inviting the many other couples strolling around to dance to the beautiful song and take in the intimate and romantic atmosphere.

A throat clearing from Daisy impels Luigi to rest his gaze on her again. The princess does not look directly at him, but her eyes are raised to the sky.

“I wonder,” she says, pretending to be oblivious to his presence, “if there’s a handsome gentleman around here who would like to ask this lady to dance.”

Luigi gasps as he realizes Daisy’s intentions. His heart pumps wildly at the fleeting wink she gives him. Dancing? Together? Like in those romance stories set in bygone eras? His throat goes dry. Of course he loves to dance, and of course he’d love to dance with Daisy, but pretending to be a gentleman asking a lady for a dance? And a princess, no less. He’s just a simple Brooklyn plumber – how can he possibly live up to her expectations?

But it’s Daisy. The girl who has driven him crazy practically since the first time he saw her. The warrior, feisty princess who won his heart with her impulsiveness and her spontaneity. The bold, sassy woman he has fallen for head over heels. And, besides, she looks so beautiful, with her pretty orange blouse, her cheerful full skirt, the purple flower pinned to her lovely auburn mane, shimmering under the moonlight...

He wants to do it. He wants to dance with her. He wants to feel her close, he wants to feel her hand in his again, fitting together like two pieces of a perfect puzzle. He wants to please her, to whirl with her until dawn if necessary, to be carried away together by the sweet melody that flows from the violin and floods his ears.

So, without a second thought, Luigi plucks up his courage, shortens the distance between them in two strides and, with a slight bow, extends his hand to her.

“Would you do me the honor of granting me this dance, beautiful lady?”

Daisy’s smile widens at his gesture, her dimples appearing once again on her cheeks. She brings one hand to her chest in feigned surprise and slowly reaches out the other to place it softly on Luigi’s palm.

“With pleasure, handsome gentleman.”

Luigi’s fingers unconsciously close around her delicate hand. When he straightens, however, Daisy lets go, but does not pull away from him. With her eyes fixed on Luigi’s, the young woman places one hand on her partner’s shoulder and reaches for his fingers with the other, so that, at last, their hands are joined again, palm against palm, the fingers of one of the back of the other’s hand. Instinctively, Luigi raises his other hand to, with some uncertainty, rest it on Daisy’s waist, whose smile widens, and she gives him a slight nod of approval. Luigi sighs in relief, his grin a little more confident, and then, to the rhythm of the music, they both begin to move.

At first, of course, Luigi’s feet stumble, his legs shaking like a leaf. Daisy laughs faintly at his embarrassed expression, but she gently squeezes his hand and, whispering, begins to set the beat to help him. 

“One, two, three... Now!”

And Luigi obeys, and strives to follow the pace she sets, and manages to complete the steps so precisely that he surprises himself. He watches Daisy with enthusiasm shining in his eyes, and she, smiling tenderly at him, falls silent, because she understands that he no longer needs her to guide him.

And suddenly, they’re dancing.

Luigi can’t believe it. The delicate cadence of the melody propels his feet, which move in near-perfect synchrony with Daisy’s. They whirl around the park together, close to each other, Daisy’s purple skirt tangling around her legs. She, with her eyes closed and a serene smile on her lips, rocks in Luigi’s arms, feeling the music, living it, and he soon catches the passion with which the young woman dances. The song floods his mind, reaches his heart and urges him to dance with his soul, devoting himself entirely to the beauty of the music.

Without letting go of Daisy, Luigi reaches out his arm to spin her around, and watches her beautiful hair float behind her, making her look even more attractive in his eyes, if that’s even possible. The purple daisy, still clinging to her mane, slips a little to rest on Daisy’s ear, and, at the conclusion of the spin, she falls into Luigi’s arms with a soft exhalation of awe. Luigi holds her, one arm behind her back, his hand gripping Daisy’s firmly, and breathless, she gives him a rapt smile, her free arm coming up to encircle his neck. Luigi, to his surprise, finds himself smiling gallantly at her, completely immersed in the music and the intimate atmosphere of the place. He helps her straighten up and resettles his hand on her waist, as Daisy’s hand slides back to its place on his shoulder. As they continue to dance, however, her fingers lift slightly to graze his ear, sending a tingle of pleasure to every nerve ending in Luigi’s body.

By the time the harmonious melody concludes, they’re both breathing heavily, their hearts beating fast to the rhythm of the other’s. They glance, smiling, their hands still intertwined, Luigi’s palm still on Daisy’s waist, Daisy’s fingers still resting on Luigi’s shoulder. Their bodies are very close, their chests almost pressed together due to the posture. Luigi, for the umpteenth time that night, finds his eyes entwined with Daisy’s, caught by that depth that so reminds him of the ocean. She too seems unable to stop gazing at him, a pretty smile gracing those beautiful lips that Luigi is so eager to taste. His heart gets a little faster if possible at the thought, but the princess drives him so crazy that he can only think of having her closer, a little closer, just a little bit closer. He feels totally imprisoned by her spell, hopelessly wrapped around her finger, and he’s enjoying every second of it.

His breath intermingles with Daisy’s. Hers is a bit shaken, while he feels like a bundle of nerves. Still, Luigi’s instinct is screaming at him to keep his head down a little, and who is he to resist.

“Luigi,” he hears her say then, her voice barely a choked whisper, “if you want to stop... you’d better do it now.”

Despite her words, Daisy doesn’t sound too convinced. Luigi can’t stop the corners of his lips from lifting slightly, his heart full of tenderness, and his voice comes out hoarse and low as he manages to answer her.

“I don’t want to stop.”

Fleetingly, Daisy returns his smile. She continues to move closer, raising her head a little higher, and Luigi continues to tilt his, both anxious and excited with anticipation.

Until, at last, their lips meet.

And Luigi feels like he could die in that instant.

Daisy’s lips are sweet, soft, far more delicious than Luigi could have imagined, and he melts inside with delight. He thinks he might burst into tears from the joy of finally seeing his greatest wish fulfilled. Is Daisy, the princess he’s madly in love with, really kissing him? Is this not a dream? But no, the touch of her velvety lips against his is so real that he’s about to lose his mind.

He wants to give himself completely to this madness and never let go. 

They linger for a second with their mouths pressed together, enjoying each other’s touch, until Daisy begins to move her lips. At first she does it slowly, tempting him, tasting him, and Luigi, delighted, lets himself be guided by her lead and enjoys the movement.

Then Daisy opens her mouth, inviting Luigi to explore her, and lets go of his hand to wrap both arms around his neck. Luigi barely notices, so lost as he is in the kiss, so fascinated by the flavor of the young woman that he can’t even realize that now both his hands are squeezing her waist, instinctively pulling her closer to him. 

They both raise their tongues at the same time, so they meet somewhere in the middle of the union of their mouths. Luigi moves his away for a moment and allows Daisy to be the first to explore his mouth, and he feels his legs tremble at the gentleness and tenderness with which she does so. Next it is Daisy who pulls her tongue away and, again, opens her lips, and this time Luigi accepts the invitation and marvels again at the intoxicating taste of the pretty princess.

They continue to kiss and savor each other, not wanting to stop, not wanting to move away from the other, not wanting this sensual and exciting experience to end. They press more and more against each other, the kiss is more and more ardent and passionate, Luigi feels more and more flushed and heated, but he doesn’t want to stop for anything in the world. He feels that he could spend all his remaining life kissing Daisy, lost in her lips and in her flavor and feeling how she entangles her fingers around his neck in an attempt to bring him even closer to her.

Suddenly, Luigi begins to feel a slight discomfort on his arms, something cold and wet that makes his skin prickle, but he ignores it, for Daisy’s lips are more important. However, the discomfort increases, now falling on his hair as well and slipping through Daisy’s fingers. She lets out a little cry of surprise against his lips and Luigi can’t help but smile, but doesn’t release Daisy’s mouth, eager to prolong the kiss for all eternity. 

Nevertheless, even though she doesn’t seem to want to break away either, she begins to say his name giggling as she places her hands on his chest to try to push him away a little, gently but firmly. Luigi, thinking it’s just a game, laughs and pulls her a little closer, ignoring the cold he feels in his arms and head. Daisy presses her lips on his for a moment more and, to Luigi’s disgrace, she moves away and says his name again, still chuckling, raising her tone a little. He finally opens his eyes but doesn’t erase the infatuated smile from his face nor take his arms away from her waist.

“It’s raining,” she points out with a giggle. 

“How nice,” he mumbles, enraptured, and seeks her lips again. 

Daisy is about to burst into laughter, but it’s drowned out by the intensity of his kiss. However, after a few seconds of kissing him back, she pulls away again and places her hands on his cheeks.

“Luigi,” she insists, amused. “It’s raining!”

Oly then does he manage to process her words.

“It’s raining?” he repeats as he instinctively raises an arm to place it over both of their heads.

When he glances up, he realizes in frustration that the clouds he saw when they arrived at the pond have ended up hiding the moon and have broken the magical moment he was sharing with Daisy. He purses his lips in annoyance. They’ll get soaked, and the flower he gave the princess will be ruined. 

She, however, covers her mouth to hide a giggle, amused at his reaction. Luigi, without a second thought, grabs her hand and runs away. She laughs heartily, letting him lead her, and Luigi guides her through the flora of the park and back to the city. He runs, pulling Daisy and catching her loud laughter, unable to help it, and takes her to the only place he can think of: his parents’ house. They enter and stand in the doorway, close to the ascending stairs, sheltered from the sudden storm that has burst over their heads. Breathing heavily, they look at each other, wide smiles on their faces, their hands still clasped together.

Luigi, lost in Daisy’s beautiful eyes, raises his free hand to check the condition of the flower, which, to his surprise, is holding firm, resistant to the rain. On impulse, Luigi begins to stroke the princess’ freckled cheek, and she widens her smile and tilts her head a little to enjoy the caress. Luigi’s heart fills with tenderness, and he, captivated, wishes to be lucky enough to see this girl every day.

He wishes to be lucky enough to kiss this girl every day.

“I had a very great time,” Daisy says softly.

“Even with the storm?” Luigi asks, giggling to hide his blush.

“Even with the storm,” she nods.

They laugh again, feeling deeply connected once more, and Daisy’s hand rises to rest on Luigi’s, who hasn’t stopped brushing her cheek with infinite fondness.

“Although...” Daisy stands on tiptoe so she can whisper in his ear. “What we were doing just before it started raining was my favorite part.”

Luigi is sure his whole face is now redder than Mario’s hat. He swallows, as his throat has gone dry, and notices his heart hammering in his ears. When Daisy looks at him, he smiles and nods in an awkward attempt to tell her that this was his favorite part too.

“We’ll have to do it again,” Daisy adds suggestively.

Seizing the fact that she was still on tiptoe and that their faces are close together, she rubs her lips against Luigi’s, just for an instant, just a quick caress of her mouth on his. For Luigi, though, it’s more than enough: he grabs her waist again and opens his mouth to deepen the kiss. Daisy gives a soft giggle, but immediately reciprocates his gesture and cups his face gently.

This time they’re interrupted by the sound of footsteps running down the stairs. Startled, they separate, although their hands remain in the same places, and they look up just in time to see Mario arriving, at full speed, at the hallway of the building.

“Wow,” he exclaims with a chuckle. “Sorry to interrupt.”

Luigi gives him an embarrassed smile and hopes that Daisy’s hands, still resting on his cheeks, hide his blush. She, without a trace of shyness, widens her smile and leans a little towards him, so that her hair grazes Luigi’s chin. His legs automatically turn into butter again. 

“I see the date went well,” Mario observes, smiling mischievously at them.

“Better than that,” replies Daisy, and her fingers begin to affectionately squeeze Luigi’s cheeks, making him feel the urge to laugh and hide underground, all at the same time. “Your brother and I are boyfriend and girlfriend.”

Her words fill Luigi’s heart with so much joy that, not caring that his brother is present, he gives Daisy a fully beaming glance. 

“Does that mean I can treat you like a sister now?” Mario asks amusedly.

“Weren’t you already doing that?” replies Daisy, following his joke.

“Maybe, but I guess it makes more sense now.”

Daisy responds with a laugh, her hands coming down to Luigi’s shoulders. He manages to emit a nervous chuckle, and his eyes suddenly meet Mario’s, who, slowly, has continued to approach the door. At that instant, however, Mario stops, his gaze filled with understanding and affection, and Luigi’s heart swells in his chest, his smile a little hesitant at his brother’s sincere joy for him. Luigi nods slightly, hoping Mario catches the appreciation in his gesture and in his eyes, for, after all, his brother has helped him from the beginning in everything concerning his feelings for Daisy. 

Luigi would not be experiencing his exciting first date with Daisy were it not for his beloved big brother’s invaluable help.

Then Mario, not taking his eyes off Luigi’s, approaches him in two strides and gently pats his shoulder.

“See you later at home, Lu,” he says, a warm smile tattooed on his lips.

Luigi nods, feeling a little reassured by his brother’s familiar touch, and takes one hand off Daisy’s waist to place it on Mario’s shoulder.

And, for an instant, Luigi holds in his two hands the two most important people in his life and for who he would gladly give his last breath.

Not even realizing it, he tightens his grip around Daisy’s waist as he gives a light squeeze on Mario’s shoulder. His brother, after a final pat, slowly pulls away from him and turns towards the door.

Then Luigi realizes something.

“Mario,” he calls out to him, worried. “It’s raining. Didn’t you take your umbrella?”

“Oh, don’t worry, Lu,” Mario replies, waving his hand to play it down. “The pipe is quite close. I won’t have time to get wet.”

Luigi smiles and shakes his head slightly, resigned. 

“You’ll catch a cold,” he scolds him affectionately.

“And then I’ll have two Moms instead of one, I know,” Mario says in the same tone, making both Luigi and Daisy giggle. “See you, lovebirds!”

And before Luigi or Daisy have time to answer him, he’s gone. 

Luigi sighs, the resigned smile still on his lips. His brother will never change, and he adores him for that very reason.

Then he turns to Daisy, who also turns her face towards him at that instant, and they smile at each other, knowingly, their cheeks reddened. There’s something Luigi wants to ask her, but he doesn’t know how to broach the subject. Daisy, however, is faster in taking the initiative.

“Where were we?” she murmurs, running two fingers provocatively across his chest.

But Luigi, despite the embarrassment, despite the shudder of pleasure that runs up and down him, still needs to get something off his head, to ask her something about what she just declared in front of Mario.

“D-Daisy,” he mumbles, and rubs the back of his neck for the millionth time that night. “Th-that thing about... us being... y-you know... b-boyfriend and girlfriend... W-were you s-serious?”

“Absolutely,” she says without hesitation. “Unless you don’t want to, of course.”

“Yes!” Luigi shouts, almost at a faster speed than when they were at the pizzeria. “Y-yes, Daisy, I-I mean, o-of course I do, I...” He stops for a moment and takes a deep breath, trying to order the words he wants to pronounce. “Of course I want to go out with you, Daisy. I-I r-really l-like... you.”

She laughs softly, a bit blushed, and bites her lower lip, still running her fingers down his chest and sending shivers down his spine.

“I really like you too, Luigi,” she confesses, her voice a faint whisper. “You’re... so sweet. In every way.”

She places a tender kiss on Luigi’s lips, which makes his heart skip a beat. But before he can reciprocate, she pulls away for a moment and looks at him with sparkling eyes.

“See you tomorrow, my sweet Green Bean?”

Luigi jumps at the affectionate appellation and flushes again, but finds that he likes, no, he loves it that Daisy addresses him that way. A smile blossoms on his face and his grip around her waist tightens.

“I’m looking forward to it, my Desert Princess.”

She grins and, to Luigi’s surprise, reddens too. Captivated, he caresses her cheek as she watches him intently. Then he slides his hand into her beautiful, velvety auburn hair, taking care not to drop the purple daisy, and she cups his face again. And, lost in each other’s eyes, they lean in until their lips meet once more.

But this kiss, even if it is also intense and sweet and deep and passionate and intoxicating, tastes like a farewell.

“I’m already counting the hours until we meet again,” Luigi murmurs, pulling away for a second, only to kiss her again as soon as he finishes speaking, with greater intensity and passion.

“I was about to tell you the same thing,” she replies, resuming the kiss a second later.

And they kiss, and kiss, and kiss, and his hands stroke her waist and her mane, and hers get lost in his tousled hair and encircle his neck, and their tongues dance a dance that both would like to last forever.

And in that moment, not being aware of it, they both inwardly promise themselves the same thing.

That, someday, it will be.

[leafryoworks]

I'm going to tell you what your favourite character in the amazing digital carnival says about you .

Please note that this isn't serious and I'm just want this to be silly . I might overdone in a few segments . Carnival au belongs to @sm-baby .

Caine : Autistic creature . You're probably afraid of being underachieved by people younger than you and you try so hard to not let it show . You tend to crave company but your differences also make you a tad left out by others . Still you got a special skill that you're sure only you have ! ...right ? Don't worry because while it may seem dark right know , the sun will come up and maybe the friends you need will come and find you .

Pomni : The most girlfailure . You tend to try to have your sh-uhm , responsibilities and thoughts pulled together to be a functioning adult but not all things probably pulled off succesfully . Still it's the thought that matters and the worst thing you could do is not try at all . Do that thing you wanted , you never know what might happen .

Queenie : You got underlying mommy issues . She gives you the classic wine aunt you never get to experience . There are things that you couldn't control , you might say it collars you down to your place . But...remember the loved ones by your side . They may not be able to offer the freedom you seek and...they may not be the best people they are right know but the worst thing you could do is abandon the ones that cared about you .

Kinger : Silly and a bit kooky . Trauma changes who you are and there are moments you're not at the best headspace . You probably seek entertainment to lose your sense of reality and not face the sadness and tragedy knowing it would rock your world in the worst case . You need someone to hold your hand , to give you company...eventhough you know subconciously that it's not real .

Jax : The artist who lost his motivation . You're a bit curious on how things tend to work and likes seeing the colour red on paper . The reason I only draw something so violent on paper was to let my anger out and you know what I'm trying to say connecting to this segment . And yet we all know that anger is just overwhelming sadness that you don't know how to let out . We all got problems and things that aren't aligned with others regarding in coping mechanisms . And yet...eventhough you might say you don't need them , who are you lying to ?

Ragatha : Mommy issues ! Abandoment issues ! You can't florish under pressure and negativety or else your heart will ached and cause you to not breathe . That's why you try to make things more easier for others so when they're happy , you're happy . If they're sad , you're sad . Literally . You hold on to your beliefs because no way you're wrong eventhough the evidence is right infront of you ! You live to serve for others because if you have no worth , why...did they kept you around ?...sorry , I got overprojecting , hah . The least you could do is actually let people have their say eventhough it's sad . Bottled up emotions are not healthy and might ruin you and the people you care in a long run . There are things you gotta accept eventhough it might go against on your beliefs . You can't control things in a happy get going situation , this ain't a tv show you can script 24/7 .

Gangle : Maladaptive dreamer . You don't know what's real and what's not fake . The people , the friends you make , are they real ? Your family even ? It's blurry as you toed the line and you find it hard to believe that they are real people you interact with eventhough you know it's true . Sometimes you could be doing work and panicked realizing you're in the real world and not in the world you made up in your head . You rather live your live in ecstasy while dreading the reality that awaits you outside . But enough of that , you got your blorbos in your head to keep your company because they're real ! ...but in your head or is there more...?

Zooble : The cool protector . You tend to protect those who are high up in your list and would be the one nodding your head sagely as your bestfriend rambles about their crush . You care about people just not overcaring to Ragatha's extent . People think you're cool and you probably are . And there are things , secrets that you have to hide of a friend from your other friends because...you know it's the best for their situation . Somethings have to be kept under high security for the best of your friends . You know it's for their best of them and you have to carry the burden to keep the people you care safe . That's your job .

Able : Charmer . You worked so hard to learn and understand your loved one's interests and going as far to be an expert on it . Surely when you are a master of it then you guys can talk and hang out more . What's wrong with that ? You just want to understand them a bit more closer but if that's not working then there must be something wrong . Maybe you're not trying enough so you would try harder . Time to hit the books ! There's nothing wrong with you , don't let the voices in your head fool you !

Bubble : He's so silly ! He reminds you of a pet you wanna pampare and put in a play pen .

Kaufmo : You chose the funniest guy in the cast , huh ? Excellent choice . You like jokes , bad ones even told by others because it means they have thought of cheering people up and that really touched your heart . You tend to be silenced eventhough you are right and yet sometimes they don't wanna listen . The other half is that they do listen , they just don't care . Eventhough the world may not look at it's prime for a moment , you knew you have to keep trying to make the best of it eventhough your attempts may not succeed . But it's better trying than not even trying at all , right ?

Alright people , that's a wrap ! Sorry if it may offend some of you so just letting you guys know it's not 100% accurate , okay ? Okay .

[tu-sugar-mami]

See? Not that complicated

Around 900 words

Summary: Alcina thinks you might be staring too much.

-a spec of fluff at the end and implied smooches

_________________________________________

Contrary to what most people would think, it wasn't uncommon for Alcina to catch the maids staring at her one way or another.

Certainly one would think that with how easily fright took over the poor souls condemned to serve in the castle, they would be more careful with their gaze.

With time, such behavior was noticed but barely acknowledged by the Lady of house Dimitrescu, or at least that's what she liked to tell herself. 

It had been a few months at least since Alcina noticed that one specific maid who seemed even more reckless than the last curious ones, and slowly but surely started to get on the Lady's nerves. 

At dinner, said maid would be planted on the sides of the table with the rest, patiently awaiting the order to refill the glasses for the family, but the Lady knew her curious eyes drifted towards her whenever she thought Alcina wasn't looking. In the halls, when Alcina had the disgrace of being stuck with this maid, the woman was attentive to her in every detail. Whenever Alcina climbed up the stairs and the maid happened to be there, she could sense eyes following until she was out of sight.

At first it was… how to say? Not flattering of course, since Alcina was already used to it, but it certainly was a surprise how often the maid would look at her, not even bothering to hide her staring. And now, well… if the woman was stupid or she was simply not afraid, Alcina couldn't tell. 

It was…strange.

That is until, on a rainy day that forced Alcina's daughters to stay indoors and spend time with their mother, the Lady realized that the maid's gaze wasn't in any place other than her lips. Especially with every laugh and smile the joy of bonding with her daughters provoked her that seemed to make the staring more intense.

Although, at the time it was a mere theory. 

A theory that Alcina, in all the brilliance of her mystery solving gene, set herself to prove.

She started by officially naming you her handmaiden. That would ensure to keep you close in order to study you and, if she was proven right, try to discover why you were so invested in her lips. 

After a while though, she started to look for other things that weren't in her original plan at all, such as how often you'd stare, what expressions would take over your face, and other things that gave Alcina an idea of why you so adamantly kept your gaze glued to her mouth. Of course, there was always the option of asking you directly, but immortality is boring after a few decades, so where was the fun in that?

After a few months of spending time with you, she realized that she may have been enjoying your company a little too much. It was fun to try and solve the mystery, but it was also nice to have you distract her from the things that stressed her (AKA her idiotic brother's antics and the more and more impossible tasks Miranda asked of her) on a daily basis.

And then, almost as if it was divine intervention, the waters in Alcina's mind parted and led a path to illumination.

What if you were just daydreaming of… a kiss? 

It wouldn't be strange, no. Plenty of maids had done so before, yearning for a kiss of the Mistress, but never asking for it so silently and much less than your signature intensive gaze.

Perhaps, Alcina thought, she should try that. After all, her kisses were like glasses of water, she wouldn't deny them to no one. Although, the only 'no one' she would allow near her was you… still, she was feeling generous, and so she went on her way to fetch you from the gardens.

To prove her new theory, of course.

But then, after you had been lured onto her bed for an impromptu make out session and you dumbly called her a cuddle bug while laying snuggly next to her with your leg thrown over her side, Alcina was proven wrong.

If her heart could still beat, right there and then it would be hammering against her chest at the sight of your content droopy eyes and the loving smile that rested relaxed on your face.

It was then that Alcina realized, as your hands cupped her face and your thumbs started gently tracing her lips, that you Kept. Staring. 

Was it not a kiss that you wanted then? 

Had she read it all wrong? But she was so sure! 

What else could it possibly be the reason for your incessant and annoying stari–

"You don't have fangs…" 

In a single moment, all of Alcina's thoughts came to a quite harsh halt.

What?

Your drowsy eyes started closing, and between yawning and burying your face in her neck Alcina could only make out a muffled explanation.

"You're a vampire, I think. I was wondering for a long time if you had them, but you're tall and I'm a bit blind so it's hard to see…"

 

Alcina struggled to keep down the exasperated laugh that inevitably came from her at the answer to the so called mystery, and as she held you closer to her, a vague memory of you wearing glasses for a while when you first arrived at the castle drifted through her mind before she too surrendered to the grasp of sleep.

________________________

You can buy me a coffee here if you'd like ;)

[leavingsunsets]

"ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴋɪɴᴅ ᴏꜰ ꜰʟᴏᴡᴇʀ ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ɪ ᴀᴍ?"

[ɢᴇɴ ᴀꜱᴀɢɪʀɪ 𝗑 𝖦𝖭!𝖱𝖤𝖠𝖣𝖤𝖱]

"What kind of flower you'd be?" you ask, giving him a confused look.

"What's with the sudden question?"

Gen merely tilts his head with an amused expression. "I'm just curious. You've been looking at flowers lately, haven't you?" he queries, but still keeps his gaze on the shimmering surface of the water.

"A little birdie told me you're well versed in flower language too."

Your eyes roll in exasperation. "I bet it was tattletale Chrome who told you."

"Maybee~" he teases.

Sighing, you plant your hands on your hips. "Listen, I'm not an expert at it, I only know the few basics. Like roses, sunflowers, orchids, and stuff like that."

"That's still sufficient enough, you know? Besides, I'm not asking for a whole arrangement. Just one, one you think would describe me the most." he assures, smiling at you patiently, and tucking his hands into his sleeves.

The way he springs up this question out of nowhere is weird, but not too odd. Maybe he really is just curious? You put that thought aside for now and focus on thinking of flowers instead.

"I think..." you mutter, cupping your chin pensively in thought. Your gaze lifts up to the clear sky while you sift through your memories.

"....A Gardenia."

Gen blinks, eyes widening slightly in surprise. "A Gardenia...?"

Then, he breaks into a awkward chuckle. "How does a Gardenia make you think of me?"

At this question, you turn your head away. The reasoning was quite embarrassing, but you knew that you couldn't leave the mentalist unanswered.

"Uhm, clarity... hope, and... yeah." you mutter out, sweating.

"Hm. I don't really know what a 'yeah' is." the man drawls, amused.

"You... You get what I mean!"

"Mmmm. No, I don't."

Scoffing, you cross your arms. "Liar. Weren't you the one who started going on about flower language in front of Hyoga?"

"Well, there's just sooo many flowers... Can't you remind what Gardenias mean again?" he says cheekily.

Groaning, you bury your face in your hand. "C'mon man. You know."

"I'm afraid you'll have to spell it out for me." the mentalist says with a smug smirk on his face.

At this point, you're tired of the roundabouting. Groaning even louder, you turn your head to the side, away from him.

"...It means 'you're lovely'." a dust of pink coats your cheeks in embarrassment as you say this.

"Aweee, was that so hard to sayyy~?" Gen teases loudly, going all up in your side. "You could've just went on and said you liked me~!"

"Wh- I DIDN'T SAY THAT!" you nearly screech at him, face erupting in a bright shade of red as you stumble back. The man cackles at your reaction.

"Ohh, but you're mushy enough to tell me I'm lovely?" he leans in, sporting an even more smug look.

You roll your eyes in exaggerated exasperation. "Don't inflate your head over it. It was just a random pick."

"Ho, you say, but the fact remains that that was the first thing you thought of when asked what flower I reminded you of, the most."

"Okay, and?" You argue, feeling defensive.

"A red Camellia."

His voice suddenly changes, turning a little softened, though still confident in tone. This makes you pause, raising a brow. "What about red Camellias?"

"It reminds me of you."

It's silent, for a little while. Your face is blank, staring. Gen seems to get even more hesitant as the seconds tick by, a tint of regret in his face.

"Uhm, and they mean...?" you speak up, breaking the silence.

Gen blinks in confusion, as if he hadn't expected you to ask. "O-oh, you don't know what they mean?"

"I did tell you I only knew some floriography."

He nods, in a daze, as if in realization. "Oh... I see, I see..."

If you weren't mistaken, his expression seems to be a mix of relief, but also a tinge of disappointment. Though, he quickly shakes it off once he snaps out of it.

"Aha, well, I would tell you! Buuuut I think I heard Kohaku calling for us already! Seems Senku's got another session of grueling labor awaiting us, huh?" he rambles suddenly, shifting the topic. His gestures are weirdly exaggerated, but you dismiss it for the bigger topic.

You groan, already getting flashbacks to the torturous furnace pumping.

"Ghh, please, just let it be something else, like an announcement or something..."

Gen shrugs, already sauntering off, back to the where the others were. "Well, we have to get back to find out. C'mon." he beckons.

With a big, defeated sigh, you trudge after him, stepping off the rocky riverbank, and to the dirt path.

Following after him, you still grumble about how sore your arms would be after working, again.

"I should treat myself to like, 10 fruits after this, as reward." you keep on mumbling to yourself, not taking notice of the man's unusual silence.

Meanwhile, walking ahead of you, the mentalist lifts up his sleeves, attempting to cover the burning red that coats his cheeks.

[P.S. A red Camellia can symbolize love, passion, or a deep desire for someone.]

[thebunnednun]

Whispers of the Heart Dracule Mihawk x Fm! Reader (Part 5)

I do not own the artwork its by: @xuchuan25 Tell them they're amazing y'all!

Chapter 4 in the building y'all!!!! I just needed to see my Buggy.

Part 1 can be found: Here

Part 2 is right: Here

Part 3: Right over yonder

Part 4 right here baby!

Don't be afraid to send me any requests my loves and if you are waiting for the next installment I have another Mihawk story:

*Shadows of the Blade (Dracule Mihawk x Assassin reader)

Chapter 3/4 is where it gets good.

You all voted so here is chapter 5! We get some of Mihawks POV again!

ON WITH THE SHOW!!~

______________Chapter 5: A Gathering of Friends__________________

[Name] found herself standing on the soft sands of a secluded beach, the rhythmic lull of the ocean waves creating a soothing backdrop. The moonlight painted the scene in silver hues, illuminating the world in an ethereal glow.

Beside her stood Mihawk, his presence both commanding and comforting. They walked in companionable silence for a while, the only sounds being the gentle lapping of the waves and the occasional call of a night bird. Finally, they reached a small, intimate cove where Mihawk had set up a modest picnic. A simple but elegant spread of fruits, cheeses, and wine awaited them.

"Tell me," Mihawk said, his deep voice breaking the silence as they settled onto the blanket. "What are your thoughts on love?"

[Name] looked into his golden eyes, feeling a mixture of warmth and curiosity. She took a moment to ponder his question, her thoughts drifting to the many forms of love she had witnessed and experienced.

"Love is complex," she began softly. "It's not just about passion or desire. It's about understanding, trust, and sometimes sacrifice. It's a bond that can give you strength but also make you vulnerable."

Mihawk nodded thoughtfully, his eyes never leaving hers. "And do you think it's worth the risk?"

Before [Name] could answer, the dream began to fade, the edges of the cove blurring and dissolving into a haze. She woke with a start, her hand instinctively reaching under the pillow where she knew Buggy kept a knife. In one swift motion, she grabbed it and threw it towards the direction of the voice that had stirred her.

"Well, I see you're still as fun as ever," a familiar voice remarked with a hint of amusement. Blinking the sleep from her eyes, [Name] focused on the figure standing at the foot of the bed. It was Alvida, her curvaceous form outlined by the soft morning light filtering through the porthole. She was smiling, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Alvida," [Name] sighed, a smile tugging at her lips. She relaxed, her heartbeat slowing down from its initial adrenaline-fueled pace. Alvida sauntered over, smoothing [Name]'s hair with a gentle hand.

"Buggy's making breakfast," she said, her tone softening. "I thought I'd come and wake you."

"Thanks," [Name] replied, sitting up and stretching. She glanced around the room, her eyes falling on Buggy's closet. "Do you mind if I borrow a shirt?"

"Go ahead," Alvida said, stepping back to give her some space.

[Name] slipped out of bed and walked over to the closet, pulling out a loose, comfortable shirt that belonged to Buggy. As she slipped it on, her gaze fell on a small stash of photos tucked under Buggy's pillow. Curious, she picked them up, sitting back on the bed to examine them. The first few photos were of Buggy and Shanks, their youthful faces beaming with joy, the pictures clearly having been taped back together after being torn apart.

She smiled at the sight of them, their camaraderie evident even in the still images. Then she found a photo that made her pause. It was of her, Mihawk, Shanks, and Buggy, much younger and full of life. They stood together, arms around each other, (Or at least Mihawk had rested his hand on your hip before Buggy freaked out) their smiles wide and genuine. She ran her fingers over the image, tracing the faces of her old friends and recalling the memories they had shared.

The details in the photo were vivid: Mihawk's intense gaze, Shanks' carefree grin, Buggy's exaggerated expressions, and her own younger self, caught in a moment of unguarded happiness. The edges of the photo were worn, showing signs of age and frequent handling. A wave of nostalgia washed over her, mingling with the remnants of her dream. She couldn't help but smile, despite the bittersweet tinge of the memories.

"You okay?" Alvida's voice brought her back to the present. [Name] looked up, meeting Alvida's concerned gaze. She nodded, slipping the photos back under the pillow. "Yeah, just... reminiscing."

Alvida smiled gently. "Come on, let's go see what Buggy's burnt this time."

[Name] chuckled, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. She stood up, giving Alvida a grateful look. "Lead the way."

As they left the room, the scent of butter cooking wafted through the air, mingling with the promise of a new day. You decided to keep that memory you dreamt of to yourself.

You and Alvida made your way down the narrow hallway of the ship, the creaking of the wooden floorboards accompanying their steps. The scent of something delicious wafted through the air, making your stomach rumble in anticipation. As they entered the kitchen, the sight that greeted [Name] made her stop in her tracks. Buggy stood at the stove, a spatula in hand, flipping pancakes with a surprisingly deft hand. The counter was a mess, flour and batter splattered everywhere, but the smell was unmistakably enticing.

"Christmas day in the morning!" [Name] exclaimed, her eyes wide with delight. Even though it wasn't Christmas, the sight of Buggy cooking her favorite breakfast filled her with an unexpected warmth.

Buggy turned around, a grin spreading across his (for once) bare face. "Good morning, [Name]," he said, stepping over and planting a quick kiss on her cheek. "I figured I'd surprise you with breakfast."

[Name] felt a blush creep up her cheeks as she smiled back at him. "You certainly did. I thought you gave up cooking."

"Don't get too excited," Buggy said with a chuckle, handing her a stack of plates and cutlery. "Why don’t you set the table while I finish up here?"

As [Name] started arranging the plates and silverware on the small, rickety table, Alvida leaned against the counter, watching Buggy with an amused expression. "I never thought I'd see the day when the great Buggy the Clown is flipping pancakes."

Buggy rolled his eyes, though a smile played on his lips. "Don't make a big deal out of it, Alvida. Even a captain needs to eat."

Alvida smirked, folding her arms. "Oh, I'm not complaining. Just enjoying the show."

Buggy flipped another pancake, his movements fluid and practiced. "You just wait. These are going to be the best pancakes you've ever had."

"Bold claim," Alvida retorted, raising an eyebrow. "Let’s see if you can back it up."

[Name] couldn't help but laugh as she finished setting the table. The banter between Buggy and Alvida was a familiar and comforting sound, one that made the Big Top feel more like a home. As she placed the last fork down, she noticed Buggy sneaking glances over his shoulder. "Something wrong, Bugg's?"

Just as Buggy was about to serve the first pancake, a familiar voice echoed from the doorway. "Well, isn't this a cozy little scene?"

[Name] turned abruptly, her heart skipping a beat. Standing in the doorway was none other than Shanks, his trademark red hair and jovial smile instantly recognizable. He leaned casually against the frame, his eyes twinkling with amusement, and a basket of smoked salmon on his arm.

"Shanks!" [Name] exclaimed, a mix of surprise and joy flooding her. "What are you doing here?" You practically jumped over the table and threw yourself in the arm of the other man you could call your brother. He received you with much vigor, his warmth flooding into your bones and causing you to sigh out contently like a pleased cat. Shanks grinned wider, stepping into the kitchen while balancing you and the fish basket with an easy grace. "I heard there were pancakes. Thought I'd drop by and see for myself."

Buggy groaned, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "Of course you'd show up now, you red-haired freeloader."

Shanks laughed, the sound infectious and warm. "Can't help myself, Buggy. You always did know how to make a mean pancake." Alvida raised an eyebrow, looking between Buggy and Shanks with a smirk. "This just keeps getting better. Should I set another place at the table?"

"Yes, please," Shanks said, moving to give [Name] a quick squeeze before setting her down. "It's good to see you, [Name]. It's been too long." [Name] let her arms remain around Shanks' middle, feeling a surge of affection for the man who had been a part of her life for so long. "It's good to see you too, Shanks. You always know how to make an entrance."

As Shanks and [Name] settled at the table, Buggy began serving the pancakes, each one a golden, fluffy masterpiece. Alvida helped distribute the plates, and soon the small kitchen was filled with the sounds of clinking cutlery and happy chatter. Buggy took his seat, looking around at the familiar faces with a satisfied expression. "Well, dig in, everyone. Let's see if these pancakes live up to the hype."

[Name] took a bite, the warm, buttery flavor melting in her mouth. She closed her eyes, savoring the taste. "Christmas day in the morning indeed," she murmured, smiling at Buggy. "These are amazing, Buggy."

Buggy's cheeks turned a faint pink, and he ducked his head slightly, clearly pleased with the compliment. "Glad you like them," he muttered.

Shanks chuckled, taking a large bite of his own pancake. "I have to admit, Buggy, these are pretty fantastic. You've outdone yourself." Alvida nodded in agreement, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Looks like you've got a new calling, Buggy. Master pancake chef." Buggy waved a hand dismissively, though he couldn't hide the grin on his face. "Alright, alright. Enough about the pancakes. Let's just enjoy breakfast."

As they ate, the conversation flowed easily, filled with laughter and the occasional teasing remark. For [Name], it was a moment of pure contentment, surrounded by people she cared about deeply. The memories of past adventures and the bonds forged over time made this simple meal feel like a celebration. While the last pancake was devoured and the plates were cleared away, [Name] leaned back in her chair, a satisfied smile on her lips.

"Thank you, Buggy. This was perfect." Buggy looked at her, his expression softening. "Anything for you, [Name]." Shanks raised his glass, a twinkle in his eye. "To friends, old and new. And to many more breakfasts like this one." "Here, here," Alvida chimed in, lifting her own glass. They all clinked their glasses together, the sound a harmonious note in the morning air. For [Name], it was a wonderful to finally have the men she called her brothers by her side and the only other woman she could trust to keep an eye on them. 

'Coming here was the right decision after all.'

As the breakfast plates were cleared away and the remnants of their meal were tucked into the sink, the conversation took on a more relaxed, leisurely pace. Shanks, ever the instigator, leaned back in his chair and fixed [Name] with a mischievous grin.

“So, [Name],” he began, drawing out the words with exaggerated casualness, “tell us more about your little crush on Mihawk.”

[Name] felt her cheeks heat up immediately, and she rolled her eyes in a futile attempt to deflect the attention. “Oh, come on, Shanks. Do we really have to go there?”

Buggy, who had been sipping his coffee, nearly choked with laughter. “Oh, absolutely. This is prime breakfast conversation material.”

Alvida smirked, leaning forward with keen interest. “Yes, do tell. How did you get tangled up with that stoic swordsman, again?”

[Name] groaned, burying her face in her hands. “You guys are terrible.”

Shanks laughed, a rich, infectious sound. “We’re just looking out for you, like good big brothers should. Besides, it’s not every day we get to hear about someone actually catching Dracule Mihawk’s attention.” He tried reaching for Buggy's hand before the Blue clown slapped it away with a loud "Whap". However, that didn't deter the red head next to him. If anything, it caused Shanks smile to get even wider. 

Buggy nodded, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Yeah, you must have some sort of magic charm. The guy’s as prickly as a cactus stuck in someones ass and about as sociable as one too.”

[Name] sighed, but there was a hint of a smile on her lips. “Fine, fine. If you must know, it’s not like I planned it. It just… happened. We do actually like living together, and he’s surprisingly thoughtful when he wants to be.”

Shanks raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Thoughtful, huh? That’s a side of Mihawk I’ve never seen. Must be something special about you, [Name].”

Buggy chuckled, leaning back with a smug look. “Oh, definitely. She’s got the magic touch, alright. I’m just surprised she hasn’t run him through with his own sword yet.”

[Name] shot him a playful glare. “Oh, please. He’s not that bad. And for your information, we do typically travel and stay in the same areas together.”

Shanks leaned forward, his expression earnest but still laced with amusement. “So, what’s it like being in a relationship with the world’s greatest swordsman? Do you two spar with each other, or is it all moonlit dinners and quiet conversations?”

[Name] laughed, shaking her head. “A little bit of both, actually. He’s intense, but he’s also got this softer side that he doesn’t show to many people. It’s… complicated, but in a good way.”

Alvida’s eyes softened, and she reached over to squeeze [Name]’s hand. “I’m happy for you, [Name]. You deserve someone who sees you for who you are.”

Buggy, not one to let the moment stay too serious for long, leaned over and nudged [Name] with his elbow. “Just promise us one thing. If he ever gets too serious or brooding, remind him that you’ve got a whole crew of big brothers who are more than willing to knock some sense into him.”

Shanks nodded vigorously. “Absolutely. We’re always here for you, [Name].”

[Name] smiled, feeling a warm surge of affection for the people around her. “Thanks, guys. That means a lot.”

Buggy, ever the clown, couldn’t resist adding one more jab. “Just make sure he knows that if he breaks your heart, he’ll have to answer to us. And believe me, we can be pretty creative when it comes to payback.” "Oh yeah, the blue waffle clown and a drunk flirt, so scary!~ HEY! He kicked me!" You kicked Buggy's shin back before the room filled with laughter, the sound echoing off the walls and mingling with the morning sunlight streaming through the windows. For a moment, [Name] allowed herself to bask in the warmth and camaraderie, grateful for the bonds that tied them all together.

As the laughter subsided, Shanks leaned back in his chair with a satisfied sigh. “Alright, enough about Mihawk. Let’s talk about what’s next for us. Adventures to plan, seas to sail…”

Buggy grinned, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “And plenty of trouble to get into, I’m sure.”

[Name] felt her heart swell with a mix of excitement and contentment. No matter where life took them, she knew she could always count on these moments of joy and camaraderie with the people she loved most. And that, more than anything, made her feel truly at home.

---------------------------------------------------

Meanwhile, Dracule Mihawk stood at the bow of his sleek black ship, the winds of the Grand Line whipping through his hair as he stared out at the endless expanse of the sea. His mind was consumed with thoughts of [Name], her presence lingering in his thoughts like a persistent melody. He had never been one for sentimentality, but there was something about her that stirred emotions he had long thought dormant. 

As he sailed toward his destination, Mihawk found himself contemplating his next move. He had sought out Zoro under the guise of training the young swordsman, but in truth, he had been searching for answers—answers to questions he couldn’t bring himself to voice aloud. He needed guidance, someone to help him navigate the turbulent waters of his own emotions.

"And what of her?" Mihawk murmured to himself, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "What role does she play in all of this?"

The sea offered no answers, only the rhythmic crash of waves against the ship's hull. But Mihawk pressed onward, his resolve unwavering. He knew that he had to confront his feelings head-on, no matter how daunting the prospect may be.

Mihawk stood on the deck of his ship, his expression unreadable as Zoro approached him, a curious glint in his eye. Perona hovered nearby, her arms crossed and a scowl on her face.

"What's going on, Mihawk?" Zoro asked, his tone serious. "Why are we really heading to the Red Line?" Mihawk's gaze flickered towards Zoro before returning to the horizon. "We're going to seek answers," he replied cryptically. "There are matters that need to be addressed." Zoro frowned, sensing that Mihawk was evading the question. "Answers? From who?"

Before Mihawk could respond, Perona huffed impatiently. "Stop beating around the bush, Mihawk. We all know why you're really going to the Red Line."

Mihawk raised an eyebrow, his gaze shifting to Perona. "And why is that, Perona?" Perona's eyes narrowed. "Because of [Name]. You can't hide it forever, you know." Zoro's eyes widened in surprise, his gaze darting between Mihawk and Perona. "What? What does [Name] have to do with this?" Mihawk sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's complicated, Zoro. There are feelings involved—"

"Feelings?" Zoro interrupted, his voice incredulous. "You mean... romantic feelings?" Perona nodded emphatically. "Exactly! Mihawk has been pining after [Name] for ages, but he's too stubborn to admit it." Mihawk's cheeks tinged pink, a rare display of embarrassment. "Perona, that's enough. This is not something to be discussed so casually." Perona rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. Like it's not painfully obvious to everyone except you."

Zoro shifted uncomfortably, feeling like an awkward bystander in the midst of their conversation. "Um, yeah. I think I'm gonna go train," he muttered, edging away slowly.

Mihawk sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Zoro, wait." Zoro paused, looking back at Mihawk expectantly. Mihawk hesitated for a moment before speaking, his voice soft but firm. "Yes, it's true. I have feelings for [Name]." Perona's eyes widened in excitement, and she let out a delighted squeal. "I knew it!" Zoro blinked in surprise, a blush creeping up his cheeks. "Uh, I'll just... go train now." As Zoro hurried off, Perona turned back to Mihawk, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. "Well, now that you've admitted it, what are you going to do about it?"

Mihawk sighed, his gaze drifting out to sea. "I suppose we'll just have to see what the future holds." Perona grinned, linking her arm with Mihawk's. "I can't wait to see how this unfolds."

As the ship sailed towards the Red Line, Mihawk couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation building within him. And so, with a sense of determination that belied his stoic demeanor, Mihawk set his course for the Red Line, where he knew he would find the one man who could offer him the insight he sought: Red-Haired Shanks.

It was a journey fraught with uncertainty, but Mihawk pressed onward, his resolve unwavering. Along the way, fate saw fit to throw him an unexpected curveball in the form of Vice Admiral Garp, the legendary Marine known far and wide as the Hero of the Marines.

Their encounter was brief but enlightening, Garp’s gruff demeanor belying a wisdom that Mihawk had not anticipated. The old Marine spoke of love and loss, of the fleeting nature of time and the importance of seizing the moments that truly mattered. It was advice that struck a chord with Mihawk, resonating deep within his soul.

"As always, Garp, your words are both insightful and cryptic," Mihawk remarked, a rare hint of amusement in his voice.

Garp chuckled, a twinkle in his eye. "Ain't that the way of it, lad? Sometimes, you gotta read between the lines to find the truth."

As they conversed, Mihawk couldn’t help but notice the presence of a few familiar faces among Garp's company. Sitting at a nearby table were Luffy, Ace and Sabo, their laughter ringing out as they regaled the old Marine with tales of their latest adventures. And beside them sat Uta, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she teased the two brothers mercilessly.

Their reunion was a bittersweet one, the weight of their shared past hanging heavy in the air. But amidst the laughter and the banter, Mihawk found himself feeling strangely at peace, as if for the first time in a long while, he was exactly where he was meant to be.

As their conversation turned to more serious matters, Garp mentioned something that gave Mihawk pause. “You know, Mihawk,” the old Marine began, his voice grave, “the civilians think [Name] is dead. Ax-Hand Morgan has been searching for her, but so far, he’s come up empty-handed.”

Mihawk’s brow furrowed in concern, his thoughts turning to [Name] and the danger that seemed to follow her wherever she went. “I see,” he murmured, his mind racing with possibilities. It was a sobering reminder of the dangers that lurked in the shadows, dangers that threatened to tear them apart.

But even as the weight of the world bore down upon him, Mihawk felt a glimmer of hope stirring within his heart. For in that moment, he thought about what it would be like to have [Name] by his side. As they disembarked from the ship, Zoro shot Mihawk a sideways glance, his expression unreadable behind his usual stoicism. "So, where to next, Boss?" he asked, his tone casual but his eyes betraying a hint of curiosity.

Mihawk cast a brief glance over his shoulder, his gaze lingering on the bustling streets of the port town. "I have business to attend to," he replied cryptically, his voice low and measured. "You two are free to do as you please."

But to his surprise, Zoro and Perona exchanged a meaningful look before nodding in unison. "We'll stick around," Zoro said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "You might need our help."

Mihawk arched an eyebrow in mild surprise, but said nothing as he led the way through the crowded streets, his mind already turning to the task at hand.

It didn't take long for them to reach their destination—a quaint little bar tucked away in a quiet corner of the town. As Mihawk stepped inside, he was greeted by the familiar scent of stale ale and the low murmur of conversation. It was a far cry from the opulent halls of his castle, but there was a certain charm to the place that Mihawk found oddly comforting.

As he made his way to a secluded corner of the bar, Mihawk motioned for Zoro and Perona to join him, their presence a silent reassurance in the face of what was to come.

It wasn't long before Shanks made his entrance, his trademark grin lighting up the room as he sauntered over to their table. "Well, well, well, if it isn't my old friend Mihawk," he said jovially, clapping the swordsman on the back in greeting. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Mihawk's expression remained impassive as he gestured for Shanks to take a seat, his gaze unwavering. "We need to talk," he said simply, his voice devoid of its usual edge.

Shanks raised an eyebrow in surprise, but complied, settling into the seat opposite Mihawk with a bemused smile. "Talk about what?" he asked, his tone light but tinged with curiosity.

Mihawk's eyes locked onto Shanks'. "I have acquired certain affections for your sister."

Shanks blinked, the smile slipping from his face as he processed Mihawk's words. "You're serious," he said, leaning forward slightly, his tone now serious.

Mihawk nodded. "I am. These feelings have been growing for some time now."

Shanks rubbed his chin thoughtfully, a myriad of emotions flickering across his face. "And what do you plan to do about it?" he asked, his voice carefully neutral.

Mihawk exhaled slowly, his gaze never leaving Shanks'. "I intend to pursue her, but I felt it necessary to speak with you first. Out of respect."

As Mihawk and Shanks delved into the depths of their conversation, memories of the past resurfaced like specters from the shadows, haunting and bittersweet.

"Do you remember when Buggy introduced you to her?" Shanks asked, his voice tinged with a hint of nostalgia. "Smaller than a dust mite and fiercely strong. She was quite the character, wasn't she?"

Mihawk couldn't help but chuckle at the mention of her name, a fond smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "How could I forget?" he replied, his voice soft with reminiscence. "She was a force to be reckoned with, that's for sure."

Shanks nodded in agreement, a wistful smile playing on his lips. "I still can't believe she managed to outsmart both of us," he mused, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "That woman was something else."

Mihawk couldn't help but laugh at the memory, the sound ringing out like a bell in the quiet confines of the bar. "Indeed she was," he agreed, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "But I suppose that's what makes her so captivating."

"She's something special, isn't she?" Shanks remarked, his gaze lingering on Mihawk with an intensity that bordered on scrutiny.

Mihawk nodded in silent agreement, his thoughts drifting to the woman who had become his constant companion, his confidante, his... everything. "She is," he agreed quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "And I would do anything to keep her safe."

There was a gravity to his words, a solemnity that hung in the air like a shroud as they sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. But amidst the uncertainty and the doubt, there was a glimmer of hope—a hope that no matter what the future held, they would face it together, bound by bonds stronger than steel.

But it was also when the conversation turned to the future that things took a decidedly somber turn. "What if she wanted to leave?" Shanks asked quietly, his gaze piercing as he locked eyes with Mihawk. "What if she wanted to return to a life at sea?"

Mihawk hesitated, his mind racing as he considered the question. It was a possibility he had not allowed himself to entertain, a fear that had lurked in the darkest corners of his heart. But now, faced with the reality of the situation, he knew he had no choice but to confront it head-on.

"If that's what she truly wanted," he said at last, his voice barely above a whisper, "then I would have no right to stand in her way. But I would be lying if I said it wouldn't hurt."

There was a heaviness to his words, a weight that hung in the air between them as they sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. 

Shanks leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "You realize this isn't something to take lightly, Mihawk. [Name] is... well, she's special."

"I am fully aware," Mihawk replied, his voice firm. "And I do not intend to take this lightly. My feelings for her are genuine."

There was a moment of silence as Shanks studied Mihawk's face, searching for any hint of insincerity. Finding none, he finally nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Well, if anyone can handle her, it's you. Just don't break her heart, Mihawk."

Mihawk inclined his head slightly. "You have my word."

Shanks chuckled, the tension in the room easing slightly. "Alright, then. Guess I'll have to get used to seeing you around more often."

Mihawk allowed a rare, faint smile to touch his lips. "Indeed."

As the two old friends sat in companionable silence, the weight of the conversation lingered between them, a silent acknowledgment of the new path Mihawk had chosen to take.

Shanks fiddled with a gold chain around his neck, his fingers tracing the delicate links. "You know, Buggy isn't going to like this."

Mihawk's eyes caught the glint of the chain before he rolled them, exasperation clear on his face. "I truly do not understand how the two of them could be so close."

Shanks smirked, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Watch it now, Hawk Eyes. That's how you fucked around and found out the last time."

Both men chuckled, the shared memory lightening the mood. Shanks stood, stretching slightly. "Well, I need to make a phone call. Excuse me for a moment."

Mihawk nodded, watching as Shanks walked away, the gold chain catching the light with each step. As Shanks disappeared from view, Mihawk allowed himself a moment of contemplation, the weight of the conversation settling in. Whatever lay ahead, he was ready to face it, knowing he had the support of an old friend and the resolve to follow his heart.

Mihawk sat quietly at the bar, his drink in hand, contemplating the conversation he had just had with Shanks. The dim light of the room cast shadows across his face, highlighting the intensity of his thoughts.

The door to the bar swung open, and Zoro and Perona walked in, their expressions determined. Zoro spotted Mihawk and headed straight for him, Perona following close behind.

"Mihawk," Zoro said, his voice carrying a hint of excitement. "Perona and I have decided we're going to stay with Luffy for a while."

Mihawk raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Is that so? And what brings about this decision?" Zoro smirked. "We have our reasons. Let's just say it's time for a change of scenery." Perona nodded enthusiastically. "Besides, I miss annoying those idiots. It'll be fun." Before Mihawk could respond, the door burst open again, and the full Strawhat crew poured into the bar, filling the room with their lively chatter. Luffy led the way, his trademark grin plastered across his face.

"Hey, Mihawk!" Luffy called out, waving energetically. "What are you doing here?"

Mihawk raised his glass in a silent greeting, his eyes scanning the familiar faces. Along with the Strawhats were Uta, Ace, Sabo, and Law, each adding their own unique presence to the gathering.

Nami was the first to notice Mihawk's contemplative expression. "What's going on, Mihawk? You look like you've got something on your mind."

Usopp grinned, nudging Sanji. "Maybe he's in love or something!"

Sanji raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Who would have thought? The great Hawkeye Mihawk, in love?"

Robin's eyes sparkled with curiosity. "Is that true, Mihawk? Do you have feelings for someone?"

Mihawk sighed, knowing there was no avoiding the onslaught of questions. "Yes, it's true. I have feelings for [Name]."

The room erupted into a chorus of excited chatter and encouragement. Luffy, in his usual exuberant manner, jumped onto the nearest table. "That's awesome! You should tell her!"

Nami nodded, a knowing smile on her face. "Luffy's right. You shouldn't keep your feelings to yourself."

Zoro crossed his arms, grinning. "About time you made a move, Mihawk."

Uta chimed in, her voice sweet and teasing. "Just be honest with her. She deserves to know."

Ace clapped Mihawk on the back, his grin wide. "Go for it, Mihawk. Life's too short to hold back."

Sabo nodded in agreement. "You'll regret it if you don't take this chance."

Law, standing off to the side, gave a rare smile. "It's not often we see you vulnerable, Mihawk. Use that to your advantage."

Perona's eyes gleamed with mischief. "Just don't mess it up, or I'll never let you hear the end of it."

Even Chopper and Brook joined in, offering their support. "You can do it, Mihawk!" Chopper cheered, while Brook added, "Love is a beautiful thing, yohoho!"

Franky, flexing his muscles, gave Mihawk a thumbs up. "Show her your super side, Mihawk!"

Jinbe stepped forward, his deep voice steady. "Matters of the heart require great courage, Mihawk. We believe in you."

Mihawk looked around at the enthusiastic faces surrounding him, feeling a mixture of amusement and gratitude. Their encouragement was unexpected but not unwelcome.

"Alright," Mihawk said, his voice steady but filled with determination. "I'll tell her."

The room erupted into cheers, the Strawhat crew and their honorary members celebrating Mihawk's resolve. As the noise subsided, Mihawk felt a sense of clarity and purpose. Whatever challenges lay ahead, he knew he wasn't alone, and with that, he slipped out the back of the bar to find the Blue haired Freak she loved so much. 

------------------------- Bonus part: 

As the bar's atmosphere buzzed with excitement over Mihawk's revelation, Shanks excused himself to step outside for a moment. He felt the vibration of his den-den mushi in his pocket and answered it, recognizing the familiar voice on the other end.

"Shanks," Buggy's voice crackled through the line, sounding both hesitant and urgent. "I've got something to tell you about [Name]. She confided in me earlier."

Shanks leaned against the wall, a smile playing on his lips. "What is it, Buggy?"

Buggy cleared his throat, his tone shifting from urgent to slightly embarrassed. "She... she mentioned Mihawk. I think she might have feelings for him. She seemed really serious about it."

Shanks chuckled softly. "Funny you should mention that. I just had a talk with Mihawk. He confessed he's got feelings for [Name] too."

Buggy's eyes widened on the other end of the line. "You're kidding. Mihawk? The guy who treats emotions like they're some kind of disease?"

"Yep," Shanks replied, still smiling. "Seems our sister friend has managed to break through that icy exterior of his."

There was a brief silence before Buggy spoke again, his voice softer. "You should come over, Shanks. I think it’d be good for us to be here for her, you know, in case things get complicated."

Shanks couldn't help but tease, his grin widening. "Aww, does the clown prince miss me?"

"Shut up, you red-haired idiot!" Buggy snapped, his voice going up an octave. "This isn't about us. It's about [Name]. She deserves to be happy."

Shanks laughed heartily, the sound warm and genuine. "Alright, alright. I’ll be there in the morning. It’d be nice to see her settle down. And you know what, Buggy? It’s nice to see you care so much."

Buggy huffed, trying to regain his composure. "Yeah, well, don't read too much into it. Just hurry up and get here."

"Will do," Shanks promised, his voice softening. "See you soon, Buggy."

As he ended the call, Shanks felt a sense of anticipation. Tomorrow promised to be an interesting day. He re-entered the bar, catching Mihawk's eye and giving him a reassuring nod. Mihawk returned the gesture, understanding the silent message. With friends and family by their side, the future seemed a little less daunting.

Meanwhile, Buggy sat by [Name]'s side as she slept, watching her peaceful expression. Pulling the covers up to her chin, he felt a strange mix of protectiveness and hope. "Oh babydoll, you don't even know how much we love you." With that, he turned the lantern down and lay down to sleep with his hand on his chest to play with the golden chain that rested underneath his vest.

With Shanks on his way and Mihawk ready to make his move, things were about to get very interesting. 

______________________________________________________________

CHapter 6

Chapter 7

Make sure you check out the a03 account by the same name. Everything I have posted here is there in chronological order. I also have other one piece fanfics posted in the masterlist! Give it a read if you please!

Be sure to check out my other works and leave likes and comments, they really help. Drop a follow as well if you please. Don’t be shy to leave me a little reblog if you want.

I promise I bite~

See you soon my loves!!~ <<33

[bettyfrommars]

oh my oh my oh my... I'm here to break the rules...

S3 and E1, &, 🖤💙

:3

I'm awaiting your wrath

oh Somna you sneaky little gremlin you! absolutely anything for you

your People are nightmare!Steve and gargoyle!Eddie

your Place is Dealer's Choice, so I'm giving you Thrift Store

your Things are a Photograph and a Mixtape

word count: 800

18+ONLY, no major warnings just nightmares, Steddie-ish, mention of migraines, monsters, taxidermy. I write these fast and post them without much fuss in an effort to not get too precious about things and just have fun, I love you for reading. Also, I have at least 30 of these asks sitting in my drafts, but this might be my last one for a while.

pick your poison

You'd walked down that same street a million times when the glass storefront with the sign Lost & Found on the door appeared out of nowhere one day. You were certain there'd been nothing but an alleyway in that space the day before.

A bell above the door dinged when you went in, heralding your arrival with an exceptionally shrill clanging that reverberated off your skull. For a second you feared it might trigger another migraine.

"Can I help you find anything?" Steve said from behind the desk, peeking around a tall stack of books, adjusting his thick, tortoiseshell glasses. Behind him was an old Zenith box television showcasing nothing but static.

"Um," you felt suddenly overwhelmed by the shelves of oddities stuffed into the small space, not sure where to look when your eyes landed on what appeared to be a taxidermied squirrel with tiny fangs.

"No, I think I'll just look around if that's alright," you pivoted to avoid a mound of used shoes that were piled up to your hip. At a glance, none of them came in pairs.

"I moved the mixtapes over by the radios," he shuffled around to come out from behind the desk, a familiar glint in his eye. "Found a few new ones since last time."

You assumed maybe he thought you were someone else, so you didn't try to correct him. Must've been a coincidence that he knew about your affection for music relics from another age.

"Where did you find all these?" You asked a few minutes later, pawing through the bins of personalized tapes in in awe. There were handwritten lists of songs and notes inside the hard plastic covers, along with drawings and names on the spines. "For Terry, Love Emily" and "Favorite Metal Mix" along with different bands and titles to the collections.

You picked up a bright neon Memorex tape to inspect the songs on it penned in blue ink with a curious smile on your face. Steve came up behind you and stood with his hands in his pockets. He smelled good, like honeysuckle, sawdust, and freshly mowed grass.

"People lose things and I find them," he said with a shrug. "Have you lost anything? I might have it."

You turned to him then, and really took the time to appreciate the details of his face. The square of his jaw, the curve of his mouth, and the moles dotting down his flesh.

"We've met before, haven't we?"

He shifted his weight forward, leaning into your personal space with the ease of someone who had been there many times before.

"Are you lost? Do you need to be found?"

Something flashed in his eyes, something dark. Sinister, even. But it didn't make you afraid, it gave you comfort, like the thrill of entering a haunted house when you've paid to be scared.

You went back to rifling through the tapes before moving on to turn the knobs on the radios, and then check out the cameras. Some still had film in then, some were broken, and one was a folding Polaroid Land Camera with a processed photo next to it.

The image edged in white was of a magnificent gargoyle in a red rose garden with its head down and wings pinned to its sides. Chiseled muscles and clawed hands. The statue had long dark hair and wore what looked like a guitar pick on a chain around its neck.

"He's beautiful," you whispered, turning the photo over to see if there was any description on the back.

"He's a pain in my ass," Steve mumbled, slamming a few books into their respective slots on the nearby bookshelf.

"Why is that?" His annoyed tone made you chuckle, craning your neck to see where he went.

"Look at the photo again," he said with his back to you.

You did as you were told, struck with confusion to find that there was no longer a statue in the garden. You blinked a few times, thinking it might've been a trick of the light.

"Well, that doesn't make any sense. Where did it---"

"Now look behind you," Steve crossed his arms to lean against the bookshelf, waiting.

You turned, expecting to find another photo or something else besides...

Your blood ran cold at the gargoyle man standing an arm's length away.

He was naked, with lips the same slate gray as his skin, and his black eyes sought yours for reassurance.

"Eddie will you please cut it out?" Steve put his hands on his hips. "You're going to scare all of my customers away."

"Eddie," you cocked your head. "Is that your name?"

He offered one long nod, bowing his head to you, wings twitching.

"He won't hurt you," Steve assured softly. "He loves you as much as I do.

[still-fatemeh]

♤Wolf in sheep's clothing♤

Fyodor Dostoevsky X reader

[The reader is named Anna. As in Anna dostoevskaya, the writer's second wife. But, doesn't necessarily nod back to the real life person, just like how asagiri went with Nobuko Sasaki for the antagonist in dazai's entrance exam novel. I just pick a name because I hate using Y/N, that's all. Also, this goes back in time (fyodor's old as fuck) about the age where he met bram. My English is limited, there may be grammar mistakes. Enjoy 💜 it's hella toxic]

The reflection of flames in the violet eyes of the man, was a subdued version of what the fire truly was. It was a fire as destructive and scorching as a volcano, devouring anything that came in contact with it and giving back ashes. The aftermath was going to be a hassle, something similar to incendium magnum Romae.

She watched the hazardous catastrophe in the form of a fire from above, watching the people and their blood-curdling screams, all terrified, who'd sacrificed all they had for the fire to consume and grow bigger, burning even further. Her expression was tight, unimpressed even.

Clutching the pendant of her pearl necklace in her palm, her eyes stared straight ahead, no uncertainty or fear could be seen in them. It was rather difficult to guess where her train of thought was heading. But to fyodor it wasn't at all hard to guess, he'd come to know her mind well and, also the fact that he was the root of all this chaos.

"Are you enjoying this?" Anna asked him with a hint of disdain in her tone, her eyes still fixed on the fire.

"They aren't suffering for my pleasure, sweetheart. It just happened to be what they had, had to be sacrificed for the cause. For a beautiful world, free of sin." He said simply with a graceful smile as his gaze shifted to look at her instead of the burning city, it was true that a step closer to fulfilling his goal was a beautiful event, but she... She was far more beautiful.

Before she could voice her thoughts regarding his cryptic answer, he spoke again. Partly to kill her train of thought, to prevent her from berating him for being so guiltless and hypocritical. She wasn't going to stay that way for too long though. "Why, are you mad?"

She shook her head in a manner that indicated a negative answer. "No, I have no reason to be mad at you."

"Why?" Fyodor asked, curious.

"Because I'm no eye of God to judge people for their deeds, not the immorality that I, myself assisted in creating. I'm no hand of God to deliver his justice."

Fyodor mused.

"Why? Don't you think of yourself as worthy?"

"It's not a matter of worth, it's a matter of place. And it's no one's place to claim the position of the almighty."

His smile broadened, her words, strangely enough, seemed to amuse him to no end.

"Do you think of me as some lunatic trying to play God?"

He asked once again, his eyes deceptively soft as he awaited her answer.

Her eyes were still on the fire with the same pointed gaze as before but now, they had a glimmer of resignation in them.

"No, I don't think of you as such."

"Why?"

And there came another demand from him; for her to reason, but she was afraid this was a question she didn't have an answer to, her Achilles heel.

Her eyes trailed from the fire to the railing of the balcony, the hint of sharpness in them giving it's place to melancholy.

"Is it because you love me?"

That rolled off his tongue oh-so-easily.

"It's too soon for me to be deciding that." It came off as uncertain, abashed even.

"Worry not, dearest. You have all the time in the world to consider it." He said with a reverent smile.

.

.

.

After a moment of perfect stillness, Anna spoke again.

"My father admired you and everything you stood for, that's the reason I don't think of you as evil."

"And yet his corpse is burning in the same fire that I made. He lost everything trusting one man."

He stated the obvious and her eyes clouded over with unimaginable grief.

"Are you... calling him... foolish?"

She could barely force herself to say the words. And more than the painful question, she dreaded his answer, she feared it.

"Yes."

Fyodor said firmly. Anna's head snapped in his direction with a stunned expression.

"His trust was valuable and his belief was that of a correct nature. And he gave it away to make himself a martyr for the cause. He was foolish for giving away his trust so freely but not for believing that good exists within everyone, that God made us in his own image, perfection. People take refuge in God because they're afraid of the burning fires of hell, the firewood comes from their own crimes, as punishment. The lava that eats up their ashes stems from the volcano of their own wrongdoings. They fancy they serve the cause of religion, because the devils show them their horns from the other world. But your father was rather exceptional..." He was having fun with words and she was listening like she's never been before. As if he was giving her the sweetest promises... Anna was all ears and trembling, as if listening to a pastor preaching about doom's day.

His air of intentness faded as he spared her half-questioning face a glance and gave her a subtle smile. "And he brought up an amazing woman, to continue his legacy. That's not an easy task by any means."

She gulped, shame flooding her expression.

"You... don't have to rub salt on the wound, you don't have to keep reminding me of my betrayal and ungratefulness. I'll stand by my promise, you don't need to take any extra measures to ensure that..."

Fyodor's lips twitched into a thin smile.

"So... you know yourself worthy of telling me what to do, what measures to take, what measures not to take, what to decide..."

Fyodor's tone had a lilt of amusement to it at seeing her mortified expression, she anticipated exactly what was about to come. Smart woman.

"But you don't consider yourself worthy of playing God?"

His voice suddenly became dangerously low. His hand raised her chin to look her in the eyes. Anna held his gaze really well, she was courageous enough to ignore the screams of every fiber of her being begging her to run. To get away from this man. It was also a display of pride, to show him a hint of the noble blood that coursed through her veins. She was raised for greatness, after all.

But all fyodor saw was a sparrow trapped in a predator's grip, unable to flee, her fate as clear as day, her fate as dark as the abyss.

His hand wandered higher, forcefully cupping her cheeks. reddened due to the heat that the huge fire exuded. Her face remained stoic but her eyes were extremely expressive, they gave her away. He could see the fear, the agony, the feeling of worthlessness, determination, devotion, guilt, grief, everything. And above all, despite her unawareness, those doey eyes spoke of innocence. God, her eyes glistening was such a sight. It was as if she was sculpted by the greatest of the great artists, so talented that they could bring the epidemy of perfection and grace to life. And he couldn't wait to take that all for himself.

"You betrayed the man that put his all into raising you... You threw him away for the evil incarnate that I am... Don't you dare think of me as hypocritical when this is what you are... How am I supposed to know you won't betray me for the next man that comes your way? You set yourself up for failure, sweetheart..."

She was frozen, afraid but also... she was still standing. Shivering, but still on her own two feet.

"You bit the hand that fed you,"

His hand wondered lower this time, letting go of his grip on her jaw and grasping the necklace around her neck.

"Now you're going to be licking the boot that kicks you."

He pulled the necklace forward so hard that the thread holding it together snapped and it fell apart. All she could hear was the sound of pearls hitting the ground.

She had nothing to fear anymore. She no longer had anything that she dreaded losing. She was a traitor, a betrayer of her father's trust and she deserved to burn for it...

"Don't be afraid, dearest. I'll rewrite your fate for you. I'm not ever going to let you betray me. You don't even think of such thing, right? Because that'll make you even more worthless. The most worthless harlot that has ever set foot on this earth. But, I'm a generous man. I'm willing to forget the past if you're willing to leave it behind..."

All she could hear was the agonising cries of a mother who was carrying the burned corpse of her child...

She was paying for her crimes but what crime did the poor child have to pay for?

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

Alice 'Allie' Parkington is WonderSpider!

____________________________________

Miguel: One year and four months ago, I devised the formula for inter-dimensional travel, allowing me to open portals across the multiverse. I created an elite stri-

Alice: Oh, Okay! -

[Alice is the result of a 'Adapt-A-Spider' Challenge, where you adapt a pre-existing character into a Spider! You can see more of my fun Spidersona challenges HERE]

(Also HUGE THANKS to @fairytalespider who made the OG SpiderSnow!)

Gwen Stacy isn't the only blonde who knows about miraculously falling through wormholes.

Except Allie got sent to the universe with talking animals, and a maniacal queen with of taste for beheadings. Not that she's complaining. Not when the tea parties are so delightful~

At 7 years old Alice Parkington found a white waist-coated rabbit, on a hurry to who knows where -

And she followed him, fell down a hole, and never came back.

Origins:

[Alice's world is a mix of the book's portrayal, the cartoon's, and Tim Burton's (though I haven't seen the movies). Her story begins at the end of book - a similar ending to the cartoon movie, but instead she doesn't wake up.]

After losing a game of croquet to The Red Queen of Hearts, Alice is sent to the dungeons, awaiting her beheading on the Queen's orders. That is, until she finds an enchanted Spider in her cell, sent by an ally. When she's bitten, it gives her all the power of Wonderland - and binds her there forever. After escaping The Red Queen's Death Row, Alice was adopted by the woman who helped free her - The kind but exiled The White Queen or Marmoreal, aka Her Aunt Mirana.

Now The Blue Princess of Marmoreal, Alice is next in line for the throne, and the web-swinging protector of Tugley Woods, Wonderland. She spends her days fighting against the tyrannical and murderous rule of The Red Queen of Hearts, and The Court of Cards. With The Mad Hatter as her martyred Uncle Ben - Alice calls Wonderland her home, though she's always left questioning what's real and what isn't. At this point, she's accepted she'll never know the answer. So when she's recruited for Spider Society, it's just another rabbit hole to go down, and another adventure to fall into. On campus she's known as WonderSpider, and she's a lot more powerful (and ruthless) than you'd think.

Design and Personality:

Alice is a lot less sugar and a bit more spice, with her personality taking after the book (moreso than the movies).

Alice is bubbly and independent. She's as curious as a cat and as chatty as a bird. And she's all about asking questions and finding her own way in the world.

She's loves tea parties and foraging and making crazy experiements in the Hatter's workshop. And now that he's gone, she still finds herself in there, cooking up another magical sweet or Victorian style gadget. When she's not doing that, she's at The White Queens side, begrudgingly taking (literally) nonsensical etiquette classes. She isn't afraid to speak up for herself and others. And once she makes her mind up, it's settled.

Despite what some may think, she's isn't an entire lunatic. She's hasn't gone Wonderland Mad yet.

Even since a young girl, Alice has always been known for asking questions - trying to find the sense in nonsense before coming to a conclusion. She's great at picking up on details, and thinking outside the box. And she's always the one to keep a level head, no matter what the circumstances. Doom is not assured when reality is subjective. She's as logical as she is loopy, and although some may think there's nothing going on between her ears, they are sorely mistaken.

She always wears her glasses. She needs them to see.

Or rather, she needs them to see correctly. Having a cause of The Mads, taking off her glasses distorts her vision of the room into a psychedelic and disorienting wonderland version itself - which hurts. She keeps them on always. Though they can be knocked off during battle. Like other Spider-people - The lenses squint, blink, and emote. They have a permanent and consistently moving patterns and colors. Between blinks, the design may change, the swirls changing color or direction. Sometimes the words she's saying may flash over them for emphasis, and they can contain anything from exclamation points to tie dye.

Alice is a de facto genius.

An expert chemist, Alice has mastered dozens of recipes and chemistry formulas using the vegetation in Wonderland. She's cracked the code to rabbit holes, and has an amazing affinity for science and theoretical theory. And if she doesn't understand a certain law of physics or something, she can just choose to ignore it. Literally.

Powers & Abilities:

Hobie told Alice that laws are oppressive. She agreed, told him she hates the laws of physics - then started floating to the ceiling like a balloon. Needless to say, reality doesn't really work for Alice. And she cannot control it.

But no matter what her misfortune, though - She'll always say 'Oh, dear.'

Reality Warp:

Wonderland has side effects. Alice can grow and shrink at will, but once she's there, she can't go back. When she wants, she can manifest rabbit holes to Wonderland on any flat surface, but she doesn't know where they are - so she always falls into them. Her tears are huge, and they flood any room. And for some reason, she's obsessed with cookies. It she sees one, she'll eat it. It doesn't matter if it says 'Eat Me' or not. If you hand her something and tell her to drink, she will. It's the one thing she won't question, although she should know better. She'll read the label, and if it's not clearly labeled bleach or poison, she's drinking it. If it's not those two things, it must be safe right?

The Power of Imagination:

Like Spider-Ham has the Super-Slapstick ability, Alice has the Power of Imagination on her side. If she can make logic of it or believe it, then there is a random chance it will happen. If the team is looking for a way past a locked door, Alice may say 'If only there were a mousehole somewhere here. Mice are such scampers, they can get into anywhere!' There will probably be a 1/4 chance of a mouse running by, leading them to a cartoon like mousehole she can shrink and go through. However, Alice can't will it to happen. She can't be asking or hoping for it, and the thought has to be completely innocent and 'wonderous' for it to work. The ability can also be compounded, with multiple unlikely things happening rapid fire - however this is less likely and HIGHLY dangerous if done in other universes, and is likely to cause an anomaly. Plus everyone else involved goes a tad bit 'loopy' for a bit.

This ability only works outside of Wonderland, and it was discovered by Miguel.

When Alice met Miguel, she began to question his interesting suit, and so she asked. Miguel began to explain to her, but confused, Alice said 'Well, that's nonsensical. Surely you can't wear light like fabric. If that were true, I could pull this right off you.' - And then she did. And suddenly she was holding his suit in her hands as if it were made of fabric, and Miguel was there in his underwear.

Alice's response: 'Oh dear.'

Chesire Mode:

When surrounded by enough chaos or kinetic energy, Alice can go Chesire Mode, and really goes off the bend. She experiences full Wonderland Madness - similar to the Hatter, and gains the ability to unravel herself and turn invisible. Her voice begins to echo, creating a disorienting and hallucination-like affect. Doing this is known to cause madness, but it affects everyone in the room.

Equipment:

WebShooters: Alice uses mechanical Web-Shooters created by her and The Mad Hatter. Her webs are silly string and streamers. 'Bow'-nus Arms: Alice's waist ribbon is extendable like Mr.Fantastic's limbs, serving essentially as a second set of arms. However, when it's off of her, it's much more similar to Doctor Strange's cape, having a mind and personality of it's own. She can take it off and ask it do it, and it'll go off and (try it's best) to do it, just like a snake. It's name is David Bowie. She does not know who David Bowie is - it's just a coincidence: it's family name is Bow-ie, and David is a common name.

Random Facts:

Alice hangs out with a lot of the 'Eccentric' and Mini Spiders - She likes others from cartoons or fairytales, or anyone made for whimsy.

And she likes spending her time small.

She has a crush on Lego Spider-Man. She shrinks to be with him lol

He naturally finds her a little offputting, they're NOT a thing but she wishes (sis he's literal plastic)

Alice's best friends are SpiderPetal, SpiderSnow (@fairytalespider), SpiderFairy (@stardust948) and Spider-Ham.

Since they all live in either a woodland area, a cartoon, or both, those are usually who she's with

Though she only goes small around people she trusts - but never someone like Miguel. In fact, with Miguel, she does the opposite.

When Miguel is in the room, Alice prefers to grow 'full size' as in... taking up the whole room giantess style.

She says it helps, because 'It makes Mr.O'hara look like a little toy soldier.'

With the size of his lair, she can often grow taller faster than he can get lower - so he'll stay up there, and she'll grow to meet his eye.

She can decide when to stop growing or shrinking, just not when she'll turn back.

This power is transferable. Alice's wonderland powers still work elsewhere, and so her cookies and drinks do too.

Alice can only keep 1 cookie and 1 drink on her at one time, never more, it'll always be ruined.

She can use these to either extend her state, or have someone shrink or grow along with her.

But once she uses the one of each item, she can't get more until she returns home and makes more.

HOWEVER. HOWEVER - Alice is down for deals.

If you come to her world and ask for some cookies or potions, she'll give it to you. But there's a mandatory tea party involved, and the only payment she asks is that you bring sweets for the guests - Vegan please!!

(Her favorite is angel food cake, after cookies of course)

Those aren't the only ones - she has dozens of sophisticated concoctions for any need - floating and weightlessness, invisibility, even the ability to mimic voices perfectly -

And just the same, she's able to carry one of each when outside of Wonderland.

A frequent customer of hers is Hobie. He puts the potions to work - plus he makes the best vegan coconut macaroons.

Oh - also DO NOT Drink her tea though - it's made with Wonderland Tea Leaves....Great for a good time, horrible for bedtime.

Despite not knowing her specific age - Alice is a young adult - and she works at The Society.

Her Uncle Hatter was a master chemist, alchemist, magician, chef - and dozens of other things. And for years, Alice studied under him.

Originally, Miguel assumed all of this knowledge would be non-transferable nonsense, but - wrong.

Alice is one of the leading scientists at The Society - with a concentration in Multiversal Physics, studying everything from the visual styles of universes, the path between universes, and differences in time.

She'll often say something, only to get dismissed by Miguel.

But Lyla will cut him off, telling him that scientifically, Alice IS making sense.

It's just that because her world is totally backwards, the ideas she has to describe her thoughts are backwards too.

After a while, she becomes one of the main people to write the updates and programs for the watches, working with Miguel as her boss.

She's like a bop-it, full of weird and very useless quirks.

If her feet get wet, they make the duck waddle sound when she walks.

If she hits her head, it makes the TikTok 'Boink' sound. She runs and it makes the Flintstones noise.

If she stubs her toe or gets hurt on something tiny, she'll scream like Tom The Cat.

She burps bubbles (like the soap kind) and her sneezes sound like one of those party straw thingies.

Sometimes her Wonderland powers play tricks on her. She'll be like 'I'm outta here!!' then walk into a looney toons wall. And she's so embarrassed cause the cartoon noises make it so much worse fhgsuigdf

Sometimes when she tries to run she stays in one place for a second before the running kicks in (like a cartoon) - and Miguel just grabs her and she's like 'Dratz, I was trying to get away.'

She enjoys hanging out with Hobie, though she does not understand him at all.

Like, she's British too - did I mention she's British, cause she's from Victorian England -

But she has no opinion on his ideology because it's ???? lost on her

He's like 'This is a metaphor for capitalism' and she'd be like 'I don't know what that is.'

He's like 'count your blessings'.

But Hobie LOVES that Alice doesn't stick to the rules -

and that she gives the middle finger to the laws of physics by just existing

He's like 'That's so cool, what you just did. Real Metal.'

She's like 'I suppose I am just a container, filled with slowly decaying food - so in that way, I am quite like a fridge, which is cool and made of metal-'

And he's like 'what are you talking about-'

And they mainly hangout because they're both lazy.

Alice is tirrreeed of all these weird physics rules and new technology and non talking cutlery.

She'd much prefer to take a nap, or wander off, of have a tea party, or do ANYTHING that isn't work. Same girl same

And that's it! Most of it, I'll probably maybe maybe not write a post about her joining the society and how it completely warps her perception of reality because she's been trying to get home for so long, she doesn't even know if her home exists then there's this new society through ANOTHER wormhole but she still can't get home-

Oh and before I go, her intro art is inspired by Qveen Herby's single Abracadabra!

Yeah. If you made it this far THANK YOU FOR GIVING ME UR TIME! Thank you so so much for entertaining me I MEAN IT THANK YOU I KNOWI POST SO MANY OCS AND IT'S KINDA OVERWHELMING SORRY AAHHH MY BRAIN CANT STOP I CANT FOCUS HELP

Anyway I'm normal

HERE HOBIE

Bye.

[devouring-hive]

31, Marisa

It's not often that you get to see someone like that. Even in this world where sizes are getting increasingly swollen, breadths increasingly dramatic, watching someone waddle by who's not merely wider than she is tall, but wider by a factor of two- Maybe even three- Sizes is... Almost harrowing.

As a symptom of a wider epidemic Marisa Kirisame is a particularly curious case, she had always been fat in some measure or another throughout the many years she's made a public figure of herself, and throughout all of those years she's made no secret of her pride in her size- And in particular the assets that it brought with. With years into this incident now crawling by though, her weight has skyrocketed surely into the half-ton range by now, and left the confidence in it behind on earth as it shot into the stars.

Really, that is what's more harrowing than anything, to see a Marisa who doesn't walk- Or rather waddle nowadays, with her near trademark bravado down streets and across lanes like she doesn't just own what she's got, but what you've got as well. It's near frightening watching someone with such a powerful presence to her now shuffling along at snails' pace towards a stall with her hammy arms tucked in towards her flabby pancake-chest like she's afraid to be seen making her presence known.

No one that size, no one like her could ever hide though. Although it was something she took pride in once, now it seems like it's proving to be more of a spectacle than she can handle as she struggles her way up onto a quartet of stools magically pulled together into a makeshift bench and set far, far away from from the stall's desk. You're not sure what it is that she orders once she's sat and, relatively speaking, stable- The creak and grind of sturdy wood made flimsy beneath her immense girth drowns out any word she says at the distance you're observing from, but the chef at least seems to understand her...

Much to his apparent chagrin, the way you catch him grimacing.

As you watch Marisa lean forward toward the stall-desk to await her meal, you end up nearly as shocked as she is when her elbows land nowhere near the surface, and were it not for the bulky swell of double-terraced tum would have caused her to topple forward and straight into the undeserving stall like a golden-blonde wrecking ball. You're not sure whether it's fortunate or not that Marisa recovered quickly though, because as she straightens back out again the two of you lock eyes hard amidst her panicked cross-checking side to side.

She's crimson, nearly beet-red in the face, but the moment the two of you enter that battle of gazes something in her seems to click well into place- As a far-more familiar visage greets you rather suddenly to the tune of a tipped witches' hat and a wide, bright grin that lies smoothly about her previously-blatant embarrassment.

Marisa ushers you over with a pudgy hand beckoning sweetly, and her traditionally husky voice sounding just a little huskier than usual. "Well Ah'll be damned if it weren't just who ah was lookin' fer!" You know for a fact she doesn't know you, you only know her because she's famously hard to miss for a number of reasons. Still, she continues on like the two of you are long-time friends, and in doing so you can see clearly why even at her advanced size she's managed to score so often.

"Darlin' yer just in time, see, ah could use some'n ta' help me out here wit' a~... Special project'a sorts." You don't need to be a genius to get the idea that she's hoping you'll feed her, she's set herself up much too far away from the counter to actually reach the food she's ordered and you can only begin to imagine how difficult it's got to be for her to shift all of that flab around on its own- Much less when also levitating several objects at the same time.

You also don't need to be convinced.

Your step grows a little bit faster, a little bit more fevered, as you walk up to her to help her with her 'special project'- But that's when an idea comes to your mind, a particularly devious, pleasant one that if she was anything like the other girls around she might have thought about herself. As far as you're aware though, when you lean up to whisper into her ear your demands, the deep blush that takes her cheeks and nose ought to be fully expected.

Marisa looks away from you, away from everyone that she can who watch the two of you now like hawks, but there's always more people around during the dinner rush- Nowhere to hide, nowhere to go, and no way to get the food she's apparently actually paid for, for once, without acquiescing to your demands. Inevitably, as you figured it would, Marisa's stomach rumbles before she can come to a conclusion on her own, and her decision is made for her.

"Y-yeah, a'ight, ah kin' do that. Heh," Her voice resumes that bravado you now know fully well to be almost pathetically fake as she prattles on; "-I should'a figured ya'd be smitten when ah first saw ya takin' peeps, luck you that'cha pulled yer confidence t'gether eh? Ain't many folk that do!" How... Ironic, coming from her now that you know the truth. Marisa pats at one of her monstrous hips with a pudgy palm chipperly, grinning at you yet again as the nearly horrifically-oversized leg it's attached to ripples like a still pool.

"Pop on up darlin', you know there's more'n enough room here on th' ol' Kirisame Couch!~" Her confidence is infectious even if it is fake, you clamber on up her surely-immeasurable breadth and girth, using nearly-fluid folds and rolls of flab across the flank of her belly as handles, to aid your ascent up her mountainous mass of blubber. It takes you a minute even so, but once you're up and on top of her lap- So massive that her gut will never be able to overtake it all- You lean back into the pillowy plushness of her tum and tits to the tune of an "Oofh!" -and the screaming creaks of wooden stools beneath the two of you.

Just in time too, because between the time it took you to talk it out and the time it took you to climb up Marisa's near-blob of a body, the food she'd ordered for herself has made an appearance! -Stacked high in numerous separate bowls, plates and glasses, the witch's average meal dwarfs everything around it like others' meals are mere planets orbiting a caloric star. Although Marisa can't see it all past you sitting in her lap, she can smell it, and the back of your neck gets the slightly unpleasant sensation of drool dribbling down it in silent reply, silent demand.

You figure it wouldn't do well to keep the lady waiting, so settling further back into the cushiony wall of tub that now serves as your seat and backboard alike, you start to feed- Beginning with the richest, weightiest stuff first.

. . .

"Uuurrrghpph... Oorhp- Rrfh... Hhrrfhh..." Despite everything you did to sabotage her, starting with the big stuff first, leaving her alcohol to last, laying increasingly heavily back on her equally-increasingly hardening guts, there was nothing that you could do to break her spirit... If that can really be called 'spirit' at all. Marisa's dress, typically poofy, grew slick and taut against her body as sweat overtook her and made the doughy plush of her frame seem somehow only softer with a better idea of just the extent to which her spongey flab has all but exploded across her figure in recent years.

Towards the latter end of the meal, it was just too much for you to resist. There was only a little bit of dessert left remaining anyways, and something in you told you that the triple-chinned magician could afford to wait on her fourth flan for a minute or two while you enjoyed your flan. Getting her dress up to expose that monster tum was impossible for you, that thing was no doubt at least thirty pounds before it was dampened with sweat and you have no idea how heavy it is now, only that you can't lift it off her steaming blob of a body- and that even if you could, you probably wouldn't want to, for the smell of sweat might just be too much for you to resist.

Not that you can really resist anyways. Even stuffed stupid to the point of being unable to speak, much less move, Marisa's gut can be pressed in on by nearly tens of inches before you hit the hard wall of her overtaxed stomach and draw out a long moan from the beached whale of a witch. With that in mind, you know exactly how far you can push her without making her too uncomfortable to finish her meal by the end of it all, and in so doing begin to lightly bounce atop her lap and tum, watching with a hazy-eyed glee as her entire body ripples and bounces with damp-sounding plopping.

You hardly even notice the tortured shrieking of the wooden stools beneath the two of you as your now sweat-slicked hands reach up to grab at bare handfuls of cheek and chinflab that're softer than marshmallows and wobblier than jell-o to begin kneading and pinching amid your efforts to make one of Gensokyo's saviors look like little more than an overpumped bouncy castle in desperate need of deflating before it pops...

Perhaps you ought to have though; Because for all your reverie, squeezing, pinching bouncing and generally toying with Marisa's long-overfed frame you receive the reward of a loud crack, a shared look of awe between you, and a swift plummet to the muddy ground below, courtesy of a sextet of stools taken past their brink and splintered beneath the impossible weight they bore valiantly up 'til now- Then by a hoarse shriek much too late to stop your now-shared fate.

You bounce hard, and roll off of Marisa in a heap, Marisawho dizzily and nauseously moans like a child overindulgent in their favourite sweets; Clutching at her roiling tum as though it's about to split at the seams and burst like a piñata cracked at in just the right way-... Perhaps, again, to both of your surprise though, what bursts open isn't her gut but rather the long-suffering dress that keeps it. Rolling pale hills of rippling belly blubber slop oozingly out further onto her lap with a meaty 'thwop' as her stuffed guts settle into their deserved place.

Marisa groans in her nausea, kept at check through willpower alone.

You groan in your pain, fully expressed after the shock wears away.

The chef groans in his frustration, no doubt about to ask you to pay for the stools in addition to the expansive meal, too.

Before he can, though, Marisa's glazed eyes lazily glide over to where you lay crumpled in your muddy heap and-... She smiles, broadly, with a minxish wink.

"That's- Urgkh... Usually why ya save aftercare fer after th' fun's over... Heh- Hehehuurhph!- Guhh- Good-... Good effort, though!~"

Perhaps, just maybe, her swaggering bravado hasn't faded after all.

[baek-at-it-again95]

Walk The Plank (K.HJ x fem reader)

Chapter 1: The Man in the Black Fedora

You had grown up hearing tales about the infamous pirate crew ATEEZ—the fearless, power-hungry men that roamed the seas in search of the most valuable treasures they could lay their hands on. You almost didn't believe the stories your mother had told you as a child...not until you wound up on their ship.

Warnings: Mentions of blood, weapons, and violence

A/N: Hello everyone! I am so excited to post another story! I have most of it written, but I will be posting a little at a time so I can edit. I just really wanted to get something posted before my school starts again! <3 Thank you for reading :) ALSO: though this says that it is hongjoong x reader, it is more of an ateez x reader fic until later on ;) each chapter will be titled after the specific member’s pcs from the zero: fever part 1 album.

Chapter 1: The Man in the Black Fedora

Your favorite activity is sitting in the crow's nest before the crew rises for the day. You inhale a deep breath of the sea breeze that pushes back your hair and tickles your neck. The salty scent isn't as bothersome as it was when you first started sailing. In fact, you might consider saying that you find it quite pleasant.

You have been at sea for about two weeks, seeking the Cromer. It is said to possess magic that exists beyond time and space. Your father had dreamed of getting his hands on such a powerful magic artifact, doing years of extensive research and trips to obtain it. This was the first time he had agreed to let you go on a voyage without him, as he had politics to deal with in your hometown—something you have never been fond of. 

"Good morning, miss Y/N," says the barrelman, halfway up the ladder that leads to where you're perched. 

"Good morning. Tell me, have we any good books?" you ask.

"I'm afraid you have read all of the fictional literature we have. The only option left for you would be to read more into the research of magical artifacts...which I am sure you are bored of."

"Oh, I could never be bored of such things. I shall take a look." You bid your farewell and carefully climb down the ladder. Growing up, you had done your fair share of reading your father's research. How could one not be curious of a concept such as magic? You weave your way around the now awoken crew, making it as far as the door of the captain's cabin before a shout resonates from the crow's nest. 

"PIRATES!" The barrelman cries, pointing beyond the horizon.

Men immediately scurry to set up defenses, taking position at canons and masts. You assume action yourself, running up to an unoccupied canon. Chaos erupts around you as the crew shouts and awaits the captain's orders.

"Miss, what are you doing? We have to get you below deck!" The frantic sailing master grabs your arm, pulling you towards a hatch.

"I have to help—"

"Miss, please take cover. I cannot forgive myself lest anything unfortunate happen to you. Your father instructed us to take the most precautionary measures to keep you from harm." The man pleads, the desperation in his eyes growing as you think. You nod and he wastes no time escorting you below deck. Just before you step down, you catch a glimpse of the invaders sailing towards you. The sight makes you sick to your stomach—a flag at the bowsprit with the phases of the moon thrashes in the wind. 

"But I—"

"Just stay quiet, Miss. If something happens, take an escape boat." The sailing master hands you a compass and disappears to the deck above. You hide under a table in the crew's quarters, knees tucked to your chest for what seems like an eternity.

Several gun shots ring from above deck.

Then several more. 

Swords clash together, footsteps boom, men shout. Your heart races as you await any sign of safety to escape. If that flag was what you think it was—a flag of legend, of fear, of them...your chances of surviving are not likely. And then the footsteps travel below deck. The floorboards creak painfully and you shut your eyes, breath hitching. You would have thought that they would go to the captain's quarters to raid the research, but maybe they're here to raid other supplies.

Thud. A footstep sounds in your direction. Thud. Thud. You don't time to act before a large hand reaches and pulls you straight up out of your hiding spot. 

"It be a maiden!" The man shouts. 

"Unhand me you filthy pirate!" you yell, squirming in his grasp.

"Aye, Yunho, that's some good loot." Another man with dark hair snickers. Struggling against your captor's grip does nothing as the second man comes over and binds your wrists behind your back with rope. You silently think of your escape options, avoiding eye contact with the two men that now have a grip on either of your arms. They drag you up to the deck where the battle continues on. 

The crew remains engaged in combat and hardly notice as the man called Yunho and his giggly companion pull you to a wooden plank between the ships. 

"Well, Miss, after you." Yunho bows, gesturing towards the board. The second man giggles.

"Walk!" He laughs. You consider your options. You could attempt to defy them, risking your life. You could jump overboard...which would avoid dying at the hands of them, but...you really do not wish to drown. Or you can submit for now and wait to possibly escape with your life. "Are ya hard of hearing, little miss? I said walk." The shorter man with the dark hair nudges you and you stumble forward, legs wobbly as you approach the wooden plank.

Do not look down...do not look down...

Step by step, you cross the small space between the two ships, only stopping to breathe once your feet touch the new deck. There is barely any time to collect yourself before the two men take hold of your arms again and head for the captain's quarters. Though you have decided to board their ship, you will not be letting them think they've gotten away with it so easily. You kick and struggle, making it harder for Yunho and his mate to manhandle you.

"We brought you some treasure, Captain," Yunho says, gripping your arm tighter as they bring you inside.

"A feisty one." The other man snickers. You wince as they push you onto your knees, your wrists still bound and unable to catch your weight.

"Watch yourself Wooyoung, you'll hurt her," the man you assume to be the captain warns. So that's his name.

You keep your eyes trained on the scuffed floor in front of you, not wanting to meet the gaze of the captain you have heard brutal tales of. Tying people to masts for mutiny, burning towns after looting, feeding people to sharks...those were the tales of caution your father would tell you. Your mother, on the other hand, told you of brave adventurers, working endlessly to achieve what they had set their sights on. Misunderstood, driven, and admirable. Had she been talking about the same crew? You hope with all your heart that your mother was right. 

"You are dismissed," the captain says. He waits silently as Yunho and Wooyoung take their leave. Once the door shuts, you hear his footsteps circle around his desk. His heavy black boots adorned with buckles enter your peripheral and stop right in front of you. "Do you have a name, Miss?" His voice is light, yet intimidating. Judging by his proper speech, you come to the conclusion that he must be well educated—not raised a pirate.

"Why is my name of concern to you?" you ask through gritted teeth, keeping your eyes to the floor.

"Well, you see, I was hoping you would be able to tell me why you were aboard such a corrupt ship."

"Corrupt? That is nonsense." 

"Nonsense?" The captain repeats, amusement evident in his voice. "You were willingly aboard?" He chuckles.

"Why, of course. We are searching for something very valuable to my father."

"Ah, the Cromer?" he asks. You debate whether or not you should tell the truth, but you ultimately decide he will find out sooner or later after raiding your ship.

"Yes, the Cromer."

"You must be a L/N, I presume." You whip your head to look up at him, taken by surprise. As you meet his gaze, you almost forget what you are going to say. The man in front of you is breathtaking—not at all how you had imagined the scary and insufferable man to be. His messy brown hair is fashioned in a mullet, his body covered with a beautiful fur coat. His sharp features and pale skin are difficult to tear your eyes away from. An eye patch covers his left eye and a hook takes the place of his left hand.

"How do you know of me?" you demand.

"Your father has done a great deal of reaching to obtain what he desires...and I cannot say he is a fair man."

"My father? Corrupt?" You scoff. "How dare you?"

"'Tis no tale that we have crossed paths." His expression becomes grim as he recalls. "He stole my map."

You process his accusation, wondering if you can even take his word. How can you trust an infamous pirate making such ludicrous claims about your father? Is your father really an unjust man or is the man in front of you? "That has nothing to do with me," you state. 

"Oh, but it does. Coming from a well-off family, I am sure your parents had you read their studies. You must have knowledge that is valuable to us. If you help us, I will spare the rest of your crew." He takes a hold of your chin with his fingers, some of which are adorned with colored polish. You stand up slowly and he lets go as you come level with his gaze. 

"You promise?" you ask. What has gotten into you? Making a deal? With pirates? This is mad...but you simply cannot bare for any more harm to be done. 

 "I swear on my crew," he answers, his one eye boring into you.

"Alright...I accept. However, you will not infringe my safety as you take me along on your voyage."

"I can do that," the captain replies. He swiftly turns and exits the door with his coat flowing at his feet. You can hear orders being shouted outside, followed by dozens of footsteps. You shuffle over to the captain's desk in fear of someone new discovering you alone. 

As you hear multiple people approaching, your heart rate speeds up and your breath gets caught in your throat. Suddenly, a man kicks open the door, standing tall in front of about seven others with his bloodied cutlass. Three of the faces around him are those of the men you had previously encountered.

"Alright wench, let's lay down a few rules for you."

>> chapter 2

[witheredsnow]

I'm unsure how to tag this. But oh well. I can't say this is strictly of an aroace thing. It could be for anyone, really. Hence the vague way of writing. I wonder if you guys think this is too vague tho. Well, all of my works are written vague because interpretation is welcome in any of them.

Anyway, I write these themes (being aroace, friendships, and growing up with things changing) because fiction make it seem like it would hurt less. So I write for myself and share. Tho I think this will be my last work in regards to being aro ace. In a while, maybe. Thanks to whoever was curious to read this. And thanks @random-potato-mil, you may be a random stranger but I appreciate your words. I appreciate everyone's words of my writing even when it's like this. -Rei

Being alone, a short story

I won't be alone. And even if I was, I won't be lonely

That's what I would say whenever someone tells me otherwise.

Because... Why would I be lonely?

Do I not have them?

Will I not have you?

...

.......

Maybe I will not. But I will deny it for as long as I can.

....

Did I ever tell you all that my time with you guys felt so precious? They were moments amongst many others that filled my cache of memories that I would place near my heart. Then with it, I go to sleep awaiting the next day to fill it again some more.

I know... I'm being sappy again. Getting more often these days.

Mmm... Hm? Odd? Me, being sappy?

Maybe, maybe...

I feel my mouth trying to uphold that easygoing smile on my face. It's getting harder these days, I won't lie. And I hate I know why.

No. I shook my head when asked what's wrong. I'm afraid if I said out loud, it'll come true.

...

Time really is moving too fast. I know I used to complain back at school that time couldn't be even slower than it was.

I wonder when did the pace of time change. I wonder when did I start minding it so much. I wonder when did the passage of time felt like a dreadful thing to think about.

... Oh, right. Yeah, sorry. It's not everyday I get to be with you all. Or... Even one of you. Not in recent days, atleast—No! That's enough of that.

This moment, them being here, us, all of us right here and now.

I will ignore the twinge of an ache of the past and the distressing uncertainty of the future.

Yeah... The here and now. With you guys.

I grin back when I'm asked why I'm quiet once more. Well, new era, new me?

You all laughed at that. Time must be bringing in change if I'm turning... quieter-ish.

..... I could not join in with the laughs without thinking that... Time really is bringing change—That's enough ruminating.

...

......

"Won't you be alone?"

"Aren't you worried that you'll be lonely?"

"You'll just be by yourself in the future if you keep this up."

Oh yeah? Well, mind your own business.

Why do these unrelated people have to keep telling me that? To remind me of this 'fate' of mine?

Even... My own friends.

No, no. I won't be. I will not be. I still have you all. I'm not socially deprived, not a hermit in the middle of society. Right?

...

I am not alone.

....

I'm not.

....

The streets are teeming with people. Varied lives walking past me. The only intersection of my life with theirs is an occasional brush of the shoulder or the awareness of someone in your way that makes your body either stay in trajectory or skirt around.

I'm just one of many.

Hm? Right. Some of these people are in groups of atleast two. How nice.

Me? By myself these days, as obvious as it could get.

Am I alone?

Yes. Right now.

...

......

I've also been alone for a while.

I know. I admit it's lonely.

.....

Life sucks.

.....

......

........

Beep!

....

Sometimes you can't help but feel like a mismatched—or perhaps, not-matched soul in this world.

Sometimes you can't help but feel like a step-down of a someone.

Sometimes... You can't help but be the outlier.

....

Beep!

....

But sometimes life doesn't suck so bad because despite it all, there are times when you don't have to feel that way.

So yeah, I can feel lonely... But I'm starting to be okay even when alone.

....

Beep!

I smile to myself as another beep sounded. They're being impatient again for me to reply.

Yeah, yeah, I'm thinking to myself again. I'm typing, aight? Give me a sec.

A bit later, a fond chuckle made its way out of my mouth.

It's been a while, huh?

....

......

....

"See ya later!"

"Take care. Bye for now."

"Come by again."

"Next time, yeah?"

Of course, even if it's not always.

[kanmom51]

Thank you for the time you put into this wonderful blog. I am an "old" fan of jikook, I have a son JMs age and a queer trans son as well so my heart breaks on a regular basis for these men not being able to live their authentic selves. The last verse in Letter about it being scary and them being afraid but they can be together has brought me to motherly tears more than once.

Curious for your opinion if JKs building the "fortress" is to give them the privacy they need. Secondarily, could they have said they were platonic roommates from the beginning or is that not typical in Korea?

Sending mom love!

Thanks for reaching out.💜💜

It's interesting to see what connects each and every one of us to BTS as a whole and to JM and JK in particular. I think that you and I are kind of similar in that respect. Seeing them, accepting them, also through the eyes of mothers with children that have to deal with these day to day struggles.

This part of Letter:

Don’t worry By your side just stay yeah Because we don’t know what days await us, Though it’s scary, though we’re afraid Never forget that we’re together

Definitely brings me to tears EVERY SINGLE TIME I hear it. And that's A LOT.

JK's fortress. I love that you call it that and I do hope that it turns out to be one. A fortress to keep out those crazy fans that don't understand what the concept of privacy is, nor do they understand boundaries between fan and artist.

Do I think this is something he's building for the two of them?

I want to.

I want to think that come 2025 or whenever it is that they get out of the military, that they will feel that they can do what they want to, no fear, nothing holding them back.

He could be planning on reselling (probably would have sold it as is and not put in the money and time to build up a new place instead of the old one). He could be building this for his parents (plausible but again not probable). Another possibility would be building an apartment building and selling the apartments, but that would have been made public knowledge by now. So my money is on it being built for himself.

And I find it hard to believe he's building this monstrosity just for himself to live there alone.

I want to think that this big ass house being built is meant to be their future home. With the privacy and security they need to feel safe.

Time will tell I guess.

If this does become JK's home and if JM will be living there with him, it will be something hard to hide long term, even with the best security possible. It always comes out. The truth about 9-1 did, the same with Brunnen.

And that brings us back to: if they are planning this, what does it mean about Jikook post MS?

As for your question about platonic roommates.

Well, yeah, they could be, if they weren't multimillionaires I guess, lol.

Look, I think that at a certain age, which would probably be post college age, so late 20s to early 30s, same sex roommates that behave the way those two do with each other, will clearly be side eyed as more than roommates.

And add the multimillionaire factor to it, it would be REALLY strange and kind of obvious that they aren't just roommates.

The two of them living together as roommates most likely didn't feel plausible for them even back when they all started moving out of the dorms because even then it was clear that they are more than that.

So no, roommates cover not a cover for them, lol.