SYNOPSIS. Overlooked by your whole life in favor to his patient and also childhood friend — you kept quiet. Silently loving the man that belongs to you in a arranged marriage and sometimes you get tired too of asking to be noticed. A outburst from a drunken confession, leads you one thing to another. Miraculously surviving a fatal car accident and being placed under the care of your distant fiancé. Things started to change and so is he. Zayne can't take his eyes off you now. You got his whole attention and he's not that willing to let you go.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: A huge thanks to @itsmearia01 for requesting this one and turning this into a whole trilogy with extra scenes.
You can also support me in ko-fi.
THE CHAPTERS CONTAINS THE FOLLOWING. heavy angst + canon divergence + non mc + unrequited love + arranged marriage + yandere themes + ooc zayne + implied noncon/dubcon + pregnancy + babytrapping + emotional cheating + possessiveness + clubbing + neglect + emotional manipulation + gaslighting + implied murder + car accidents + blood and violence. dead dove do not eat.
𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏: HEART OF GLASS
It wasn't your place to dictate what his heart wants but sometimes you wished his affections were directed to you — just once. was it difficult to spare you crumbs of affection or when Zayne noticed how you start to pull away from him and it was too late for him to realize how damaged the relationship was you desperately trying to build and you got tired of wanting him. can he still get you back? or must he turn to drastic measures?
𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟐: THE SNOWFLAKES ON YOUR SHOULDERS
Zayne's an expert for fixing things including heart related problems and yours wasn't an exception. He can take apart your heart and fill the holes of your once shattered heart but can he really do it? When it is you who's refusing him now?
𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟑: MY HEART IN YOUR HANDS
a night of his love bore a result. one that you can't escape from. you were still determined to let go of him and put him the story and happiness he deserves even you'll be left with nothing but a body with a shattered heart — Zayne is a another story. He's not willing to let you go when he's already in too deep.
𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐒
❆ MC TRYING TO RECONNECT WITH ZAYNE
❆ TELLING A OLD FRIEND ABOUT YOUR SITUATION
❆ ZAYNE FINDING OUT YOU KILLED YOURSELF
❆ ZAYNE REACTING TO YOU BEING KIDNAPPED
❆ DEVELOPING STOCKHOLM SYNDROME
❆ HOW MANY KIDS HE'LL WANT
❆ ZAYNE SUPPORTING HIS WIFE'S NEW HOBBY
❆ IMPULSIVELY LEAVING HIM
❆ THE TWINS BEING SCARED OF HIM
❆ THE MORNING AFTER
❆ FINDING OUT THAT YOU'RE AFRAID OF BEING PREGNANT
Pairing: Volleyball player!Sakusa Kiyoomi x Artist!F!Reader
angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, FWB to lovers, angst with a happy ending
WC: 9.7k
Synopsis: Falling in love with the pretty volleyball player in your first year of University wasn’t something you intended to happen; it just did. And then, two years later, the line between lust and love blurs. You want him beyond his body, but does he want every side of you? A part of you liked to think so, but Sakusa Kiyoomi is known for crushing hearts, and make no mistake, you were no exception.
Content/Warnings: alcohol consumption, kissing, mentions of sex but nothing explicit, FWB relationship, graphic descriptions of blood/knives/wounds/organs (nothing actually happens), subtle hints of depression/anxiety, jealousy, curse words, one scene with a creep but its vague, pls lmk if I missed anything!
two August’s ago, you fell in love.
you remember laughing till tears cascaded down your rosy cheeks, face hurting from smiling so much. you remember soft touches; on your hand as you reached for the same item, on your waist when you squeezed by, on the corner of your mouth when you don’t seem to notice the crumbs that coat your lips. you remember a gentle smile, eyes crinkling the slightest bit as your heart stutters in your chest. you remember dark curly hair, mole kissed skin and eyes brimming with affection.
you remember everything.
bright, giddy, and curious, you entered university with dreams larger than the sun. your passion for art made you yearn. you wanted to draw everything beautiful. you’d sit by the tree near your campus library and draw for hours, music blaring through your headphones as you sketched pretty items, pretty scenery, and pretty people in your book.
it was under the tree you found your muse.
you recall forgetting to bring something to tie your hair with, leaving it to fall in your face when the the wind hit a little too hard. you squinted, frowning as you moved the strands out of your sight.
and then, as if entranced, you see the prettiest student walk towards the library. it’s like everything is suddenly moving slower. he’s clad in a- sports jacket? with your school logo, and black shorts to match. he has a gym bag hung on his right shoulder, but you find yourself more focused on the thick locks on his head and soft slope of his nose. his lips are full, pretty and pink. the slight chill from the air must be the reason why his cheeks are tinted as well, and your hands itch with the urge to draw this mythical being.
(first-year you was a little dramatic, but present you still understands her.)
you draw a rough sketch of him the moment he leaves, but you know had you had more time to look, you would’ve done a much better job.
✾
the second time you see him is at a party.
you had forgotten about the pretty boy as the days went on, more focused with school and handing in assignments. exams arrived, and then you were on break. your friends had begged you to show up, with promises of it being a fun experience even if all you wanted to do was curl up under the covers and sleep all day.
you end up wearing a cute outfit, somewhat revealing yet covering the parts you wanted to. your hair is styled with shiny clips that match your makeup. you feel pretty, and even though you initially did not want to go out, you think this might be a good idea.
“Y/n, let me know if you want to leave early, okay? And don’t drink anything random people offer you.” Kuroo grabs your arm, tone serious. you want to laugh at the usually silly guy being so protective of you.
you smile, “I know, father. No need to worry about me, it’s just my first party.”
Akaashi beside you ruffles your hair, “He has a reason to be worried, you’re a little too sweet for your own good.”
you scrunch up your nose, mentally disagreeing. you could certainly be mean. but they had yet to see you at your worst, so this made sense. you decide to let them keep this image of you.
Bokuto barrels forward, knocking into your back as you stumble into Kuroo’s arms. he catches you with ease, sending a glare towards his friend.
“Watch it, are you drunk already?”
Bokuto grins, “Pre-gamed a little too hard! My bad, bro.” he pauses, looking at you, “And the lady-bro.”
you stifle a giggle at his words, focusing on the warmth that emits from Kuroo. you suddenly regret wearing something that showed more skin, knowing you got cold easily.
“Tetsu, can we get drinks?” you grab his bicep gently as he looks down.
“Yeah, yeah. Let me just say hi to some of the guys and we’ll go.” he waits for Akaashi to come to your other side before walking, with you squashed between them.
you roll your eyes, what was up with them? it was your first time attending a university party, not your first time at a club.
you greet people mindlessly, and they all seem nice enough. you get restless after twenty minutes though, really wanting a drink. you tug Kuroo’s shirt gently, waiting for him to turn to you.
“I’m gonna go get a drink, you want anything?”
he frowns, “I’ll come, give me a sec.” he doesn’t wait for a response before excusing himself from his friends. they all wave him off as he guides you to another room in the house, which is more secluded.
you find the table, filled with all sorts of stuff you were unfamiliar with. one of Kuroo’s friends stands by, and you assume he’s keeping an eye on the beverages to ensure nobody spikes them with anything.
Kuroo gives him a quick nod before reaching for a bottle. he must know what he’s doing, however, as he pours you a mixture of two drinks before handing it to you. you take it with narrowed eyes, lifting it to your nose and oh, it smells fruity enough.
you down it in one go, looking back at Kuroo’s slackened jaw. you bark out a loud laugh, before covering it with your hand. “What?”
he shakes his head, “Nothing, nothing. Didn’t know you were so thirsty.”
you shrug in response, mindlessly scanning the room as Kuroo pours himself a drink.
despite the room being half empty, it is still fairly large. you can see a group playing beer pong on the left side, while the ones on the right are laughing loudly as they seemingly discuss something funny.
and then, your eyes land on him.
he’s standing with who you assume is his friend, with their back towards you. he’s leaning against the wall, his arms crossed, and the position allows his navy blue shirt to stretch with the muscle. you swallow when your eyes trail down to his slim waist.
broad shoulders and a small waist? surely that had to be illegal.
his black pants are loose, but fit his thighs nicely.
when your eyes go back to his face, you’re once again filled with the urge to pick up your pencil and draw. he’s not smiling, and you have a feeling he doesn’t smile very often, but it doesn’t take away from his beauty. his cheekbones are pretty and prominent, and you wonder how they would feel beneath your palms.
you bite on your bottom lip at the thought, feeling foolish for thinking about a stranger like that.
“Oh? Does my little Y/n have a crush?” a voice croons next to your ear.
you whip your head back with a glare, “Tetsu, no.”
he laughs loudly, head throwing back as he cackles. you frown, scrunching your nose at him even if he’s too busy laughing to see.
“Oh, c’mon cutie, I’m just teasing. Nothing wrong with a little crush, I would just recommend someone a little… nicer.” he says, out of breath as a grin stretches on his face.
you tilt your head, “Huh? You know him?“
Kuroo ruffles your hair gently, with you moving to fix it immediately.
“We aren’t close, but I do know him since he’s on the same team as me,” Kuroo smiles at the wide eyed look you give him. “i’d say i’m closer with his friend over there.”
when you glance back to the pair, you find that the pretty boy has his eyes on you.
your heart jumps, your body shivering as you snap your eyes back to Kuroo.
what the fuck? maybe you hallucinated that.
“Oh, your man is looking here.”
maybe not.
“Hey, want me to introduce you? Who knows, you might be able to defrost his heart.” he smirks, with you shaking your head to disagree. “No, thank you. I’m not going to defrost his heart like he’s some piece of frozen raw meat.”
he huffs out a laugh, turning into a cough when his eyes partially widen. “Well, you should prepare yourself, they’re both coming here right now.”
you look at Kuroo with an incredulous expression, “You’re fucking lying.”
“Such a foul mouth, cutie.” he lifts his hand up and looks beside you, “Hey, man.” he waves. he nods at the pretty boy next, who you assume nods back.
you finally allow yourself to look away from Kuroo and at the two new men in front of you. they’re both tall, but thankfully you’re used to being surrounded by tall men due to your friends.
you smile at the friend and glance at the pretty boy for a second, “Hi, I’m Y/n.” you’re thankful you manage to sound stable.
“I’m Adriah.” his friend says with a half grin. it’s boyish and charming, but you’re more concerned with the curly-haired guy beside him. your eyes dart to his next, anticipating an introduction.
“Sakusa Kiyoomi.”
his voice is deep, it’s almost alluring. it reminds you of the dark chocolate you often pick up from the convenience store beside your dorm; bitter but comforting.
you always loved dark chocolate.
the thought makes your heart do a funny thing and your chest seize up.
✾
a year and a half later, you kiss Sakusa Kiyoomi for the first time.
you’re close friends by now, perhaps even best friends. you know him like the back of your hand; no, you know better than you know yourself.
you know his arms are covered in beauty marks, ones you’d like to trace with your lips. you know how his hair looks when he first awakens, eyes swollen and lips puffed out in a pout. you know his favorite food, and how he likes his coffee in the morning. you know he sighs through his nose when he’s feeling overstimulated, you know his lips press together when he’s about to say something mean. you know he crosses his arms when he feels like he needs to protect himself, you even know the brand of disinfecting wipes he prefers to buy.
you know he has a dimple on his left cheek when he smiles, you know how his lips stretch out all pretty when he’s caught off guard. you know the low timbre in his chest when he laughs, his thick steel walls suddenly nowhere to be seen as he allows himself to relax.
“Kiyo, please? I really want to go, and nobody else wants to come!” you beg, voice sad as you sit on the edge of his bed.
it’s 12:00PM, and Kiyoomi is still laying in bed. you understand, it is a Saturday, but you wanted to go out and visit the cat cafe with supposedly amazing tiramisu.
the lump on the bed barley moves, “Oh great, so I’m your last choice. I’ll pass.”
you smile, giggling. “No, you were my first choice, but you said no so I asked other people and they also refused, so now I came back to you!”
he lifts the covers, sitting up. he’s shirtless, and the sight of his bare body covered in pretty beauty marks makes your brain short-circuit. you turn away, huffing. “Put on a shirt you… perv.”
you hear a pretty laugh then, your head immediately turning back to catch the rare sight. he shakes his head, small grin still on his face, “I’m the perv? Not the one who’s red in the face and can’t even look me in the eye?”
you blink harshly, “I can look at you! I’m just… respecting your boundaries.”
you turn away again, crossing your arms. you hear the covers on the bed shuffle, and when you slowly turn around, you find yourself much closer to Kiyoomi than you thought.
you blink, moving to give him space and tumbling off the bed in the process with a yelp. he grabs you with wide eyes, moving so he takes the brunt of the fall.
you land on top of him, watching as he groans in pain below you. your hands are resting on his broad shoulders, and they feel smooth beneath your hands.
he sighs, laying his head on the floor. he looks up at you through lidded eyes. “So what now, genius? You made us fall.”
you shoot him a dirty look, “Well nobody told you to fall with me.”
“This is the ‘thank you’ I get? Next time I’ll let you get hurt, brat.” he rolls his eyes with a scoff.
you pout, bottom lip pushing out. “You’d let me fall and get hurt?”
he stares at you intently, not answering. you take the time to observe his face, wanting to burn the memory into your brain. you like the small bump on his nose. you like the way his bottom lip is slightly bigger than the top. you like the way his skin turns red easily, his cheeks often sporting a pretty blush even from the slightest chilly air. you like his thick curly hair, wondering how it would feel in your hands. you like his eyes too, dark and swirling with emotions you’ve yet to unravel and discover.
suddenly realizing your proximity, your eyes dart to his lips. plush and full, they look so inviting. you subconsciously lick your bottom lip, glancing up to find his eyes are also on your mouth. and when he finally looks you in the eye, you know if you don’t make a move now, you never will.
you lean in, slowly, and with a gentle exhale, you press your lips to his.
✾
a month later, you have sex with Kiyoomi.
it comes naturally, you think. soft kisses shared with hushed whispers were no longer enough. it led to heated touches and lust-filled eyes.
so when the two of you end up going further, you have no complaints.
he treats you exactly how you’d like, gentle in some ways and rough in others. you like the feel of his calloused hands caressing your skin, the rough bumps making him more attractive than you already thought he was.
and then you’re laying in bed, sweaty and covered in fluid. but his mattress is so comfortable, and your eyelids feel heavy.
“Y/n, we need to shower.”
“One minute.” you mumble quietly.
you feel a hand gently move hair out of your face, subconsciously leaning into the warmth of his palm. it’s gone before you can speak, and you have to force the whine down your throat.
you hear a sigh, and then feel a strong arm slide underneath your knees with the other behind your back as you are lifted into the air.
you squeak, hands scrambling to latch onto his neck. you look up at Kiyoomi with wide eyes, “Seriously, Kiyo? I can still walk, you jackass.”
he shakes his head with a small grin, and your hands itch to grab his face and kiss him senseless. “Are you sure you can walk? I’m not sure you can after all that.”
you change your mind, you want to slap him senseless.
“Ha-ha. So. Funny.” you deadpan, unable to help yourself and breaking into a smile when you feel his shoulders shake as he chuckles.
when the two of you are in bed, freshly washed and ready to sleep, Kiyoomi breaks your heart for the first time.
you’re laying your head on his chest, heartbeat steady and comforting as it almost lulls you to sleep.
his voice pulls you back, “Y/n,”
you hum in response.
“I don’t want you to misunderstand, I care about you, but I’m not looking for anything serious right now.” the words are spoken softly, but they cut through your heart nonetheless.
your body freezes, and you have to force yourself to relax when you realize he can feel it.
so what if Kiyoomi isn’t ready to date? you’re okay with kissing him, going out with him, and sleeping with him. you’re okay with that and not having a label. you’re okay with not being exclusive.
you’re okay with having him to this extent.
you’re okay.
“I understand. Don’t worry, Kiyoomi.”
✾
five months later, everything is the same.
and yet, nothing is the same.
“I don’t like this, Y/n. I think you should break things off with him.” Kuroo frowns, leaning into Akaashi’s side as he hogs the blanket to himself in the freezing cold apartment.
you pull your own fluffy throw closer, “There’s nothing to break off, Tetsu. There’s no label.”
Bokuto walks in, clad in a black tank top and volleyball shorts. “You can break off this unlabeled arrangement you have, Y/n! Just call it exactly that!” he smiles, hands on his hips standing proudly.
Akaashi coughs, “Bo, please put your air conditioning lower. We’re all going to get sick at this rate.”
Bokuto frowns, hands dropping to his sides. he walks to the thermostat, “Seriously? I think the temperature is fine.”
“That’s because you’re not human, you beast.” Kuroo snorts.
Bokuto turns around, looking scandalized. “I’m not a beast! You two are just weenies!”
you giggle, “Thank you for not including me with them, Kou.”
he salutes you with a cute little grin.
so maybe your friends were against your… situation with Kiyoomi. but you knew what you were doing, and while he might not want a relationship right now, you’re sure you can change his mind over time.
naive, perhaps, but you’ve always been a romantic at heart.
✾
everything comes to a head at one of their volleyball games.
you’re invited, of course. being friends with a few of the boys had allowed you to show up earlier and get seats in the front row.
it’s not your first game, but you’re excited nonetheless.
until you see Kiyoomi with someone unfamiliar.
she’s pretty, almost unearthly pretty. her hair is long, and cascades down her back like those magical waterfalls one would find deep in the forest. her smile is perfect, not crooked in the slightest. and when she greets him, her dainty hand smoothes over the skin of his arm; you walk faster.
Kuroo greets you first, with Akaashi and Bokuto coming behind him. you give them all your best wishes, but you can’t stop the uneasy feeling in your stomach at the sight of Sakusa with that girl.
when Akaashi sees your line of sight, he grimaces sympathetically. “Ah, that’s one of his friends from high school.”
your eyes shoot to his, and you wonder what expression you’re showing, because he comes closer and wraps you in a hug. you release a breath at the touch, letting yourself relax as he pats your back.
when you go to greet Sakusa, the girl is still there.
she’s sticking to him like a leech.
you try to get rid of the rude thoughts as you approach. she didn’t deserve your jealousy, nobody did. because you did this to yourself.
“Hi, Kiyo.” you smile.
he smiles back at you, and though it is small, it’s there. something in you settles when you think about how far the two of you have gotten.
the girl beside him is looking at the two of you curiously, but all you do is give her an awkward grin and turn back to Kiyoomi.
“Um, I just wanted to say good luck. I have a surprise for you, i’ll give it to you after the game.”
he raises a brow, intrigued. “You can’t give it to me now?”
you huff out a laugh. “No, silly. It’s a reward for you playing today. I know you’ll do well regardless of the outcome.”
his face smoothes out as he nods, “Okay, I’ll be waiting then.”
without another word you wave and turn around, walking to the seats and taking one in the front. you feel odd being the first to leave, but it was clear that the girl was not going to her seat until the game started. and while you’d like to talk to Kiyoomi more, you know you have to control yourself before you do something stupid like show him your jealousy.
the game goes by quickly, with your university winning the match. you cheer loudly, smiling so hard your cheeks hurt. it’s times like these that you truly cherish the joy in life. even though you hadn’t played in the game yourself, you can practically feel the positive energy radiating off of the players, and it fills you with excitement.
you run down and across the court, moving to hug your friends as you congratulate them.
“Y/n are you going to come with us to get dinner? Please say yes!” Bokuto widens his eyes, bottom lip curling into a pout.
you smile, happy to be included but knowing you have to decline. “Sorry, Kou. I already have plans with Kiyoomi. Can we raincheck?”
he nods sadly, and Akaashi pats him on the back in consolation.
“Have fun at dinner! I’m going to find Kiyoomi.” you wait till they exit the gymnasium before turning around and looking for the tall dark-haired man you were enamored with.
you can’t seem to find him through the crowd and the thought has you frowning anxiously. you stumble inside the group of people, breathing out when you finally see the end of the mob. with another exhale, you look up.
you see red.
because there is Kiyoomi, with the small pretty girl in his arms as she wraps her own around his neck. their faces lean in together, and if you didn’t know any better you’d assume they were about to kiss.
without even knowing what you’re doing, you march right up and grab his arm, tugging him into you with as much force as you can muster.
he looks down at you with wide eyes, and even though his hair is damp with sweat and his shirt is sticking to his skin, you find him to be the prettiest in the room.
suddenly realizing how this looked, you let go of his arm and step back. “What were you two doing?” you ask, voice soft yet loud enough for him to hear. the crowd has begun to disperse, leaving only the team and their friends in the gymnasium.
the girl looks awkward, glancing between you and Kiyoomi before taking a step back. “Uh, I’m gonna get going now. I’ll text you later, ‘Omi.”
your eye twitches at the nickname, and when Kiyoomi simply nods at her, you feel like you’re losing your mind.
he says nothing to you as he moves to pack his things, stuffing his towel in his bag and throwing it over his shoulder. he doesn’t even glance at you as he walks out, with you trailing after him like a lost puppy.
the walk to his apartment is short, but because of the silence it feels much longer; much more painful, like every step is with your bare foot onto glass.
when you finally arrive at his place, he shuts the door and tosses his gym bag to the side before turning to you.
“Want to explain what that was?” his face is cold, and the uncaring way he speaks to you makes you nervous.
you swallow, “Shouldn’t you explain? Why were her arms… Why did it look like you two were dating, or something? Why did you let her touch you like that?”
he chuckles, though it has none of the sweetness that it is normally laced with. “Why the fuck does it matter? You’re not my girlfriend.”
surprisingly, the words don’t hurt as much as you thought they would. no, you knew that already. what really makes your skin burn is the way he looks at you.
you feel dread creep up on you, goosebumps arising on your skin as you shiver. the look in his eyes is unforgiving, a stark contrast to the normally fond gaze you are granted with.
maybe that’s why it twists the metaphorical knife that is lodged in your stomach, scarlet blood seeping out as the squelch rings in your ears. it feels far too real, you can almost see him holding the knife as it digs deeper into your flesh.
“I never liked that about you.”
it's vague, but you feel like you understand what he means regardless. you ask him to clarify despite yourself. “Never liked what?” you whisper. your hands are shaking; you hold them behind your back to conceal it.
“The way you act around me. Like we’re in a loving relationship when really, we’re just friends who sleep together sometimes.” the words spoken are firm, leaving no room for you to even question whether he means them or not.
“I’m sorry?” you sound breathless, asking him to confirm what he had already said.
his eyes darken further, and you swallow harshly at the sight.
“You need me to say more to get it through your thick skull?” he scoffs, furious, and the sound cuts into your already wounded heart.
“I don’t like the way you coddle me. I don’t appreciate when you give me your opinions on things you know nothing about.” he pauses. you wait with bated breath, wondering how much more your heart could take.
“And, god, I really fucking hate when you show up at my games and smother me in front of everyone. It’s uncomfortable, and then you put me on the spot and act like you’re my fucking girlfriend.”
it feels like someone has plunged their hand through your chest, tearing you apart as they grasp onto your beating heart; you can almost picture it, the way the mangled organ thumps erratically as crimson liquid seeps out between their fingers.
you inhale shakily, “I just… I love you, I’m sorry.”
you look up, to see who’s holding your heart hostage.
“I don’t love you. I never have, and I never will.”
it’s him.
and fuck, it’s always him.
✾
two summers from now, Sakusa knows he’ll be playing volleyball professionally, for the first time.
he’ll have finished his fourth year of university, and he will be happy.
happiness.
Sakusa doesn’t exactly understand the emotion. sure, he’s felt anxiety, rage, and satisfaction, but happiness? what did that even entail?
he sits silently, trying to drone out the professors talks of another essay, and suddenly regrets taking a psychology class. because the amount of writing it required was a bit too much, even for him.
and then his thoughts go back to happiness.
oftentimes, Sakusa is told he looks mean; grouchy. and yet, he remembers an old conversation with Atsumu.
“So… you and Y/n?” Atsumu drawled.
Sakusa sighs, moving to pack up his things in the locker room. “It’s not like that, don’t go spreading anything.”
the blond raises his hands in mock surrender, wet hair sticking to his forehead. “Hey! I would never!”
and then he grins, though not as obnoxious as usual. it’s more kind, if anything, and Sakusa doesn’t know what to make of it.
“I’m just saying, ya seem a lot less grumpy these days. Happier.”
Sakusa pauses, staring at the chipped paint on the wall.
Atsumu sighs, swinging his bag over his shoulder as he moves to exit. “She’s good for ya, ‘Omi.” he pats his shoulder twice on his way out. “Don’t fuck it up, man.”
Sakusa stiffens; not at the action, but at his words. he quickly places everything in his bag before zipping it up and heading home.
if he’s a bit dazed at practice the next day, no one says anything.
when Sakusa lays in bed, he recounts the last time he spoke to you.
it’s been two weeks, and even though time has passed, it feels like just yesterday you were standing in his kitchen with your heart on your sleeve, letting him use it however he wished.
he remembers feeling furious at you, for so obviously disrespecting one of his good high school friends. and then you hadn’t even apologized, you’d instead pushed at him even more.
and then… he ruined everything.
he remembers the look on your face, the pure heartbreak in your irises as he carelessly spewed words he knew would hurt you.
it was not surprising when he walked into practice two days later to see glares of contempt by some of his teammates, who he knew were your friends. even Atsumu had looked at him and shook his head, and some part of him burned with shame. his mistakes were on display for everyone to see, and although he wanted to pull his walls even higher, he felt too distraught at the potential loss of you to bother.
he remembers laying in bed that night, finally deciding to break the silence between the two of you. but with a simple, ‘I’m sorry. Can we talk?’ he was able to find out that he was blocked.
he felt ice run through his veins, pausing at the vibrant red letters, spelling Not Delivered. he quickly opened Instagram and Twitter and found you had him removed and blocked there as well.
fuck.
he had really done it now, hadn’t he? he so naively believed that you simply needed space, and once he gave you a sincere apology the two of you could go back to the way things were; that you two could explore whatever non-platonic feelings he was beginning to develop for you.
but once he realizes the gravity of the situation, he wonders what the point is of experiencing love for the first time if it ends here.
it can’t end here.
he makes it his mission to try to meet you.
first he showed up to your Thursday class, knowing it ended at noon and you had a two-hour gap between your next one. he has a coffee in one hand and a freshly baked donut in the other. he drove across town to grab it, knowing it was your favourite. he knows a mere donut cannot make up for what he said to you, but it felt wrong coming empty handed to reconcile with you. not when you deserved everything and more.
except when you see him, you immediately turn and walk in the opposite direction.
the action stings, and he sighs once you are out of view. the bag with the donut in his hand feels heavy, his hand tingling with the rejection. he knew you wouldn’t forgive him so easily, but it didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.
I deserve this, he acknowledges.
I deserve this and worse.
it’s the next week when he has the chance to see you again; he knows you’re working, often meeting you at the cafe to pick you up and take you to his place home.
so with a deep breath, he walks in. the door bell chimes loudly, and he curses mentally when he realizes how deserted the place is at the moment. there’s only a few people inside; a man sitting in the corner as he types furiously on his laptop. a woman and two others sitting on the side as they sip on what he assumes is coffee or tea.
and then he looks to the front, where you stand, and your eyes are on him.
the moment he takes a step forward, you stumble back, as if burned. he stops, unsure if he should keep walking or simply say something as he stands ten feet away from you.
unfortunately for him, you seem to come back to reality and swiftly open the door where it explicitly states STAFF. a moment later, one of your coworkers walks out with their customer service smile, and he deflates.
third time’s a charm, he says to comfort himself. but even he knows it won’t be that easy.
it’s friday, and even though he had no idea if you’d be home, he figured it was worth a shot. so that’s how he finds himself at your door, with a bouquet of white Tulips in his arms.
“Hi! Is there anything I can help you with?”
he jumps slightly when he hears a high-pitched voice coming from behind him, turning around and smoothing out his face.
“I’m not sure.” he states quietly.
“That’s okay! Is there anything in specific you’re looking for? A colour, or a meaning, perhaps?”
he frowns; it feels like all he’s been doing is frowning lately. “Uh, maybe something bright? Or… something that symbolizes forgiveness?”
she smiles sympathetically, and he wonders what expression he must be showing to warrant such a response from a stranger.
and that’s how he finds himself here. he shuffles on his feet, clutching the flowers to his chest protectively. with a soft inhale, he raises his fist and knocks.
silence.
he rings the doorbell this time, and still nothing.
he exhales quietly, his head dropping as he stares at the old carpet that covered the hallways in your apartment building. he’s been here so many times with you, but now he sees nothing but the back of your door and he has nobody but himself to blame.
he stands in front of your place for an hour, mindlessly staring at the wall as he recalls his words to you. how you’d handed your heart to him with your bare hands, only for him to treat it as though it meant nothing to him.
so on Sunday, he lays in bed and recounts the last two weeks.
he wants to wallow in self-pity, but then he hears banging on his door and wonders which unlucky soul will encounter his wrath.
he swings the door open, face emotionless and mouth ready to open and hurl insults at the other, until he sees his one and only cousin, Komori.
“Hey man!” his cousin smiles, innocent and happy.
Sakusa hates it.
his shoulders slump as all anger vanishes, exhaustion left in its wake. “What are you doing here, Moyota,”
he walks back to his room as Komori closes the door. “because if you can’t tell, i’m busy.”
Komori snorts, “Busy doing what? Moping?”
Sakusa glares at him, but in his disheveled state he merely looks like a feral wounded puppy. he crawls back under his covers, face smushed inside his pillow as he feels the other side of the bed dip.
“Get your outside clothes off my bed, Moyota.”
he hears a huff before the pressure is gone, and wills himself to sleep.
“Listen, I know you’re upset about what happened with Y/n, but sitting in your sadness won’t get you anywhere.”
Sakusa continues to lay there. “Mhm.”
Komori ignores the dry response, “There’s a party on Friday. You should go.”
“Why should I go to a party? You want me to drink my sorrows away?” his voice comes out muffled but he’s sure Komori can hear him regardless.
“Y/n will be there.”
that gets his attention. he sits up, the covers pooling at his waist as he crosses his arms. “How do you know?” his eyes narrow.
Komori rolls his eyes, “Because, I overheard Kuroo asking her to come on the phone. Something about him finding her someone new to replace you.”
he clenches his fists, feeling the burn of jealousy take over. replace him? he knew you were well-liked in your program, often waving at people whenever the two of you walked together on campus. he was not ignorant of the stares you’d get from fellow students. but it didn’t matter then because he knew his eyes were on you, and yours were on him.
but now everything’s different.
now, your eyes are not solely on him. the thought has his chest hurting in a way that he can only describe as a stabbing pain.
“I’ll go.”
✾
the week passes by too slow for Sakusa, but he knows it’s only because he’s missing you. when friday arrives, he’s feeling somewhat optimistic about meeting you and hopefully reconciling.
he scrunches the products in his hair, freshly washed from the shower. he’s wearing black slacks and a matching button-up. he places a few rings on his hands and moves to dry his hair with a cotton t-shirt once more before exiting his room.
“About time, dude. Why is your hair routine so complicated?” his cousin complains from his place on the couch, looking at him expectantly.
Sakusa grabs his keys on the counter, “My hair isn’t pin-straight, that’s why. Why are you still sitting down, let’s go.”
Komori rises with a shake of his head as he walks to the front door and slips on his shoes. Sakusa waits for him to leave before locking the door and following him to his car.
the drive seems unreasonably fast, and his palms feel sweaty as he wipes them on his pants. he’s suddenly thankful he chose to wear black bottoms.
when he walks inside the house, he’s immediately hit with the smell of alcohol and sweat. it’s absolutely disgusting, and he has to remind himself why he’s there as he takes another step forward.
“Let’s go to the back! It’ll be less busy there!” Komori raises his voice, but Sakusa can just barely hear his words. he nods and follows his cousin to another room, breathing out in relief when he notices there are fewer people.
Sakusa subtly shuffles towards an empty corner, knowing Komori is following him. he turns around, leaning on the wall, “These people are revolting. When is Y/n getting here?”
Komori scratches his head, tapping at his phone with one hand. “Not sure, let me check with my friends. I’ll ask where Kuroo is.”
he scowls, “Why would that matter?”
“Because he wouldn’t leave her alone at a party.” Komori shrugs. “They’re real close.”
something in his chest feels tight at his cousins words. you and Sakusa were once close; and if you forgave him, he’d let you be even closer. he just has to apologize and hopefully smooth everything over.
a part of him itches to go and search for you himself. he feels on edge, knowing you are so close yet so far away. it unsettles him, the thought that if you don’t forgive him he’ll have to watch you from afar, and accept that someone will love and care for you all the ways he didn’t.
but - does he love you? he cares for you, immensely at that. but does he love you?
he thinks about your pretty eyes, always filled with affection. he thinks about your ability to make people feel comfortable around you within minutes. he thinks about your small hands, your shy smile, the feeling of your hair when he twirls a lock around his finger as you lay in his bed. he thinks about how you look with the sun seeping through the crack in the curtains, skin glowing and lips slightly parted as you exhale softly.
his heart beat echos in his ears. he feels a flush take over his face and places the back of his hand on his forehead. he suddenly feels hot.
maybe he has a fever? but so suddenly? he swallows, the sound echoing in his head.
and then he finally sees you, drink in hand as you throw your head back and laugh.
his heart beats loudly in his chest.
he places a hand above it, feeling the erratic thumps beneath his palm.
ah.
so he loves you.
-
Sakusa waits.
he waits in the corner, a drink in his hand, courtesy of Komori as he subtly stares at you from across the room.
it’s been about an hour, and you’ve yet to notice him. he cherishes the time, observing you from afar. he watches you giggle and wrap your arms around your friends, the gaping hole you’d left in his heart the moment you walked out of his life grows by the minute.
he’s contemplating what to do when you finally lock eyes with him.
he watches the smile slowly slip off your face, something akin to agony colouring your eyes.
he begins to walk towards you, not breaking eye contact for a second. it's like he's entranced. and when he’s right in front of you, he feels breathless; like your existence has left him at a loss for words.
“Hey.”
his voice comes out rough, and he clears his throat when your lips tug downwards.
your friends are looking at him with distaste, even Bokuto who normally sports a happy grin seems fairly upset. it makes him realize what a huge fuck-up he is.
he shifts on his feet, “Can we talk?”
Kuroo answers for you. “No, you can’t. You’ve said enough to her.” he steps in front of you, shoulders pushed back.
Sakusa feels irritation bubble in his chest, but pushes it down, knowing that Kuroo has a reason to be protective over you.
“I just want to apologize. And, confess something.” his voice comes out more desperate than he thought it would. it sounds fragile, even to his own ears.
Kuroo deflates, if only slightly. “It’s still a no. Find someone else to mess around with.”
“I'm not messing around. I just, I need to talk to her. Please.” the cup in his hand is beginning to bend, the cheap plastic cracking as the drink sloshes around.
Kuroo opens his mouth to what he assumes refuse him again, until a small hand grabs onto his arm and steps in front of him.
he watches as you let go of Kuroo, looking more composed than you had been before.
“It’s okay, Tetsu. I can handle this.” your voice makes his skin tingle. he realizes how much he’s missed it.
Sakusa’s shoulders drop in relief. he feels so happy that you decided to talk to him, he doesn’t even care that your friends are glaring him down.
“But-”
you cut Kuroo off, “Really, it’s fine. I’ll text you if I need anything.”
Kuroo looks like he wants to argue, but you give him a look that has him backing down.
he huffs, “Fine. Just be careful. Call me if he does anything.”
Sakusa stops himself from scoffing, annoyed with Kuroo’s words. what would he do at this point? what could he possibly do to make things worse than they already are?
you pat Kuroo on the arm and walk past Sakusa, turning back. “Let’s go.” you don’t wait for a response before continuing, and he follows you without a glance at your friends.
he tries to control his breathing, attempting to keep it steady as you enter the backyard. it’s empty, the chilly night air keeping everyone inside.
you turn around, crossing your arms. “So? You wanted to talk?”
he licks his lips, rubbing his forearm with his hand. he’s thankful that he threw his drink out at the garbage can near the back door. he can feel his hands shaking, and hopes you don’t notice.
“Yeah.” he exhales, “How have you been?”
you shrug, expression guarded. “Fine.”
he nods, expecting the dry answer but still feeling a bit dejected.
“I miss you.”
the words come out so abruptly. the two of you stare at each other in shock, and he almost raises a hand to cover his mouth.
god, why did he just say that?
you laugh, but it comes out less genuine than he’s ever seen. “You should be happy you don’t have someone pretending to be your girlfriend, right?”
his face drops, and he knows whatever expression he’s showing is not as stoic as he thought. because with one glance at his face you look like you almost regret your words.
“I was.. I was so fucking stupid that night. I know you have no obligation to forgive me, but please let me apologize.”
you stare at him silently, before nodding.
Sakusa breathes out, “I’m sorry. Nothing I said was true. I was just… angry. Not at you, at myself. I had been denying how I felt for so long and when you asked me who that girl was, I just lost it.”
he stares at the grass rather than your face, not wanting to know if you look at him with an unforgiving gaze. “I realized that I had unintentionally entered a sort of- relationship with you. I was scared. I still am.”
he lifts his gaze finding your wide eyes. “It was an unintentional relationship, but I wouldn’t have done anything different.”
he pauses, “Of course, except when I ruined everything. I’ve stayed up every night since it happened thinking about how I could have responded differently.” his lips tug up, the expression bitter.
“Because it was after that I realized my feelings for you.”
your brows furrow, your eyes darting around his face in pure confusion. “What are you saying, Sakusa?”
he ignores the ache of you using his last name, “That I have feelings for you.”
the silence is deafening as crickets chirp in the silent night.
“I love you, Y/n.”
you stagger back, as if wounded. you shake your head, “No, no. You don’t love me, Sakusa.”
he doesn’t understand your response. sure, you wouldn’t be elated. he knew you were still upset. but you look like you genuinely don’t believe him, like you refuse to believe him. he feels like he’s going to collapse if you walk away without acknowledging his feelings.
“What? I’m serious, Y/n. I love you.” he reaches a hand out, drawing back when you flinch.
“I’m in love with you.” he whispers.
you look at him, as though he has caused you immense pain, before turning away and running back into the house.
Sakusa stands there, alone in the dark.
he wonders if love is supposed to be so painful; if he will always be the one to inflict the pain, cause the heartache, and leave everything in ruins.
✾
"Shit." you curse as you stare at the empty fridge in front of you. an old bar of havarti cheese and two stale apples stare mockingly at you.
so perhaps you haven't gone grocery shopping in quite a while, but you've been busy! with assignments, your friends, and... Sakusa, you have had too much on your head to worry about things like restocking your fridge.
but now it's nearly midnight, and you have yet to eat dinner. your stomach rumbles at you, and you press a hand to it in annoyance.
you can skip a meal, it's not the end of the world.
but then your stomach rumbles again, and it's starting to feel extremely uncomfortable.
you check your phone, just to see if you can order in. but with one glance at the delivery price, you click your phone off. you stare at the sad-looking apples and cheese once more, making up your mind.
the convenience store is about a ten-minute walk, five if you run.
without another thought, you grab a hoodie from the coat rack and put it on. you pick up your apartment keys and slip into your shoes, bracing yourself for the cold air.
the walk ends up being somewhat soothing, the normally lively city is quieter. you use the time to think about your relationship - or lack thereof, with Sakusa. you still remember when he professed his love for you two weeks ago.
you remember rushing back into the party and telling your friends you had to leave. Kuroo drove you home, and you spent the night eating leftover icecream and binging Jujutsu Kaisen.
why couldn't you date someone like Gojo?
but then you think someone calmer, more steady would suit your personality well. someone who you could rely on and with a bit of sarcasm perhaps. someone who has dark hair; you always liked curly hair on men.
someone like him.
Sakusa Kiyoomi.
your thoughts are cut off when you finally get to the store. the lights are bright underneath the dark sky, the bell chiming when you open the door. you quickly grab a few rice balls, and walk to the cashier. it takes you a total of three minutes to get what you want, before you're walking back out with a plastic bag in hand.
you look up as you walk, the stars twinkling prettily. they remind you of his eyes.
you really wish you could stop thinking about him.
Sakusa makes you feel like you've caught a never-ending sickness. like you will wake up each day with your chest in pain, with your eyes swollen from crying paired with your unstable emotions.
its exhausting, you think; caring about people to a point where they cannot understand or reciprocrate your feelings. and then you always end up like this. alone. you wonder how long it will take for the other people you cherish to leave you too.
your thoughts come to a halt when you hear footsteps behind you.
its dark outside, the streetlights only providing a dim yellow glow as you walk. when you turn your head, you notice a man in a hood. your heart immediately plummets.
fuck, what had you been thinking? you should have ordered delivery, screw the price! the money wasn't worth your life.
you walk faster, noticing the person speeding up their steps. your breathing is becoming heavier, and you can feel your legs trembling as you continue to walk. you know you can't go home, otherwise he will know where you live.
you make a detour to head to a park you've been to many times. it was about a five-minute walk from your place, and the thought has you walking faster anxiously.
when you hear his footsteps draw closer, you turn your head and see he is much closer than before.
your breath hitches, and you find yourself tearing up in fear.
you are about to resort to an offensive stance, prepared to swing your bag of riceballs at his head when you bump into something.
you gasp loudly, flinching so harshly at the suddenness of the situation. you look up, finding familiar dark eyes. they look at you with bewilderment, but all you can think about is the pure relief that pools in your stomach, the tears building up in your eyes finally falling.
you rush forward and wrap your arms around him, breathing in the familiar scent. your shoulders are trembling, but they calm slightly when you feel an arm wrap around your waist and the other smooth over your upper back.
he looks over your shoulder, and you are unsure what expression he is showing. "Did you need something?" his voice comes out deep and - angry. you wonder if you are hallucinating the protectiveness that coats his tone. his arms tighten around you further, causing you to relax in his embrace.
you wait, body stuck to his. you hear footsteps retreating, and breathe out shakily.
"He's gone." he says, voice low.
you nod, but you stay in your position for a few minutes, content to bury yourself in his embrace after such a terrifying situation.
"Kiyoomi?" you look up, placing your hands on his chest.
he tilts his head downwards, "Are you okay? He didn't do anything, did he?" his brows are furrowed, lips pursed. he looks extremely concerned, and you feel surprised that he seems to care about you so much.
you shake your head slowly, "No, he didn't do anything. I'm - i'm fine." you lick your lips, trying to convince yourself to believe your own words.
Sakusa doesn't answer you, but he does turn his head and glance back before looking down at you. "I'll walk you home. Are you okay to walk? I can carry you."
you don't have much energy left, but you manage to laugh anyway. "I can walk, thank you."
you gently push at his chest, even though you want to continue to stay in his arms. you don't have that privilege any longer, and you shouldn't have assumed you had it in the first place.
you nod, however, and accept his offer to walk you home. you'll let yourself be selfish just this once, and then you'll let him go.
the walk back is silent, but Sakusa sticks close to you. you feel safe with him next to you, regardless of the fact that he hurt you so deeply.
he seems to protect you from others, but never from himself and his words. you sigh tiredly at the thought.
when you get to your apartment, he insists on walking you up. once at your door, you look at him and shuffle on your feet awkwardly.
"Uh, thanks for helping me back there and walking me home. I'll go inside now." you reach for your doorknob but he grabs your hand, pulling you closer. his head dips down, and he closes his eyes with a sigh.
"Please, just talk to me. I can't handle this." his voice makes you shiver, and you curse your body for reacting that way to him.
you lick your lips, "Can't handle what?"
he opens his eyes, tilting his head further down to catch your gaze. "You being mad at me. You ignoring me. Please, tell me what I need to do to fix this."
the two of you are standing so close, your cheeks heat up at the proximity. he still makes you so nervous after two years of knowing him, and the thought has you annoyed with your weak heart.
a shaky breath escapes your lips. "I don't know. You really hurt me, Sakusa."
he looks at you, face pained. like you being upset is causing him pain, and your chest aches to make him feel better.
"I'm sorry, I love you."
the words bring you back to that night, where you bared your heart to him and he trampled on it without a thought. you feel the urge to let more tears slip out, but you are tired of crying over people that do not care for you. you are tired of being the one that loves more.
but he looks different now. his eyes are filled with remorse, and you want to kiss his frown away. maybe, just maybe, this time you wouldn't be the one who loved too much for their own good.
he wipes a thumb underneath your eye, swiping over your cheek. you hadn't even realized you were crying until the concern in his face grew. it makes you feel embarrassed and angry at yourself, but you can’t find it in you to refuse his comfort.
"You don't mean that, Kiyoomi." your voice cracks involuntarily.
he shakes his head pushing your foreheads closer to one another. "I do, I mean it. I'll say it a million times until you believe me."
you huff out a shaky breath. "A million times is a bit dramatic."
"I'd do it for you." he moves his head to the side, pressing a kiss to your temple. the action has butterflies erupting in your stomach, unused to something so innocently romantic.
"You realize we have a lot to talk about? It won't be easy. I can't forgive you so quickly." you lean closer, tilting your head up.
he leans his head downwards. "I know. I'm sorry, just give me a chance and we can talk about it. I'll work hard to make you forgive me." the words are whispered close to your lips, his breath hitting your face. the minty scent is so Kiyoomi, it has your heart fluttering.
you know you have a lot to talk about. you can't just gloss over the month you spent apart, and you would have to talk to your friends about your choice to give him another chance. it would be difficult, and a risk. you were tired of pouring love into people who could not understand its substance.
but perhaps you can hope; you can hope that this time things will be different. that you'll love someone who will love you back all the same.
"Okay." you say softly.
he smiles, and you wonder if you are imagining the glassy look in his eyes. "Okay?"
you nod, whispering once more. "Yeah, okay."
he tilts his head down and captures your lips with his own, one arm sliding around your waist and the other in your hair, tugging you impossibly close.
you gasp into it, not expecting the desperation that leaks from his lips. he pushes you against the wall, with you wrapping your arms around his neck.
tomorrow, you'd have a lot to think about. you'll have to talk to him and figure out what's in store for the two of you. you will also have to face people who will surely disagree with your decision.
but that was a problem for the future.
for now, you're content to focus on the warm lips on your own.
EXTRA:
"So, what happened with that girl anyway?" your cheek is smushed on Kiyoomi's chest as the two of you lay in bed. you had come over to his place after his practice, and you were enjoying the skinship and cuddles.
he shifts underneath you, "Which girl?" his voice is drowsy, and you know he's falling asleep. you can't help yourself though, you've been curious.
you lift your head, smiling at his tired eyes. "The one from the game. She kept touching you."
you watch recognition fill his eyes as he hums, "She asked me to grab a coffee a few days after the game. Haven't responded though."
you nod, satisfied. "Are you going to? Respond, that is."
he turns, large arm wrapping around you. "Why would I do that when I have you? I'd rather the both of us get coffee sometime."
you laugh, "Are you asking me out on a date, Sakusa Kiyoomi?"
he smiles sleepily, planting a kiss on your forehead. "Yes. Let's get coffee soon."
you giggle, snuggling closer. "Okay, sounds good to me."
the surprise you had wanted to give to him after the game sits on his wall, framed and beside his bed. the drawing is one of your best, filled with the overwhelming love you know you could only ever offer to Kiyoomi.
love has always been something daunting for you. to love so wholeheartedly meant the likelihood of someone hurting you was greater. but you don't regret anything, not the slightest bit.
because you know how much love you have to offer, and as long as its to the right person, you know he'll keep your heart safe.
you love him, and you're not sorry.
a/n: 9.7k words later i refuse to read this again:’)
tetsurō fights for his girlfriend’s love against a creature who poops in a sandbox and still wins more affection than him.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TETSU MY LOVE 😛
you don’t mean to betray kuroo.
that’s the first thing he’ll tell anyone who will listen for the rest of his dramatic little life: you didn’t mean to, you were just too adorable, too sweet, too soft in that “oh look, a creature exists, let me pour my whole soul into petting it” way that turns his brain into microwaved pudding and makes his heart feel like it's doing cartwheels in a bouncy castle.
but intent doesn’t erase pain. not in kuroo tetsurō’s world.
all you did was bend down in the park.
that’s it. bend down. minding your own business, hands on your knees, hair falling over your shoulder in a silky curtain as you coo at something on the path.
and he—walking a step behind you with his hands in his pockets, thinking about how pretty your mouth looks when you say his name—stops dead.
because at your feet… is a cat.
a fluffy, tiny, loaf-shaped puff of disrespect.
you gasp, delighted. “hi baby! oh my god, look at you—”
the cat looks up at you, pupils dilating like you’re the sun and the moon and the wet food bowl all at once. then, without hesitation, it trots forward, nuzzles into your hand, and collapses onto its side in full dramatic love confession mode.
it purrs. loudly.
kuroo’s eye twitches.
he crouches down next to you slowly, like he’s approaching a crime scene he’s emotionally unprepared for.
“y/n,” he says, voice dangerously calm, “why is it flirting with you.”
you blink at him. “it’s a cat.”
“yeah,” he hisses, “a cat with zero respect for boundaries.”
the cat rolls onto its back—exposing its fluffy stomach. the universal sign of ultimate trust. ultimate love. ultimate betrayal.
you giggle and rub its belly.
kuroo’s soul begins ascending.
you don’t even notice the way he stares at you, eyes wide, shoulders hunched like a victorian man watching his beloved get seduced by a rival suitor with better cheekbones.
“baby,” he mutters, “baby, no, don’t— don’t give it the special tummy rubs. that’s our thing.”
“our thing?” you tease.
“yes! our thing! i lie down on my back. you pat my tummy. this little gremlin is stealing my entire personality.”
“tetsu,” you whisper, amused, “you’re being dramatic.”
“i’m being abandoned.”
the cat meows and reaches a paw toward you.
he glares at it like it insulted his entire bloodline.
he extends one cautious hand, trying to pet it.
the cat hisses instantly—sharp, vicious, personal.
kuroo jerks back like he’s been slapped. “oh. oh, okay. okay, i get it. so you’re just like everyone else, huh? you see someone i love and suddenly i’m invisible.”
you stare at him, torn between laughing and consoling him. “you’re jealous of a cat?”
“i’m competing with an animal that shits in sand,” he grumbles, “i’m allowed to be insecure.”
the cat flops onto your lap.
kuroo watches, horrified.
your hands cradle its tiny face, cooing softly. your voice is warm, your smile gentle, and the cat is soaking in every last drop of affection you give so effortlessly.
kuroo looks like someone has ripped a page out of the love story he keeps writing about you in his mind.
you scratch under the cat’s chin.
his soul leaves his body entirely.
𓏵
evening drapes across the park slowly, gold bleeding into soft pinks. you’re still sitting cross-legged on the grass with the cat curled in your lap, and kuroo sits beside you like a faithful, defeated knight whose princess chose another suitor… with whiskers.
well. whiskers that aren’t his.
he keeps glancing at you with this delicate mixture of awe and low-key despair, like he can’t decide whether to worship you or drag you away from your feline mistress.
“you know,” you say softly, scratching behind the cat’s ear, “you’re welcome to pet it again.”
he scoffs, wounded. “no. no, i’m done. i tried reaching out. i was vulnerable… open-hearted… emotionally available—”
“you touched it once.”
“precisely. and it rejected me. i’m rejecting it back.”
you fight a smile. “how mature.”
“i’m a pillar of maturity.”
you raise a brow.
“a very sturdy pillar,” he insists.
but he’s not even looking at the cat anymore. he’s looking at you—the way your eyes soften, the way your lips part just the tiniest bit when you’re focused, the way your fingers move so gently like affection comes naturally to you, like loving is the easiest thing in the world.
and he wonders how someone like him—a mess of contradictions, sharp edges, and stupid jokes—managed to be the person you hold close, the person whose hand you choose to intertwine with, the person you kiss like you mean it.
you lean your head onto his shoulder, and he melts instantly, spine curving toward you in full devotion.
“tetsu?”
“mm?”
“you know you don’t have to be jealous.”
“i’m not jealous.”
“you definitely are.”
“i’m not,” he lies with no conviction, staring at the cat like it’s plotting a hostile takeover.
“i like you more than the cat,” you whisper.
he goes still.
so still you swear you hear his soul re-enter his body at light speed.
and then—subtle, small—he smiles.
not his usual smirk. not his teasing grin.
something softer. something that looks like warm honey and hope.
“yeah?” he murmurs.
“yeah,” you repeat. “like, way more.”
you turn slightly so your nose brushes his jaw, lips barely touching his skin. the lightest kiss. the kind that travels straight into his bloodstream.
he exhales shakily.
“okay,” he whispers, voice going low, tender, ruined. “okay, yeah, i can handle that.”
you take his hand and place it gently on your thigh, squeezing once. he swallows, eyes darkening, leaning closer instinctively.
your voice is quiet. “you’re my favorite.”
the cat meows loudly as if protesting.
kuroo beams, triumphant. “ha. suck it.”
“tetsurō!”
“what? it started it.”
but even as he says it, he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you into his side. you feel his heartbeat—steady but fast—thrumming beneath your cheek.
he presses a kiss to your temple, slow and reverent.
then another to your cheek.
then one to your jaw.
your breath catches.
his fingers slide through your hair, tilting your face up toward him. you’re so close you can see every fleck of gold in his eyes, every soft intention hidden between the lines of his smile.
“i know it’s dumb,” he murmurs, forehead brushing yours, “but i just… i want all your affection. every part of you. even the parts you give to random cats.”
your laugh is soft and breathless. “you have all of me, tetsu.”
his hand tightens at your waist.
“yeah?” he says, voice nearly a whisper.
“yeah.”
and then he kisses you.
the kind of kiss that’s slow and warm and dizzying, like sunlight pooling in your chest. his lips move with careful devotion, savoring you like you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. he cups your face, thumb brushing your cheekbone with ridiculous tenderness.
you lean into him, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer until there’s no space left between you.
he breaks the kiss only to whisper against your lips, “i adore you.”
your smile is soft, glowing. “i adore you too.”
the cat meows again—loud, offended.
kuroo pulls back, glares, and mutters under his breath, “this is why dogs are better.”
you bump your shoulder against his. “be nice.”
“i am nice,” he protests, lifting your hand to press a kiss against your knuckles, “i’m literally the nicest man alive. i let you cheat on me with a cat.”
“i’m not cheating on you.”
“tell that to mr. whiskers.”
“mr. whiskers?” you laugh.
“that’s its name now. don’t encourage it. it’s already trying to steal you.”
you shake your head fondly, leaning into his chest. the cat settles again on your lap, smug.
kuroo tightens his hold around you, chin resting on your hair.
quietly—soft as a confession—he whispers:
“as long as i get to keep you close, i’ll share. even with a tiny furry homewrecker.”
you laugh into his shirt, and his arms wrap around you even tighter, pulling you against him like you’re something sacred.
and maybe you are—at least to him.
because the cat may have your lap.
but kuroo?
kuroo has your heart.
and he’ll guard it with everything he has… even if he has to glare at every smug, purring creature you meet for the rest of his life.
n: my patience is thinning, i might just dump him and forget about my beloved book. also if you noticed this is connected to ‘on 4k’.
you had been sitting on the rug in front of the coffee table, carelessly tossing stray items into an overnight bag for an upcoming weekend trip to visit your family. you had stretched your arms over your head, sighed softly, and said, “man, packing always makes me feel like i’m leaving forever.”
that was it. just a casual, offhand comment made on a lazy sunday evening while the television hummed faintly in the background. you hadn’t meant anything deeper by it. you weren’t running away, you weren’t pulling back, and you certainly weren’t planning on abandoning the life you had built together in your cozy apartment.
but kuroo’s brain didn’t register the mundane reality of the situation.
to kuroo—former volleyball captain, current japan volleyball association promoter, and full-time overthinker when it came to the person he loved most—those four words shattered his calm like a rock thrown through glass. ‘i’m leaving forever.’
he had been sitting on the couch with his laptop open, ostensibly checking sponsorship emails, but the moment the sentence left your lips, his hands froze over the keyboard. his dark eyes locked onto the back of your head, watching the gentle slope of your shoulders and the way your hair caught the soft lamp light. a sudden, cold weight settled heavily right in the center of his chest.
what if one day you actually did?
what if one morning you woke up, packed that exact same leather bag, walked out the front door, and never came back? what if the tiny arguments over who forgot to restock the dish soap, or his ridiculous work hours, or the sheer friction of daily life eventually wore away at your affection until leaving felt easier than staying?
the thought alone was suffocating. kuroo had faced terrifying opponents across the net, navigated high-stakes corporate negotiation meetings in tailored suits, and handled press crises without losing his cool, but the abstract nightmare of an empty apartment without you made his pulse spike into an frantic cadence. he hated it. he hated the visual. he hated the sickening drop in his stomach. he hated the idea of you leaving more than anything else in the entire world.
‘i can’t let that happen,’ he thought, his chest heaving silently as he stared at you. ‘i literally cannot survive that.’
logic was usually kuroo’s domain. he liked strategies, calculated risks, and neat timelines. he had actually bought a ring three months ago, tucked safely inside a small black velvet box hidden beneath a stack of old volleyball jerseys in his wardrobe. he had planned to propose properly next spring—maybe during a quiet vacation along the coast or at a nice restaurant where he could wear a sharp jacket and pretend he wasn’t sweating through his shirt.
but as he watched you zip up your bag with a small, innocent click, logic went completely out the window. spring was too far away. next month was too far away. tomorrow was too far away. he needed to bind your lives together right now. he needed the permanent, undeniable weight of a promise.
“hey,” kuroo blurted out, his voice a little rougher than intended.
you turned around, tilting your head in confusion. “hm? what’s up?”
“let’s go out,” he said abruptly, shutting his laptop with enough force to make the keys clatter. “right now. let's get dinner. or coffee. or just walk.”
you blinked at him, amused by his sudden energy. “now? but i just finished packing—”
“please,” he interrupted, rising from the sofa. his eyes were intense, fixed on you with a quiet, desperate hunger that made your breath catch. “just a quick walk. indulge me?”
you gave in easily, smiling as you stood up. “okay, fine. let me get my jacket.”
the moment you turned your back, kuroo darted to the bedroom, practically throwing his closet door open. his hands scrambled through the stacks of cotton until his fingers grazed the soft felt of the velvet box. he shoved it deep into the pocket of his coat, his fingers clamping around it like a lifeline, before marching back to the hallway where you were already slipping into your shoes.
outside, the evening air in the city was cool and bustling. neon signs painted the wet pavement in shades of pink, yellow, and blue, and crowds of people navigated the wide sidewalks. kuroo took your hand immediately, lacing his long fingers through yours with a grip so tight it was almost possessive. his palm was slightly clammy, his shoulder pressed firmly against yours as you walked side-by-side down the lively avenue.
“you okay, tetsu?” you asked softly, looking up at him as you strolled. “you’ve been super quiet since we left the apartment.”
“i’m fine,” he murmured, though his brain was running a mile a minute. ‘no, i’m not fine. i’m losing my mind. i need you to stay. i need to know you’re staying.’
they crossed a vibrant public square surrounded by glowing shop windows and street performers. a group of young people were gathered near a wide fountain, filming a video on a phone set up on a tripod. among them, two friends (???) named eme and mika were laughing hysterically while enthusiastically hitting the six seven emote in sync with the beat of a loud song playing from a portable speaker.
under normal circumstances, kuroo would have made a sly remark or chucked at the energetic crowd, but tonight he didn’t even register them. the world around him was an uninteresting blur of noise and color. the only thing in sharp focus was you—the warmth of your hand in his, the way you walked next to him, and the knowledge that nothing in this universe was technically stopping you from walking away forever.
except him. he had to stop it.
they reached the center of the illuminated plaza, right beneath the bright lights hanging between the street trees.
kuroo suddenly stopped dead in his tracks.
the abrupt halt yanked your arm back slightly, forcing you to turn around. “tetsu? what’s wrong?”
he didn’t answer right away. his throat worked as he swallowed hard, his dark eyes wide and full of an emotion so raw, so unshielded, that it instantly made your smile fade into concern.
“tetsurō?” you whispered, stepping closer. “are you feeling sick? what is it?”
“you can’t leave,” he rasped out, his voice cracking slightly over the ambient noise of the city.
you blinked, entirely bewildered. “what? leave where? i’m just going to my parents’ place for two days—”
“no, not just that,” he blurted, his chest rising and falling fast as he tugged you closer by your hand. people were pushing past you on either side, casting curious glances at the tall, handsome man in the long coat who looked like he was on the verge of a panic attack in the middle of a public square, but kuroo didn’t care about any of them. he didn’t care if the whole city watched.
“cause i hate you leaving,” kuroo confessed desperate, the raw truth tumbling out of his mouth in a frantic rush. “i hate the idea of it. i hated when you said it earlier, i hated thinking about it on the couch, and i hate even imagining a version of my life where you step away from me and don’t come back. i know you’re just visiting your family, i know i’m being completely insane right now, but i realized i can’t go another day without making sure you’re stuck with me forever.”
your jaw dropped slightly, your eyes wide as the pieces began to fit together in your head. “tetsu... were you overthinking because i said packing felt like leaving?”
“yes!” he said loudly, completely unashamed. “absolutely! i panicked!”
before you could even process his confession, kuroo dropped down onto one knee right there on the hard, paved ground of the plaza.
a collective gasp rippled through a few nearby onlookers. someone nearby stopped walking to pull out their phone, but kuroo was entirely blind to the world. his heart was hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. with trembling, long fingers, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the small black velvet box, snapping it open to reveal the brilliant diamond ring catching the golden streetlights above.
“tetsurō!” you squeaked, your face instantly feeling hot as you looked around at the growing audience, then back down at him.
“i was gonna wait,” he said, looking up at you with wide, vulnerable eyes, his usual cheeky composure entirely stripped away. “i had a whole plan. a nice speech, a nice place. but i don’t care about any of that. i just need you to know that i love you more than my own life, and i never want you to leave me. so please—marry me. marry me now, please.”
the desperation, warmth, and ridiculousness of the moment washed over you all at once. tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, half from overwhelming love and half from laughter at how hopelessly dramatic he could be.
you dropped down to your knees right in front of him, ignoring the dusty pavement, and wrapped your arms tightly around his neck.
“you absolute idiot,” you laughed softly into the crook of his neck, feeling him instantly sag with relief against you, his big arms wrapping around your waist like iron bands. “i’m not going anywhere. i love you. yes! of course i’ll marry you!”
a small cheer erupted from the surrounding crowd, someone whistled, and off in the distance near the fountain, eme and mika cheered loudly before going right back to their antics.
kuroo pulled back just enough to slip the ring onto your finger, his fingers still shaking slightly, before pulling your face in for a deep, lingering kiss that tasted like the cool night air and relief.
“good,” he whispered against your lips, a tiny, familiar smirk finally creeping back onto his face despite the flush on his cheeks. “because i was seriously about to follow you on the train.”
i love it when the celebrity is the one deep into a parasocial relationship, not the fan.
in this case, it's successful, young, and attractive streamer phainon, more commonly known by his online alias neikos496, whose streams always have an average of 100k+ concurrent viewers. nowadays his live chat needs to have slow mode turned on from the amount of people wanting to spam every second, and he's always getting sponsorship offers from gaming brands, down to the snacks he consumes on stream. he attends gaming events, makes an appearance at conventions, and once even joined an e-sports team for his favorite game. the latest talk that surrounds him is that he'll soon enter the modeling scene; not hard to imagine with a killer face and body.
however his beginnings were much, much humbler.
a country bumpkin who decided to stay in the city after graduating with a (supposed) useless degree. a young man who spent his last credits to buy a low-quality mic, together with his second-hand gaming pc and obs webcam, he took his chances at breaking through the intimidating world of streaming.
he begins with sandbox games, long chill streams late at night after he was done working his ass off at his daytime corporate job. there were no viewers, but he can't fault in that when the frontpage of the streaming site are all well-established bigshots. it's difficult to find something new when one is so used to the sense of familiarity that their favorite streamer carries.
phainon tries flash games next, making fun of all the silly, borderline fetish art of beloved animation characters, but all that brought him were bots that got his hopes up, only to be cruelly let down when his chat was filled with nothing but advertisement spam.
well... third time's a charm.
phainon tries horror games. he plays the faces of the genre like resident evil, silent hill, amnesia. etc. to the short, obscure indie horror that he only heard through word of mouth in online forums. paired with his usual schedule of late-night streaming and a newly purchased better-quality mic, he feels like it'll get him somewhere this time.
this proves to be true when he gains his first ever viewer in the middle of him shooting down monster enemies. the loud ping from his chat entirely breaks his focus on the game, head swiveling to face the corner of his monitor where he can view the chatbar.
he reads your username out loud before your message, " "what are you playing right now?" oh! i'm playing resident evil 2! the remake, to be specific."
he grins at his webcam, all coy when he asks, "wanna keep watching? i'll be worth your time, i swear!"
when a handsome man with big, puppy dog eyes asks that of you, it's nearly impossible to say no. so type in the chatbar once more,
"sure, why not :)"
to your surprise, this streamer you found out in the wilderness of your recommended page, jumps up from his chair and fistbumps the air in glee. the suddent action makes you laugh. it makes him laugh too, his cheeks are dusted with pink by the time he sits back down. he clears his throat and resumes the game as if nothing ever happened.
you'll definitely be here tomorrow.
the first couple of months in phainon's streaming career, his only viewer was you. it feels less of a livestream and more of a videochat on discord with your friend with how often he refers to you while playing a game. he's moved on from horror games; now he's trying random ones each day.
before beginning a new game, he'll ask without looking at the chatbar, "you ready?" and then promptly calls your username. when he gets jumpscared or chased, he'll look at the chatbar and asks for you to come help him. during puzzles, he'll give his best puppy look as he fully expects you to solve it for him.
his viewers exceeded one (1) when phainon was one of the first ones to play an indie game that would soon blow up in popularity. he had found the game through the developer's social media account, added it to his steam wishlist, and played it on the day it came out.
the second time he streamed that indie game, he was awed at the whopping 2000 live concurrent viewers on his stream. he thanked everyone that was currently watching before his eyes zoned in at the chatbar, eyes sparkling as he called out your username, "are you still there? a-are you seeing this right now!?"
you laughed, pride blooming in your chest to see the once unknown streamer you've been watching for a while now take his first steps onto the grand stage of stardom. your fingers tingle in excitement as you type in,
"yes!! welcome everyone, phainon is an awesome streamer, i promise ^^"
another viewer typed, "phainon? is that neikos496's real name?"
oops. you forgot it's no longer just you and him in his livestreams anymore. before guilt could form in your guts, phainon laughs and waves his hand around.
"you're right about that, friend." he mentions your username. "they've been a long-time viewer of mine, you see. we're practically online friends now!"
he winks at his camera. "isn't that right?"
username.
there's a pattern to be found in how, as phainon's fame grows, so do his reliance on you. while before, his behavior of constantly paying attention to you was to be expected, seeing as you were his only viewer at that time, it tends to come off as odd now that his number of viewers is increasing day by day. he still retains old traditions by specifically calling out for your username and checking if you were ready before starting the game he was set on playing that day.
not to mention how he always singles out your chats, always making it a priority for him to read first amidst a sea of emote spammers and other people trying to grasp his attention. even the ones who paid for superchats are inherently stuck in second place the moment you send something to the chatbar.
sure. that's fine. loyalty and routine are good traits to have on a person, right? this just proves that despite his rising fame as a streamer, phainon is still the same man you met back then by staying to his roots. but it begins to slowly suffocate you with how much phainon demands from you, becoming bolder and bolder as his channel grows.
one time, you felt like lying back and observing him for the entirety of the stream, so you hadn't felt the need to type in anything to the chatbar. but an hour into his stream, he's still not playing any game.
after taking gulps from his water bottle, his blue eyes focus on his (newly acquired) second monitor, "chat, chat," he calls out, eyes skimming through the strings of text from different people pouring in. he says your username, "are they here yet? in the stream, i mean."
albeit confused, his viewers tell him no, having believed you weren't there yet with the lack of your usual chattiness. he visibly deflates into his gaming chair. "really? aw, well, we can wait for them before i start playing."
his chat bursts into confusion, spamming questions marks and many complaints to just begin the damn game already beginning to pop up. yet phainon remains undeterred, leaning back on his gaming chair with a slight frown on his face, fingers toying with his water bottle cap.
you straighten up, hurriedly typing in an effort to do damage control from the angry mob.
"heyyyy!! i've been here since the beginning TT TT start the game, neikos!"
akin to dangling a dog treat in front of a puppy, phainon excitedly leans in close to his screen and exclaims your username.
"you've been here all this time! why didn't you say anything? i was about to be sad, you know?" he pouts, bottom lip exaggeratedly jutting out. you nervously laugh, already imagining the curses thrown your way from his viewers.
"srry.... was quite drained from work today ^^;;;; so i didn't feel like typing much..."
then you hurriedly add, "but it's ok now!! let's get this party started .·´¯`(>▂<)´¯`·. "
phainon hesitates for a moment, seemingly wanting to say more. but then he blinks and returns his focus back to the game he was supposed to play.
in a quieter voice, he mutters, "next time, don't leave me waiting like that, okay? i was scared something happened to you..."
that's... (odd) fair. it must have shaken him quite a bit, being used to you so present and vocal in his streams.
so you go ahead and reassure him, "got it (●'◡'●)"
it's passed off as jokes at first; his fanbase online has an ongoing inside joke wherein phainon is dating you in private. it's not an unreasonable conclusion, and it'd make sense to an outsider just peering in from outside, but when phainon mentioned your username in a fanmeet event, the line between jokes and genuine belief is blurred. a shipping culture is born, and the flames are fanned further when a fan posts a screenshot of their profile being followed by phainon before it quickly gets unfollowed.
from a supposed friendship in the eyes of his many viewers, it quickly becomes uncomfortable for you when other fans begin mentioning you in the chatbar, asking for confirmation during phainon's livestreams.
you turn a blind eye to the best that you can. a deranged fan dming you, claiming to have spotted you and phainon out on a date, is quickly blocked. all variations of your shipname with phainon are muted from your timeline, and the accounts related to it are blocked as well.
but even that's not enough. eventually, you decide that it's best to forget this streamer altogether; you stopped attending his livestreams, you moved accounts, you changed usernames, and you wished him the best of luck with his career. not that he needed any if the rumors of him being invited to gamescom held an ounce of truth.
not even a week later, you wake to a dm request on your new account from a burner,
"hello, i didn't mean for the entire situation to quickly turn sour. and i am so sorry for dragging you into this mess when i should've been at the forefront defending you from harassment and hate. i understand that you're not quite ready to reveal our relationship to the public just yet, and i fully respect your decision.
my only wish is for you to go back to watching my streams, just like old times? i really miss you, and i find myself having difficulty playing when you're not there to cheer me on. my personal cheerleader, in a way :) they don't have to know it's you, i know you changed your username, after all. we can keep it secret. i can ignore your messages (but just know i read them and keep them close to my heart), i'll pretend that i'm not paying attention to you, anything.
i just miss you so much. come back to me soon. please, (y/n)?
i love you.
yours,
phainon."
... that's not your username he's typing. it's your real name that you never revealed to anyone online - not to him.
and what does phainon mean by keeping it private? you're not even dating - not once have you even met up with him in real life.
this guy... this beloved, worshipped streamer, one that you used to look up to with so much admiration, is absolutely deranged.
how honkai star rail men would be with their very heavily pregnant wife
pairings. jing yuan, blade, anaxa, phainon, mydei, aventurine, boothill, dr ratio, gepard, sunday, sampo, moze x fem/afab! reader
warnings. phainon and mydei might be ooc! slightly suggestive for mydei, angst if you squint for boothill
a/n. my professor is pregnant and i got inspired, is that weird? i think i went a little overboard when writing.
wc. 18.2k
jing yuan
✧ super protective general mode activated – jing yuan won’t let you lift a single finger. you’re a literal empress in his eyes, and he treats you like one.
✧ he constantly rubs your belly, murmuring sweet nothings to your baby, calling them “little cub” or “our future star.”
✧ yanqing is over the moon, already asking when he can start training the baby. jing yuan just laughs and tells him to be patient.
✧ he pretends to be chill, but he secretly has his cloud knights monitoring your every move. if you so much as sigh, he’s rushing to your side with a massage ready.
✧ jing yuan is so unbelievably soft with you. he treats you like you're the most precious thing in the world, because to him, you are. he’s already a laid-back general, but when it comes to you and your pregnancy, he becomes even lazier—only because he insists on doing everything for you, so you don’t have to lift a single finger.
✧ “why would i let you do anything, my love? you’re already doing the most important thing—bringing our child into this world.” he says it so smoothly, like it’s the most obvious thing ever, all while he’s feeding you slices of fresh fruit.
✧ he loves talking to the baby. every night, he rests his head against your belly, rubbing slow circles over your stretched skin as he murmurs soft words. “are you being good to your mother? not causing too much trouble, i hope.” his voice is teasing, but there’s so much warmth in it.
✧ yanqing is excited beyond belief. he treats your belly like a sacred treasure, constantly checking in and promising to be the best big brother figure. jing yuan just watches with an amused smile, letting the boy go on about how he’ll train the baby to be the best swordsman when they’re older.
✧ if you so much as sigh, he’s immediately at your side. tired? he’s carrying you. back hurting? he’s massaging you. craving something? he already sent someone to get it.
✧ he lets you sleep on him whenever you want. if you’re tired in the middle of the day, he just pulls you into his lap, arms wrapped securely around you as he leans back, perfectly content to stay like that for hours.
✧ you catch him daydreaming about your child a lot. he’ll be sitting at his desk, chin in his palm, a soft smile on his lips as he imagines what they’ll look like. “will they have your eyes?” he asks one day, reaching out to brush his fingers over your cheek. “i hope they do.”
✧ he’s secretly very nervous about the birth. he won’t show it, but you catch the way his fingers tighten slightly when he thinks about it. he just loves you so much, and he hates the idea of you being in pain. he’ll be right by your side when the time comes, holding your hand, whispering reassurances in that deep, soothing voice of his.
✧ at the end of the day, jing yuan is just so deeply in love with you. every moment, every touch, every gentle smile—he’s cherishing all of it, because this is the family he’s always dreamed of.
✧ jing yuan is absolutely smitten with you and your pregnancy. he’s always been affectionate, but now? now he’s downright insatiable when it comes to touching you. his hands are always somewhere—resting on your belly, rubbing slow, soothing circles on your back, cupping your cheek as he presses soft kisses against your lips. he just wants you to feel loved every second of the day.
✧ he’s a chronic nuzzler. when you’re sitting together, he leans in to bury his face in your neck, breathing in your scent, his hands splayed across your belly. when you’re lying down, he rests his forehead against yours, murmuring sweet little reassurances about how well you’re doing. if he could, he’d never let you leave his embrace.
✧ he absolutely spoils you. your cravings? already fulfilled before you even realize you’re hungry. your feet hurt? he’s massaging them while looking at you with those warm, golden eyes. you’re feeling emotional? he’s pulling you into his lap, whispering words of love as he strokes your hair.
✧ his favorite thing is feeling the baby kick. he lights up every single time—his eyes softening, a slow smile tugging at his lips as he presses his palm to your belly. “ah, little one, i see you’re already training to be a warrior.” he chuckles, his thumb tracing slow circles against your skin.
✧ he reads to you at night. sometimes it’s poetry, sometimes it’s old tales of the xianzhou, but he loves the idea of his voice lulling both you and the baby into sleep. he takes it as an unspoken duty to make sure you’re as comfortable and relaxed as possible.
✧ he will not let you lift a single thing. you could be reaching for something as light as a teacup, and suddenly his arm is there, effortlessly taking it from you. “tsk, tsk, my dear. what did i say about doing things yourself?” he smirks as he hands it to you, obviously enjoying how much he gets to dote on you.
✧ yanqing is so excited that it makes jing yuan even more excited. when yanqing starts talking about how he’s going to train the baby in swordsmanship, jing yuan suddenly finds himself indulging in the fantasy, too. “hm… perhaps they’ll wield a greatsword like me,” he muses, stroking his chin before glancing at you with a teasing smirk. “or maybe they’ll be as quick-witted and sharp as their mother.”
✧ he secretly makes a journal about the pregnancy. he writes down little notes—about the first time he felt the baby kick, about how breathtaking you looked under the moonlight as you rested, about how his heart aches with how much he loves you both. he never tells you about it, but he plans to give it to your child when they’re older, so they’ll know just how much their father adored their mother.
✧ he absolutely, 100% cries when the baby is born. he tries to be strong, tries to keep his composure, but the moment he hears that first cry, he’s done for. he cups your face with shaky hands, pressing his forehead to yours as he whispers, “you did so well, my love… so well.” and when he finally holds the baby, his chest tightens with overwhelming love—he’s never known a happiness like this before.
blade —
✧ he rarely shows outward emotions, but his hands always find their way to your belly, as if grounding himself in the reality of your shared future.
✧ if you ever feel pain, even if it’s normal pregnancy discomfort, he tenses up immediately, staring at you with worry. “are you okay? do you need something?”
✧ he lets you sleep curled up against him, his body warmth soothing you. even if he doesn’t need rest, he’ll lay beside you, hand on your stomach, eyes half-lidded.
✧ the stellaron hunters tease him for being so soft for you, but he doesn’t care. his priority is you and the baby—nothing else.
✧ buys you those pregnancy pillows, not one, not two, not three, but FIVE of them. why? don't ask why. he just did what he had to do.
✧ blade is both the most terrifying and the softest man you have ever seen during your pregnancy. anyone who so much as glances at you the wrong way gets a death glare so sharp it could cut through steel. he becomes hyper-aware of his surroundings, his protective instincts dialed up to a thousand. but when he's with you? when he's resting his palm on your belly, feeling the faint kicks of your child? he's tender in a way no one else will ever see.
✧ he doesn't speak much, but his actions say everything. he’s not the type to whisper poetic words about his love for you, but when he pulls you into his chest, his calloused fingers brushing through your hair—when he kneels in front of you, pressing the softest kiss to your swollen belly—you know exactly how much he cherishes you.
✧ he has a habit of placing his hand on your belly whenever you're together. it’s instinctual, protective, like he’s always ready to shield both you and your child from harm. even in his sleep, his hand finds its way to your stomach, fingers twitching slightly as if standing guard.
✧ he worries about you, even if he doesn’t always say it outright. you catch him watching you with furrowed brows when you move around too much, his lips pressing into a thin line when he sees you wince. if he had his way, you'd be in bed all day, wrapped up in the safest cocoon possible—but he knows you’re strong, so he holds back. barely.
✧ he is unbelievably gentle when touching you. it’s almost ironic—blade, a man who knows nothing but violence, whose hands are stained with countless battles, touches you like you’re made of the finest glass. every time he cups your face, every time he trails his fingers over your belly, his touch is so, so careful. he would rather die than cause you any harm.
✧ he talks to the baby when he thinks you're asleep. late at night, when the world is silent and you’re curled up against him, he whispers words he could never say when you're awake. “i will protect you.” his voice is barely above a breath, his hand splayed over your belly. “you and your mother. always.”
✧ he makes sure you're eating properly, even if it means forcing you to sit down while he prepares something himself. he doesn’t care if he’s never been much of a cook—he will make sure you're fed and taken care of, even if it means standing in the kitchen for an hour, staring at a recipe with a deep frown.
✧ he pretends not to care about the baby shopping, but he totally does. when you bring him to look at baby clothes, he acts indifferent at first, hands tucked into his coat. but the second he sees a tiny onesie in your favorite color? he picks it up, runs his fingers over the fabric, and mutters something about how “this one looks… acceptable.” (he buys it immediately.)
✧ he doesn't know how to express it, but he's excited to be a father. he never thought he’d have something like this—something soft, something real. he never thought he’d have a future beyond endless battles. but now, with you by his side, carrying a child that is part of both of you, he finally starts to believe in something more.
✧ when the baby is born, he is completely, utterly still. for the first time in his life, blade feels like he has no words. he holds the tiny bundle in his arms, staring down at this little life he helped create, and something deep inside him shifts. when he finally looks at you, eyes glassy with unspoken emotion, he whispers the only thing he can say—“thank you.”
✧ blade is absolutely helpless when it comes to your cravings. you want something specific in the middle of the night? he’s already putting on his coat, ready to hunt it down no matter how absurd it is. he doesn’t even question it anymore. one time, you craved something bizarre—like spicy pickles dipped in chocolate—and he just stared at you for a full ten seconds before silently retrieving the ingredients. when he watched you eat it with a satisfied hum, he muttered, “...i have never feared anything more than i fear your cravings.”
✧ there was one time when he brought you the wrong food, and you almost burst into tears. your craving was very specific—a warm peach bun from a particular vendor—but he accidentally got a different flavor. when he saw your lip tremble, he immediately turned on his heel and went straight back out to find the exact one you wanted. “i will not return until i retrieve it,” he swore, like he was going on some life-or-death mission.
✧ he tries to act like he doesn’t care when you make him try your strange craving combinations, but the second you say, “if you love me, you’ll try it,” he knows he’s lost. cue him begrudgingly taking a bite of something absolutely cursed (like ice cream and soy sauce) while you eagerly watch for his reaction. he chews. he swallows. he slowly looks away and mutters, “i am never doing that again.” (he does it again the next time you ask.)
✧ one time, you craved something so bad that you started getting emotional over it. “blade… what if i never get to eat it again?” you sniffled, burying your face in your hands. panic. absolute panic. he thought this was an actual emergency. he dropped everything he was doing, ready to fight the universe itself if it meant securing your food. when he finally got it and handed it to you, you sighed dreamily, saying, “you’re my hero.” his ears turned a little red after that.
✧ you get unbelievably clingy, and it’s both endearing and confusing to blade. he’ll be standing still, minding his own business, when you just attach yourself to him, draping yourself over his back like a koala. “don’t move,” you mumble. he doesn’t. if anything, he just shifts slightly so that you’re more comfortable.
✧ there was a moment when you dramatically flopped onto the bed, groaning about how your feet hurt. before you could even finish your sentence, blade was already kneeling down, silently massaging your feet. you gasped. “oh my god, you’re actually good at this—” his fingers worked into the sore spots with expert precision. you immediately melted. blade, meanwhile, just continued as if he’d been doing this for centuries. “your body is under strain,” he simply said. “this is the least i can do.”
✧ blade has an uncanny ability to appear whenever you need help. you’re struggling to bend down to grab something? suddenly, he’s there. you’re about to lift something heavier than he deems acceptable? boom, he’s already taking it from you. you once tested this by whispering, “i’m craving something…” and within seconds, he materialized behind you with an unreadable expression, already holding his coat, waiting for instructions.
✧ he does not tolerate anyone making unnecessary comments about your size. one time, a stranger made an offhand remark about how big your belly was, and before you could even react, blade was staring them down with the most chilling gaze imaginable. he didn’t even say a word—just narrowed his eyes ever so slightly—and the person immediately backpedaled.
✧ despite his serious nature, there was one time he made a mistake that neither of you will ever forget. you asked him to fetch your favorite snack, and he misheard you. instead of returning with the correct one, he came back with something completely different. when he handed it to you, looking all serious, you just… stared at it. “blade… what is this.” he frowned. “the food you asked for.” you shook your head.
✧ “no, this is not what i asked for.” a long silence. then, without a word, he simply turned around and walked right back out to get the correct one.
✧ sometimes, he gets so used to catering to you that he forgets he doesn’t need to keep doing it after the baby is born. one time, you got up to get something for yourself, and blade immediately tried to stop you. “sit down,” he said automatically, already moving to do it for you. you had to gently remind him, “blade, i can move now.” he paused. thought about it. then, in a deadpan voice, muttered, “...i don’t like that.”
anaxa —
✧ the man is obsessed with your pregnancy. every single day, he’s marveling at your growing belly, resting his head on it, whispering to the baby.
✧ “can you hear me, little one? your father loves you very, very much~” and then he looks up at you with stars in his eyes. you can’t walk five steps without him offering to carry you.
✧ he’d literally sweep you off your feet in public if you let him. he handmakes baby clothes, paints the nursery with celestial patterns, and makes sure you’re always surrounded by warmth and love.
✧ anaxa is absolutely ecstatic about you carrying his child. he’s a man of passion, and this is the most exciting thing to ever happen in his life. he showers you in affection constantly, hands never far from your belly, and every little change in your pregnancy fascinates him. one day, he catches sight of your growing bump in the mirror, and his golden eyes widen with pure admiration.
✧ “by the aeons, look at you… you’re stunning.” he twirls you around, beaming, like you’re the most divine sight in the universe.
✧ he is obnoxiously protective but in a warm, dramatic way. if you so much as sigh, he’s immediately cupping your face, his gaze filled with concern. “beloved, are you unwell? do you need anything? say the word, and i shall move the stars themselves to bring you comfort.” if you so much as stumble, he is catching you like a hero in a romantic novel, dipping you slightly as if it were a dance.
✧ he goes insane over your cravings. no matter how ridiculous, he takes it as a personal challenge. one time, you craved the most specific fruit from a distant planet, and before you could even consider changing your mind, he was already making arrangements to have it imported. it arrived within hours. you stared at him in disbelief as he proudly presented it. “for you, my beloved, there is no distance too far.”
✧ he gets competitive about taking care of you. he must be the one to do everything. need a foot massage? he’s already doing it. thirsty? your drink is already in your hands. you tried to reach for something on a high shelf once, and he gasped dramatically, lifting you into his arms instead. “such tasks are far beneath you, my dear.” you just wanted a plate.
✧ when the baby kicks for the first time, he is overwhelmed. his hands freeze over your stomach, golden eyes widening in shock. he looks up at you, utterly stunned, before breaking into the most lovesick grin you have ever seen. “they’re strong,” he murmurs, pressing his forehead against yours. “our child is strong.”
✧ he talks to your belly. all the time. and not just little greetings—he has full conversations. he tells your baby about the adventures he’s had, the beautiful places they’ll see, and how lucky they are to have you as their mother. sometimes, when he thinks you’re asleep, he whispers soft promises to them. “you will be loved beyond measure, little one. i swear it upon the stars.”
✧ he spoils you rotten. anything you want, you get. it’s impossible to stop him. the moment you so much as glance at a pretty item, he’s already purchasing it. if you tell him “you don’t have to—” he hushes you with a kiss to your forehead. “nonsense, my love. you deserve the world.”
✧ he gets extremely emotional when you’re in labour. despite his usual confidence, he is on edge, pacing the room, running a hand through his hair, whispering prayers under his breath. the second he hears your baby’s first cry, he collapses into the chair, exhaling a deep breath of relief (like he was the one giving birth.... 😒).
✧ when he finally holds them for the first time, he is speechless. his usual poetic words fail him, and he just stares, eyes glossy with unshed tears, before finally whispering, “you are the greatest gift i have ever received.”
✧ anaxa treats your pregnancy like the most important quest of his life. from the moment he learns you’re expecting, he dives headfirst into research. he devours every article, medical journal, and ancient text on pregnancy, memorizing every detail.
✧ at night, he’s hunched over stacks of datapads, reading about fetal development, prenatal nutrition, and even obscure childbirth traditions across different planets. when you wake up and ask what he’s doing, he simply replies, “studying for the most important role of my existence.”
✧ he takes notes. meticulous, detailed notes. he carries around a small journal where he writes everything—your mood shifts, your cravings, even what time of day the baby kicks the most. it’s filled with observations like “beloved seemed irritated today—possible correlation with lack of midday nap?” and “baby prefers right side of belly—will investigate further.”
✧ one time, you peeked into his notes and found a page titled “top ten ways to make my love comfortable” with a ranked list of his most successful strategies.
✧ he does field research. he doesn’t just rely on books—he goes out and seeks firsthand knowledge. he interviews every mother he can find, from warriors to scholars, recording their experiences and advice with intense focus.
✧ he once stopped an entire group of mothers in the marketplace just to ask, “ladies, if i may—what was the most effective way your partners supported you during pregnancy?” he listened very seriously, nodding at each answer, before thanking them with a deep bow.
✧ he becomes hyper-aware of pregnancy symptoms before you even notice them. you sigh slightly, and before you can say anything, he’s already handing you water because “dehydration can cause fatigue, my dear.”
✧ If you rub your lower back even once, he instantly offers a massage. one time, you mentioned feeling warm, and within seconds, he adjusted the room’s temperature to the optimal degree for pregnant comfort.
✧ no one can escape his lectures. if someone offers you food that’s even slightly questionable for pregnancy, he immediately intervenes, launching into a detailed explanation of why you cannot eat it. “that dish contains an ingredient known to cause nausea in twelve percent of expectant mothers. i simply cannot allow it.”
✧ you once caught him educating a fellow father-to-be about the importance of emotional support during pregnancy. “your partner’s needs must always come first. if she craves something at midnight, you go. no hesitation.”
✧ he gets way too into prenatal bonding. he doesn’t just talk to the baby—he reads stories, sings songs, and even plays music. one day, you walked in on him reciting a dramatic monologue from one of his favorite plays to your belly, gesturing passionately. “and so, my dear child, this is the tale of heroes and honor… may you inherit my love for storytelling.” you couldn’t stop laughing.
✧ when you’re nearing your due date, he prepares a full emergency plan. he has a route mapped out to the medical facility, a list of supplies packed and double-checked, and contingency plans for every possible scenario.
✧ if labor starts unexpectedly, he has multiple escape routes memorized for a quick departure. one time, he even did a practice drill, making sure he could carry you effortlessly if needed. “i must be ready, beloved. i refuse to falter in your moment of need.”
✧ the moment you go into labor, he activates like a man on a mission. his usually playful and dramatic nature is replaced with laser-sharp focus. he’s immediately by your side, holding your hand, guiding you through breathing exercises he memorized. but internally, he is barely holding it together.
✧ the second he hears the baby’s first cry, he lets out a shaky breath, his entire body relaxing. when he finally holds your child, all the stress melts away, and he just gazes at them in awe, whispering, “you were worth every moment.”
phainon
✧ this man treats you like the most precious treasure. If anyone so much as breathes near you the wrong way, he’s glaring at them. every craving? immediately fulfilled.
✧ even if you wake up at 3 am and want the most obscure food, he’ll find a way to get it for you. he’s fascinated by the baby’s movements and constantly asks, “did they kick just now?”
✧ when you can’t sleep, he’ll hold you close and hum soft lullabies, stroking your hair until you drift off in his arms.
✧ phainon is absolutely obsessed with the idea of being a father. from the moment he learns you’re pregnant, he acts like he just won the greatest cosmic jackpot in existence. he picks you up and spins you around before freezing and setting you down gently, apologizing because “right, right, must be careful now.” but he’s grinning ear to ear, already talking about all the things he wants to do with the baby. “do you think they’ll like stargazing? i’ll teach them all about the constellations, and we can name a star after them.”
✧ he immediately starts making preparations. within days, he’s turned an entire room into a nursery, but it’s not just any nursery—it’s a masterpiece. he hand-paints galaxies on the ceiling so the baby will always feel like they’re sleeping under the stars.
✧ he even commissions a custom-built crib that gently rocks like a spaceship in zero gravity. he’s so proud of it, constantly adjusting tiny details to make it perfect. “our little star deserves the best, don’t you think?”
✧ he takes baby-proofing to an extreme. he starts evaluating your entire home with the scrutiny of a scientist studying an uncharted planet. “this corner? too sharp. that table? unstable. this step? a potential hazard.”
✧ you catch him padding furniture, securing every single cabinet, and even installing a soft landing zone in case the baby ever falls. you try to tell him that it’s way too early for this, but he just winks and says, “better to be safe than sorry, starlight.”
✧ cravings are his absolute favourite part of the pregnancy. the moment you mention wanting something, he’s on it. he once woke up at three in the morning to hunt down a very specific dessert you were craving.
✧ when he finally returned, slightly dishevelled but victorious, he proudly presented it to you like he had just returned from a heroic quest. if you ever apologise for asking for something difficult, he just kisses your forehead and says, “there’s nothing i wouldn’t do for you and our little one.”
✧ he gets really into talking to the baby. not just casual conversations—full-blown storytelling. he lies with his head on your belly, telling the baby about all the wonders of the universe, all the places they’ll visit, all the things they’ll see.
✧ “you’re gonna love it out here. just wait until you see your first comet—it’s breathtaking.” he also sings lullabies, soft celestial melodies he swears have been passed down in his family. even you find yourself falling asleep to them.
✧ he fusses over you constantly. anytime you so much as sigh, he’s immediately checking in. “are you okay? do you need anything? here, let me get you some water. or a pillow. or—” you have to physically stop him from treating you like a fragile piece of glass.
✧ if you so much as try to lift something heavier than a book, he swoops in immediately. “whoa, whoa, whoa—absolutely not. no heavy lifting for my love. let me handle it.”
✧ despite all his excitement, he does have moments of deep, quiet reflection. sometimes you’ll find him sitting by the nursery, looking up at the painted stars with a soft smile. when you ask what’s on his mind, he just pulls you close and murmurs, “i just… can’t believe this is real. that i get to have this with you.”
✧ his hand will rest on your belly, his thumb tracing slow circles as he whispers, “i promise to be the best father i can be. i swear it.”
✧ when the day finally comes, he is a wreck. for all his usual charm and confidence, the moment you tell him it’s time, he panics. he grabs the hospital bag, then forgets where he put the hospital bag. he tries to call someone but dials the wrong number. you have to physically pull him back to reality.
✧ but once he sees you, really sees you, he takes a deep breath, centers himself, and holds your hand with all the love in the universe. when he hears the baby’s first cry, his eyes fill with tears, and he laughs, breathless, as he whispers, “welcome home, little star.”
✧ phainon is an absolute menace when it comes to public displays of affection, and your pregnancy just makes it ten times worse. he’s already the type to drape himself over you, kiss you whenever he pleases, and hold your hand no matter where you go, but now? now he’s practically glued to you. he’s always resting a hand on your belly, rubbing soothing circles over it, or just holding you close like he’s staking a claim. whenever someone congratulates him on the baby, he just beams and says, “i know, isn’t it wonderful? my starlight is glowing.”
✧ the chrysos heirs do not make things easy for him. the moment they find out you’re pregnant, it’s like they’ve been given free rein to tease him relentlessly. they’re always making comments about how he’s become soft, how he’s acting like an overexcited first-time dad, how he’s basically your personal servant at this point. phainon just waves them off with a smug grin, completely unbothered. “jealous? i would be too if i didn’t have someone as perfect as my starlight carrying my child.” the teasing only gets worse after that.
✧ some of them take it a step further, trying to rile him up by making bets on what kind of father he’ll be. “ten credits says he cries when he holds the baby for the first time.” “twenty says he panics and passes out before the baby even arrives.” phainon just scoffs, but the truth is? he does cry when he holds the baby for the first time, and he almost passes out from the sheer emotional overload. the heirs never let him live it down.
✧ despite their teasing, some of them are actually really invested in your pregnancy. they offer parenting books, advice (some useful, some absolutely ridiculous), and even propose setting up a baby fund to spoil the child the moment they’re born.
✧ phainon, of course, refuses. “i appreciate the thought, but my little one won’t need all that nonsense.” ten minutes later, he’s accepting a tiny celestial-themed onesie from one of the heirs with a soft, “... okay, maybe just this one.”
✧ in public, phainon is the proudest future father to ever exist. he makes sure everyone knows. if you go out together, he’s showing you off like you’re the most precious treasure in the galaxy—which, in his eyes, you are. if someone so much as looks at you the wrong way, he’s immediately on guard, slipping an arm around your waist and fixing them with a look that says don’t even think about it.
✧ he gets so protective when you’re in crowded areas. he insists on keeping a hand on you at all times, whether it’s resting on the small of your back or holding your hand tightly. if someone bumps into you even slightly, his entire demeanor shifts—his usual easygoing attitude replaced by something much sharper. “watch where you’re going,” he says, his voice deceptively calm but carrying an unmistakable edge.
✧ if you ever get tired while walking, he doesn’t even hesitate before picking you up. bridal style, over his shoulder, whatever gets the job done. you try to protest, but he just grins. “what? i can’t have my starlight overexerting themselves. besides, you deserve to be treated like royalty.” people definitely stare, but phainon does not care in the slightest.
✧ you catch him buying so many baby-related things on impulse. he’ll see a tiny pair of star-patterned socks and immediately grab them, muttering “they’re going to look adorable in these.” his collection of baby clothes, plushies, and toys gets so out of hand that you have to physically stop him from buying more.
✧ he gets so smug when people comment on how lucky your child will be to have him as a father. he’ll flash you a knowing grin and say something like, “of course they’re lucky. they have the best parents in the universe.” and then he’ll lean in and murmur against your ear, “but between you and me, they’re going to love you more.”
✧ at the end of the day, despite all the teasing from the heirs, the doting, and the over-the-top protection, phainon is just so deeply in love with you and the life you’re building together.
✧ every time he looks at you, he sees the future he’s always dreamed of. and every time he places a hand on your belly, he’s reminded that his greatest adventure is just beginning.
mydei
✧ overly doting husband award goes to… mydei! he treats you like royalty.
✧ if you ever try to do anything yourself, he’s immediately stopping you. “what do you think you're doing? you are carrying our child. i’ll do everything.”
✧ and he means it. he writes letters to your baby before they’re born, leaving them in a box for them to read one day. you constantly wake up to breakfast in bed, your favourite drinks prepared exactly how you like them, and soft, warm blankets because he wants you as comfy as possible.
✧ mydei is absolutely obsessed with your pregnancy in the best way possible. the moment he finds out, it’s like his entire world shifts—everything he does, everything he thinks about, revolves around you and the little life growing inside you.
✧ he becomes so soft, his usual cold, distant demeanor melting away when he’s with you. whenever he talks about the baby, his voice is filled with nothing but warmth. “our little one is going to be amazing. just like their mother.”
✧ he takes everything about pregnancy very seriously. he practically turns into a scholar overnight, gathering every book, article, and medical journal he can find. he takes meticulous notes, cross-references sources, and even reaches out to professionals—doctors, experienced parents, even midwives.
✧ he even asks random pregnant women and mothers about their experiences, carefully logging every detail. “everyone’s journey is different,” he tells you, eyes filled with determination. “but i need to be prepared for anything.”
✧ his research leads to some very specific routines. he makes sure your diet is perfectly balanced, ensuring you get all the necessary nutrients while still indulging your cravings.
✧ he tracks your hydration levels, sleep patterns, and even stress levels. if he notices you looking tired or overwhelmed, he immediately whisks you away to rest. “no arguments. you need to take care of yourself.”
✧ despite his usually elegant and refined nature, he is so comically weak to your cravings. he will go to the ends of the universe to find whatever it is you’re craving, no matter how difficult or absurd. “you want a very specific fruit that only grows on a planet halfway across the cosmos? give me a moment.” he does not settle for substitutes. if it’s not exactly what you want, he will not rest until he finds it.
✧ he gets extremely protective in public. he’s already the type to keep an eye on his surroundings, but now? he’s on high alert. he positions himself between you and any potential danger, shields you from crowds, and death-glares anyone who so much as bumps into you. he carries extra layers if it gets cold, makes sure you’re never overexerting yourself, and always finds the safest routes when walking anywhere.
✧ if anyone even dares to make an inappropriate comment about your pregnancy—whether it’s about your body changing or unsolicited parenting advice—his entire demeanor darkens. his polite mask drops, and his voice turns icy as he calmly but mercilessly shuts them down. “your opinion was neither needed nor wanted. kindly leave before i lose my patience.”
✧ pda with him becomes softer, sweeter, and more frequent. he was always a little reserved when it came to public affection, but now? he doesn’t care who’s watching.
✧ he kisses your forehead absentmindedly, holds your hand everywhere, and often keeps an arm around your waist, rubbing gentle circles over your belly. when he talks to people, his hand naturally rests on your stomach as if it’s second nature.
✧ at night, he always falls asleep with a hand on your belly. he whispers to the baby, telling them stories, making quiet promises. “i’ll keep you and your mother safe. always.” his fingers trace light patterns against your skin, his voice laced with adoration. if the baby kicks, his eyes light up with wonder, a rare, unguarded smile stretching across his lips. “already so strong.”
✧ he takes nesting very seriously. he personally oversees the nursery, ensuring everything is perfect. the colors, the furniture, even the atmosphere—he carefully selects everything with precision and care. he tests the crib himself, sits in the rocking chair to make sure it’s comfortable, and painstakingly arranges and rearranges decorations until he’s satisfied. if something isn’t up to his standards, it’s gone. “only the best for our child.”
✧ the moment the baby arrives, all the walls he’s ever had completely crumble. he holds them with the gentlest touch, his eyes brimming with emotions he can’t even put into words.
✧ he presses the softest kiss to their forehead, whispering their name like it’s something sacred. he looks at you, exhausted yet radiant, and for the first time in his life, he feels truly complete.
✧ mydei insists on accompanying you every single time you go shopping for maternity wear. at first, you think he’s just being his usual meticulous, overprotective self, but then you realise—he genuinely enjoys it.
✧ he treats it like an event, carefully selecting pieces he thinks will be both comfortable and stylish for you. he has impeccable taste, so he always picks out the most flattering outfits, running his hands over the fabrics with a thoughtful hum before handing them to you. “this one will look beautiful on you. try it on.”
✧ the moment you start feeling insecure about your belly, he notices. you run your fingers over the curve of your stomach, frowning slightly at how different your body feels, how nothing fits the way it used to. the way you sigh while looking at yourself in the mirror doesn’t go unnoticed by him.
✧ he steps behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he rests his chin on your shoulder. his hands slide over the curve of your belly, holding you close.
✧ “why do you look so troubled, my love?” his voice is so smooth, low, and filled with warmth. when you mutter about how different your body feels, how you don’t feel as attractive, he simply tilts his head, his lips brushing against your ear.
✧ “you look breathtaking. absolutely divine.” he turns you around gently, his fingers lightly tracing patterns against your stomach. “do you even realise how incredible you are? you’re carrying our child, our future. there is nothing more beautiful than that.”
✧ his reassurance does not stop there. if anything, it becomes a little suggestive. his lips trail down to your neck, placing slow, deliberate kisses as his hands roam your sides. “this body, this belly, this softness... all of it is perfect. you are perfect.” his voice is velvety, filled with unfiltered adoration, and when you let out a small, embarrassed laugh, he just smiles against your skin.
✧ “you don’t believe me?” he whispers, his hands sliding lower before resting firmly on your hips. “perhaps I should show you just how irresistible you are to me.”
✧ you swat at his chest, flustered beyond belief, telling him you’re in the middle of a clothing store, but he only chuckles, tilting your chin up so you meet his gaze. “fine, fine. I’ll behave… for now.” but the way he lingers, the way his eyes darken just a little, tells you that he’s far from done.
✧ even after leaving the store, his hands never stop touching you—tracing over your belly absentmindedly, rubbing soothing circles over your back, occasionally squeezing your hips just to see you flustered. whenever you wear the clothes he picked out, he cannot take his eyes off you.
✧ if you ask him why he’s staring, he simply smirks. “admiring my wife. is that a crime?” he pauses before leaning in, his lips brushing against your ear as he murmurs, “though, I must say, I quite enjoy seeing you without these clothes, too.”
aventurine
✧ he acts nonchalant (well not really...), but deep down? he’s besotted with you and the baby. he boasts about you to everyone at the family, showing off the sonograms like they’re a rare jackpot he won at a casino.
✧ every time you walk into the room, his eyes immediately land on you. “and how is my favourite future mother doing today?”
✧ if you’re feeling down, he spoils you like crazy, showering you with gifts and trips to the fanciest places just to see you smile.
✧ aventurine treats you like absolute royalty the moment he finds out you’re pregnant. not that he didn’t already spoil you before, but now? it’s on a completely different level. you barely have to lift a finger—he’s already taking care of everything before you even think about needing it.
✧ he immediately starts building a nursery, and by "building," he means designing the most extravagant, high-end, luxurious baby room money can buy.
✧ he spares no expense—custom furniture, premium-quality baby clothes, plush toys imported from different planets, the softest blankets in existence, a crib that probably costs more than a spaceship, you name it. everything is top-tier, only the best for his child.
✧ he goes overboard with baby shopping. you tell him the baby isn’t even here yet, and he just smirks, unbothered. “better to be prepared, sweetheart. besides, it’s fun.” he buys every cute outfit he sees, from tiny formal suits to cozy little onesies, and don’t even get him started on toys. he buys so many that you swear your baby won’t even get to play with half of them.
✧ food? taken care of. cravings? immediately satisfied. he has chefs on standby ready to make whatever you want, whenever you want it. at 2 am, when you wake up craving something obscure, you hesitate to wake him, but the moment he stirs and hears you shifting in bed, he insists. “tell me what you want, love. i’ll get it for you right now.”
✧ and if it’s something rare or hard to find? he pulls strings, makes calls, and by some miracle, has it in front of you within the hour. if that’s not possible, he personally goes out to find it himself. no complaints, no hesitation. he does it happily.
✧ he is obsessed with making sure you’re comfortable. if he catches you shifting around, trying to find a better position, he’s already fluffing your pillows, adjusting your seat, anything to make sure you’re perfectly cozy.
✧ he arranges regular massages for you, has the softest, most luxurious blankets at your disposal, and if he catches you even looking slightly uncomfortable, he fixes it before you can even say a word.
✧ the way he dotes on you is almost comical. he won’t even let you walk too much without insisting you rest. “why strain yourself when I can carry you, hm?” and if you protest? he smirks, effortlessly sweeping you off your feet anyway.
✧ he loves talking to your belly. at first, it’s just quiet murmurs when he thinks you’re asleep, soft reassurances and promises. but then? he gets dramatic. “you better take after your mother. if you inherit my gambling habits, we’re going to have a problem.” he fully has conversations with your unborn child, completely shameless, and honestly? it’s adorable.
✧ he lives for your flustered reactions. if you ever feel insecure about your body changing, he makes sure you never doubt how beautiful you are. “look at you,” he purrs, eyes gleaming as he trails his fingers over your belly.
✧ “glowing. divine. absolutely stunning. you have no idea how breathtaking you are, do you?” and when you get all shy? he just chuckles, pleased. “should I remind you some more?”
✧ the second you complain about your feet being sore, aventurine doesn’t hesitate—he immediately takes off his shoes, swapping them with yours. it’s a comical sight, especially when you see his ridiculously expensive, immaculate shoes paired with your cozy, worn-out sneakers. you can’t help but laugh, but he just smiles, so proud of his solution. “there, that’s better, right?”
✧ he then proceeds to buy you an entire new wardrobe of sneakers—comfort over style, he insists. no more heels unless you want them. “you don’t need to suffer in those when we can make you look just as good in something more comfortable,” he says, his voice serious, as he orders half a dozen pairs of different styles, colours, and designs of the softest sneakers imaginable.
✧ he doesn’t even flinch when the bill comes in, just waves it off like it’s nothing.
✧ lord your man is sexy.
✧ of course, if you really want to wear heels for an occasion, he’ll never stop you. “you look stunning in heels, my love. wear them for as long as you like,” he says, but he always makes sure there’s a soft, padded seat nearby for when you need to rest, and he’ll literally help you change your shoes afterward.
✧ now, when it comes to mood swings, aventurine is the ultimate calm presence. he knows it’s just one of those things, so he simply adjusts to whatever mood you’re in. when you get irritated, frustrated, or upset, he’s there with a soft, unwavering smile, letting you vent as much as you need to.
✧ if you snap at him, he’s not offended at all. in fact, he’s almost amused by it, seeing it as just another aspect of your beauty—your passion, your fire. “feel free to let it all out, darling,” he says, taking your hand, his grip steady and soothing. “I’m right here. whatever you need, I’m here for you.” he doesn’t try to calm you down immediately, because he knows it’s important for you to express yourself.
✧ after you’ve finished ranting, he checks in with you again, his voice soft and considerate. “are you okay now? did yelling at me help?” he asks with genuine care, his smile patient and gentle, never judging. if you’re still upset, he’ll simply hold you and let you settle into his arms, letting you know that whatever mood you’re in, he’s not going anywhere.
✧ nothing rattles him. no matter how dramatic your mood swings get, he handles it with endless patience, making sure you feel safe and loved through every moment. if you start to feel guilty afterwards, he’ll just smile and say, “you have every right to feel how you feel. nothing to apologise for.”
boothill
✧ rough cowboy, soft husband. he insists on carrying you everywhere.
✧ walking is not an option for you, his pregnant wife.
✧ calls you “darlin’”
✧ speaks so softly when talking to the baby, completely in awe that you’re carrying his kid. he always has a protective hand on your back, guiding you gently.
✧ if anyone stares too long, his hand moves to his holster. (you have to smack his hand and scold him)
✧ when you can’t sleep, he sits beside you and talks about life on the frontier, his deep voice lulling you into peaceful dreams.
✧ boothill’s love for you is overwhelming, and yet, at times, you can’t help but notice a slight weight behind his affection. when he spoils you, it’s not out of simple joy—it’s out of a deep need to make sure you’re always okay, that you’re always happy, and it’s almost like he’s afraid you’ll slip away from him if he doesn’t try hard enough.
✧ he goes all out with everything—buying the best things, preparing the most extravagant meals, filling the house with comforts, and making sure you never have to lift a finger. he does it all with a quiet, unshakable intensity, like if he’s not constantly doing something for you, he’ll fail somehow.
✧ his attention is unrelenting. if you so much as sigh, he’s immediately there, asking if you’re feeling okay, if you need anything, if you’re comfortable. and while you know it’s all out of love, sometimes you wonder if it’s a little too much.
✧ there’s an unspoken tension that lingers in his actions—an underlying anxiety that if he doesn’t care for you in every way, you’ll somehow slip from his grasp.
✧ when you become pregnant, that tension only intensifies. suddenly, he’s not just worried about you—he’s anxious about the baby, too. the world around him seems to sharpen, and he starts doting on you even more, almost to the point where it feels like he’s smothering you. but his love isn’t suffocating—it’s desperate.
✧ in the quiet moments, when he watches you sleep or rubs his hand over your belly, there’s a flicker of something deeper in his eyes—a quiet fear. he’s afraid, deep down, of losing you, or the baby, or both.
✧ he hates the thought of you being in any kind of discomfort. when you tell him about the aching in your back or the soreness in your feet, he acts immediately, as if your pain is his fault. it’s as if he believes that if he doesn’t fix it right away, something terrible will happen.
✧ he’s obsessive in his need to make everything perfect for you, and even though you appreciate it, sometimes you wish he would just let you be. let you have some space to breathe, to exist on your own terms.
✧ in moments when the weight of it all gets to him, he retreats a little—his jaw tightens, his eyes harden. when he’s alone with his thoughts, you can see the flicker of self-doubt, a slight crack in his usually confident demeanour. he knows that his fear is something he needs to deal with, but it feels so out of control that it’s hard for him to admit it. he doesn’t want to show you his vulnerability, doesn’t want to burden you with his insecurities.
✧ but you see it in the way he holds you at night, the tightness in his arms, the way he checks on you repeatedly, his hands brushing over your body as if he’s trying to make sure you’re all still there. and when you ask him what’s wrong, he’s quick to mask it, brushing it off with a grin, but you know. you can always tell. the angst isn’t loud or overt—it’s hidden beneath his gestures, his actions, his love.
✧ still, his devotion to you is undeniable. even though he has his own silent battles, even though there’s a constant flicker of fear within him, he loves you with every ounce of his being. the moments when he’s vulnerable with you are rare, but when they come, he holds you closer, as if afraid of letting go for even a second.
✧ you can feel the fragility in his touch, the quiet fear that you might slip away from him.
✧ he doesn’t always have the words to express what he’s feeling, but his actions speak louder than anything. and in the silence, when he looks at you, you know. you know that despite all of his worries and fears, he will always protect you, even if he has to keep some of that pain hidden in the quiet corners of his heart.
✧ when the sun is a little too bright for you, boothill doesn’t hesitate. he’s quick to take off his hat and place it gently on your head, adjusting it with a playful smile. “there, now you can enjoy the sunshine without turning into a tomato,” he says, chuckling at how cute you look in his oversized hat.
✧ if the sun is especially brutal, he’ll even suggest you both find some shade or just spend time indoors with the air conditioning, but he knows it’s about making you feel comfortable, not just avoiding the heat.
✧ if you’re feeling particularly tired, he doesn’t wait for you to ask. the moment he sees you yawn or slump a little, he’s already sweeping you off your feet, giving you a piggyback ride with the kind of enthusiasm that’s almost comical considering his usual serious demeanour. “i’ve got you,” he says, grinning widely, despite his usual stoic nature.
✧ if you’re too tired for a piggyback ride or just don’t feel like walking, he’ll immediately scoop you up in his arms. it’s as if you’re his most precious treasure, and he wants nothing more than to ensure your comfort at all times.
✧ “you know, if you just need to be carried all day, I’m perfectly fine with that,” he teases, and you can see the gleam of amusement in his eyes. he loves it when he gets to take care of you, and he’s never shy about showing it.
✧ sometimes, when you’re nestled in his arms, you’ll catch him quietly grinning to himself, probably at how happy he is just to be with you. you can tell it makes him feel lighthearted to see you enjoy these little moments of care.
✧ when he does these little things for you, it’s clear that he’s not doing them out of obligation, but because it genuinely brings him joy to see you happy, even in the smallest ways.
✧ girl do NOT get me started on "oh i'm too big for you" you are NEVER too big 😒 😒 matter of fact if boothill ever hear those words slip out of your mouth you best believe he won't be tolerating it (and hunting down whoever said that)
✧ if you ever tell boothill that you’re too big for him to carry, he won’t hesitate for a second to shut you down. “don’t even start,” he’ll warn you with a smirk, and before you can protest further, he leans down and presses a quick kiss to your lips, leaving you momentarily breathless.
✧ before you can even process what just happened, he’s already lifting you into his arms, effortlessly cradling you like you’re the lightest thing in the world. “see? not too big at all,” he says with a playful grin, clearly enjoying how flustered you get when he carries you, no questions asked.
✧ despite your attempts to argue, he’s not hearing any of it. “I’m carrying you whether you like it or not,” he adds with a wink, and when you roll your eyes or try to squirm out of his grasp, he just holds you tighter.
✧ his love for you is so overwhelming that he doesn’t care if you’re tired, big, or anything else—if you need to be carried, he’s more than happy to do it, and nothing will stop him from showing you just how much he cares.
✧ honestly, seeing you trying to act tough or insisting you’re fine just makes him more determined to spoil you even more, and he won’t back down until he’s made you comfortable.
cthe look on your face when you realize you’re in his arms is priceless, and he can't help but tease you a little more, enjoying every moment of your adorably flustered reaction.
dr. ratio
✧ he’s cocky as always, but so in love. if anyone dares to say anything about your size, he smirks and goes, “they’re carrying the most important person in the universe. of course, they’re radiant.”
✧ he’s fascinated by the baby’s development and reads every medical book on pregnancy, making sure you get the best care possible.
✧ he massages your feet with so much care, just pure, devoted attention.
✧ if you ever feel insecure, he immediately shuts it down with the most poetic, heartfelt words. “there is no beauty greater than you right now, my love.”
✧ dr. ratio is a caring but incredibly meticulous partner, and when you’re pregnant, that side of him intensifies even more. he’s deeply invested in making sure everything is perfect for you, often researching new ways to ease your discomfort, asking you how you feel every few hours, and keeping track of your health and well-being like he’s running a scientific experiment.
✧ his medical knowledge, which is already impressive, becomes even more focused on pregnancy, and he treats every small change in your body like vital data.
✧ he always has a plan, and that plan often revolves around making sure you’re as comfortable and well taken care of as possible. if you mention even the slightest symptom or discomfort, he’s already reading through notes or pulling out his tablet to find solutions. while it can feel like being under constant observation, you can’t help but appreciate how much he genuinely cares about making sure you’re healthy and happy.
✧ when it comes to cravings, he’s often a step ahead. if you mention wanting a specific snack, he already knows where to get it, and if it’s something unusual or rare, he’s willing to go to great lengths to satisfy it. he finds it endearing, but you can also see his scientific curiosity come into play as he observes how your body reacts to certain cravings or foods.
✧ at this point you're convinced he's some sort of magical being.
✧ in moments of stress or discomfort, he’s your rock. he has a calming presence, always knowing just what to say to put you at ease. if you’re feeling overwhelmed by the changes your body is going through or the looming responsibilities of parenthood, he’ll gently remind you that you don’t have to do this alone. his reassuring words have a way of grounding you, and the love he shows through his actions makes you feel like everything will be okay.
✧ his gestures of affection are quieter but deeply meaningful. he’s not as overt with PDA as others might be, but when you’re not looking, you’ll catch him gently rubbing your back or offering you a hand when you need to stand. when you’re tired, he insists on carrying your things or opening doors for you, always thinking about the little things that make your day easier.
✧ even in moments of humour, dr. ratio’s playful side comes through. if you’re grumpy because of a pregnancy-related mood swing, he might joke about the scientific nature of your hormonal fluctuations, but it’s all in good fun and meant to make you laugh.
✧ he knows exactly when to lighten the mood with a well-timed quip, which helps take the edge off when things feel heavy.
✧ though he’s not as expressive with physical affection as others might be, his love is shown in the constant attention he gives you and the thoughtfulness behind every action. when you’re feeling down, he’s there with a cup of tea, a warm blanket, and a comforting smile.
✧ dr. ratio also gets very protective when it comes to your health. if you’ve been overdoing it, he’ll gently scold you, reminding you that you need to take care of yourself. when he catches you ignoring his advice, he might get a little frustrated, but he’s quick to calm down, making sure to reassure you that he’s just concerned for both you and the baby.
✧ you can always feel the intensity of his care, and while it might feel a bit overbearing at times, you know it comes from a place of deep love.
✧ when it comes to the baby, he’s already making plans for the future, trying to ensure everything will be in place. he’ll bring up practical things like cribs, baby monitors, and even names, all while jotting down notes.
✧ he’s already mentally preparing for the next phase of your life together, and though it might seem like he's focusing on the logistics, it’s clear that he’s doing it all because he wants to make sure your little family is as secure and happy as possible.
✧dr. ratio’s care for you and your pregnancy is absolute, while his approach might seem a bit clinical at times, it’s easy to see that everything he does is out of love, ensuring both you and the baby are taken care of in every way.
✧ dr. ratio’s students are surprisingly invested in your pregnancy, much to his exasperation. at first, he tries to keep things professional, but it’s impossible when they bombard him with questions. “sir, is it true your wife’s craving the weirdest foods? can she still beat you in an argument with pregnancy hormones? is the baby gonna be as smart as you?!” the sheer enthusiasm wears him down, and despite his usual cool demeanor, he eventually (and very reluctantly) brings you along one day to satisfy their curiosity.
✧ the moment you step into the room, his students light up like it’s their favorite lecture of the year. they’re practically buzzing with excitement, treating you like an honored guest. some of them even bring small gifts—cute little trinkets, baby books, and even a stuffed animal or two—much to ratio’s dismay.
✧ he groans, pinching the bridge of his nose, but there’s a slight twitch at the corner of his lips, betraying the fondness he has for them (not that he’ll ever admit it).
✧ and of course, the moment everyone settles down, they start betting on the baby’s gender. someone pulls out a makeshift betting board with tally marks, arguments breaking out as they debate whether you’re carrying a boy or a girl.
✧ “based on my calculations, professor ratio will absolutely have a daughter—” “nah, the baby’s definitely gonna be a mini him.” you’re laughing at the chaos while ratio sighs dramatically, muttering about the intellectual downfall of his students.
✧ what really makes you melt, though, is how gentle and considerate his students are toward you. they ask how you’re feeling, if you need anything, if you have any weird cravings (which, of course, leads to them trying to outdo each other with the weirdest food combinations to test your reaction). ratio, meanwhile, is standing beside you with his arms crossed, watching his classroom turn into a circus with a half-annoyed, half-amused look.
✧ “if you all put this much effort into your studies, perhaps your grades wouldn’t be so pitiful,” he finally deadpans, earning groans and protests from the students.
✧ but despite his sarcastic remarks and eye-rolls, he’s oddly protective over the whole situation. if any of the students even joke about you overexerting yourself or getting too tired, he shuts them down immediately. “don’t encourage bad habits,” he scolds. “she needs to be resting.” and then he’s ushering you to sit down, subtly adjusting a pillow behind your back like the doting husband he is.
✧ he pretends to be indifferent, but when he catches one of his students quietly mentioning how cute you two are together, he doesn’t correct them. if anything, he just glances at you, and for a brief moment, the smallest, softest smile crosses his lips before he composes himself again.
✧ when you finally leave, he huffs as if he’s endured the most exhausting day of his life, but the way he holds your hand just a little tighter tells you otherwise. despite all his grumbling, he secretly doesn’t mind how much his students adore you, and maybe—just maybe—he even enjoys it.
✧ DON'T POINT IT OUT THOUGH
✧ dr. ratio will never outright admit it, but deep down, he doesn’t care whether the baby is a boy or a girl. all that truly matters to him is that the baby is healthy and, if he’s being honest, hopefully inherits some intelligence.
✧ “no child of mine will be foolish,” he says with a smirk. Still, the underlying meaning is clear—he wants the baby to thrive, to have every opportunity to succeed. He’s already mentally drafting an entire syllabus on how to make that happen.
✧ however, if he had to pick something personal, something that isn’t dictated by logic or science, he’d want the baby to look like you. he won’t outright say it, but there are little moments where it slips out.
✧ like when he’s absentmindedly staring at you with a thoughtful expression, then mutters under his breath, “it would be preferable if they took after you.” when you catch him saying it and ask what he means, he simply waves it off with a “don’t worry about it.”
✧ the truth is, he thinks you’re beautiful, and the idea of a child with your features makes something warm settle in his chest. he pictures small hands, bright eyes, a little face that mirrors yours—and the thought alone is enough to make him pause.
✧ when he sees you asleep, one hand resting on your stomach, he wonders if the baby will have your smile, your expressions, your way of looking at the world.
✧ and maybe the idea of a mini-you running around makes his heart clench in a way he isn’t quite ready to admit.
gepard
✧ overprotective knight mode: ACTIVATED. he refuses to let you do anything remotely strenuous.
✧ literally the type of pick you up effortlessly and throw you (gently) on his shoulder when he sees you doing something you shouldn't be doing.
✧ he wakes up early to make sure you have everything you need—food, comfort, warmth. you’re never lacking anything.
✧ every night, he reads to your belly, his deep, soothing voice telling fairy tales as if he’s already preparing your baby to sleep peacefully.
✧ you catch him practising how to hold a baby with stuffed animals, and he gets so flustered when you tease him about it. (oml you're gonna overload him with kisses at this point!!!)
✧ gepard tries—he really, really tries—to be there for you as much as possible, but being a knight, let alone the captain of the silvermane guards, means he’s constantly being pulled away for duty. he feels horrible about it.
✧ every time he has to leave you alone at home, every time he misses one of your check-ups, every time he’s not there to comfort you when you’re feeling exhausted, it gnaws at him. he’ll come home late, tired and covered in the dust of another long patrol, only to see you already asleep, curled up in bed with your hands resting on your belly. it makes his heart ache.
✧ he tries to make up for it whenever he can. he’ll bring home small gifts—a bouquet of your favorite flowers, a dessert from that bakery you love, anything to make you smile. when he does have a free moment, he dedicates it all to you, making sure you’re comfortable, massaging your sore feet, listening intently to you talk about your day because he wants to be involved in every way he can.
✧ “i’m sorry i haven’t been around much,” he murmurs against your hair one night, voice heavy with guilt. “i should be here with you more.”
✧ and you understand—you always have. you know his duty to belobog is important, that he’s responsible for so many people. so you reassure him, tell him it’s okay, that you’re not upset because you know he’s doing his best. but no matter how much you insist, he still feels guilty, still thinks he should be doing more.
✧ it’s sweet, really, how much he wants to be present, but you wish he’d stop beating himself up over something he can’t control.
✧ sometimes, though, frustration does creep in—not at him, but at the sheer unfairness of it all. one particularly bad day, when you’re feeling extra emotional, you storm into the silvermane guards' headquarters, demanding to speak to the general.
✧ the poor guards are stunned, unsure how to handle their captain’s very pregnant wife glaring daggers at them. when you finally get an audience with the general, you don’t hold back. “my husband is working himself to the bone while i’m carrying his child, and you can’t even spare him a little time off?!”
✧ the general tries to placate you, explaining that gepard is needed, but you cross your arms, huffing, “well, i need him too.”
✧ word of your little outburst spreads quickly, and when gepard hears about it, he’s equal parts embarrassed and touched. “you... actually scolded the general?” he asks, eyes wide. when you nod, still grumpy about it, he lets out a chuckle before pulling you into his arms.
✧ “i appreciate it, but you don’t have to fight my battles for me.” but you just pout, mumbling, “if they won’t give you a break, then i will.”
✧ and despite everything, despite the exhaustion and the never-ending duty, gepard swears to himself that no matter how busy he gets, he’ll always find a way to be there for you and your child. because at the end of the day, you’re the most important thing in his world.
✧ despite his constant guilt, gepard does everything in his power to make things easier for you when he is around. he wakes up extra early to prepare breakfast before heading out for duty, making sure to leave little notes beside your plate if he has to leave before you wake up.
✧ “good morning, my love. make sure to eat well today, and don’t forget to drink plenty of water. i’ll be home as soon as i can.” sometimes, he even sneaks in a silly doodle of a chubby little knight standing guard over a tiny baby, which never fails to make you smile.
✧ when he finally does have time off, he dedicates every second to you. he follows you around like a loyal knight, carrying anything remotely heavy before you can even try to lift it.
✧ he’s constantly fluffing your pillows, adjusting your blanket, and making sure you’re not overexerting yourself. if you so much as sigh, he’s immediately asking, “are you okay? do you need anything?” you start to joke that having him home is almost more exhausting than when he’s away because he fusses over you like a mother hen.
✧ sometimes, the exhaustion from work catches up to him, and you find him nodding off while sitting beside you, his head drooping onto your shoulder. you know he should be resting, but there’s something endearing about how he fights off sleep just so he can be near you.
✧ “gepard, go to bed,” you whisper, brushing a hand through his hair. he grumbles something incoherent before shifting to hold you close, murmuring, “just a little longer…” and really, how can you say no to that?
✧ his fellow silvermane guards are incredibly supportive, though they also love teasing him about how smitten he is. “captain, you should see yourself when you talk about your wife. it’s like watching a lovesick puppy,” they joke, and while he tries to maintain his usual composure, the tips of his ears turn red every single time. but he doesn’t deny it—he is completely and utterly devoted to you.
✧ if he ever gets called in for an emergency while he’s finally spending time with you, he gets so frustrated. “i just got home,” he mutters under his breath, clearly torn between duty and being with you.
✧ you give him a small smile, placing your hands on his cheeks and gently pressing a kiss to his forehead. “it’s okay, love. go, do what you need to do. i’ll be right here when you get back.” and he sighs, pressing his forehead against yours before reluctantly heading out.
✧ but the moment he returns, he makes up for it tenfold. he brings back your favourite snacks, runs a warm bath for you, and massages your feet until you’re practically melting into the couch. and when you’re in bed, he places a hand on your belly, speaking softly to the baby as if making up for lost time.
✧ “i’ll be around more soon, i promise,” he murmurs, his voice filled with love and determination.
✧ and no matter how much his duty calls him away, you know one thing for certain—gepard will always come home to you.
✧ serval is your biggest supporter and, quite frankly, your partner-in-crime when it comes to dealing with gepard’s overwhelming guilt. she checks in on you constantly—not just for you, but because she knows her brother would want her to.
✧ “if gepard had it his way, he’d probably never leave your side,” she jokes, plopping down next to you and handing you some of your favorite snacks. “but since he’s stuck being captain serious all the time, you’ve got me.”
✧ she’s a lifesaver when gepard is too busy with work, stopping by with homemade meals, comfortable clothes, and the occasional silly gift to make you smile.
✧ she even offers to help you with stretches and light exercises, claiming that a rockstar like her knows all about keeping the body in top condition. sometimes, she’ll strum a gentle melody on her guitar while chatting with you, creating a warm and relaxing atmosphere that makes the time pass a little easier.
✧ and of course, she’s the first to tease gepard whenever he finally has time to come home. “wow, look who finally decided to show up! i was starting to think you’d abandoned your poor wife.” she grins as gepard groans, running a hand through his hair.
✧ “i didn’t—i was just busy—” but serval only laughs, nudging him toward you. “relax, i’m just messing with you. now go dote on your wife before she decides i’m her favorite landau instead.”
✧ she’s also not afraid to scold him when he’s being too hard on himself. “gepard, you’re doing the best you can,” she tells him one evening when he’s sitting on the couch, guilt heavy in his expression. “she understands, you know? stop acting like you’re failing when you’re clearly not.” and though gepard still struggles with his guilt, serval’s words always stick with him, reminding him that he’s doing enough.
✧ but perhaps the funniest part of all is how she sometimes acts as an undercover spy, gathering intel on your moods and cravings to report back to gepard.
✧ “hey, just so you know, she’s been craving those honey pastries from that bakery again. if you don’t bring some home tomorrow, you might be sleeping on the couch,” she whispers conspiratorially to him one night, and gepard immediately makes a mental note to buy them on his next break.
✧ at the end of the day, serval is always there—not just for you, but for gepard, too. she makes sure both of you are taken care of, keeping an eye on her little brother when he gets too caught up in his responsibilities and making sure you never feel lonely. and when the baby finally arrives, you already know serval is going to be the coolest aunt in all of belobog.
sunday
✧ he’s the most excited husband ever. every day, he’s kissing your belly, murmuring sweet promises to your unborn child.
✧ he calls you “sunshine” even more, saying you’re literally glowing with life.
✧ if you so much as sigh tiredly, he immediately rushes over, rubbing your shoulders and making sure you’re comfortable.
✧ he’s already planning family outings, even though the baby isn’t born yet. “oh, i can’t wait to take them to see the stars. you think they’ll like astronomy?”
✧ "honey i think they'll just be obsessed with your cute fluffy wings like me!!"
✧ but lets be real...sunday is, without a doubt, the most dramatic and doting husband in existence. from the moment you wake up to the second you go to sleep, he is right there, acting as if you are the most delicate, precious treasure in the entire universe.
✧ “ah, my love, are you comfortable? do you need anything? shall i fetch you the moon? pluck the stars from the sky?” you’re used to his flowery words, but pregnancy has made him even more extra, if that was even possible.
✧ he spoils you absolutely rotten. he treats you like royalty, making sure every possible luxury is at your fingertips. you so much as glance at something while out shopping? it's already paid for. your back aches? he's on his knees, massaging you with a level of devotion that could make poets weep. the moment you sigh even a little, he's dramatically lamenting,
✧ “alas, this cruel world dares to bring discomfort to my beloved! how dare it!” you roll your eyes, but the way he kisses your hands so reverently makes your heart flutter every time.
✧ when you’re out together, he is practically glued to your side, one arm always wrapped protectively around you. if it’s too sunny, his coat is suddenly draped over your head to shield you.
✧ if you so much as stumble, he’s catching you before you can even process it, scolding the ground for daring to trip you. he doesn’t care who’s watching—his priority is you, always.
✧ sometimes, his dramatics get absolutely ridiculous. one time, you had a small craving for a very specific dish from a very specific place, and before you could even tell him it wasn’t a big deal, he was already on a mission. “fear not, my love! i shall return with your heart’s desire!” he declared, disappearing into the night like some kind of hero embarking on an epic quest.
✧ when he finally returned, victorious, with the food in hand, he dramatically collapsed into your lap. “it was a perilous journey… but for you, I would traverse the ends of the world.” you simply kissed his forehead and enjoyed your meal.
✧ he is obsessed with talking to your belly. no matter where you are, no matter who’s around, he kneels down, placing his hands gently on your stomach and whispering sweet nothings to your unborn child.
✧ “ah, little one, do you hear me? it is i, your devoted father, who eagerly awaits your arrival.” if he feels a kick, he gasps like he just witnessed a divine miracle, his eyes practically sparkling. “they kicked! they love me, my love!”
✧ sunday does everything in his power to make sure you never feel lonely, even when he’s busy. he writes letters to you if he has to be away, each one filled with poetic declarations of love and exaggerated longing, as if he’s been separated from you for years rather than a few hours. when he finally returns, he rushes to embrace you like a man starved, spinning you carefully in his arms (if you let him).
✧ and when he thinks you’re asleep, he gazes at you with so much adoration it’s almost overwhelming. he runs his fingers gently through your hair, his voice soft as he murmurs, “you and our child… my greatest treasures. i will cherish you both for all eternity.” even in slumber, you can feel his warmth, his love wrapping around you like a promise—one that you know he’ll keep forever.
✧ sunday has always been a man of grand gestures, poetic words, and boundless devotion—but this, this is his dream made real. to love and to be loved, to have a family with you, to witness the very embodiment of your love growing within you… it is almost too perfect, too beautiful. sometimes, when he watches you rest, his hand gently cradling your belly, he wonders if he is merely lost in a dream.
✧ he never thought he would find something—someone—that truly anchored him. he always spoke of eternity, of the stars and the endless sky, but nothing in the cosmos compares to you. and now, with your child on the way, that love has expanded into something even greater, something he didn’t know was possible.
✧ late at night, when the world is quiet and you’re curled up against him, he traces slow circles over your stomach and whispers, “this is my dream… and you’ve made it come true.” his voice is softer than usual, lacking its usual theatrics, filled only with raw, unfiltered love. and even though you’re half-asleep, you squeeze his hand in response, as if to say, i know. me too.
✧ sunday absolutely refuses to leave you unguarded when he’s away for business or handling matters of the reverie. even though you insist it’s unnecessary, that you’re perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, he simply will not take the risk. the moment he steps away, you have a team of skilled agents discreetly watching over you. “indulge me, my love,” he pleads with that charming smile of his. “i would never forgive myself if anything were to happen to you or our precious little one.” and really, how can you argue with that?
✧ when he returns, however, it’s as if he’s been deprived of air itself. the second he sees you, he sweeps you into his arms, pressing lingering kisses to your temple, your hands, your stomach—anywhere he can reach. “ah, my beloved, i have been lost without you,” he murmurs dramatically, holding you as if you might disappear. and though you roll your eyes at his theatrics, you let him cling, because you know he truly means it.
✧ public appearances with sunday are nothing short of dazzling. he insists that the two of you look absolutely impeccable whenever you step out together—not because of status, but because he sees you as his perfect match, his divine counterpart. “you always look breathtaking,” he muses, adjusting your accessories with delicate fingers. “i must simply strive to be worthy of standing beside you.”
✧ when you’re out together, he is attached to your side, his arm securely around your waist, hip to hip, refusing to let an inch of space come between you. he whispers sweet things in your ear, makes you laugh with his endless romantic declarations, and shoots sharp glares at anyone who so much as looks at you the wrong way.
✧ if the sun is too bright, his coat is draped over your shoulders in an instant. literally the definition of "is the sun bothering you, queen?"
✧ iykyk
✧ if the crowd gets overwhelming, he subtly maneuvers you to a quieter space, all while keeping his usual suave demeanor. if you even look the slightest bit tired, he’s already preparing to whisk you away somewhere more comfortable.
✧ and when the night finally winds down and it’s just the two of you again, he presses a kiss to your hand and murmurs, “no matter where we go, no matter who is watching… my love for you remains the most magnificent thing in this world.”
✧ sunday takes so much pride in being your husband that it’s almost ridiculous. the way he says "my wife" is always so smooth, so deliberate, like he’s showing off a rare treasure. even in the most casual conversations, he will find a way to bring you up.
✧ “ah, yes, that reminds me of something my wife said the other day—brilliant, truly.”
✧ “oh, you need advice? well, my wife is an expert in these matters, allow me to consult her.”
✧ even when it’s unnecessary, he finds a way to slip it in. someone asks him how his day is going? “Better now that I’ve spoken to my wife.” A meeting about logistics? “Oh, my wife would find this terribly boring, but let me humor you all.”
✧ it gets to the point where even his closest advisors and subordinates are just nodding along, fully expecting him to mention you in every conversation. you overheard one of them sigh, “yes, yes, we know your wife is the most wonderful being in existence, my lord.” sunday only grinned and said, “it’s good that you understand.”
✧ and of course, he boasts about you endlessly. your intelligence, your beauty, your kindness—every little thing about you is worthy of praise in his eyes. “have i mentioned how radiant my wife looks today? oh, but she always does, so I suppose that goes without saying.”
✧ sometimes, he’ll purposely say it just to fluster you. if you’re walking together and he spots someone eyeing you for too long, he’ll lean in, voice full of smug adoration, “ah, my wife, the most stunning woman in the room. it’s only natural they’d stare, but truly, they stand no chance.”
✧ even when you roll your eyes or playfully smack his arm, he just chuckles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “what can I say? I’m simply a man who adores his wife.”
✧ the second you even mention a craving, sunday is already making arrangements to have it delivered to you. it doesn’t matter how strange, complicated, or impossible it seems—he will find a way.
✧ “you want watermelon dipped in honey at three in the morning? say no more, my love.” within minutes, he’s either personally retrieving it or sending someone out on an urgent mission.
✧ once, you offhandedly mumbled, “i kinda want ice cream… but with pickles.” sunday, ever the devoted husband, merely nodded and said, “consider it done.” you expected him to hesitate or at least question your taste buds, but instead, he had it in front of you within the hour, presented on a fancy plate as if it were some gourmet dish.
✧ he has absolutely no shame in going out himself to fetch your cravings. the sight of sunday, regal and refined, walking into a market and asking for the most bizarre food combinations with a perfectly serious face is something to behold.
✧ one time, a vendor tried to stifle a laugh when he requested “mango slices with chili powder and a side of marshmallows” and he just smirked, “ah, you must not be married. love requires dedication, my friend.”
✧ if your cravings happen while you’re out in public, he wastes zero time in getting it. you once sighed, “i really want those fried dumplings from that one place…” and before you could even finish your sentence, sunday was already steering you toward the restaurant, ordering extra just in case you wanted more later.
✧ on the rare occasion that something isn’t immediately available, sunday turns it into an entire event. “so, my beloved desires an elusive dish? very well. give me a moment.” cue him charming his way into exclusive restaurants, pulling strings with high-profile chefs, or even attempting to make it himself (which… well, let’s just say his skills lie outside the kitchen).
✧ no matter what, he refuses to let you go without the things you crave. “nothing is too extravagant for my wife,” he insists. “if she wants it, she shall have it.”
sampo
✧ sampo is the type to absolutely spoil you when you're craving something, even if it's something a little... unusual. he loves seeing you happy, and the thought of you having that big smile on your face when you get what you want? priceless.
✧ the minute you mention a craving, he's already brainstorming how to get it, and he won't take no for an answer. if it's something he doesn't have access to, well... prepare for a wild goose chase. he'll sweet-talk vendors, bribe people, or pull off the most ridiculous stunts just to get his hands on that weird combination of foods you’re desperate for.
✧ one time, you casually mentioned wanting a mix of sweet and salty—like peanut butter on pretzels with chocolate chips—and the next thing you knew, he had a whole banquet of different combinations lined up. there were different dips, chocolates, chips, nuts, and a few other things he thought you might like. it’s over-the-top, but it’s his way of making sure you feel cared for and, well, indulged.
✧ sometimes he’ll get the most outlandish things, especially if he finds out you want something quirky. “you want... a spicy banana with a side of vanilla ice cream?” he'd ask, grinning mischievously, clearly excited for the challenge. even if he finds it a little odd, he's all in for making sure your cravings are satisfied.
✧ when you're pregnant, sampo loves the idea of you being pampered and treated like royalty. he buys you all sorts of snacks, drinks, and little comforts to make sure you're always content. when he's busy, he'll bring you a stash of your favorite treats or send someone to deliver it, ensuring you never go without.
✧ though he's a bit playful and mischievous, when it comes to your cravings, he’s incredibly attentive. if you need him to grab something in the middle of the night, he’ll pull on his jacket without a second thought and head out, even if it’s something bizarre like kimchi-flavored cupcakes or a weirdly specific kind of sushi.
✧ sampo is honestly obsessed with making sure you’re taken care of, especially when it comes to cravings. as soon as you mention something—even if it’s just in passing—he’s on it. like, the minute the words leave your mouth, he’s already thinking of how he’s going to get it for you.
✧ one time, you half-jokingly mentioned wanting pineapple pizza with extra olives, and sampo didn’t even hesitate. you thought he was just humoring you at first, but nope, by the time you blinked, he was on his way out the door, calling a bunch of places to find one that would make that monstrosity of a pizza.
✧ he’s ridiculously resourceful, so if the craving is something that seems impossible, he’s more than willing to go to extreme lengths. you want blueberry-flavored potato chips? he’s already calling his contacts in different cities or bartering for them. at one point, you had a small shipment of weird snacks from different parts of the world just for you. it was honestly a lot, but the joy it brought you made it all worth it for him.
✧ despite his usually carefree, mischievous attitude, when it comes to satisfying your cravings, sampo becomes the most serious person. nothing else matters—nothing. it’s almost like a personal mission for him.
✧ and don’t get him started on your late-night cravings. there was one instance where you groggily mentioned wanting chocolate-covered pretzels with marshmallow fluff and coconut water (a combo you swore sounded amazing) at 2 AM. most people would groan at this, but not sampo. he simply flashed you a grin, grabbed his jacket, and was out the door, whispering, “leave it to me, darling. i’ll have it before you know it.”
✧ when he comes back, it’s always with a dramatic flair. whether it’s him showing up with a big bag of snacks or an entire custom-made meal just for you, he’ll present it like it’s the most important thing in the world. “look what i’ve brought you, my love,” he’ll say, “your cravings are my top priority.”
✧ he loves watching you enjoy whatever it is you’re craving. he’s that guy who will sit beside you, watching you devour your food, completely delighted. when you make a happy sound after taking a bite, he’ll do a little victory dance in his head. “it’s always worth it,” he’ll think, watching you savor the food.
✧ sometimes, when he’s really feeling it, he’ll even surprise you with a whole set of snacks or meals. if you mention anything at all—whether it’s flavored milk or a certain kind of fruit—you better believe sampo will get it, and he’ll make it fun.
✧ and don’t even get started on the weird cravings. when you randomly crave something odd like caviar and ice cream, he’ll be the one to ask, “is that really what you want?” but then, of course, he’ll follow through and go out and find it, all while making jokes about how only you could crave something so bizarre. “but you’re worth it, darling,” he’ll say with a wink, even if he thinks it's totally ridiculous.
✧ when you’re pregnant, sampo gets extra excited. there’s something about the idea of making sure you’re always happy and comfortable that makes him go all-in on the care and attention. you mention wanting a certain kind of food? he’s already planning his next move to make sure it gets to you—whether it’s food from a restaurant, a local shop, or a weird internet order.
✧ the best part? he’s not even embarrassed about the effort. he’s proud of it. he’ll happily boast about how he’s the one who got you exactly what you wanted, often bragging about how efficient he is at taking care of you. “no one does it like i do, darling.”
✧ sampo loves to live life on the edge, and that often leads him into all sorts of trouble. whether it’s a cheeky scheme gone wrong or him getting caught up in some questionable business deals, he’s not exactly a stranger to trouble. but when you scold him—especially with that concerned look on your face—it hits him harder than anything else.
✧ you’re his weakness, and the thought of his reckless actions affecting your baby’s future stings. when you point out how he’s putting the family in danger, he can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt. you’ve got that motherly tone, and even though he’s used to being the troublemaker, something about you scolding him like that makes him pause.
✧ sampo never expected to feel this way. before, he was all about living in the moment, but now, with you carrying his child, things are different. he realizes that his impulsiveness can affect more than just him—it could affect your life, the baby’s life, and even the future you two are building. it’s a huge wake-up call for him.
✧ though he tries to laugh it off and shrug off your scolding, he can’t deny that it bothers him. he wants to be the best for you, to provide and protect, but sometimes his overconfidence and mischievous nature put him in situations he shouldn’t be in.
✧ after you scold him, he’s quiet for a while, just processing everything you said. he doesn’t like seeing you upset, and he definitely doesn’t like the idea of his actions potentially affecting the baby. so he really takes it to heart.
✧ eventually, he’ll come to you, genuinely apologizing. it’s not like him to be serious about these things, but the thought of his baby’s future shifts something in him. he’ll say something like, “you’re right. i can’t keep being reckless. i’ll tone it down, i promise. for you... and for the little one.”
✧ from then on, you’ll notice a shift. he’ll still be his playful, mischievous self, but there’s a little less of the risk-taking, and a bit more thought behind his actions. sampo may not be perfect, but he really wants to be better for the sake of his growing family.
✧ even though he might still slip up occasionally—because it’s just who he is—he tries harder, always making sure to check in with you and reassess how his choices could impact you both. and when you see him being more cautious, you can’t help but smile, knowing he’s trying his best.
✧ and of course, he’ll make it up to you in the sweetest way possible: with more gifts, more little surprises, and tons of affection. he might be reckless sometimes, but when it comes to you and your baby, he knows he has to change, even if it takes a bit of effort.
moze
✧ moze, being the quiet and secretive type, is surprisingly very attentive when it comes to your cravings. he’s not the type to joke around about it or make a big deal, but rest assured, he listens intently and takes note of every single thing you say.
✧ the second you mention a craving, even if it's something a little weird, he silently goes into action. if he doesn’t have it on hand, he will immediately find a way to acquire it, no matter how obscure or hard to find it is.
✧ when you crave something specific, he won’t make a show of it, but he will go out of his way to make sure you get it—whether it’s a rare ingredient or a dish from a different part of the world, moze finds it without fail. if you want a specific kind of fruit, he’ll find the best one, even if it means going to multiple stores or making a special trip somewhere.
✧ he enjoys seeing the soft smile on your face when you get what you’ve been wanting, and while he may not say much about it, there's this quiet satisfaction in his eyes.
✧ moze is also keenly aware of when you’re craving something. sometimes, he picks up on your hints without you even saying anything, noticing a small change in your mood, or when you absentmindedly mention wanting a snack, he’ll be right there to offer it to you.
✧ although he’s a man of few words, there’s a certain gentleness to the way he cares for you. when you’re restless and craving something comforting, he’ll get it, set it down beside you, and quietly say, “this should help.” he’ll never ask for recognition, but the satisfaction he gets from seeing you happy is more than enough for him.
✧ when it comes to very odd cravings, he’ll just give you a knowing look, grab his coat, and leave to get it—sometimes even with a hint of a chuckle, as if he secretly finds your requests amusing. but in his heart, he enjoys making you happy more than anything else.
✧ moze’s stealth skills are incredible. he’s so good at sneaking up on you that it’s become almost a reflex for him to appear out of nowhere, especially when he’s busy with his work. but when you’re pregnant and a little more sensitive, the sudden pop-up can be a bit much. he doesn’t mean to scare you—he really doesn’t—but sometimes, he forgets just how silent he is. ✧ the first time it happens, you let out a startled gasp, and moze immediately freezes, guilt washing over him. he’s used to appearing out of thin air and being the silent observer, but the thought of scaring you, especially with the baby on the way, sends a pang of worry through his chest. ✧ his usual nonchalant demeanor falters. "i'm sorry," he says, his voice almost too soft, the realization hitting him like a ton of bricks. "i didn’t mean to startle you." there’s something in his tone that sounds almost apologetic, more so than usual. ✧ you laugh it off, brushing it off as an accident, but moze is still visibly uneasy. later, when he’s alone, he keeps thinking about it—wondering if his unexpected entrances could potentially stress you out or, worse, harm the baby. he’s never been particularly affectionate in the traditional sense, but with you pregnant, he’s suddenly a lot more aware of everything. ✧ after that, every time he needs to come in or check on you, he makes it a point to announce his presence. it’s not like moze to do that—he’s always preferred moving in the shadows—but for you and the baby, he decides it’s best to make his approach a little less jarring. ✧ when you’re just relaxing, maybe reading or resting, you’ll hear him say something like, “it’s me, moze. i’m here.” he’ll even knock on the door sometimes before entering, something he’s never done before. it’s funny at first, but also endearing to see him adjust his behavior for you. ✧ moze starts being extra cautious, constantly checking on you but in a much gentler, less intrusive way. the last thing he wants is for you to feel uneasy because of him. he’ll still show up in his usual manner—quiet, reserved, but now with the added softness of his voice when he speaks to you. ✧ when you ask him if he’s okay, he’ll quietly admit that he’s worried about scaring you again, and maybe even causing some harm to the baby. you can see the genuine concern in his eyes, something he rarely lets slip. it’s strange for him to care this much, but when you’re carrying his child, his protective instincts are starting to kick in. ✧ when you reassure him, telling him that you’re okay, he seems to relax a little. but don’t be surprised if you catch him giving you a small smile in his usual quiet way, his fingers lightly brushing against yours in a rare display of affection. it’s subtle, but for moze, it’s a huge step forward.
✧ and the next time he appears out of nowhere? he’ll make sure to be extra careful, just to make sure you don’t get a shock again. it might not be his usual way of doing things, but with you, he’s willing to change—even in the smallest ways.
✧ moze's protectiveness reaches a whole new level once he finds out you’re pregnant. while he’s always been a careful and observant person, this new development has him acting in ways he never expected. the thought of you and his child growing inside you ignites a fierce, almost primal instinct to keep both of you safe at all costs.
✧ he becomes hyper-aware of your surroundings, always analyzing every situation to ensure there’s no danger nearby. if someone even looks at you wrong, he’s already on high alert. he’s never been one for confrontation, but when it comes to you and the baby, any potential threat—no matter how small—will make him react swiftly and decisively.
✧ if anyone dares to make a comment about your pregnancy—whether it’s an unintentional insult or even a curious question about your condition—moze is there, stepping in before you can even respond.
✧ he’ll be quick to intervene, his voice cold and firm. “is there a problem?” he’ll ask, his tone leaving no room for argument. he doesn’t care if it’s a stranger or a close friend, he’ll defend you without hesitation.
✧ sometimes, though, his protectiveness comes off as a bit much. when you’re out and about, he’s constantly by your side, his eyes scanning the area. if there’s a slight shift in the atmosphere, if someone moves too fast or too close to you, he’s immediately on guard, subtly stepping in front of you to shield you from whatever danger his sharp instincts are sensing.
✧ even in private, when you’re just relaxing or resting, he’s often hovering nearby, keeping a watchful eye. it’s not that he doesn’t trust you—it’s just that his protective nature has escalated to the point where he feels he can’t leave your side for too long. it’s almost as if being near you makes him feel like he has more control over your safety, as irrational as it may be.
✧ there are moments when you notice him getting anxious if you’re out of his sight for too long. whether you’re running errands or simply walking in another room, moze’s mind starts racing with worries about what could go wrong. he’ll quickly excuse himself from whatever he’s doing to make sure you’re okay, often without telling you beforehand.
✧ when you call him out on his behaviour—teasing him about how overprotective he’s become—he’ll brush it off, his usual calm demeanour faltering for just a moment. deep down, he knows he’s being a little too much, but he can’t help it. the thought of anything happening to you or the baby is unbearable to him. “I’m just making sure you’re safe,” he’ll say, his voice almost apologetic, but there’s an undeniable seriousness in his words.
✧ the most intense expression of his protectiveness comes when you’re asleep. when he knows you’re resting, moze will often sit beside you, his eyes flicking to the door, the window, anything that could pose a threat. it’s not out of a lack of trust in the people around you—it’s just that he can’t help but imagine all the worst-case scenarios.
✧ when he’s out on missions, he’ll always leave something behind for you: a note, a small gift, or even a piece of clothing with his scent on it. it’s his way of reassuring you that he’s thinking of you, even when he’s not physically present. but it’s also his way of ensuring you feel protected, even when he’s far away.
✧ he’s so protective that even the slightest health concern about you makes him panic. if you’re feeling a little tired or have a headache, he’s there, checking your temperature, demanding you rest, and refusing to leave until you’re fully recovered.
✧ moze’s protectiveness isn’t just physical; it’s emotional, too. when you’re dealing with the stress or uncertainty of pregnancy, he’s your steady rock. he’ll listen to every concern, soothe every worry, and make sure you know that you’re not alone. he’s already planning for the future, researching everything he can about raising a child, so he can be the best father possible.
✧ in quiet moments, when he’s just holding you or resting beside you, he might admit his fears. “i’m scared,” he’ll say softly, his usual stoic expression softening. “i don’t want anything to happen to you or the baby.” his vulnerability is rare, but it’s a testament to just how much he loves you both.
✧ his protectiveness never fades—it only grows stronger the closer you get to your due date. he’s constantly by your side, offering comfort, reassurance, and unspoken protection in every gesture, every word, and every action.
✧ moze is already extremely attentive to your cravings, and when you start to ask for something a bit more specific or unusual, he’s not one to shy away. but there's a catch—he’s not exactly a culinary expert. while he’s incredibly skilled in other areas, cooking is not his strong suit. so, naturally, when you have a craving, he’s quick to ask jiaoqiu to cook for you.
✧ at first, moze might be a bit embarrassed, but he genuinely wants you to feel comfortable and satisfied with whatever you’re craving. he might come to jiaoqiu with a sheepish smile, saying something along the lines of, "i’m afraid I’m not very good in the kitchen... could you help me?" his usual composed demeanor is a little shaken because he knows that jiaoqiu is probably a much better cook than he could ever hope to be.
✧ jiaoqiu, ever the understanding friend, is happy to oblige. he can’t resist helping out when moze comes to him with that rare moment of vulnerability. but knowing that moze is trying to be thoughtful and learn, jiaoqiu has a bit of fun with it. he doesn’t just cook the food—he starts teaching moze along the way, much to moze’s discomfort.
✧ “You need to do this carefully... and don’t forget the seasoning,” jiaoqiu will say, demonstrating how to chop ingredients just right or stir the pot at the perfect pace. moze, on the other hand, looks a bit lost, trying his best to follow along but occasionally making a mess. it’s clear he’s not exactly a natural, and jiaoqiu’s teasing makes it even more amusing. “i thought you were good at everything, moze? this looks like a disaster in the making.”
✧ moze, determined not to fail you, listens closely, even though he might grumble under his breath when jiaoqiu critiques his knife skills or the way he’s holding the pan. he’s doing it all to make sure you’re satisfied and happy, even if it means a little bit of embarrassment along the way.
✧ meanwhile, he’s still keeping a protective eye on you from the kitchen, glancing over to make sure you’re resting and not pushing yourself. “you’re doing okay?” he’ll ask, even if it’s just a quick glance. he doesn’t trust anyone else to take care of you as well as he does, and he’s constantly checking in.
✧ when jiaoqiu hands over the finished dish, moze’s face lights up, but there's still a hint of guilt for not being able to do it himself. he insists on thanking jiaoqiu profusely, though deep down, he’s already planning his next attempt at cooking so he can surprise you one day.
✧ “i’ll get better at this... for you.” he’ll say to you later that evening, offering you a gentle smile. “next time, i’ll cook it myself.” and while jiaoqiu might snicker at his attempts, moze’s resolve is firm. after all, he’ll do whatever it takes to make you happy, even if it means learning how to cook your cravings—even if it takes more than a few lessons from jiaoqiu.
note: i'm obsessed with anaxa n mydei
taglist 🏷️: @tomansimp @one-offmind @miitchiji @dainsleif-when-playable @momoewn @stygianoir @irethepotato @v4an @imetsk @fiannee @sunnyf4lls @yuri-is-silly @khoiyyu @daydreaming-paradies if im missing anyone please tell me because i have an inkling feeling i missed a few..
liking + following + reblogs are greatly appreciated!!!
Summary: On paper, Zayne was the perfect husband. Attentive, kind, successful. But whenever he was around MC, he looked at her like she was the centre of his world. And that raised the question. What in the world were you - his wife - supposed to be?
Pairings: Non MC x Zayne, MC x Sylus, Blythe x Caleb
Tags: Angst, hurt, comfort, MNDI, soft smut, piv sex, AU, no evol, the LADS are in their 30s, it gets worse before it gets better, emotional infidelity
Word count: 5.5k
A/N: I'm back! Thought about posting this tomorrow, but I have no patience! Hope that I didn't miss any mistakes, hehe.
This chapter is a deep dive into MC's POV. She is not necessarily a bad person, but she is careless and selfish. I like the idea that it is not just Sylus that starts changing her, but also the women around her, like Blythe and the Reader.
Hope you enjoy! 💖💖 Like it? Hate it? Please leave a comment and tell me what you think! Also, consider reblogging so this story gets seen by more people!
Dividers by @orieriee and @diviniyae
Growing up, MC was never truly alone. She had Caleb, of course. He was her brother, her protector, and her closest confidant. He was the kind of big brother other girls could only dream of. He’d brush her hair, help her with her homework, and carry her when she was too exhausted to walk, or, more accurately, when she just couldn't be bothered.
Then there was Zayne. Brilliant, intuitive, and effortlessly perfect at everything he attempted. The kind of boy that others would be willing to walk on hot coals to befriend.
MC recognized that she wasn’t uniquely gifted. She wasn’t great at school or sports. She had her charms, but she knew that she wasn’t breathtakingly beautiful. Just pretty, cute and pushy in a way others found attractive. However, she possessed a far more useful talent. An innate ability to draw in people who were remarkable. She never needed to excel because she had a circle of exceptional friends willing to handle the world for her.
Caleb and Zayne were beautifully transparent. She knew exactly which strings to pull to make them anxious, angry, thrilled, or content. A single sentence from her could leave them entirely speechless or make them blush on command. It was a subtle, intoxicating power, and she thrived on the rush it gave her. She loved them both, yet she loved neither of them. Deep down, she knew she was selfish, perhaps even a bit cruel, but she rarely paused to dwell on it. To the outside world, she was just an innocent, sweet girl who easily charmed everyone she met.
Then Sylus disrupted the perfect little life she’d created. He was everything her usual companions were not. Worst of all, he saw right through her carefully crafted mask, and that stripped away her control.
Their first encounter happened as she walked out from a shop to her motorcycle. A remarkably tall, strikingly handsome man was leaning casually against it, looking relaxed and entirely at home.
"Excuse me?" MC frowned, stopping a few paces away and cocking a hip. "Just what do you think you're doing?"
"Waiting for the owner," he replied, his voice smooth and entirely unbothered.
"Well, you're looking at her."
"You blocked my car."
"You have plenty of space to—oh." She cut herself off, glancing past him. She actually had pinned him in. "Right. Well... Sorry about that. I'll move it."
"Thank you."
Somehow, the calm, measured tone of his voice made her want to be intentionally difficult. She scowled.
"Do you always have such an attitude?" he asked. A faint smile touched his lips as she deliberately brushed past him to grip the handlebars.
"Yep."
"Hm. Then I suppose I will have to get used to it."
"No, you won't," she countered, straddling the seat. "Because I'm not planning on ever seeing you again."
"Are you certain I can't convince you to have dinner with me?"
Damn, his eyes were hypnotic. She looked away, hating how nervous she felt.
"I don't eat dinner."
"Ever?"
"I don't eat dinner with condescending asses."
"Sylus."
MC blinked, looking up to meet his gaze. "What?"
"My name is Sylus," he repeated patiently.
"Whatever," she muttered, kicking the engine to life to drown him out and getting away from him as fast as she could.
That encounter was only the beginning of a string of suspicious coincidences. Suddenly, Sylus was inescapable. No matter where she went in the city, she caught fleeting glimpses of silver hair and sharp, crimson eyes in the crowd. It irritated her to her core. It absolutely thrilled her.
Two weeks later, MC was sitting in the corner booth of a dimly lit, high-end cafe, waiting for Caleb. She had her phone out and was scrolling idly through her photos.
Then the bell above the door chimed and a sudden shift in the room's atmosphere made her look up.
Sylus walked in.
He wore a tailored black coat that made him look even broader and more imposing than before. It seemed like every patron at the cafe took notice. Conversations quieted and the barista instantly straightened up. Sylus didn't look around the room. He didn't need to. His crimson eyes locked directly onto MC’s booth as if he had tracked her there.
Before she could pack her things to leave, he slid effortlessly into the empty seat directly across from her.
"We meet again," Sylus said, leaning back and resting his arm along the top of the leather booth. "What a truly fascinating coincidence."
MC slowly set her phone down on the table. She forced a sweet smile onto her face. It was the exact expression that usually made Caleb or Zayne soften instantly. "I'm sorry, sir, but I'm actually waiting for someone. I'd appreciate it if you found another table."
Sylus didn't blink. He just stared at her, a slow, dangerous smirk spreading across his face.
"Save the performance," he murmured, leaning forward. The warmth of his breath cut through the cool air between them. "The sweet and cute routine works on the others, I'm sure. But you and I both know you're looking for a certain reaction. And you're not going to get that one from me."
MC’s smile dropped instantly. Her eyes narrowed, the mask slipping. "You are incredibly arrogant."
"I am. And observant too," Sylus agreed smoothly. He tapped a finger on the tabletop. "You like being the one in control. You like knowing exactly what makes men tick. But you can't figure me out, can you? And it’s driving you crazy."
She wanted to slap him. She wanted to storm out. But deep down, a dark, wicked spike of adrenaline shot through her veins. He was right, and the fact that he dared to say it out loud was the most exhilarating thing she had felt in years.
"You don't know anything about me," she hissed, leaning in closer so that the people sitting at the surrounding tables couldn't hear.
"I know enough to get the picture," Sylus replied softly, his crimson eyes gleaming with amusement. He stood up just as quickly as he had sat down, tossing a sleek black card onto the table in front of her. "Call me when you're tired of playing safe with boys who only see what you let them see. Let's find out what happens when you play with someone who knows exactly what you are."
He turned and walked out, leaving her staring at the card with a racing heart and a furious, thrilled smile she couldn't quite hide.
The bell above the door chimed again, shattering the tense silence Sylus had left behind.
MC quickly snatched the sleek black card from the table, slipping it into her pocket just as Caleb walked into the cafe. He was scanning the room, his expression relaxing the moment his eyes landed on her.
"Sorry I'm late, pips," Caleb said, jogging over and sliding into the seat Sylus had vacated only moments before. He reached across the table, playfully messing up her hair. It was a familiar gesture that usually made her roll her eyes affectionately but just made her annoyed now. "Traffic was a nightmare. Have you been waiting long?"
MC forced her standard, sweet smile back onto her face, but her heart was still hammering against her ribs. "No, not long at all. Just a few minutes."
Caleb’s smile faltered slightly. His protective instincts were razor-sharp, honed by years of catering to her every whim. He leaned closer, his eyes narrowing as he scanned her face. "Are you okay? Your cheeks are flushed. And you look… Did someone bother you while I was gone?"
"No," she said, her reply a little too quick. "No one bothered me."
Caleb didn't look convinced. He glanced around the cafe, his posture subtly stiffening as he looked for any potential threats. "You look like you've seen a ghost. Or like you're about to punch someone. If some guy was hitting on you—"
"Caleb, I'm fine," she interrupted, putting on her best innocent, tired pout. She reached out and lightly touched his arm, knowing exactly how to redirect his focus. "I just didn't sleep well last night. Can we just get some food? I'm starving."
The pout worked perfectly. Caleb’s defensive posture melted instantly, replaced by the familiar, easy-to-manage warmth she was so used to exploiting. "Yeah, of course. This place doesn’t look that good, though. Let's get out of here. I'll buy you whatever you want."
He stood up and reached for her bag, carrying it for her without her even having to ask. MC followed him out, playing the part of the pampered, grateful little sister perfectly. But as they walked out into the cool air, her fingers subconsciously traced the sharp edges of the black card hidden in her pocket.
Caleb was safe. Caleb was easy. But for the first time in her life, easy was starting to feel incredibly boring.
That evening, MC found herself sitting in the quiet, sterile atmosphere of Zayne’s office. He was finishing up his final patient charts for the day, his focus entirely consumed by the glowing monitor.
MC sat on the edge of his examination table, swinging her legs idly. On the outside, she looked as if she was simply waiting patiently for her brilliant childhood friend to finish his work so they could catch a late movie. On the inside, her mind was a chaotic mess, the heavy black card in her pocket reminding her of the man that shook her to the very core.
Zayne finally closed the laptop. He removed his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose before looking over at her. His gaze was steady, piercing, and entirely clinical. He had known her for too long, and while Caleb noticed her moods, Zayne noticed her micro-expressions.
"You're quiet tonight," Zayne observed, his voice deep and measured as he stepped closer. He reached out, his cool fingers gently pressing against the side of her neck to check her pulse.
MC didn't pull away. She leaned into his touch, tilting her head up with a soft, practiced gaze. "Just tired. It's been a long day."
Zayne’s thumb stroked the line of her jaw. His expression remained entirely neutral, but his thumb lingered a second too long—a subtle giveaway of the control she usually held over him. "Your heart rate is elevated. Your pupils are slightly dilated. You aren't tired. You're agitated."
MC smirked inwardly. She loved how easy he was to read beneath that icy exterior. "Are you diagnosing me, Doctor Li?"
"I am observing you," Zayne corrected, his eyes narrowing slightly as he picked up on the faint, mocking edge in her voice. "Caleb mentioned you seemed off at the cafe earlier. He thought you were upset. But I think you're hiding something."
He leaned in a fraction closer, his presence commanding and protective, yet entirely predictable to her. He was waiting for her to confess. They had their roles to play when it came to these encounters. He wanted be her shoulder to lean on. The one who’d figure her out when others couldn’t. And her role in this was to let him think that he could.
"I'm not hiding anything, Zayne," she murmured softly, letting her voice drop to that sweet, vulnerable pitch that always made his icy demeanour thaw. "Can't I just want to spend time with you without being examined or interrogated?"
Zayne stared at her for a long moment. A faint, almost imperceptible softening appeared at the corners of his eyes. He sighed, dropping his hand from her face. "Fine. But if something is troubling you, you tell me. Is that clear?"
"Crystal," she smiled, sliding off the table.
As she walked ahead of him toward the door, her smile faded into a bored line. Zayne’s analytical mind was impressive, but he was still fundamentally blind to who she actually was. He saw a fragile girl who needed looking after and fixing.
She reached into her pocket, her fingertips grazing the embossed name on the card: Sylus. Zayne and Caleb were a beautifully constructed safety net, but Sylus was the chaos that she actually craved.
And so two days later she called him. One meeting became two. And the thrill of seeing him kept her coming back. For the first time in her life she didn’t tell Caleb or Zayne. She cradled the secret close to her heart and kept it safe from the world. But she knew that she’d eventually have to tell others. Except she didn’t want her adoptive brother or her best friend be the first ones to know. She wanted to practice on someone who wasn’t so emotionally invested when it came to her.
The opportunity to confide in someone arrived entirely by accident. MC was sitting at an outdoor terrace downtown, nursing an iced coffee, when she caught that undeniable flash of silver hair across the street. Sylus was stepping out of a sleek, black SUV that clearly belonged to someone else. He didn't see her, but the sheer presence he commanded pulled her eyes straight to him.
"Is that who I think it is?"
She jumped, nearly spilling her drink.
“Oh hi!” MC looked up to find Blythe, Caleb’s girlfriend, standing beside her with a raised eyebrow. “Yep, just chilling on my own. The city is getting so hot these days! You know how it is!”
What were the words that were coming out of her mouth? MC took a very purposeful sip of her coffee so she wouldn’t say anything else.
“Sure. Mind if I sit? My legs are killing me.”
Blythe had a ton of shopping bags with her which she tried to arrange neatly under the small table. Whilst the other woman picked up the menu, MC found her attention and her eyes drifting in another direction.
Blythe frowned when she realised MC was not responding to her question about desserts and followed MC's intense gaze.
Realizing she had been caught staring, MC quickly grabbed her own menu with slightly sharing fingers.
"Who is that?" Blythe asked, crossing her arms as she glanced at the towering, sharply dressed man who was now speaking to someone in a tailored suit. "He looks like he owns half the city, or at least a highly illegal part of it."
MC bit her lip, her mind racing. For the first time the urge to talk about the storm brewing in her life was so overwhelming that talking about it to just about anyone would do. "His name is Sylus. We... keep running into each other."
"Sylus?" Blythe repeated the name. "And what exactly does a guy like that do?"
MC’s mouth felt a little dry. Blythe was not Caleb. MC knew that the other woman didn’t like her or her antics, hating how Caleb would just drop everything in an instant to come running to help his sister. Although, admittedly, it happened less and less nowadays. Between his genuine feelings for his girlfriend and Blythe’s no-nonsense attitude, MC found herself on her best behaviour.
Panicking under Blythe’s sharp gaze, MC blurted out the first ridiculous thing that came to mind. "He’s a fruit vendor. He... wholesale distributes organic produce. Exotic fruits. That's why he's always driving around and meeting up with people!"
Blythe stared at MC. Then she looked across the street at Sylus, who was currently buttoning a designer coat, his crimson eyes gleaming even from a distance as he handed over a briefcase.
Blythe looked back at MC, her expression deadpan. "A fruit vendor. Right. MC, that man is wearing a watch that costs more than most people’s houses. He is absolutely not selling pineapples."
MC flushed, realizing how terrible her lie was. She reached across the table and grabbed Blythe’s hands, dropping the act entirely. "Look, it doesn't matter what he does. The point is, Caleb cannot know about him. At all. If Caleb finds out some dangerous-looking guy is constantly showing up around me, he will lose his shit. Please, Blythe. Don't tell him."
Blythe’s expression shifted from amused scepticism to deep annoyance. She slowly pulled her hands away from MC's grasp.
"Are you serious right now?" Blythe asked, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "You’re asking me to lie to Caleb? My boyfriend? Your brother?"
"It’s not lying, it’s just... not mentioning it," MC pleaded, trying to use her usual soft, persuasive tone.
"It is lying, MC," Blythe snapped, visibly irritated. "Caleb tells me everything, and I don't keep secrets from him. Especially not secrets about his little sister hanging around a dangerous-looking millionaire who you're trying to pass off as a literal fruit salesman. You're putting me in a horrible position!"
MC watched Blythe, a sudden chill running through her. Blythe wasn't Caleb, and she wasn't Zayne. She couldn't be manipulated by a pout, tears or a gentle touch.
Blythe stood up, gripping her shopping bags tightly. "I'm not going to run to Caleb the second I see him, but if he asks me why you're acting weird, or if that… fruit vendor shows up near him, I am not covering for you. You need to figure out whatever game you’re playing, MC, before someone gets seriously hurt."
With that, Blythe turned and walked away, leaving MC sitting alone at the table. MC looked back across the street, but the black SUV was already pulling away from the curb. Her hands trembled slightly. Not out of fear, but out of a sudden, dangerous rush of adrenaline. The cracks were starting to show in her perfect little world, and she didn’t want to do anything to stop it from happening.
That same evening, feeling furious and entirely out of options, MC decided that Blythe was right. As much as she loved spending time with Sylus, adored his dry humour and that dangerous look he’d get in his eyes whenever she started being difficult, it was time to put an end to the game. She called him and asked, no- demanded that they meet in the next hour.
Exactly an hour later, she found herself standing in the private lounge of an exclusive, upscale club downtown. The room was dark, smelling faintly of expensive leather. Sylus was sitting alone on a velvet sofa, a glass of amber liquid resting between his fingers. He didn’t look surprised to see her looking so agitated; in fact, he looked like he had been expecting this reaction from her all along.
"A fruit vendor?" Sylus asked, his deep voice carrying a dark, mocking amusement. "Is that really the best you could come up with?"
MC slammed her purse down onto the table between them, her sweet, innocent mask completely discarded. She didn’t even bother to ask how he knew.
"You're ruining my life! Everything was perfect until you came along!"
Sylus slowly set his glass down. He stood up, his massive, imposing frame casting a long shadow over her as he closed the distance between them.
"Perfect, you say? Your perfect little world was built on lies, sweetie. You don't want peace. You want control. And you hate me because you can't control me."
"I hate you because you're an arrogant ass!" she snapped, refusing to back down even as he stepped directly into her personal space.
"You hate me because I see you," Sylus corrected softly. He leaned down, his crimson eyes locking onto hers with a piercing intensity that made her breath catch in her throat. "I see the selfish, wicked girl hiding behind that pretty smile. The one who toys with boys because she's too afraid of a real man. Tell me, MC... are you actually angry? Or are you just thrilled that someone finally called your bluff?"
MC opened her mouth to argue, to scream at him, but no words came out. Her heart was hammering violently against her ribs. He was entirely right. The chaos, the danger, the terrifying loss of control... It was the most alive she had ever felt.
Sylus picked his glass up and took a sip, not looking away from her as he did so. The amber liquid caught the light. She grabbed the glass out of his hand and finished the drink, coughing as it burned on its way down.
She was fuming. Her chest rose and fell with sharp, aggravated breaths.
"I'm mean," MC muttered, her voice tight. She glared at him. "I'm meaner than you think. And selfish."
Sylus let out a low, rough chuckle. He didn't look remotely upset or intimidated. Instead, he tracked her movements with dark, amused eyes.
"How unfortunate for those around you," he murmured, his tone dripping with mock sympathy.
"And awful." MC's free hand balled into a fist.
"Hm... Keep going," he challenged with that ever-present, infuriating smirk.
"It's not funny, Sylus! When I’m with you, it’s like the worst of me wants to come out. With my brother, with my- my friend… At least with them I try to pretend I'm good."
Sylus took the glass from her and set it down with a soft click. He took a step towards her, his towering frame instantly shifting the gravity in the room. He closed the distance between them until she had to tilt her chin up to maintain eye contact. It was electric between them, the energy all but thrumming faintly in the air, a heavy, magnetic pull.
"The difference between that doctor and I," he said, voice dropping an octave, making sure that MC knew that he’d done his homework when it came to her and those around her, "is that his timing is terrible." Sylus raised an eyebrow at her incredulous face expression, a dangerous smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
He leaned in, his breath brushing her ear.
"And you?" she gasped when she felt his warm lips on her skin.
"I am an opportunist," he whispered, moving away to look straight into her eyes. Sylus caught her chin between his fingers, his grip firm but careful. His smirk widened into something genuinely thrilled when her lips parted and her tongue darted out for a brief moment.
"And you, kitten," he murmured, his voice a deep, gravelly purr. "Should take this opportunity. Let's give us a chance and see what happens. Let’s see just how mean you can be."
The sheer audacity of his words stripped away the last of her restraint. She was tired of the calculating games, tired of being dissected, and desperately tired of him always being one step ahead of her. She wanted to shatter his smug composure, to force a reaction out of him that he hadn’t meticulously planned.
Before her rational mind could stop her, MC reached up, grabbed the lapels of his designer coat, and pulled him down into a fierce, reckless kiss that was more a fight for the upper hand than a show of affection.
It was a collision of pure friction and built-up tension. She expected him to be shocked or at least caught off guard by her sudden aggression. Instead, after a fraction of a second of stillness, Sylus let out a low, gravelly growl that vibrated straight through her chest.
His hand shot up, his large fingers tangling into her hair to hold her in place. He didn’t just accept the kiss. Sylus took total command of it, deepening it with a dark, bruising intensity that stole the remaining air from her lungs. The sheer, overwhelming power of his grip made her knees buckle, but he held her flush against his frame, completely unbothered by her weight.
When he finally pulled back, just an inch or two, his breath was hot against her lips. His crimson eyes were darker now, flashing with a dangerous, feral amusement.
"Is that your way of silencing me?" Sylus murmured, his thumb firmly tracing her lower lip, which was now slightly swollen from the force of the kiss. He wasn't flustered. If anything, he looked entirely victorious. "A very bold move. But it only proves my point. You're reckless when you're cornered, sweetie."
MC stared up at him, her chest heaving as she tried to regain her breath. Her plan to unmask him had backfired completely. All she had managed to do was invite the chaos right inside.
“So… willing to give this a try, are we?” he asked, his voice a low vibration.
“Yes.”
Because she was done playing it safe. She wanted this and she knew that she didn’t want to go back to the way that she was.
A year later, she was walking down the aisle and she was absolutely, without even a slither of doubt sure that she was doing the right thing.
To the rest of the world, it was the wedding of the century. Caleb stood in the front row, his expression a mix of fierce protection and bittersweet acceptance, still believing his little sister was the sweet, fragile girl he had all but raised. Zayne stood nearby, his face still but his gaze betraying a quiet, stoic resignation. Blythe looked on with as much approval as possible, given the fact that she didn’t like either the bride or groom all that much.
MC didn’t care about their opinions. As she reached the altar, her gaze locked onto Sylus. He stood tall and imposing in a tailored black tuxedo, his silver hair catching the light and his crimson eyes gleaming with a familiar, dangerous amusement. He knew the truth. He knew exactly what kind of woman was hiding beneath the lace and veil.
When he took her hand, his grip was firm, warm, and entirely unyielding. He leaned in close as the priest began the vows, his voice a low, private whisper meant only for her.
"Still playing a role, sweetie?" he murmured, a slow smirk touching his lips.
MC tilted her head up, a sharp, wicked smile cutting through the facade. "Only for the audience, Sylus. You know I save my worst behaviour just for you."
"Good," Sylus whispered, his eyes flashing darkly. "Because I'm looking forward to a lifetime of it."
They exchanged rings and to her it felt less like a traditional promise and more like a mutual pact. When he pulled her in for the kiss, it wasn't the gentle, romantic gesture one would expect. It was deep, possessive, and thick with the familiar intoxicating energy.
The crowd erupted into applause. Caleb shook his head, a strained but genuine smile on his lips as he muttered something under his breath. Zayne clapped with the absolute bare minimum of polite effort required by etiquette, his brow furrowing slightly as he watched Sylus and MC break apart.
She didn’t care. MC found the only man in the world who called her out, tamed her and made her purr for him. As the applause washed over them, MC looked out at the two men who had known her longest. She saw the tight set of Caleb’s jaw and the heavy, silent concern in Zayne’s eyes. For a split second, a pang of bittersweet affection hit her. But it was almost instantly swallowed up by the thrill she felt from Sylus’s hand at her waist. She didn't offer them an apology or a look of reassurance. Instead, she let out a breathless, radiant laugh, leaning heavily into Sylus’s side. She wanted them— no! The whole world to see that she was utterly, unapologetically ruined for anyone else.
She was intoxicatingly, desperately in love and she didn’t care what others thought of her choice.
"Mm... I have to say, you were right to insist on choosing the limo," Sylus nipped at her earlobe, his voice a low vibration. "Just you and me. No spectators. No interruptions."
"Sylus, stop! We haven't even stepped outside yet!" she hissed, trying to look dignified while her heart raced. "Have you no shame?"
"Never had any, kitten. I assumed that's why you married me."
"We have an entire reception ahead of us! You have to wait."
He chuckled against her neck. "I think our guests will understand that the newlyweds prefer to be fashionably late."
As far as MC was concerned, her life was flawless. She had her husband, a life wrapped in every imaginable luxury, and a tight-knit circle of friends.
Then, one of those friends introduced his fiancée.
Instantly, MC felt a sensation she hadn’t experienced in a very long time. It was a deep, visceral irritation that clawed at her skin for no logical reason. She tried to play nice. She and Blythe did a stellar job helping organize what was bound to be one of the most beautiful weddings in the city’s history.
Through it all, you were pleasant and kind. Your suggestions were gentle, delivered with a respectful, dignified grace that MC could never emulate, no matter how hard she tried.
And then, the truth hit her like a slap in the face. She finally understood why she had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop from making a bitchy comment every time you were around. Unlike her, you weren't pretending to be a good person. You actually were good.
Worse, MC began noticing the subtle shifts in Zayne. It wasn’t something others would notice, but MC knew Zayne long enough to see what was going on. A creature of rigid habit, Zayne began shifting his entire routine to revolve around you. He tried his best to accommodate you. You didn't pout. You didn't manipulate or put on a cute act to get your way. Sometimes, you didn’t even have to ask. He just anticipated your needs and met them.
"They are so sweet together," Blythe smiled as she and MC stepped out of the café. Through the glass, they could still see you and Zayne, your heads bent close together as you spoke in low, intimate tones.
"I know, right? Almost too sweet. It's kind of annoying." MC took a loud, aggressive sip of her milk tea, her brow furrowed in a scowl.
"What is wrong with you?" Blythe asked, eyeing her sideways. "Feeling jealous or something, little sis?"
"I am not! And stop calling me that!"
"Then stop acting like a brat," Blythe warned, her tone dropping into something dead serious. "Because whatever petty thoughts are running through your head right now, you’d better keep them to yourself. Otherwise, you’ll have to answer to me."
"Argh, you’re so bossy! I don’t know how Caleb stands you!"
"Caleb likes being told what to do," Blythe replied with a wicked, knowing grin. "He begs for it, actually."
"What do you—oh, ew! Gross! Mental images!"
"You're such a baby. But I mean it," Blythe’s expression hardened, all humour vanishing. "This wedding is going to be flawless. If you pull any stunt, or let that attitude slip, you're dealing with me. Am I making myself clear?"
"Crystal clear," MC grumbled, pouting as she fought the childish urge to stick her tongue out.
But of course, when the wedding day came, she screwed things up in a way she hadn’t even anticipated. The wedding was undeniably beautiful. You were a vision, and Zayne looked at you in a way that made MC’s heart squeeze in a sharp, uncomfortable ache. She didn't love Zayne. At least, not romantically. But she had craved his attention, if only for a moment. She told herself that she wanted a clean break, a chance to say goodbye to what they once were, and to what they would never be.
What was supposed to be a prank, a small act of brattiness at most became so much more. Before she knew it, she screwed things up in a way that she hadn’t even anticipated.
Because as she watched your face when your husband missed your first dance to share a stolen moment with her in the garden, MC stood frozen under the twinkling lights, her face pale as she realized you had witnessed the entire pathetic display.
You looked directly at her, and then your eyes shifted back to Zayne gently swaying back and forth with her in his arms. He didn’t see you. In that heavy, silent space, MC felt a sickening sensation claw at her chest, something she hadn’t truly felt in a long time.
Guilt. It was heavy and toxic and genuine.
“I-” she started, her voice cracking, not sure if she was speaking to you or telling Zayne to stop.
Shaking your head, you pieced together a dignified smile, turned on your heel, and walked away. You went back to the ballroom alone, prepared to handle the whispering crowd with the grace she completely lacked.
MC felt a sob coming on and squashed it down. You and her were not friends. But you had done nothing to deserve to be embarrassed in this way. You were entirely innocent, and she had just ruined your night and perhaps even your marriage. All in the name of being selfish and being the centre of attention of the man she didn’t even want to have a future with.
Just like the waves broke when it hits your feet, the tidal force pulled it back again to make itself whole. The sea will forever be an unwavering force, no matter how many stones and ships split and cut it, it will find its way to be one again. And just like that, you too will be yourself again.
tags: angst, hurt/no comfort, eventual caleb x reader, slow burn-ish, no beta we die like men, reader is not mc, sylus made an appearance by a letter, zayne x mc x reader x caleb
a/n: i know this is incredibly late for part 2 but at least its the finale hehe. i fear grammar has left my body so rip. zayne might be ooc here but it fits the bit.
read part 1 here
Chapter 2
You kept on running. Tears welled up your eyes, blurring the skyline view from your vision. Uncounted steps from your bedroom and your legs gave out. No strength left in your body. You leaned on the cold wall, hugging your knees tightly. The surrounding temperature was enough to warrant a blanket but it might be the warmest you have felt throughout the evening. Tears and sniffles take turns in becoming your friend instead. The only company you can trust.
Everything you knew and held dear went up in ablaze. You wondered what went wrong. What was lacking in your being that made you so unlovable that you did not even deserve a drop of grace from fate. What sins have you committed so gravely justifying the passing of this cruel judgment. You have reached the bottom pits of hell, dark, and all alone in this unknown long corridor. You know doctors have to be blunt and emotionally detached in delivering their duty or else, peoples’ lives will decide their own fate. The harshness of how he spoke to you was unlike him. A little voice questioned if Zayne even saw you as a friend, just a mere acquaintance, or someone familiar that he grew up with. Regardless of which it is, being at the receiving end of the professional habit stings unfathomably. Being reduced to deserve such cold treatment from someone who holds your heart, to some, death might be a more merciful act.
The writings of the cruel universe can no longer be undone. No power can turn back time to change the outcome. You wished, oh you wished, if this piece of your body that you named heart can choose freely, you would convince your past self to not be fooled by such fantasy. A self-fulfilling prophecy can only end up in places you wouldn’t even dare to wish it upon your enemy. You try to pick yourself up again because no one else would anyways. Now, the ship has sunk into the depths, dragging you along with it to meet Davy Jones himself.
Stumbling a bit with your shaken knees, you try to get up and go return to your room. You still have not finished packing your stuff so you might as well finish it up and leave this place at first light. Suddenly, strong arms slithered your waist, steadying your body before your legs gave out like a newborn foal. Without looking, you know it is Caleb. The adoration and fondness of Caleb radiates throughout all of him, especially by his touch right now. A cornerstone in your life that never falters. Has the room always been this warm? you pondered. You can tell Caleb has his boyish smile on right now even without facing him to see it. Soft giggles echoing your ears. “Woah, woah. Are you sure you’re the same person that killed those wanderers? Gasps! Are you a shape-shifting wanderer? Where is y/n?!” he joked. You look into his eyes endearingly. You forced a thin smile and tackled him to the ground, hugging him tightly. Caleb secured your figure between him and hugged you back. Both of you stayed in the stillness of the night, only for the first time ever, it was a welcomed stillness.
Caleb has his conjectures but he keeps it to himself for now. He does not want to push it too much, thinking it might be too much for you right now. So he sat there with you, still on the floor, stroking your head as you silently let the tears fall on his shoulders. Each sob you made created a crack in his heart. You have been like this since you were little. Always running to him whenever you feel overwhelmed with your emotions and he shall keep doing it until the end of his time. Whatever it is, his main mission now is to calm you down and he swore an oath to never be the one to let go of the hug first.
After some time has passed, his shoulder is wet with tears and your eyes are red and puffy, you finally let go of him. You kneeled between his legs, drying up the last bit of your tears. Caleb tucked your unruly hairs and fixed your bangs. “I don’t think fixing my hair will reduce the damage to how I look right now” you giggled, snorting the mucous back in. “And yet you are still beautiful. So, since you can joke around a bit now, are you ready to talk about what happened?” You hesitated, fiddled your fingers and kept your head low. Caleb placed his hands above yours “It’s okay. If you’re not ready, we can do it some other time. I’ll bring you back to your room, okay? You kinda have my jacket now so I’m starting to be a bit cold”. Your eyes went wide and you looked sideways and saw Caleb’s leather jacket slung on your body. “Oh God, here take it back” “Nuh uh. I already gave that to you. Besides, I’m pretty sure I can claim a new one tomorrow. It’s part of the allowance, or should I say benefit?” he laughed. “Come on. Let’s go home”. He pulled you back to your feet and you both walked back to your room.
“Do you really want to know, Caleb” you broke the silence and mayhaps, his curiosity as well. Caleb perked up and faced you “Only if you want to”. You took a deep breath and recounted the conversation you had with Zayne. How he came to your room unannounced, dropped the ultimatum with cold-blood, and with some arrogance, made you accept his final decision without giving a chance to do anything on your end. Caleb sat there quietly but you can see how he can’t hide his facial expressions, even though vicious experiments had been conducted on him. Caleb was infuriated but more than what you would expect. It was more, dare you say, intimate. Personal. Before Caleb opened his mouth, you interjected “And I will do exactly what he says. I will leave for Linkon before sunrise. I’ll catch the first flight home. I’ll start new, Caleb. Maybe I’ll finally take on that one mission that Jenna had been eyeing for quite some time. New place, new life, new me hopefully”. You took a deep breath and continued “I’m sorry, Caleb. I wish I could stay here longer. I would love to catch up with you and MC, to make up all the time we have lost… But, I can no longer be the same girl that you and MC knew when he was around. Text me when you’re in Linkon, okay?” “y/n you don’t have to do this alone. Please, let me come with you. At the very least until you settle in your new mission, hm?” he begged. You shook your head as you opened your door “This is goodbye, Caleb. Be safe, okay? Take care of them both for me.” Caleb stood in front of your room speechless but he knew. Your stubbornness is both a charm and a pain to deal with so he walked back but never away. He’s going to make sure the fleet allows him what he intended to do. He would rather be late than be too late. But, both you and Caleb failed to notice that there were actually two pairs of footsteps moving away from your door.
Fate, once again, upkeeps its promises to the universe. And just like that, your room was empty in the mere hours into the day. You went back to work the very next day and started processing the necessary papers for your transfer. You have heard the notorious N109 zone and the infamous auction on anything that you could imagine, backed by the one and only “Mr. S”. “Oh, y/n, one last thing. We need your latest medical record and have the copy transferred to our other branch. Akso no longer needs to hold your record now. We’ll take it from here. Just need your doctor to sign the release papers”. Your heart dropped somewhat close to your upper stomach. You thought you would no longer need to be in contact with Zayne but alas, work is work.
You went to Akso Hospital after work. A few months have passed since your return to Linkon so you were unsure if Zayne was still in Akso or not. Regardless, Greyson was your substitute doctor until Zayne’s return to the hospital so without further ado, you shot straight to Greyson’s room. You hung out in that room quite decently so you and Greyson are familiar enough that you can just crash into his room. “Greysoooooonnn!” you announced your arrival, as if it needs one. Greyson looked up from his paperwork and let out a sigh “Must you always be like this?” “But you love it deep, deep down. I know it. Anyways, I need my medical record to be transferred here. Just need your signature for the release”.
Greyson was taken aback slightly to the unusual request however “Unfortunately, I cannot sign this. Dr. Zayne has to be the one to sign it since I’m only a substitute and not your actual primary doctor. I’ll let him know and give you a call once he’s done with it”. You thanked the heavens for Greyson’s existence. He doesn’t know what had happened between you and Zayne so his responses are all natural, expected of a doctor. “Thank you, Greyson! Next time dinner is on me before I leave” “Wait, the transfer is for you to leave? Does Dr. Zayne knows about this”. You avoided his gaze and shook his head in denial. There is a subtle sorrow in your body language after he posed the question so he backed up “It’s okay. It’s not my job to be nosy on my patient’s business. But as a friend, come visit us once a while” “Of course I will. You will be the third one to know after Tara and Caleb. Goodbye, Greyson”. Greyson did not let any words fall further from his mouth. The fact that you did not mention Zayne’s name once tells him something had happened between the both of you and you do not know that Zayne has returned to Akso a few days prior.
Greyson got up and walked to Zayne’s room. He knocked thrice and let himself in. There Zayne was, in the midst of endless paperworks needs to be done after his break. “Oh, Greyson. Apologies for the mess. Do you need something?” It was unlike Zayne to have a disoriented table but Greyson did not pry further. There’s always a first for everything. “Here, y/n needs you to sign this release papers for her mission I’m guessing. Let me know when you’re done so I can give her a call” Zayne blankly stared at Greyson, trying to register the words that had fallen into his senses. There was quite a long pause before Greyson placed the papers at the center of the table “Here. I’ll take my leave now” and he left. Zayne slumped back into his chair, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Zayne tried to call and text you after he returned back to Linkon but of course, none of them went through. You had him blocked on everything, rightfully so. He understands why you did that but somehow he wished you could talk to him first before deciding to cut him off completely…
In a split of a second, he remembered what had happened the night at Skyhaven and his nose scrunched even further. Of course… Why would he even think that when he did the exact same thing to you? Zayne picked up his landline phone and dialed your number. He needs a little bit more information and context before he signs the paper, a lie he told himself. First ring, second ring, third ring… “Hello?” a deep voice greeted him. Infuriatingly, an extremely familiar voice to note. “Caleb? Where is y/n?” “She’s in the shower right now. What’s going on? Why are you calling from an unknown number?” “It’s the hospital’s phone. Well, since you’re there with her, please tell her the release papers are all done and she can pick up from Greyson” Caleb snorted out a laugh, making Zayne confused and minutely pissed. “Is something the matter?” “No, there isn’t. I’m just surprised the stoic surgeon is a coward. Let Greyson know that I’ll be the one picking up the papers. I guess Greyson won’t need any spelling out to be done to him” and the call went silent.
Zayne felt a sting in his chest but he knows that it barely counted as a medical issue. There’s an unsettling feeling and dissatisfaction about the previous conversation. It was as if you personally slapped him in his face. Zayne’s phone vibrated and he glanced at the screen, checking on who might have contacted him at such a horrible time. It was MC, asking him about something but he was too far gone to reply or care. A sudden thought came running through his mind and he immediately felt repulsive. It would be cruel and might be psychopathic of him to have the galls to set the thought in motion. He is aware how cold and detached he can seem by default but this was beyond his moral compass. He got what he wanted, chased for it even after all of those times of grief but in the corner of his mind, he posed a rhetorical question of what if he chose wrongly? But Zayne knows chasing two girls would be too low of a move but why does it feel like he lost the one?
Zayne left the papers on Greyson’s desk and went out to the nearest bakery. Finding something sweet for a grueling 36 hours on-call. As he was about to cross the street, he saw Caleb standing in front of the bakery. He was about to call him out before Zayne saw you running and hugged Caleb. You looked so happy. It hit Zayne deeper than he would like to admit. He has to admit unwillingly that this is the first time after the incident he saw you genuinely happy. You look radiant and fortunately, healthy. He witnessed as you tugged Caleb’s sleeve into the bakery, giggling so joyously and how Caleb, like a puppy, followed suit. Zayne knows with good conscience he can no longer go into the bakery and act as if everything is normal. He made his choice and so did you. Now, he has to bear the path alongside it.
PAIRING: Sanji/Female Reader. CONTENTS: Graphics Depictions of Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Jealousy, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Worth Issues, Misunderstandings, Light Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Love Confessions. WORDCOUNT: 6.6k
Summary:
Your heart growing fonder for Sanji was unexpected in the grand scheme of things. You knew his attention wasn’t singularly focused on you; he was that way with every woman, particularly Nami.
It was a different kind of tenderness he held for her, and as much as you loved her, you couldn't help an ugly feeling creeping up inside you.
Notes:
I wanted this fic to be about insecurities, the reader and Nami's friendship, and obviously, misunderstandings when it comes to Sanji.
It's been a while since I wrote a fic with no suggestiveness? no implied sexual content? who even am i? This fic was planned for this tho, and i'm not soooo sure it came out that great but I'm glad i could let some stuff out! I hope you guys enjoy it!
If you have a few bucks to spare, consider buying me a kofi!
Your heart growing fonder for Sanji was unexpected in the grand scheme of things; you had never liked a man like him before. Someone so attentive towards you, never letting you go a minute without offering his service, whether that was a meal or a beverage or almost anything. You could ask him to jump into the ocean and get a pearl from the bottom of it and he would most likely do it without a single complaint. However, you would never ask anything of him; he was free to do as he pleased, and you loved to see the things that he could come up with to show his admiration for anyone.
You knew well that was a mask on his part, you could see through the cracks and what it could mean for him to be so loud about his adoration and his acts of service. And you wanted to know more about him, if he would let you.
You knew his attention wasn’t singularly focused on you; he was that way with every woman, particularly Robin and Nami.
Nami.
It wasn’t like you didn’t know about Sanji’s affection for her, it had been obvious since the moment you joined the crew. It was in the way he looked at her, looked after her, in his praises spilling so naturally from his lips whenever she was around. It was a different kind of tenderness he held for her, and as much as you loved her, you couldn't help an ugly feeling creeping up inside you.
It was unbearable sometimes, especially when you were sharing time with her, gossiping about whatever had caught your attention one day, lounging on the deck of the Thousand Sunny, when Sanji would show up like he usually did, offering treats for you.
“Ladies, a drink especially made for you, so the hot weather doesn’t affect you!” Sanji announced with a grand gesture, showing you the glasses on a plate.
You smiled, content that he had been considerate without you even asking, and took the drink in your hand. You thanked him just as Nami showed him a smile, almost simultaneously, and you witnessed his eyes turning into hearts in a beat.
You couldn’t blame him at all. You also had eyes, you saw what a gorgeous woman Nami was, her every move was gracious, and she was smart and feisty. Nonetheless, you couldn’t help your feelings, and it annoyed you every time you were near them.
“Nami, dearest, would you like dessert?”
“Nami, your kindness knows no boundaries!”
“Nami, if there’s anything you need, you only need to call for me!”
You wondered if her name would ever wear out with how much he called for her.
At some point, you had decided to distance yourself from them whenever you notice it was going to be intense (it wasn’t on Nami’s part, Sanji was in for the theatrics and the only one to blame for being loud about his attraction).
You adored the Strawhats, incredibly so, but until your feelings passed, until you felt safe again, you decided it’d be for the best to step away when you knew it’d be too much.
“Are you okay, my love?”
You eyed Sanji carefully from your seat at the bar. The drink in your hand was only half full, as you had started to drink probably 10 minutes before he walked in. The expression on his face showed his concern, and you knew you must have made some kind of grimace. Or maybe he could see right through you, who knows.
“I’m okay.” You replied, flatly.
“Are you sure? You disappeared just to be here on your own.” He still offered you a small smile, like he was trying to appease you. It made you ache. “Do you want some company? I could prepare some drinks for you, anything you want-”
“I just need some time alone.” You interrupted him. You didn’t mean for your tone to be cold, but it wasn’t the first drink you had, and it wasn’t the right emotions you were feeling.
Sanji didn’t look hurt, but he did look even more worried than before.
“I’m sorry, I just…” You started, sighing loudly before forcing a smile. “I’m fine, I just want to be by myself right now, Sanji. Thank you.”
“Of course. I’ll prepare a meal for you whenever you’re ready to go upstairs.”
He showed you his usually charming grin, and it made you melt inside.
It didn’t melt the jealousy brewing in your stomach, and it made you all the more angry with yourself. It wasn’t the first time Sanji had checked on you whenever you retracted, and you appreciated intensively; but it wasn’t what you needed considering you were the problem.
You had condemned your feelings before they could even be put into words out loud. You had neither told Sanji how you felt, or Nami that it was bothering you how close he was to her. Not that she had anything to do with it, but as your friend, you figured you should tell her everything that was currently bothering you. You were just putting it off, afraid to seem like an insane woman.
After a couple of drinks that made you a little dizzy, Sanji was waiting for you at the galley with cream filled pastries, ones you had mentioned some time ago that you loved. You were thankful you weren’t drunk enough to cry.
*
It had all happened so fast that you didn’t even know how it happened when you opened your eyes.
You were laying on a cold hard floor, in a room that was entirely foreign. While your eyes adjusted to your surroundings and the lack of light, a very familiar voice called your name.
“Are you okay?” Nami whispered nearby.
You blinked repeatedly, until you could notice her silhouette not far away.
“Where are we?” You countered.
The immediate thing you felt was nausea. When you tried to move your arms, handcuffs were tying you to what you assumed was a post. You promptly understood the position you were in.
“Another pirates’ ship, they took us when they tried to invade the Sunny. Are you okay?” She repeated, concern obvious in her tone.
“I’m chained with Seastone handcuffs…” You replied meekly, groaning when you tried to sit up.
You heard her suspire desperately.
“I’m trying to undo my chains, but it might take some time.” Nami reassured you.
The more you blinked, the more you could figure out where she was and what she was doing, especially because there was a little light coming from a porthole nearby, enough to let you see that she didn’t seem injured, but she was similarly chained to a post, maybe six feet away.
“They’ll come for us, don’t worry.” She said, without a single drop of trepidation in her voice.
“Yeah.” You smiled weakly, dizzy once you sat up, immediately resting your head against the post.
There was no doubt in your mind that they would come for you.
But it would be nice if you could get the goddamn cuffs off you.
It made sense that they had bound you like this, not only putting handcuffs on you but also making sure that you could only move so much by chaining you to the post by your hands and feet. Your Devil Fruit powers allowed you to destroy almost anything you could touch, transmitting your energy to any surface, enough to drill a hole through a wall or destroy an entire ship if you desire. There were some disadvantages with it, but none of it mattered if you couldn’t use them anyway.
You stared at Nami’s figure as she tried to pick at the lock restricting her legs. The longer you stared, the better your eyesight adjusted, and you noticed how focused she was, tongue peeking out like it usually did when she had her full attention on something. You hated to think, in moments like those, that you understood why Sanji would fall for her, why anyone would fall for her.
This wasn’t a difficult task for someone like Nami, she was called the “Cat Burglar” for a reason, and you knew that sooner or later she would break free from her restraints. And soon enough, she did.
“Ha!” She exclaimed, hands free as she stretched her wrists.
It took her only a minute to free herself from the chains of her feet, and she was kneeling beside you in the blink of an eye, undoing your own restraints.
“Nami.” You called for her, and when she only replied with a hum, not looking at you, you repeated her name. “Nami, listen to me, you have to leave.”
“What?” She did look at you then, deep frown on her face, that much you could make out in the darkened room. “I’m not leaving you here.”
“Yes, you have to. You cannot undo these cuffs.” You reasoned, knowing fully well that the chains were no issue for her, but the cuffs could only be opened with the key, or be destroyed with how hard the material was. “You would have to carry me!”
“Then I’ll carry you.” She replied like it was no big deal.
“You’ll get us both killed. They are after our bounties for sure, they won’t hesitate to kill us!” You insisted, though she didn’t even acknowledge your words. “You have to leave, you can come back with the others!”
“I’m not leaving you!”
“Nami, fo fuck’s sake, just go!”
“I said no!” She raised her voice enough that you worried someone outside the room might hear. “There’s no way I’m leaving you here, are you crazy?”
You huffed, exasperated. You were stubborn, but she was as thick as you were. Then again, in a situation like this, you would do the same thing, and it would never cross your mind to leave her alone in a ship full of stinky pirates.
“Fine, but if you’re not gonna go, don’t waste time like this.”
“I’ll undo the chains at least.”
“Try to look around, maybe you can check what the situation in this ship is, and where Luffy and the guys are.
“You’re too bossy.” Nami quipped, and you noticed her smile in the shadows, which made you smile in return.
“Look who’s talking.”
You both chuckled, surprisingly lighthearted considering the situations you were in. You knew her enough to know that she was considering your last idea, it might even have crossed her mind before you even said it.
“I’ll be back in no time.” She declared, standing at full height once your chains were undone. “Sit tight and don’t do anything stupid.”
“I’m not Luffy!” You arched your eyebrow at her joke, but she only laughed in response before sneakily walking out through the door.
You sighed, leaning against the post. You trusted Nami that she would keep herself safe, and maybe even encounter the rest of the crew.
You briefly recalled how you got there; a blunt hit to the head before you could even think about using any kind of defense. It had been a sneaky raid on the Sunny, or at least those were the small fragments you got in your mind. You only had a brief glimpse of what happened; if you got yourself out of the cuff, maybe you’d have a clearer mind.
That strike would explain the nausea and the blood you felt trickling down your neck, though the cuffs were doing their work in making you dizzy.
It had only been a few minutes before the door bursted open, and anxiety made your hair stand on end when you saw a big man in the doorway.
You could only see so much in the dark, with the light from outside the room creating a darkened figure in front of you, but you could tell he was pissed off when his deep voice echoed through the room.
“Where is your friend?”
“Fuck off.”
Before you could even register what happened, you fell backwards against the wooden floor after being hit in the side of the head. Blood splurted from your mouth, making you cough. You couldn’t really see, vision blurry as your brain readjusted to what was happening, but you still tried to defend yourself with what little strength you had, putting your hands up and attempting to hit whoever was in front of you.
You only got a mocking laughter in return.
“You’re so pathetic without your silly powers, aren’t you?” He taunted you, grabbing your wrists by the cuffs.
“And you’re not even a man without that bat.” You responded, eyeing the weapon he had hit you with, currently stained with your blood.
His fist making contact with your cheek right after made you even dizzier, your mouth filling with your own blood, and you panicked when you felt like passing out.
“Your bounties are the same even if you’re dead, you know that, right?”
“Our friends are coming for us…” You managed to say, voice slurry as you tasted your blood in your tongue.
“And we are counting on that.”
He laughed again, and you heard it so distant despite him being right on top of you.
You groaned, in and out of it as he tied you back up to the post, not nearly tight enough as it was before. You weren’t a risk in your state.
There was no doubt in your mind that anyone in the crew was going to burst through that door at any minute, but you weren’t sure if you’d be awake to see it. And with the amount of blood you felt oozing down the side of your face and onto the floor, you started to doubt you’d even see Nami again.
But you had at least been wrong in that assumption when the door opened and she was there, being held with her hand behind her back by the same man that got you in your current state.
“What did you do to her?!” Nami exclaimed, struggling to get free but to no avail.
“Nothing she didn’t deserve.”
Nami argued with the man as if none of your lives were at risk, and you admired her for it, even if you couldn’t really hear most of it. You lacked the strength to do it yourself in that moment, otherwise you’d be kicking and screaming just like her.
She was tied to the post in no time, double the amount of locks on her this time, before the door closed a minute later, leaving the two of you alone.
“What happened?!” Nami asked, worry seeping through her voice. “I told you not to do anything stupid!”
“I guess I’ve been hanging out with Luffy for too long…”
“Well, don’t worry, I managed to use their snail phone! And I did a little something fun too that will help us!”
You turned your head to look at her when you recognized her playful tone, but you realized your injury must have looked a lot worse than you thought when her expression showed only concern.
“What did you do?”
“You’ll see.” She offered a small smile and a wink. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine.”
“Don’t fall asleep, you know head injuries make you tired but keep talking to me.”
“Should I tell some jokes?” You quipped with a lopsided smile. You grimaced afterward when your lip stung; it probably split when you got punched in the face.
“If you want.” Nami chuckled, fumbling with the chains, though she could barely move her hands. “I haven’t actually talked to you in a while, or that’s what it feels like.”
You remained silent, looking at the ceiling.
“You haven’t been hanging out with us as much, which is weird ‘cause we are always together.” Nami went on with a lighthearted tone, but you could feel her hesitation. “Is everything okay? You know, besides the fact that you’re bleeding right now.”
“I just felt like having a little me time.” You huffed out a laugh before replying.
“Why?”
Maybe if you hadn’t been friends, if you hadn’t shared so much in all the time you’ve been crewmates, she wouldn’t press so hard. But you knew her well enough, she wasn’t going to let it go. You ponder on what to say for a moment, the injury in your head making it difficult to actually think for longer than that, before speaking.
“I like Sanji.”
“I’m shocked.” Nami teased you with a chuckle. “Me and Robin already know.”
“I figured.” You replied with a smile.
“You’re not that obvious, but we noticed. I don’t think the guys know, you’d have to hit them in the face with it for them to figure it out.”
“Maybe not even then.”
“So what, you are just avoiding us because of him?” Nami paused and her expression changed into a frown. “Did he do something?”
“No, that’s not it.”
“Then what?”
With a sigh, you gather the courage to admit to something you didn’t really want to, especially not in front of Nami, to Nami, who was not only Sanji’s object of affection, but rightfully so, because she truly was beautiful, smart and kind. While it’d be unfair to compare yourself to her, you couldn’t help it; no matter how many amiable qualities you might have, pertinent for a pirate in Luffy’s crew, you feared it wouldn’t be enough.
“I’m jealous.” You confessed like it was air, so low she might not be able to hear you. But she did.
“Jealous? Of who?”
“Of you.”
“Me?” Nami was offended, brows furrowed so deep it almost made you laugh. “What do I have to do with this?”
“Sanji likes you.” She opened her mouth to respond, but you didn’t give her the chance to, not wanting to hear what her reasoning would be when she denied it. “He’s always fluttering around you, attending to your every need, and I can’t blame him because I can see what he sees in you. You’re perfect and…”
‘And I’m not’ was what you wanted to say, but you stopped yourself. Confessions and self-pity were two different things.
“And I’m not mad at you, I don’t blame you either. You’re my friend and I adore you so much, and I hate that I feel this way, but I can’t help it… Especially when he says your name all the time…” You sighed, unable to go on, afraid you might have ruined your friendship with Nami with the amount of vulnerable information you just shared.
She sighed as well, louder and much more exasperated than you expected.
“Man, you and Sanji are both really thick.”
“What do you mean?” You asked with a frown.
“He’s crazy about you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about Sanji, who worries nonstop about you, especially since you started being distant with us. And I’m talking about times when you mention to him in passing that you like a certain pastry or sweet stuff, and then we have it for dessert for a week. Or when he thinks he’s being sneaky and gives you a little more extra food than he gives me or Robin. Or when he looks at you when you’re fighting someone and kicking their ass and he’s trying to keep a massive nosebleed at bay.”
You looked at Nami like she was crazy, a look that she mirrored, obviously in disbelief of your own ignorance.
“Right now is clearly not a good example of that ‘ass-kicking', but I know he’s swimming faster than the Sunny can go to get here, and he’s not doing it specifically for me.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. He’s literally always at your beck and call.”
“Yeah, probably because I’m cute, but he’d be at your beck and call if you wanted to, you just don’t take the opportunity. And he’d probably trip over to get it done in no time, too.”
“He makes desserts for you too!”
“He does when I ask him to, but he makes a bunch of it when you mention your favorites. And you don’t even have to ask.”
You teared your eyes away from her to look at the ceiling again. If what Nami said was true, you never even registered those little details in Sanji’s behaviour towards you. Nami’s wit was one of the sharpest in the crew, so you knew she wasn’t just making stuff up to make you feel better.
That was the thing about liking someone like Sanji, whose affection scattered effortlessly in every direction, like the wind; how could you even tell when he was treating you differently than anyone else?
It’d be so much easier to think about everything and anything if you weren’t having a massive bleeding at that moment. You feared you might start to feel cold any second, and the urge of passing out would be too strong (though it was getting hot in the room, for some reason).
“Everything you just said about me.” Nami spoke after a bit of silence, and you eyed her, anxiety bubbling inside your chest. “I’ll take it as a compliment. I know I’m cute and all, but I’m not competing with my friend.”
“I’m sorry, Nami.” You whispered when relief washed over you, making you feel slightly embarrassed over your outburst. “I’m not-”
“Don’t worry. I mean it.” She offered you a genuine smile, one that showed all the affection she had for you. “It surprises me to see you like this, but I want you to know that you’re perfect, too.”
“Thank you.” You mirrored her expression, wishing you were strong enough to reach for her and hold her hand.
“And if Sanji makes you feel less than perfect, you can kick his ass. And I’ll join you.”
You managed to laugh weakly only to cough up blood afterwards. Nami called your name and you heard her, but as if she was coming from the other side of the room. You were starting to feel drowsy, cursing under your breath, angry at yourself for having this conversation under these circumstances and for allowing all of this to happen. It was a common occurrence with the life you had to be kidnapped, but it was rare that you felt so out of it, so depending on your crewmates that it made you feel weak and helpless.
Why was it getting so hot in there?
The harsh noise of the door breaking open startled you, bringing you back from your mind to the situation at hand as you saw the man who had inflicted those injuries on you fly across the room and land beside you with harsh thud.
He was bloodied himself, and almost completely pathetic when he looked at Sanji, who was standing in the doorway, responsible for kicking him through the door.
The small amount of blood you had left in your body was already boiling with ire, giving you a small amount of strength but enough to make you wrap your arms around the bastard’s neck, using the chains tying the cuffs together to choke him. Adrenaline coursed through you, enough to tighten your hold on him, and to deafen whatever noise and ruckus that was happening around you.
Until you felt Sanji’s hands on yours, and his voice so close it created goosebumps on your skin.
“Sweetheart, let go.” He said into your ear, almost like a whisper, as his touch, so delicate, tried to pry your hands open. “It’s me, darling. You have to let go.”
You only did so after a moment, releasing a loud, trembling sigh, when you realized that Sanji was actually touching you and embracing you safely.
He held you in his arms, fumbling with the key he most likely took from the poor bastard before he kicked his ass, and freeing you from the cuffs quickly.
When you didn’t regain your usual energy, Sanji panicked, eyes wide open, his one visible brow furrowed upward in deep concern. You briefly wondered how bad you looked for him to make an expression like that, though the amount of blood on your face must have made any injury you had looked infinitely worse.
He swiftly scooped you in his arms, one hand grasping your legs and the other on your back, tightly holding onto you as he made his way out. You didn’t have the strength in you to hold your head up high, leaning against his shoulder instead, feeling so warm in his hold you could fall asleep.
“Nami, Nami-” You weakly called for her, voice slurry as you tried to look around the room. “Where’s Nami?”
“I’m here, I’m okay!” She replied, somewhere behind Sanji.
“She’s half dead and she still tried to choke me!” You heard the man’s voice yelling, desperately, like he was trying to look for an explanation of what happened. A strangled whimper followed immediately.
“Shut up, she should’ve killed you.” Zoro’s voice was unmistakable to your ears, and you huffed, amused by his words.
Once outside on the deck, you came to the realization of what Nami had done when she slipped out the room earlier.
“You-You set the ship on fire?” You asked her, in disbelief.
“No!” She yelled, exasperated. “I only set a tiny part of it on fire! I didn’t think the idiots on this ship would let it get this bad!”
You huffed out a small laugh, closing your eyes as you sank your face into Sanji’s chest. He had held you like this on other occasions when you needed saving, but you’ve never felt like you could doze off so easily before. You heard him call out your name repeatedly, and it took a lot of willpower on your part to respond.
“You gotta stay with me! We’re getting you to Chopper in a heartbeat!” Sanji pleaded, squeezing you in his hold.
“I’m dizzy…” You could only muster.
His voice was still talking to you, desperately, but you had stopped registering actual words before you lost consciousness.
*
It took a lot of effort to simply open your eyes, vision blurry for a moment as you blinked away the tiredness of your eyes. There was a dull ache in your head, and you slowly moved your hand to check your own forehead. Only then you noticed that someone was holding it tightly.
“She’s awake!” Chopper exclaimed right beside you, and you felt his hoof touch your forehead.
“Darling, are you okay?” Sanji’s face came into view, and your heart softened when you realized it was him holding your hand. “Do you remember what happened?”
“Who are you?” The look in Sanji’s face made you feel immediately guilty, and you managed to smile, a sign that you were only kidding. “Where am I? What year is it?”
He let out a long, loud sigh as he sank his face into the bed, pressing his forehead to the back of your hand.
Chopper didn’t look amused, and you knew he was on the verge of scolding you but held back.
“Very funny. Are you in pain? Nauseous?”
“I’m tired. And there’s like a pressure in my head, but not too bad…”
“You should stay in bed for a couple of days.” When you groaned, Chopper chastised you as he checked the bandages on your head. “We have to make sure this won’t worsen! Bed rest, lots of water, and you’ll be good to go if there are no other symptoms! So no strenuous activities for now!”
“Fine, you don’t have to boss me around…” You replied, smiling when he beamed at you. “Thank you, Chopper, you’re so sweet.”
“You know I don’t like compliments!” Chopper said, with a smile and blush on his cheeks as he stepped out of the room. “Don’t move! I’ll change your bandages soon!”
You giggled, turning your eyes at Sanji, who was looking at you intensely.
“I’m okay, Sanji.” You reassured him, purposely saying his name as softly as you could.
“That wasn’t funny.” He berated you half-heartedly, a small smile tugging at his lips.
You moved your other hand to check on your head, most of it covered in bandages, before sliding it down your face. The cut in your split lip sting, and you felt multiple cuts on the side of your face, a big one that had been stitched on your cheekbone. You probably had a nasty bruise, feeling how sore the skin was there.
Embarrassed to be looking so weak in front of Sanji, you turned your head to the side, groaning slightly when you pressed your cheek into the pillow.
“Are you alright? Are you hurting anywhere?” He asked, running one hand over the side of your face, so delicate it felt like the brush of a feather. He ran his fingers through your hair when you didn’t reply, gently patting your head. “I’ll call Chopper again-”
“I’m okay, I mean it.” You turned to him, disregarding your shame, tightly holding onto his hand. The hand that had never let go of yours.
You sat up as Sanji helped you, arranging the pillow on the headboard.
“Could I-” Before you could even finish the question, he was already pouring water in a glass from a tray by the bedside table, handing it to you gently. “Thank you.”
You felt some tension in the air, but you were aware that it was only from your part. Your memory was fragmentary, with some puzzle pieces missing, but you remembered the conversation you had with Nami when you were both abducted. It turned out that saying things out loud gave your feelings a certain kind of materiality that you didn’t know how to handle.
“How long was I out?” You asked him, as Sanji watched you carefully.
“Almost a day.”
You grimaced. No wonder he seemed more concerned than usual.
“How’s Nami?”
“She’s fine, she only has a bruise on her side. She was here to check on you a minute ago, Robin is helping her take a bath now.” When you arched your eyebrow, he explained further. “The bruise doesn’t let her move her arm around much.”
“I should have been more careful…” You said without much thought.
“Darling, you were hit in the head. There wasn’t much you could have done.” Sanji chastised you sternly this time. You sensed that he wanted to say more, but he didn’t.
You studied his expression; he had dark circles under his one visible eye, his hair was tousled. He definitely seemed tired, and you came to the conclusion that he had spent all the time you were unconscious holding your hand. He was gazing at you softly, like he usually did. The words Nami said to you rang in your mind; that he liked you, more than you could tell.
Attempting to distract yourself, you slowly drank from the glass, hissing when your swollen lip touched the rim.
“Does it hurt?” He asked with a frown. His hand tried to reach for you but it stopped midway.
“It stings. Does it look too bad?”
“You had never looked more beautiful.”
You huffed out a small laugh, looking away.
“Don’t pull that on me.”
"I mean it.” Sanji reached for your hand this time, holding it gently as he ran his thumb through your knuckles. It flustered you, but you didn’t pull away. “Doesn’t mean I don’t wanna go back to that ship and kill the man who put you in this state.”
“Thank you for saving me.”
“There’s nothing to thank me for. I didn’t get there in time.”
“What are you talking about?” You asked, bemused, as you set the glass on the bedside table. “If you hadn’t gotten there when you did, I might have bled out, or died from the fire.”
“If I had gotten there earlier, you wouldn’t even be in this bed.” You pursed your lips when you realized how upset he was, the hand that was holding yours trembling. “And… I saw when they took you and Nami away, and I also didn’t get there in time…”
“Enough, Sanji. It was my fault that I wasn’t alert when it happened.”
“I-”
“Thank you for saving me.” You repeated, firmly this time, squeezing his hand.
“I’ll always save you.”
With tenderness you had never seen before, Sanji placed a kiss to the back of your hand. You couldn’t hide the gasp that escaped you, and blood rushed to your face so fast you felt dizzy again.
“I know that you don’t… want me that way-” Sanji started, nervously looking down.
“What?”
“That’s why you’ve been avoiding me, right?” His eyes went to you again, trepidation obvious in his expression. “I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable, if my feelings felt like a burden for you. But I still wanted to take care of you, make you feel like nothing has really changed-”
“Wait. Is that what it seemed like? That I was avoiding you?” When he nodded, you stared back at him in incredulity. Without thinking, you asked: “What about Nami?”
“What about Nami?” He mirrored your expression.
“You…” You felt embarrassed to even bring her up, but he was staring at you with such focus, like he really wanted to understand everything you were saying, that you couldn’t even think about hiding anything. “You’re always all over her, and doing everything she asks…”
“I can’t say no to a beautiful lady.” Sanji anxiously ran one hand down his pants (probably looking for his pack of smokes, though he didn’t even attempt to grab them), eyes darting elsewhere for a brief second before coming back to you. “And Nami is Nami. But I’m always looking at you, looking for you. I like… tending to your needs, catering to your whims.”
The weight of Sanji’s words were hitting you like a thunderbolt, and you couldn’t help your dumbfounded expression as he went on.
“But you rarely ask me anything, and since you’ve been a little more reserved, I figured it would be better to let you be, to not overwhelm you…”
Maybe Nami was right. You were both really thick.
“You thought I had feelings for Nami?” Sanji asked carefully.
“Yeah…”
“I love women.” He admitted promptly, making you chuckle. As if you had no idea.
“I know.”
“I can admire their beauty, and I will always let them know that they deserve the world. But what I feel for you, my love…” Sanji brought your hand to his lips again, pressing a small kiss before continuing. “You’re always on my mind. All this time you kept your distance, when I noticed you didn’t want to be around me… Giving you space, holding back my tongue from calling you “my dear”, “my sweet”, “my angel”, all of it killed me because I was dying to tell you how special you were. None of this can compare to whatever sentiment I might have for any other woman.”
You had to avert your eyes from his so as to let his words sink in. Sanji was saying he was attracted to you, that you had been wrong all this time, and for all the insecurity you still had in your heart, somehow you believed everything he said. You had never seen him more vulnerable, sitting by your side and holding your hand; he wasn’t sacrificing his life but you still knew it took a lot for him to materialize his feelings into words.
“I know I flirt a lot, with any woman I see, and-”
“And you’re a perv.” You added, teasingly.
“That too.” He added without an ounce of shame. “It might be difficult for you to believe me, but I hope you find it in your heart to never doubt any of my feelings…”
“Sanji,” You held his gaze this time, feeling your cheeks burning but with enough confidence to ask: “You have feelings for me?”
With a sigh that implied the heavy weight that he was getting off his shoulder, he replied with confidence:
“Yeah. Yes. Desperately so. I can’t even contain them.”
“I like you. A lot.” Sanji’s face lit up like you’ve never seen before, making you smile. “I wasn’t avoiding you, I just. I couldn’t stand seeing you fawn over someone else, especially Nami. She’s gorgeous, and-”
“She is. It doesn’t mean that you aren’t.” He interrupted you, caressing your hand while he reached for your face with the other, carefully stroking your cheek with his thumb. “I was captivated by you the moment I first saw you, and not only did your beauty blinded me, but your kindness, your passion and sense of humor made it so easy for me to fall for you. I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to convince you of all that. If you let me.”
Sanji was overdramatic, you knew that. But in the intimate space that was currently the sick bay, you couldn’t help but believe everything he had just said. Leaning into his touch, nuzzling the palm of his hand, you smiled softly.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” Sanji beamed, inclining closer.
“Okay.” You repeated, feeling the warmth of his skin the closer he got.
The smell of smoke and spices invaded your senses as his lips ghosted over yours for a second, as if giving you the opportunity to pull away. When you didn’t, Sanji kissed you, gently yet passionately, pressing his lips to yours with an intensity that made you gasp.
A hiss did escape your lips when he pressed closer, and he pulled back.
“Damn, sorry!” He cautiously ran his thumb over your bottom lip. “Did I hurt you?”
“It’s just a little tender.” You flinched a little; he wasn’t using any pressure but the cut hurt more than you expected. “You’ll have to give me another kiss when I’m better.”
“Oh, darling, I’ll give you as many as you want!”
You pecked his lips promptly, quick and soft, and to your amusement, Sanji looked like he was about to have a heart attack, cheeks flushed and small hearts forming in his pupils. So much for someone who just confessed his feelings in such a sentimental way.
“And you know what?” You smile playfully, determined to tease him when he gave you a quizzical look. “I also love women, as much as you do. So if your eyes ever wander to someone else, mine will too.”
For a moment, you couldn’t tell if Sanji was still alive.
Until his nose started bleeding.
You chortled, totally pleased with his reaction as he desperately tried to wipe away the blood.
“You’re a mischievous lady.”
“But you like my sense of humor, right?”
“Yo-You were joking?!”
“Was I?”
You grinned cheekily as a response, and Sanji could only groan in response.
“Don’t do that to me again, please, my love.” Sanji begged, holding tightly onto your hand. “That joke you made when you woke up… I wouldn’t know what to do…”
“Sorry.” You pet his head, running your fingers through his hair. He looked like he could melt underneath your touch. “I couldn’t let the opportunity to mess with you slip.”
Your breath hitched when his lips trailed up your wrist and forearm, tenderly whispering your name against your skin. You weren’t sure if your teasing could compare to what he was doing to you.
When the door opened, you were startled, and seeing the knowing smile on Nami’s face as she stood next to Chopper made your cheeks burn with embarrassment. Sanji simply looked mildly annoyed to be interrupted when Chopper yelled.
Summary: Pretending to be engaged to Sanji was easy. Convincing yourself it meant nothing was harder.
Part 2 is OUT!
Word count: about 6700
Contains: fake dating, fake engagement, fluff, PINING, awkward overdramatic romance, mild angst, reader being insecure about how flirty Sanji is.
Authors note: there will be a part two pretty soon, I'm almost done
“There is absolutely no downside to pretending we’re engaged, my sweet love,” Sanji said, eyes shining as he carefully draped his jacket over your shoulders, the fabric brushing teasingly against your bare skin.
“Yes, except for the part where people would think I was engaged to you,” you teased, though you couldn’t stop the faint warmth spreading across your cheeks.
This was going to be a very long mission.
You could have spent hours wondering how exactly you’d ended up in a situation where you were pretending to be madly in love with a cook who seemed born for the role, only to find yourself sharing a honeymoon suite with him for four days.
And yet, there you were, standing in the middle of an absurdly luxurious hotel room, surrounded by flowers, mirrors, silk sheets, and enough romantic decoration to make you wonder what terrible crime you’d committed to deserve such a fate.
Then again, the room itself wasn’t the problem.
The problem was the ecstatic cook currently wandering around it with hearts in his eyes, tossing rose petals into the air and admiring towel arrangements shaped like various adorable, mythical, and, in your opinion, deeply nauseating creatures.
It had all started innocently enough...
The crew had needed information from a wealthy broker attending an exclusive gathering on a secluded resort island. Rumor had it he was acting as the middleman in the private sale of the only known Eternal Pose leading to an otherwise unreachable island, and Robin wasn’t about to let a lead like that slip away.
They didn’t need to steal it. All they had to do was find out who currently possessed the Eternal Pose, where the exchange would take place, and how it would be transported once the deal was done.
The problem was that access to the event was restricted to married couples and engaged pairs.
Simple enough, right?
Except no one had actually known that tiny, insignificant little detail until Sanji and you were already standing at the reception desk.
Up until that moment, he had behaved exactly as he always did around you: hovering attentively nearby, opening doors, showering you with compliments.
Which was why it wasn’t particularly surprising when the woman behind the counter smiled warmly at the two of you while checking your reservation.
“I assume you’re engaged. Ah, young love! You’re practically glowing! Access to the event is restricted to married and engaged couples only.”
The words struck you like lightning from a clear sky, and heat rushed to your face.
Before you could untangle your tongue enough to respond, however, Sanji’s eyes lit up.
This is the greatest day of my life, he thought.
Not with the smile he wore when flirting or charming every beautiful woman who crossed his path.
No, this one was confident. Victorious.
Like a man accepting the highest honor at an award ceremony.
Yes, that’s me. Her fiancé. That’s right. Absolutely.
“Thank you from the bottom of my heart,” he said, taking your hand and pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. “I’ve been looking forward to bringing my fiancée somewhere like this and showing the whole world just how lucky I am.”
You stared at him.
“I wouldn’t dream of denying my honeybun an experience like this.”
…Honeybun?
The receptionist practically melted.
“How adorable! Let me just check… Ah, yes. A couple like you deserves our finest honeymoon suite.”
She handed the keys to the blond cook.
“It’s ready. Gorgeous sea view, enormous jacuzzi, private pool, spa… and plenty of privacy,” she added with a knowing smile. “Enjoy yourselves, lovebirds!”
Sanji somehow managed to beam even brighter, puffing out his chest like an outrageously proud peacock.
“We certainly will! Isn’t that right, my dear Y/N-swan?”
If the ground had opened beneath your feet at that very moment and swallowed you whole, you would have accepted it as a divine deus ex machina.
Sadly, reality remained intact.
“You’re just precious! Look at her! A wedding right around the corner, and he still has that effect on her. She’s red as a poppy!”
One tiny lie, as your so-called fiancé would later put it, caused absolute chaos.
Congratulations began pouring in from every employee they encountered. Complimentary champagne appeared. Cakes. Reservations for couples’ activities. And, worst of all, the luxurious suite would belong to the two of you for four long, seemingly endless days.
“Refusing would have looked suspicious. Besides, I wouldn’t have passed up an opportunity like this if my life depended on it,” your insane fake future husband explained later.
Four days of sweet, sickening romance with Sanji.
The prospect would have been far easier to endure if he weren’t a natural-born expert at expressing affection and performing grand gestures.
Every touch, every door he held open, every chair he pulled out, every compliment he offered came naturally to the cook. He would have done those things regardless, though admittedly with far less frequency and considerably less intensity.
What was happening at the hotel was something else entirely.
Everything had been exaggerated tenfold.
His hand never seemed to leave the small of your back. He introduced you to everyone with a radiant smile. He devoted his undivided attention to you, never leaving you alone for long, remembering every detail of every conversation.
Worst of all, none of it felt forced.
For the blond gentleman, playing the role of the perfect fiancé seemed as effortless as breathing.
For you, meanwhile, it had taken only a single evening to bring you dangerously close to throwing yourself into the ocean and abandoning the mission altogether.
The hardest part was allowing yourself to play along.
To act equally smitten.
You had simply never been that kind of person, even when it was only pretend.
The embarrassment was bad enough.
Feeling painfully aware of your own stiffness and inability to relax somehow made it even worse.
The problem wasn’t Sanji.
Far from it.
For all that his affection was generously distributed among every woman he met, there was still something undeniably pleasant about being cared for. He treated every woman on the crew like something precious, and his kindness extended to others as well, even if he could be considerably rougher around the edges with them.
No, what unsettled you was precisely how universal that affection was.
Instead of bolstering your confidence, it had the opposite effect.
Everything felt unreal.
And on your worse days, almost mocking.
Because there was simply no way someone could genuinely say those sorts of things about you.
By the time you were finally escorted to your suite, your “fiancé,” whose arm had remained securely around your waist the entire walk, seized an unexpected opportunity.
The moment you caught your foot on the elevator threshold, he swept you effortlessly into his arms.
Instinctively, you threw your arms around his neck.
“I can still sweep you off your feet,” he said with a wink.
The hotel staff collectively dissolved into delighted squeals.
Then, lowering his voice slightly, he added:
“And every time you fall, I’ll be there to catch you.”
After he finally carried you over the threshold, murmuring, “A little rehearsal before the real thing, my love,” and the door clicked shut behind you, you immediately wriggled out of his arms.
Not without some difficulty.
The way he’d been holding you, firm and secure, had made it practically impossible to fall.
“What do you think you’re doing?!” you hissed, trying to calm the frantic beating of your heart.
Sanji ran a hand through his hair, ruffling the carefully arranged curls you held so dear in the process.
“We don’t have a choice, my love” he said. “It’s the only way. You heard her. They’re only letting couples in.”
Then he paused, a playful smile tugging at his lips as he looked at you with unmistakable fondness.
“And, truthfully, I’m honored that I get to call a creature as lovely as you my fiancée. Even if it’s only for a little while.”
Just when you’d thought you’d recovered, your cheeks burst into flames all over again.
“…I suppose you’re right. We only have three more days to survive,” you sighed.
The next unavoidable disaster came when you finally took a proper look around the room.
It wasn’t terrible.
Actually, it was beautiful.
Spacious, decorated in warm tones, with enormous windows and a terrace overlooking the sea.
As far as positives went, however, that was where the list ended.
Because the first thing anyone would notice was the petals.
They were everywhere.
On the enormous king-size bed positioned shamelessly in the center of the room. Across the floor. Scattered over the pillows. Even hanging from the chandelier and ceiling fans, so that petals drifted down around you like rain whenever the blades moved.
An massive heart made of red, pink, and magenta rose petals had been arranged atop the comforter.
And, as the final touch, two towels folded into swans sat at its center, their beaks touching to form yet another heart.
Beside them rested a bowl of strawberries and a card that read:
“For unforgettable moments together.”
“Of course.”
“What?” Sanji asked as he wheeled the last suitcase inside. “This is magnificent! A swan for my Y/N-swan!”
You merely blinked.
The sheer predictability of the Straw Hat cook left you momentarily speechless.
That only made his grin widen.
“Come on, admit it. We’ve seen worse rooms. They could’ve put us in that suite with the mirror on the ceiling.”
You quickly looked away.
“I wouldn’t mind admiring your beauty from every possible angle.”
His smile turned positively roguish.
“Sure you wouldn’t,” you snorted.
Something akin to sympathy flickered through his eyes, but before he could say anything, he walked over to the bed, scooped up a handful of petals, and tossed them into the air.
The delicate red and pink confetti scattered around him, floating down in slow motion like something straight out of a perfume commercial.
“Isn’t it wonderful, my love?”
“They plucked and butchered an entire family of perfectly innocent flowers just to create some tacky nonsense about an ‘intimate retreat for lovers.’ Somewhere, a rose bush is missing half its relatives. Every time someone says ‘romantic getaway,’ a cupid dies.”
You brushed an irritated swath of petals off the bed and accidentally knocked one of the swans crooked.
Sanji laughed.
“You have a vivid imagination.”
He lit a cigarette and glanced around the room.
“You can tell they put a lot of effort into this. That’s dedication. Don’t wreck it. The staff must’ve spent ages setting all this up.”
Kind. Thoughtful. Considerate.
Your chest tightened slightly at the realization.
Still, you replied, far more gently than you’d intended:
“Well, we have to sleep somewhere.”
The world seemed to stop.
Had he thrown another handful of petals at that exact moment, they probably would’ve frozen midair.
“Oh.”
“Oh.”
You would’ve expected Sanji to short-circuit on the spot.
To start hyperventilating. To spring a nosebleed from the mere implication of spending the night in close proximity to you.
Instead, he cleared his throat and gave a small bow.
“No need to worry, milady. I’ll sleep on the floor.”
“What?”
“It’s really no trouble,” he said, smiling more sincerely this time. “You didn’t ask to end up in this situation.”
Why was he so damn nice?
“Like hell you’re sleeping on the floor.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’m a pirate. I’ve slept in worse places. Besides, do you have any idea what it’s like sharing space with Luffy, Usopp, and Marimo? This is practically luxury.”
“So?” You rolled your eyes. “I’m a pirate too. I’ll sleep on the floor.”
“Absolutely not.”
The playful tone vanished immediately.
“I’ve slept in worse places,” you repeated, throwing his own words back at him. “And yes, I’m grateful that I share a room with Nami and Robin now. They’re fantastic roommates. But I had a life before that. It wasn’t exactly comfortable. Sleeping on the floor isn’t going to kill me.”
Sanji’s eyes filled with equal parts determination and compassion.
“The day I allow any woman, especially you, to be uncomfortable is the day I’m no longer among the living and whatever horrors lurk beneath the Grand Line finally drag me down.”
You stared.
Your breath caught.
Heat rushed into your cheeks so suddenly it almost hurt.
“The bed is more than big enough.”
“That’s not the point,” he began.
Then he stopped when he realized you were serious.
“You can’t possibly be as stubborn as I am.”
He laughed.
“If a lady such as yourself insists on inviting me into bed with her, who am I to deny her?”
You immediately smacked him with the spare towel swan.
“Stop.”
He looked at you softly.
Steadily.
And for just a moment, some of the awkwardness evaporated.
“We’ll share the bed,” you confirmed.
Sanji’s expression became suspiciously neutral.
The sort of neutrality people only managed when they were trying very, very hard not to react.
“You stay on your side.”
You pointed a warning finger at him.
“Of course, my dear.”
“And don’t try anything weird.”
“Naturally.”
“You’re agreeing awfully fast.”
“I’m being cooperative.”
You narrowed your eyes.
“You’re enjoying this.”
“Me?” He smiled innocently. “Never.”
The lying blond.
It was eventually time to shower.
The hotel had thoughtfully provided enormous fluffy bathrobes which, to your horror and Sanji’s delight, were embroidered in gold thread.
One read:
Future Mrs. Forever
The other:
Future Mr. Forever
“I’m going first.”
“Of course, my dear.”
“…And don’t even think about coming in, peeking, or trying to join me,” you warned.
Sanji looked genuinely offended.
“I wasn’t planning to! …Do you really think that little of me?”
The wounded look in his eyes sent a familiar sinking feeling twisting through your stomach.
Guilt. Unfortunately.
“And what about that time you spied on Nami, Vivi, and me?” you reminded him, as you always did.
His head immediately lowered.
“I’ll be apologizing for that for the rest of my life.”
As if he wouldn’t do it again, the pervert.
“I promise I’ll behave. Take your time. It’ll give me a chance to unpack.”
His voice softened.
The door had barely clicked shut behind you when he let out a long breath.
Somehow, he was going to earn your forgiveness.
Somehow, he was going to make you understand who he really was.
Sanji would freely admit that, in the past, he’d occasionally behaved like an idiot.
Chasing after every beautiful woman he saw, bending over backward to make them happy, sometimes even humiliating himself in the process, if Zoro was to be believed.
But he’d always thought the way he treated you was obviously different.
Now, however, he could see the problem.
When a man required medical attention every time a woman smiled at him, suffered catastrophic nosebleeds whenever he caught sight of a particularly attractive figure, and practically launched into orbit after receiving a hug, it was understandable that you might question the sincerity of his feelings.
Maybe, over the next few days, he’d finally be able to show you.
He lit a cigarette and sank back onto the couch.
Then another.
No matter what happened, he promised himself one thing:
he wouldn’t let you regret agreeing to come with him.
Inside the bathroom, you discovered a walk-in shower with not one but two rainfall showerheads, a bathtub large enough to comfortably fit six people, rose petals scattered across its surface, candles arranged around the edges, and, to top it all off, a small plaque that read:
“Because every romantic journey deserves to begin with a shared bath.”
“Good Lord.”
A knock sounded from the other side of the door.
“Everything alright in there?”
“There are flowers. In. The bathtub.”
“…Seriously?” he laughed.
“It’s like you designed this place yourself.”
“You’re flattering me.”
When you emerged from the bathroom wrapped in the enormous bathrobe, your hair still damp and your face free of makeup, Sanji nearly forgot how to breathe.
A goddess of this sea, he thought.
Though, if he was being honest, the look leaned far more toward comfort than glamour.
For a moment, he simply stared.
Then he quickly gathered himself and looked away.
“The bathroom’s free.”
“Thanks.”
You headed for your suitcase to retrieve your nightgown and toiletries.
I’m doomed, echoed through Sanji’s mind.
He wasn’t entirely sure how he was supposed to maintain his composure for the rest of their stay at the resort.
By the time he emerged from the bathroom, dressed in a navy silk pajama set and drying his hair with a towel, you were already tucked into bed on the left side, flipping through one of the resort brochures.
He greeted you and sat down on the edge of the mattress.
“What are you reading?”
You glanced up.
“I’m studying this absurdly elaborate brochure and wondering where we might find actual information about the Log Pose.”
He leaned closer to look over your shoulder.
The warmth of his body and the brush of his breath against your neck sent a shiver down your spine.
You were beautiful, his mind screamed.
The sight of you in your nightgown. Your lovely hair. The shadow your lashes cast across your cheeks. The scent of shampoo, lotion, perfume, and all the little things that made you unmistakably you.
It would’ve brought kings to their knees.
Never mind an ordinary mortal like the Straw Hat cook.
Sanji physically forced himself to pull back.
“Sorry.”
Instead, he picked up another brochure from the bedside table.
Glancing through it, he found no useful information whatsoever.
The pages were packed with advertisements for couples’ massages, sunset cruises, private dinners beneath the stars, and enough heart-shaped decorations to make his eyes hurt.
“‘Renew your vows beneath our Moonlight Pavilion,’” he read aloud. “…They’re really committed to the theme.”
You snorted.
“I’ve learned more about their honeymoon packages than our actual mission.”
He hummed and closed the brochure.
“They wouldn’t advertise something like this openly.”
“No, but they still have to organize it somehow.” Resting your chin on your hand, you thought aloud. “People don’t just arrive on an island carrying priceless navigation equipment. Someone checks them in. Someone handles their luggage. Someone prepares their rooms.”
Something shifted in Sanji’s expression.
“…The staff.”
You nodded.
A slow grin spread across his face.
“I can work with that, my dear.”
“You can?”
“I’m a chef.” He shrugged as though the answer were obvious. “Professional kitchens love talking to other chefs. Give me an hour near theirs and somebody will complain about deliveries, difficult guests, or whoever ordered dinner at three in the morning.”
“You make espionage sound suspiciously easy.”
“It usually starts with food.”
You couldn’t help laughing.
“Then I’ll handle the guests.”
“The guests?”
“They’re wealthy.” You gestured vaguely with the brochure. “Wealthy people gossip. Especially when they think they’re talking to another harmless tourist.”
“So…” Sanji summarized, counting on his fingers. “I befriend the staff. You mingle with the guests.”
“And every evening we compare notes.”
He nodded.
“Sounds like a plan.”
Your gaze wandered around the outrageously romantic room once more before you sighed.
“…I just didn’t think reconnaissance would involve matching bathrobes.”
Sanji followed your eyes toward the embroidered robes hanging beside the wardrobe.
“…Or complimentary couple’s slippers.”
That night, the two of you lay on opposite ends of the enormous bed, so far apart that Zoro and Luffy could’ve comfortably fit between you.
Possibly Chopper too.
“…Are you planning to fall off?”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re literally hanging between silk sheets and the abyss.”
“It’s fine.”
“Gravity is eventually going to win. I hope you know that.”
“I’m respecting your personal space,” he continued solemnly.
A smile tugged at your lips despite yourself.
You rolled your eyes.
“Look how much room we have.”
“I’m aware.”
An idea suddenly struck you.
Grinning, you began arranging the decorative satin pillows between the two of you.
“There.”
“A barrier?” he asked, tilting his head dramatically.
“A border.”
He looked at you warmly.
“A neutral zone?”
“Exactly. If neither side violates the established boundaries, there will be no unfortunate consequences.”
“I wasn’t planning to,” he said for what felt like the hundredth time.
“And as a firm guarantee of our neutrality and peaceful diplomatic relations…”
You grabbed a handful of leftover rose petals and scattered them across the pillow border.
“…our brave soldiers of the Red and Pink Rose Army.”
Sanji laughed and immediately joined in.
“I’ll be the reds!”
One of your movements accidentally brushed against something hidden near the headboard.
Suddenly, music filled the room.
“Love is in the air…”
Both of you jolted upright.
“What did you do?!”
“How should I know?!”
“Where do you turn this thing off?!”
After several frantic attempts, and after cycling through an alarming variety of songs ranging from cheerful pop music to heartbreaking ballads about eternal love conquering all earthly obstacles, soulmates separated by fate, and passions that transcended every boundary imaginable, you finally managed to silence it.
Then promptly collapsed into helpless laughter.
At last, you settled into bed properly.
No limbs dangling over the edge.
No imaginary cupids soaring triumphantly overhead.
Just silence.
Neither of you seemed capable of falling asleep.
The rhythmic chirping of insects drifted through the open window alongside the distant sound of waves.
And breathing.
“…Sanji?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“…Thank you.”
“For what?”
He turned toward you in the darkness.
“For offering to sleep on the floor.”
A pause.
“…There really wasn’t another option.”
You rolled onto your side and stared at him incredulously.
For a man who spent most of his life behaving exactly like Sanji, he certainly had nerve pretending otherwise.
“For you?” you said. “The same man whose thoughts managed to shock Viola, and that woman survived Doflamingo?”
Even in the darkness, you could practically feel him turning red.
“I wouldn’t be so sure.”
“…I don’t want you to think that way about me,” he muttered.
His voice was quieter now.
“You’ll see. I’m not quite as hopeless or reckless as I probably seem at first.”
A smile spread across your face in the darkness.
Not that he could see it.
When you stirred awake at dawn to the sound of waves rolling against the shore, the pillow barricade had long since fallen victim to the countless movements of the night.
And yet, both of you had remained firmly on your respective sides of the bed, never brushing against one another even once.
Somehow, Sanji appeared to have spent the entire night hanging off the very edge of the mattress. One arm dangled toward the floor, one knee bent precariously over the side, and the blanket the two of you had shared, despite stretching over the ruined wall of pillows, offered him no warmth whatsoever in the coolness of the night and early morning. Nearly all of it had migrated to your side.
Frankly, he looked as though he would have slept more comfortably on the floor, as he’d originally suggested, and the faint shadows beginning to form beneath his eyes seemed to agree.
Propping yourself up on one elbow, you took a moment to study him.
His soft blond hair had transformed into a proper crow’s nest, no pun intended. It was so thoroughly disheveled that both spiral eyebrows were fully visible. Raising your hand, you traced the familiar shape of them in the air above his forehead without actually touching him.
You quickly withdrew your hand when his mouth fell open a little further and a faint snore drifted through the room.
A quiet fondness bloomed beneath your ribs and softened your expression.
He’s so handsome when he’s asleep, you thought.
Without the burden of constantly proving himself.
Without the sweetened compliments, poetic declarations, and endless displays of admiration he seemed to consider necessary whenever a woman crossed his path.
Once more, your gaze wandered across his peaceful sleeping features before you carefully pulled the blanket over him.
A tiny gesture.
One that reflected only a fraction of the countless unconscious acts of kindness and consideration he showered you with every day.
If only he could truly love me too, you thought.
Then you settled back onto your pillow, hoping to steal another hour of sleep.
Sunlight spilled into the enormous honeymoon suite where, side by side, lay two members of the Straw Hat crew, each entirely unaware of the effect they had on the other.
The cook was the first to awaken.
His eyelashes fluttered as he fought off the last traces of sleep, and almost immediately he noticed the warmth wrapped around his torso.
He was covered.
How could I allow such a thing to happen?
The thought struck him with immediate horror.
Despite all his efforts, despite spending most of the night stubbornly refusing to relax, he had apparently surrendered to unconsciousness and allowed dear Y/N to freeze while he selfishly stole the blanket for himself.
How would he ever recover from such disgrace?
Could such shame be washed away?
Had he truly committed such a crime even in his sleep?
Had he dared expose a delicate flower to the cold simply so his own selfish person could enjoy a little comfort?
Unforgivable.
Then he paused.
The blanket didn’t look as though it had been carelessly yanked away from a lady at all.
Quite the opposite.
It had been arranged with remarkable care, positioned almost geometrically around the places most vulnerable to the morning chill.
His eyes widened.
Could it be…?
Y/N-chan…
Brightest creature to ever set foot upon the Grand Line…
Thoughtful, caring, wonderful angel…
Goddess of my All Blue…
Stars practically exploded behind his eyes.
What had he done to deserve such kindness?
His gaze drifted toward your sleeping form.
You looked peaceful.
Content.
The soft rhythm of your breathing filled the quiet room.
Slowly, sunlight began creeping across your face.
When it finally reached your right eyelid, you stirred.
Sanji was already blushing by the time your eyes opened.
“’Morning,” you mumbled.
“Good morning, angel.”
You pushed yourself upright and rubbed the sleep from your eyes.
A small part of you felt self-conscious under the intensity of his attention. Who knew what you looked like first thing in the morning?
“By the way,” you said, squinting at him, “it’s kind of creepy to stare at people while they’re sleeping.”
Sanji blinked in astonishment.
A remarkable statement coming from a woman who had, only a few hours earlier, been tracing the shape of his eyebrows in the air above his face.
A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“Not even the greatest effort imaginable could keep me from looking when such beauty is right in front of me.”
Whether it was the sunlight, lingering sleepiness, the way he was looking at you, or his words themselves, you couldn’t say.
All you knew was that the blush spreading across your cheeks deepened considerably.
After a surprisingly peaceful breakfast, if one ignored the heart-shaped pancakes, the complimentary “Lovers’ Blend” coffee, and the waiter who insisted on taking a commemorative photograph, you finally had a chance to focus on the reason you were there.
Sanji, for his part, had been absolutely delighted by the photo. At one point, he’d proudly drawn you against his chest and looked at you with such ridiculous tenderness that you’d actually laughed at the absurdity of the situation.
“It would be a crime not to take a picture of such a lovely couple! Especially when you’re wearing that beautiful dress. I refuse to let an opportunity like this go to waste.”
The photograph had been taken.
Unfortunately.
Sanji unfolded the resort map between the two of you.
“So,” he said, tapping the paper. “Where do we start?”
Resting your chin on your hand, you studied the various amenities listed across the island.
“I’ll start with the kitchens,” he declared.
Leaning over your shoulder, he allowed his lips to brush your bare shoulder in passing for the benefit of a pair of employees walking nearby.
You felt a shiver race down your spine at the subtlety of it.
“You don’t even work here.”
“I don’t have to.”
His grin widened, visibly charmed by your flustered reaction.
“A chef recognizes another chef. Give me twenty minutes.”
“And if they throw you out?”
“They won’t.”
“…You’re awfully confident.”
“They’ll feed me first.”
A laugh escaped you before you could stop it.
“Alright, Mr. Master Chef.”
“And what about you?”
“I’ll mingle.”
“That sounds dangerous.”
He lit a cigarette.
“Perhaps it would be safer if you enjoyed the spa, got a massage or two, and waited until I’ve figured out what we’re dealing with.”
You cut him off immediately.
“I’m perfectly capable of surviving crowds far more troublesome than this, and you know it. The only real danger is that I’ll lose my mind listening to conversations about imported wine and scented bath salts.”
Sanji nodded.
Apparently deciding it would be wise to hold his tongue in the future.
“I’ll pray for your survival.”
“Please do.”
He stood, smoothing imaginary wrinkles from his shirt.
Two can play this game, you thought.
Rising to your feet, you reached up to straighten his collar yourself, stepping closer and lowering your voice near his ear.
“We’re meeting back here for dinner, darling?”
Sanji froze.
Then unfroze.
Then seemingly forgot how to breathe.
Then remembered and started breathing far too hard.
His heart hammered against his ribs like an overenthusiastic woodpecker.
“Y-Y/N-swan!”
He practically melted.
Then hastily pulled himself together and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.
“I’ll come find you sooner than that,” he promised softly. “The moment I’m finished.”
The kitchens turned out to be exactly as Sanji had predicted.
Organized chaos.
Steam curled from simmering pots. Knives struck cutting boards in rapid rhythm. Orders flew across the room louder than cannon fire.
Sanji lingered outside the entrance for all of thirty seconds before spotting one of the sous-chefs struggling with a crate of vegetables.
Without hesitation, he stepped forward.
“Need a hand?”
The older man blinked.
Then let out a grateful sigh.
“Wouldn’t say no, young man.”
One crate became two.
Two became helping unload supplies.
Which somehow transformed into correcting the seasoning in a seafood chowder.
The head chef took one bite.
“…Who made this?”
Standing nearby, Sanji shrugged with practiced nonchalance.
“I only added a little thyme.”
By lunchtime, nobody questioned why he was there.
Stories, recipes, culinary disasters, and tales of memorable guests flowed as freely as the food. They exchanged anecdotes about everyone from high-ranking Marines to infamous pirates, a subject on which Sanji, naturally, had plenty to contribute.
He blended into the crowd so effortlessly it was as if he’d worked there for years.
At one point, a waiter grumbled that Villa Twelve had once again requested dinner for two to be delivered precisely at nine o’clock.
“The strange part,” another waiter added, “is that only one guest is registered there.”
“Maybe they’re lonely,” Sanji suggested casually while chopping herbs.
The waiter snorted.
“Not lonely enough to eat two full-course meals every night.”
Another cook joined the conversation.
“And they’re ridiculously secretive. Management personally delivers the second place setting.”
Interesting.
Sanji continued sautéing vegetables and preparing meats while quietly absorbing every piece of kitchen gossip that might lead them toward the information they needed.
Meanwhile, your own investigation proved exhausting in a completely different way.
The resort had thoughtfully organized what they called A Morning of Shared Serenity.
In practice, this consisted of wealthy couples drinking tea while discussing each other’s lives with astonishing enthusiasm.
You smiled.
Nodded.
Spoke fondly of your wonderful fiancé, who unfortunately wasn’t present at the moment, while mentally noting that if you ever had to attend one of these events again, Sanji would absolutely be coming with you.
Every pretentious comment was met with polite interest.
Every boast was encouraged.
Every complaint was carefully entertained.
Somewhere between the second and third discussion about luxury yachts, an older woman leaned toward her companion.
“The Beaumonts reserved the Moonlight Pavilion again.”
“They always do.”
Your ears immediately perked up.
“Tomorrow evening, wasn’t it?”
“So I’ve heard.”
“Apparently they’re finally meeting that business associate they’ve been waiting for.”
You stirred your tea and kept your expression pleasantly neutral.
Now that’s something.
Another guest sighed dramatically.
“I do hope they aren’t discussing business all night. It ruins the atmosphere.”
“They rented the entire pavilion.”
“Again?”
“Mhm. Complete privacy.”
You took another sip of tea to hide the smile threatening to appear.
People with entirely too much money truly couldn’t resist gossiping.
By the time dinner finally arrived, you felt as though your social battery had been completely drained and was in desperate need of emergency intervention.
You’d stopped by your room beforehand to freshen up and change clothes, reviving yourself with several chocolates from the complimentary gift basket. Sugar had always possessed the miraculous ability to raise you from the dead.
When you entered the dining hall, however, there was no sign of your “future husband”.
Just as you approached the table, a familiar voice called out:
“My beloved.”
You turned.
The blond man with spiral brows stepped toward you and gently pressed a kiss to your hand.
“My eyes are blessed to see you. You look beautiful, as always.”
For a moment, the two of you simply looked at one another.
Then he pulled out your chair.
All around you, elderly couples decorated in varying degrees of extravagance watched the exchange and sighed dreamily.
As you sat down and he carefully moved your chair closer to the table, Sanji leaned near your ear.
“Tonight, I’ll have the honor of feeding you myself. I helped prepare dinner with the chefs.”
You laughed and glanced at him.
“You always feed me.”
Then, more quietly:
“You’re the cook of our crew.”
“And it’s always an honor, Y/N-swan.”
His gaze settled on yours.
Deep and attentive.
As it always did, it immediately found what it was looking for.
“Long day?”
“I know entirely too much about honeymoon cruises,” you muttered.
He laughed softly.
Once you had both been served, with several enthusiastic recommendations from your personal chef, the conversation turned more serious.
“I’ve got something.”
Sanji smiled over the rim of his wine glass.
“So do I.”
“You first.”
He shook his head.
“Ladies first.”
You sighed dramatically.
“I think someone important arrives tomorrow.”
“They’re already here.”
Your eyes widened.
“…What?”
“The kitchen has been preparing dinner for two in Villa Twelve since yesterday evening.”
You frowned.
“But only one guest checked in.”
“Officially.”
The single word was enough.
Your thoughts immediately arrived at the same conclusion.
“The business associate.”
Sanji inclined his head.
“I’d wager they’ve been on the island for at least a day. Whoever arranged this meeting has gone to considerable lengths to keep their arrival off the books, but kitchens notice the sort of details people assume they’ll overlook.”
Despite yourself, you leaned forward.
“What exactly did you hear?”
“One waiter complained about delivering two full-course dinners every evening to a villa occupied by a single registered guest. Another mentioned that management personally handles the second place setting and that nobody is allowed to ask questions.”
A thoughtful silence settled between you.
Your fingers traced absent circles around the stem of your wine glass.
“That explains something.”
His attention sharpened immediately.
“The Beaumonts?”
You nodded.
“I spent the morning surrounded by people who gossip the way sailors drink, and somewhere between discussions about yachts and charity galas, two women mentioned that the Beaumonts had reserved the entire Moonlight Pavilion tomorrow evening. Apparently they’re finally meeting the business associate they’ve been waiting for.”
The corner of Sanji’s mouth lifted.
“So your gossip confirms mine.”
Leaning back in your chair, you watched the scattered pieces suddenly arrange themselves into a coherent picture.
“The associate arrived quietly and has been hidden in Villa Twelve. Tomorrow night’s reservation isn’t just dinner.”
Your eyes met across the table.
“It’s the meeting we’ve been looking for.”
Sanji nodded slowly.
“Exactly.”
For a brief moment, neither of you touched your food.
The sounds of cutlery, conversation, and soft music faded into the background as you considered what this meant.
Then, almost absentmindedly, you smiled.
“I have to admit, I thought spending the afternoon listening to wealthy socialites complain about one another would be the least useful assignment.”
“And I thought I was simply making soup.”
A laugh escaped you.
At that exact moment, the music changed.
Violins.
Cellos.
Double basses.
A graceful symphony swept through the dining hall.
Several couples were already dancing together, moving across the floor in perfect harmony.
Sanji’s eyes immediately lit up.
“Milady,” he said, taking your hand and pressing a gentle kiss to your skin, “may I have this dance?”
You rose almost automatically, carried along by the moment, and your feet felt strangely light as he drew you closer.
“But Sanji,” you whispered through gritted teeth, thoroughly embarrassed, “I don’t know how to dance.”
A fond smile touched his lips.
He looked genuinely charmed by your expression.
“Don’t worry, my dear.”
His voice softened.
“Just follow me.”
As the distance between you disappeared, Sanji placed his right hand lightly against your shoulder blade, his arm forming a strong, protective frame. He guided your left hand to his shoulder, and your fingers curled into the fabric of his jacket.
Then he offered you a reassuring smile.
It’s alright.
You’ll be fine.
Slowly, the two of you began to sway together.
The steady rise and fall of his breathing seemed to provide a rhythm all its own.
Or at least it probably should have.
You had only the vaguest idea what you were doing.
Feeling the subtle shift of his weight onto his right foot, he guided you to mirror him. You softened your knees and stepped back.
For several glorious seconds, everything went perfectly.
Then you stepped directly on his foot.
Mortified, you immediately began apologizing.
Sanji behaved as though nothing had happened.
He stopped you by lifting your hand and pressing a kiss to your palm.
“Relax, my dear. You’re doing wonderfully.”
A blatant lie.
“I didn’t even feel it.”
Another one.
Noticing your discomfort beneath the curious eyes of the surrounding guests, he gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face and leaned close enough for only you to hear.
“Don’t pay attention to anyone else.”
His voice was warm.
“They aren’t important.”
And somehow, after that, they really weren’t.
The music continued.
You found the rhythm again.
And gradually, you had to admit that you were enjoying yourself.
The closeness. The undivided attention. The feeling that, for a little while, the rest of the world had simply ceased to exist.
As though the two of you were the only people that mattered.
As though you were infinitely precious to one another.
That night, after returning to the suite and preparing for bed, both of you were exhausted.
Somehow, even more exhausted than after many of the adventures that had involved actual fighting.
And yet there was a strange lightness to it as well.
Perhaps because you had genuinely enjoyed spending the day together.
Lying beneath the covers, it all felt surprisingly natural.
Probably because we’ve lived together on the ship for so long, you told yourself, attempting to rationalize it.
After only two days of pretending, the routine no longer felt particularly forced.
There was something deeply comforting about his presence.
The effortless courtesy.
The chairs he pulled out for you.
The jackets draped over your shoulders whenever it grew cold.
The way he always insisted you shower first.
The privacy he gave you without ever being asked.
Even sharing a bed.
If it had been anyone else, you weren’t sure you would’ve managed to close your eyes at all.
Yet lying here beside him, with his sleeping hand unconsciously holding yours against his chest, over his heart, it felt as though you’d been doing this your entire life.
Existing in one another’s immediate orbit.
Close. Vulnerable. Safe.
And that frightened you a little.
Because alongside that comfort came hope.
A painful, stubborn hope.
That perhaps, despite everything, there was still a chance he truly thought you were worth loving.
you were promised to caleb xia long before either of you learned what love meant.
the court calls it a reasonable arrangement. two kingdoms tearing down their borders, a bright future forged in marriage. you call him your husband in public, prince in private, and something distant in your heart.
still, he tries.
on quiet mornings, he walks beside you through the palace gardens, close enough that your shoulders touch. once, you briefly whispered your dislike of the early cold, and he draped his cloak over your frame against your protests.
“let your husband look after you,” he tells you gently. you wonder why he feels the need to keep up the facade when it’s only the two of you.
during councils, he asks for your opinions, patiently awaiting your answer. when advisers speak over you, he corrects them firmly. “my wife was speaking,” caleb states, leaving no room for argument.
it makes something delicate stir in your chest. a dangerous hope that something more was beginning to bloom between you both.
caleb is kind to you in the way men are when they know they owe you something they can’t give. because mc already has it.
she’s his knight, his childhood history he treasures deeply. while you were taught diplomacy, she was taught survival. where your hands learned to hold goblets, hers learned to hold blades. she’s always stood by his side proudly, protective and dependable even back then when you were still little. you remember watching them playfight with swords from inside the palace as you struggled to balance plates atop your head. the envy curling in your chest wasn’t just because you knew that caleb would undoubtedly choose her over you if he had a say, but because of how free she seemed. out there, moving with purpose, while your value was found in the art of staying as still as you could, both in speech and form.
you tell yourself this is enough. that being chosen by law is still being chosen. love is not the same as stability, and stability is what keeps kingdoms alive. that matters, right?
the ball is meant to celebrate unity. chandeliers blaze, music sways, and you move through the crowd as you’ve rehearsed countless times. caleb dances with you first, as is expected of him. his hand on your waist is warm and steady, unlike his eyes. always drifting away to check the room, always searching for her, you reckon.
unbeknownst to you, caleb curses in his mind at his embarrassing attempt to keep his composure. you look unbearably gorgeous, and he has no idea how to stand in front of you without betraying how nervous you make him.
“it must be difficult, no? to be the other woman in your own marriage,” comes the whispers from behind lace gloves as you pass by the other guests. you scoff inwardly at the audacity of their feigned delicacy.
the lady beside her snickers, “if that female knight weren’t from a lowly family, i am certain prince caleb would have asked for her hand instead.”
it stings, even though you’ve long known that yourself. hearing it spoken outside of your own mind only solidifies the doubts you try so hard to bury.
the palace garden offers a brief reprieve from the stuffy space. flora decorated the bushes, their colors muted in the moonlight.
“princess,” caleb approaches carefully, a slight crease in his brow, “are you all right?”
you exhale through your nose, his presence only putting you more on edge. “i needed some fresh air. you should go back inside, i will follow shortly.”
the prince doesn’t know why your curt dismissal seemed to pierce through his chest, but he knows he won’t be going back without you. he followed you here the instant mc reported that you had left the ballroom. caleb had asked her to watch over you tonight, as he knew his eyes alone wouldn’t be enough with aristocrats demanding his attention. attention he’d much rather devote to you.
“very well,” he says decidedly, “then let us leave altogether. i can see you’re spent.” his hand reaches for you, hovering in the air as he waits to envelop yours.
you blink, “caleb, we cannot simply leave. we have responsibilities to-”
“you are my responsibility,” he cuts in, eyes narrowing a bit.
“i am more than capable of taking care of myself,” you interject, heat rushing to your cheeks, “i know you think i’m useless past the influence and wealth that my name provides, but i try. i merely follow orders because it is my duty. not because i don’t know any better.” the words are bitter, misdirected. you wince when caleb doesn’t seem to mind, no offense or judgment in his gaze.
his fingers gently close around your wrist, thumb caressing your pulse. “that is not what i meant, forgive me. and you are nowhere near being useless,” his hold on you softens, “i admire you for enduring the court’s expectations, since i know what it’s like to be bound by obligation as well,” he pauses, his voice deepening, “but above all else, ensuring your happiness is my top priority.”
“titles, duty, everyone else… they can wait,” caleb murmurs sincerely, “you, cannot.”
the music from the ballroom fades as he leads you down the garden path. away from the court and safe in his presence, you don’t have to pretend or be anything at all, except his princess.
where the heart grows fonder @kurohoely - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
