♡—the new royal chef doesn't seem to recognize you without your crown. who's going to tell him? . . . certainly not you.
word count♡— 7.3k (cries)
genre♡— fluff, royal chef x princess au
content notes♡— opla sanji, afab!reader is a princess, reader wears dresses, reader has siblings (oc's), sanji made me google fancy food, mentions of zeff, sanji gets jealous if you squint, no use of y/n, proofread (but only a little)
also on♡— ao3
author's note♡— this is detached from any canon, its basically just a big chunk of sanji fluff. please enjoy!
You've never really dreamed for yourself. You had always just let life fall into place around you.
The kingdom is prospering, entering a new age of commerce. Artists, craftsmen, and inventors sail seas just to be part of it.
Your sister Chrysanth is a wise queen, as you always knew she would be. She’s fair and just, always knowing what’s best for her people.
On the other hand, your brother August is Captain of the Royal Guard. He’s an excellent swordsman, who has yet to be beaten ever since he took command.
As for you, the youngest of the three, you have no idea what you’re doing.
The most likely outcome would be for you to be married off to settle some political arrangement. Unpleasant as it sounds, you would have agreed to it for the sake of the kingdom.
But the moment you said so, Chrysanth gave you a look unbecoming of a queen and immediately shut it down.
“Look,” She gestured to the view outside. “Does that seem like a kingdom who needs help to you? I work my butt off precisely so that we won’t have to depend on anyone else.”
“Besides,” She adds, “if anyone wants your hand, they should fight to the death for it.”
And so, for now, you work for your sister. Helping manage general affairs and the kingdom’s business agreements—even though she could easily hire someone else.
“I love that you insist on working,” Your brother told you once. “You could have been a socialite, but you’re here with us, serving the people.”
Of course you are. Because even though you didn’t necessarily plan it, you are proud and committed to your work. You’re happy with your own, mundane accomplishments.
Or at least that’s what you try to remember when you glance at the tall pile of documents on your desk. You’ll relish the satisfaction that will come when it’s gone.
The candle beside you burns low, flame becoming dimmer and dimmer as the hour grows late. You should probably replace that. Pulling open your drawer, your eyes scan its contents for a candle.
You’re fresh out of the tall ones that fit in the candleholder, but you have one sculpted like a cinnamon bun—a gift from August a few birthdays ago. It’s not exactly the best for illuminating your work, but something makes you strike a match and light it still.
It smells like freshly baked cinnamon rolls, you can’t help but inhale the decadent scent deeply.
The aroma triggers an embarrassing grumble from your stomach. You feel your ears burn despite the fact that no one else is around to have heard it. Perhaps a midnight snack is in order.
Unexpectedly, light seeps through the gap beneath the large wooden double doors to the kitchen. In all your years, you’ve never encountered anyone in the kitchen at two in the morning.
Normally, you wouldn’t want to disturb them. Knowing the chefs, they would likely fuss over you and put whatever they were doing on hold.
But you fear that your stomach will disagree with that, so you decide to knock and enter the kitchen anyway.
There’s only one chef inside—a tall, blond man with his back to you. You don’t think you recognize him. He must be one of the new hires.
When he hears your footsteps on the stone tiles, he turns around.
His expression, at first, is curious. But after a beat, his mouth curves into a charming grin that catches you completely off guard.
“Hello there, miss.” He nods in greeting, eyes alight with a look that no one usually dares when it comes to you.
“I’d be happy to fix up something for you if there’s anything you’re… craving.”
When you expected the chef to fuss over you, this isn’t what you meant.
Your first instinct is to look at his surroundings for alcohol. Perhaps he’s intoxicated and not in his right mind?
But the (sober) chef seems to have mistaken your silence for bashfulness, because he presses you further, “Trust me. I may be new around here, but I know my stuff.”
Unsure how to respond to his blatant (or insolent, your sister would say) behavior, you try to gently decline his offer.
“It’s alright,” You say, still uncertain about him. “I was only going to make a sandwich and be on my way.”
“Nonsense!” He insists. “If you’re hungry at this hour, it means you’ve been busy working too hard.”
He approaches the pantry, retrieving one too many things for a mere sandwich. Your concern grows when he grabs garlic, several leafy vegetables, and a lemon.
“You, my dear,” He points at you with, is that a cucumber? “—deserve a proper treat.”
You sigh, it looks like he doesn’t intend to back down. Maybe you should just let him do what he wants and see if he can back up all the talk. Pulling one of the chairs from beneath the kitchen island, you take a seat as you observe the flirtatious chef.
At least he seems to be enjoying himself. His hands work with the kind of precision that only comes from years of experience; and he smiles proudly when he sees you watching.
“I meant what I said, I’m a damn good cook.” He’s begun chopping the vegetables. “My name’s Sanji, by the way.”
The question now is whether or not you properly introduce yourself. It's difficult to deny that you enjoy his attention. The casual and relaxed manner he addresses you with is… a nice kind of different. When else are you going to experience that if you let this go?
Alright. For tonight, you're not a princess. You're someone who stumbled upon a chef—a handsome one, it dawns on you. This is a chance encounter in the palace kitchens. And, you glance over at the dressing and ingredients he prepared, why should you turn down good food?
You decide to only give him your name. It feels strange introducing yourself without your title, but you don't tell him that.
“It makes sense that your name is as captivating as you are.” Sanji's voice is smooth, easygoing as he moves around the kitchen.
Nothing about his demeanor changes. Either he really doesn't know anything about this country's royalty, or he's skillfully controlled his reaction and is hiding that he knows.
There's also a third possibility: that you look so haggard and tired that you simply do not appear royal anymore.
Subconsciously, you look at your typical office clothes… Maybe you should go on that fitting the royal stylist has been pestering you about.
On the topic of style, however, your companion has unusual attire for a chef. He’s wearing a buttoned shirt with a necktie. His black slacks match the suit jacket draped over one of the chairs.
Your attention is diverted when Sanji begins rolling up his sleeves. He juices the lemon he had sliced in half, arms flexing as he twists the fruit.
Clearing your throat, you ask him a question to distract yourself. “What are you making?”
He smiles as if he’s glad you asked. “A dish that suits a beauty like you, of course.”
Several minutes later, he presents you with a sandwich. The slices of bread are whole wheat; the layers of ingredients between them are all in varying shades of green.
“A green goddess sandwich, made with care for the goddess in front of me.” Sanji pushes the plate towards you.
It's easy to stay composed despite the flattery because your hunger makes you focus on the food. “It really does look excellent.” You compliment earnestly.
He gestures to the plate before placing his hands in his pockets. “Tastes excellent too, try it.” Shaking your head at how confident he’s being, you pick up the sandwich.
It might just be the best sandwich you’ve ever had in your life. The flavors are fresh, and you catch the hints of lemon blending with the dressing. The bread is soft, contrasting with the crunch of the cucumbers and sprouts.
You're completely surprised, and it must be obvious based on how Sanji reacts. He lets out an adorable, pleased laugh that makes you want to hear it again.
“I knew you’d like it, ma chèrie.” Sanji reaches a hand towards your face. Your heart just about stops when he brushes his thumb to wipe at the corner of your mouth. His eyes look so intense, like you'll drown in them if you stare too much.
It feels as if your face could burst into flames at any second, so you turn away to hide your flush.
As Sanji grabs you a glass of water, you ask him if he’s eaten. “I did, but it’s nice that you’re worried about me.” He answers. You almost choke on your drink.
Once you've finished your meal, you stand then grab your empty plate and glass. But Sanji mirrors you, blocking the way to the sink. Why must a chef have such broad shoulders?
He shakes his head, trying to get the dishes from you. “Can’t let you do that, love.”
“Why not?” You frown, pulling your arms back so he doesn’t reach them.
“It’s late. You shouldn’t be working any more—”
“But you’re allowed to?” You look up at him defiantly.
Sanji stares at you. You stare back. There's a few seconds of silence before you sprint the other way, running around the kitchen island to get to a different sink.
“Oh, no you don’t!” Sanji yells after you.
You’re almost there, but Sanji catches up to you easily. Before you know it, he’s blocking the way again and you curse, remembering his long legs.
“Sanji, let me do the dishes.” You plead, but he’s as stubborn as it gets.
“The knives I used need to be washed anyway, and I’m not about to let your pretty hands do that.” Sanji winks, and you give up. He pries the dishes from your hands.
Seeing your shoulders slump disappointedly, he offers you a compromise. “If you really want, you could throw the rubbish in the bin and wipe down the counters.” Okay, you can do that.
“Are you sure this is the only way I can repay you?” You ask, grabbing a washcloth to begin cleaning up.
“That’s plenty of help, my dear.” Sanji answers.
But after a moment, he seems to have gotten an idea. Your brows raise in curiosity as you question him, “What?”
“...I was just wondering,” He begins, looking at you with that flirtatious glint in his eye. “Since we had such a wonderful time tonight, would you be willing to join me again?”
“That depends,” You press your lips together to suppress the smile blooming on your lips. “Will you cook for me again?”
Sanji laughs, throwing his head back. “Darling, that’s a given.”
He gazes at you while he dries his hands. There’s a grin on his face as he asks, like he already knows your answer. He probably does. He’s probably right.
“Same time tomorrow?”
Even though you got back to your chambers at an ungodly hour in the morning, you woke up feeling the most refreshed you’ve ever been. There’s a spring in your step as you get ready for the day, and you pick clothes that are slightly more dressy than your usual attire. Sanji shouldn’t be able to notice that you dressed up for him, right?
But your sister does.
Seated at the head of the table, Chrysanth stops eating to analyze your clothes the instant you show up to the dining hall for breakfast.
You could practically hear the gears in her head turning. Avoiding her gaze, you bow to greet her before taking your seat, “Good morning.”
The queen only smiles at you knowingly, eyes still flickering over you with enraptured excitement. Very much unlike a queen, however, she kicks your shin underneath the table.
“Ow!” You yelp.
“So…” She lets the syllable drag on. “Who’s the guy?”
You focus on piling food onto your plate, choosing to ignore her. “What guy?”
“Your guy.” She says, giddy. “Is he your guy yet?”
“Hm?” Is your only response. Breakfast looks lovely. Should you ask for coffee or tea today?
Chrysanth kicks you again.
“Hey!” You rub the skin to dull the pain. “Stop that!”
“Stop avoiding the question!” She persists, waving a hand to gesture at your clothes. “You only wear that skirt when you want to impress someone.”
Mentally cursing her for knowing you too well, you continue to act nonchalant.
“Really, it’s nothing.” You try to clarify. “I just thought that it would be a nice change.”
She doesn't believe it. Not one bit of it. Thankfully though, she drops the topic. Your shoulders relax as the discussion switches to work-related ones. She’s telling you about her plans to approve a restaurant in the museum when your brother joins you for breakfast.
Once he’s seated, August takes one look at you before tilting his head. “Who’s the guy?”
Chrysanth looks far too smug and triumphant than you’d like. You bury your face in your hands. Would Sanji also tease you if he knew?
The rest of the day is uneventful, the only change to your typical work day being that you avoid your siblings like the plague. You have lunch brought to your office and skip on dinner.
Sanji had already started cooking by the time you got to the kitchen. “I hope you don’t mind,” He says. Of course you don’t, whatever it is smells amazing. “I thought I’d start early so you wouldn’t have to wait too long.”
“Thank you for going through the trouble.” You say, glancing at the ingredients he had laid out: there are crushed tomatoes on the counter. Pasta simmers in a pot on the stove. You recognize the tubed shapes with ridges surrounding them.
“Rigatoni?” You ask, turning to the chef.
Sanji nods, “With a simple, creamy tomato sauce. Nothing too extravagant, but still specially made for you.”
He puts the pasta into two bowls, grating parmesan cheese on top. Your mouth waters.
“Here you are, darling.” It pleases you more than you thought it would when Sanji sits across from you to eat as well.
There’s something homey and yet luscious about the taste. He really outdid himself. “It’s delicious, Sanji.”
“I live to please.” Sanji says before standing to retrieve two wine glasses and a bottle of red. “Zweigelt.” He says as he pours for you both. “Juicy and fresh, with just the right amount of acidity.”
You almost swoon at the rasp in his voice. You never realized someone could be so attractive when talking about wine.
As he clinks his glass with yours, you think to yourself that this might be your favorite dish from him. However, true to his word, he surpasses your expectations every time.
After a few weeks, on your sixth (or is it seventh?) time meeting Sanji past midnight, you've reached the point where you're able to open up to each other beyond the pleasantries that come with the food.
He tells you about his dream of traveling the seas in search for the best ingredients the world has to offer. You admit how you sometimes feel like life is just taking you along with the current—that you’ve never had a burning, passionate dream to aspire to.
“I don’t think that’s a bad thing,” Sanji hums contemplatively. “There aren’t any deadlines when it comes to finding dreams.”
“I do worry that you’re working yourself to the bone, though.” He adds, and for once, his smile looks different somehow. It’s a fond, gentle smile that’s sweeter than the macarons he made for you.
“What do you mean?” You take a sip of water.
“While I'm flattered you enjoy my food so well, do you eat properly? Shouldn't the palace be treating you better?” This time, you actually choke on your drink.
Could it get more embarrassing than this? Your ears burn as you cough, trying to clear your throat and settle your heart.
“Breathe, love." Sanji, ever the gentleman, is next to you in a flash of a second. He pats your back gently and supportively. “I'm sorry if I startled you.”
“It's alright—and, I do eat,” Your voice comes out raspy. “It's just that I don't usually have an appetite for dinner.”
“But that leaves you hungry for a midnight snack?” Sanji asks, a knowing expression on his face as he refills your glass.
“Exactly.” You smile. Thankfully, your throat has calmed down. Picking up a vanilla-flavored macaron, you savor the taste that melts sweetly on your tongue. Returning to his chair across from you, Sanji watches you eat happily.
“I take pride in my desserts, but that chocolatier in Belltower street… The sweets are just—out of this world, I tell you.” He looks so excited as he talks, eyes aglow and gestures animated. “The chocolates are handmade and everything. I'm sure you've heard of it?”
“Um…” Hesitating, you certainly remember issuing a business permit for a chocolatier; but you can’t say you’ve gone there yourself.
Sanji’s eyes widen in disbelief. “Surely you’re pulling my leg. You haven’t been?”
“...”
He observes you quietly, like he's considering what to do next. There have been instances when Sanji stays quiet, doesn't eat, and only watches you chew. The times where he insists that he's content with seeing you eating well. Those were awkward at first, but you learned that was just part of spending time with him. Your reaction was a reward on its own.
But this isn't like that. Something feels oddly different in the way he seems to be gathering his composure. The silence almost worries you, but thankfully he breaks it first.
“You’ve saved me the trouble of thinking of a place to take you to.” Laughing, Sanji practically glows in elation. “You’ll love it, I promise.”
You had a peculiar sense that you would’ve loved going anywhere, as long as you were with him.
Feeling bold, you suggest, “I’m free this Saturday if that’s good for you?”
He gives you that soft, enamoured look again. Something makes you hold your breath, your fingers tingle and the entire rest of the world slows down. You’re almost certain you’re giving him the same look.
“Even if I wasn’t, love, I would have gone to you anyway.”
The next day, a Thursday, your brother unexpectedly knocks on your office door.
“Hey,” You smile. “Is something wrong?”
It’s rare for August to look for you in the middle of the day. If either of you need to speak, it’s usually you who heads into the training grounds to talk to him. The other way around occurring is curious.
“I wanted to invite you to watch the knights train this Saturday.” He says coolly. “It would boost their morale if you spoke a few words.”
The commander goes on to speak, not catching that you’ve short circuited somewhat, trying to rack your brain for a valid excuse to decline him.
“And maybe, you could pick out a personal knight like I’ve been telling you.” August prompts. “You really should—”
When he pauses, squinting his eyes at you suspiciously, you suddenly recall why you stopped trying to hide anything from him.
“You already have plans.” He says, face carefully blank.
“Yes.” Thank goodness he understood. But wait, his eyes are widening. Why is he making that face? Why is he looking at you like he just figured out—
“You have a date.” Darn it all.
August is bewildered, not knowing what to do with the information he put together. He awkwardly brushes his fingers through his hair.
“...Is he a good guy, at least?” He settles with, asking carefully in that concerned way he does when he looks out for you.
Biting your lip, you nod. “He seems to be, so far.”
“Okay.” August responds. “Does Chrysanth know?”
“It’s nothing serious.” Yet. Yet? Do you want it to be? “You’re the first I’ve told.”
A worrying thought suddenly pops in your mind. Your turn to him, distressed. “Please don’t tell her yet, August.”
“Why?” His frown deepens, like he’s about to ask more questions. Unfortunately for him, you decide you’ve had enough talking about Sanji to your brother for today.
“Aren’t you busy?” You grab his arm, guiding him out of your office. “Don’t you have training to get to?”
“I do, but—why can't Chrysanth know?” You open the door for him and try to push him out, but August plants his feet; still trying to figure you out. He doesn’t budge an inch.
But then he makes that face again. That annoying ‘aha!’ face.
“You really need to go, good luck with training! Tell the knights I said hi—” You manage to shove him out with all your strength, but at the last second before you close the door, August turns around again.
“He’s a commoner, isn’t he?” You slam the door at his face.
It doesn't matter. Sanji's status will never matter to you. Not when he's holding your hand so sweetly while he guides you through the winding streets of the city. You recognize some shops by name, knowing who owns what and when they established their business. But Sanji knows these streets, and he's more than happy to show you.
“Ah, one moment, my dear.” Sanji pulls you towards a quaint little cart overflowing with flowers. He flicks a coin to the vendor, eyes scanning all the vibrant colors and bursting petals.
Somehow, without you needing to tell him, he picks one in your favorite color. You're starting to feel like that's just part of being with Sanji—that he knows what you want, and knows what you need before you do.
The flower is soon tucked into your hair, behind your ear. His fingers linger on the side of your face—and normally, you'd break eye contact and shy away. Maybe let out a halfhearted excuse that you should continue on your way. But you don't.
You smile back at him, not bothering to hide the genuine happiness you feel. And when Sanji pulls back, you're already holding out your hand before he reaches for it. There’s something in his eyes. Something that makes you feel like you're walking on air when he tugs you along again.
As planned, Sanji takes you to the chocolatier he told you about. The building is small, tucked between larger shops in the middle of a busy street, but there’s no doubting the quality of their confections.
The elderly chef behind the counter greets Sanji like a grandson she hasn’t seen in forever. She ushers him in, enthusiastically pointing to this and that, saying she moved some furniture around as he suggested.
“It looks perfect, grand-mère.” Sanji smiles, taking in the beautiful glass display. Chocolates of every flavor cover the shelves from end to end.
Grand-mère’s eyes light up when she sees you. She casts an approving look at Sanji, “I like this one. She might even be too good for you.”
“That’s because she is.” Sanji laughs, and you pretend to browse the menu while they talk.
“No need for that, ma chèrie.” The menu is plucked from your hands. Sanji sets it aside, pointing instead to where grand-mère is behind the counter. She's wrapping up a box of chocolates that she hands to you.
“No need to pay, dear.” She smiles, patting your hand. “If he ever gives you trouble, let me know.”
Sanji whisks you away through the streets again. You've never been this far into the city before. Looking back at the path you've taken and not recognizing any of it, you know you’d be absolutely lost without Sanji by your side.
“Almost there.” He tells you, pointing to a cobbled path that inclines upwards.
What meets you at the top of the path is a small clearing. A stunning tree with blossoms on its branches stands at the center. Flowers and petals flutter away and fall onto the iron bench beneath it.
“Sanji, this is lovely...” You trail off, letting go of his hand to catch a flower into your palms. The flower twirls delicately between your fingers before you turn back to Sanji, tucking the blossom into the pocket of his suit.
Sanji takes your hand before you can pull away, bending down to press a kiss to your knuckles.
“Not nearly as lovely as you.”
The two of you spent hours under that tree, sharing chocolates and stories—feeling like this is how things are supposed to be. Not necessarily the flowers, or the chocolates, or even the sun setting beautifully in so many warm colors.
Just Sanji. With you, next to you.
All at once, it sinks in that he could be the dream you've been waiting for. But you don't tell him that.
Being enlightened on your feelings for Sanji becomes a second thought, however, when you’re swamped with work the following week.
“Don’t these people ever get tired?” Chrysanth groans, leaning back on her chair. “Why is planning a festival so hard?”
You approach her desk and place another stack of documents onto it. The numerous piles are getting concerning.
She scowls at the papers, then scowls at you. “Don’t you ever get tired?”
“Of course I do.” You tap a stack of documents to her left. “The guest list for the ball needs to be approved by tonight so we can send invitations out.” She groans again, but picks up the list anyway.
You’re unable to see Sanji as often as you’d like, but you both promised to meet once a week. Even if it’s only for a few short heartbeats together.
You dearly miss him. You think about him as you hand Chrysanth menu plans for the ball. If he saw it, he’d say that he could come up with something better.
She glances at the menu, studying it. Or at least, that’s what you thought she was doing—until her next words proved you wrong.
“So, how are you and that chef doing?”
Your heart isn’t in your chest anymore. It sank down, deep into the depths of the earth. It also must have taken all the air in the room along with it. How did she—
“August?” You blurt out.
Chrysanth shakes her head, “Zeff.” Oh no. Sanji’s boss knows? Does Sanji know that you’re—
“According to Zeff,” She proceeds, cutting off your thoughts. “One of his subordinates has been cooking a lot of personal meals over the last few weeks.”
“I can explain—” But your sister holds up a hand. Your mouth snaps shut.
She calls your name, and then you realize how serious her tone is. “Are you familiar with the kitchen’s rules when it comes to using ingredients and supplies for personal use?”
“...I’m afraid I'm not.” You didn’t know the kitchen had any such rules… but surely Sanji does. Your voice stutters, “I, did—is he in trouble?”
“He isn’t.” She answers, though her expression is still grave. “But I think that you should be aware of how much he’s doing for you.”
Chrysanth opens a drawer to retrieve a list of kitchen rules. Reading it over, everything is standard and straight to the point. You find the answer to your confusion towards the end, a small, nondescript bullet that reads:
All staff must reimburse the cost of all ingredients used for any reason outside of official duties.
“He must know who I am, then.” You say, feeling relieved that he didn’t break some sort of impossible rule. “He wouldn’t have done so much for me if he didn’t.”
Your sister purses her lips, letting the silence linger for a second before responding, “He doesn’t know, love.” She hands you another document. “He’s been paying back every cent out of pocket.”
Tracing over the timestamps and the different ingredients listed, you stare at an outline of your time with Sanji. It’s nice to reminisce, but you can’t help but wince whenever you spot something particularly pricey. What on earth are you to do with this man?
“Zeff recognized your name when he asked Sanji who he was cooking for.” Chrysanth explains. “He didn’t tell him, but he came to me and requested for Sanji to be repaid.”
“Since anything served to me counts as official duties of a royal chef.” You piece together.
“Exactly.” Chrysanth nods. “However, doing that would expose your title to him. Which is why I wanted to speak to you about this first… You should tell him.”
“I know.” Letting out a deep sigh, you agree. Sanji deserves to know more than anything. Nevertheless, the thought of him changing how he treats you—or worse, leaving—because of your status, frightens you to your core.
“I’ll talk to him tonight.” You say, but your sister’s expression slowly changes. What did she plan this time?
“Or maybe, you could put the kitchen dates on pause and tell him in a few weeks.” Surprisingly, she hands you an invitation to the ball.
“I can’t bring Sanji as my date.” No matter how much you wish you could.
“Are you sure about that?” Chrysanth is unable to contain her grin. “Open it!”
‘…you are cordially invited to the spring masquerade ball.’
You gasp, “You turned it into a masquerade?”
“Yes, I did. You won’t believe how much convincing it took for the ministers to agree.” She rolls her eyes, but then her smile returns. “Don’t waste my hard work and have fun with your man, littlest sister.”
You laugh, not expecting this outcome after all that. “I love you, even if you made me go through so much emotional turmoil for fun.” She cackles.
“Of course I had to make you sweat after what you put me through.” Chrysanth scoffs, “I can’t believe I had to hear about your love life from Zeff, of all people.”
“Ah,” She says, remembering something. “Speaking of, why’d you guess August first earlier?”
“...”
“...Did you tell him before me?” She gasps. “How could you! Give that invite back!”
“I didn’t think you’d approve.” You admit shyly. “He’s a commoner.”
“If he treats you well—which, he obviously does—I could care less about all that.” Chrysanth reaches for your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Only those stuck up ministers will react negatively, I’m sure. We can deal with them easily enough.”
When she lets you go, she abruptly adds, “He better be cute though.”
That sends you laughing again. “Oh, Chrysanth, he’s the cutest!”
He certainly is. Especially when he sees you and grins, opening his arms wide in expectation. You fall into his embrace when you’re near enough.
Sanji takes your hand and places it on his arm, leading you away from the kitchens.
“Some of the others are still in there planning for the ball.” He explains. “It seems preparations are keeping us both busy.”
Sanji takes you to the greenhouse, which you’ve never seen at night before. Various patches of vegetables and shrubs line the space. There are trees and flowers towards the back too. It feels like a secret hideout, being here with Sanji.
“I miss spending more time with you, love.” He whispers.
“Me too.” Your heart melts thinking about how much he gave for you. You wish you had the courage to tell him the truth now, while he’s looking at you like you put up the stars in the sky, but you can’t. You’re not ready yet.
Reaching your hands up, you caress his face gently, brushing your thumb across his cheek. He places his hands over yours, keeping them there.
Sanji closes his eyes to savor the moment, and you let him. You two stay like that, your hands becoming enveloped in so much of Sanji you feel like you could recognize him with your eyes closed, with a single touch.
There’s a certain familiarity to him at this point. You would probably have some difficulty adjusting back to life without him in it. He’s so familiar that you could probably draw him. He makes you want to try.
“...I was just wondering,” You say with a knowing glint in your eye. Does he remember those words when he said them to you that first night? “We’ve been working hard for this ball, wouldn’t it be a shame not to enjoy it together?”
You give him the invitation, and he throws his head back laughing. You send him a confused look, but it all becomes clear when he pulls out an identical invitation from his jacket.
“Ah, how brilliant you are, mamour.” Sanji embraces you again, and you bask in how perfect it feels to tuck your head into the curve of his neck.
“It will be easy to find you even with a mask.” You murmur into his skin. He shivers. “You’re so goddamn tall it’s not fair.”
“I’m not too worried about you finding you, either.” Sanji begins to sway slowly with you still in his arms. It makes your heart skip a beat. You can’t wait to dance with him.
“Are you confident you’ll find me first, then?” You ask, adjusting your hold around his middle to snuggle in better.
“I’m not sure about being first,” He ponders. “But I’ll be sure it’s you when I find you.”
The greenhouse became your new meeting place while the palace was buzzing to prepare for the ball. You could only meet for a few minutes, but you treasured the time you shared just the same.
Once, Sanji tried to feed you one of the expensive fruits growing there, but you declined, making up an excuse that you were allergic. He had looked at you strangely, but didn’t press you further.
You couldn’t find the time to see Sanji the week of the ball at all. Your time was spent welcoming foreign dignitaries, discussing business and trade. You and your sister had a marvelous time shutting down a marriage proposal from some duke from the north.
It amazes you how much you’ve changed since meeting Sanji. Had the duke asked before you met him, you probably would have considered it seriously. Whereas now, your standard is far too high. The man you choose must be able to get to your heart by cooking you the best food in the kingdom and all the seas.
You’re glowing by the time you finish getting ready for the masquerade. The dress you chose is in your favorite color, with the skirt twirling dreamily when you turn.
Chrysanth permitted you to enter the ballroom a few minutes late to avoid a royal entrance. You use the time to compose what you want to say to Sanji when you tell him the truth.
‘I’m a princess, and I think I might love you’, is that a lot to say? You sigh, smoothing your hands over your dress.
The clock on the wall chimes. It’s been fifteen minutes since the ball officially started. You put on your mask, tying the ribbon behind your head to secure it.
After one last glance at yourself in the mirror, you head to the ballroom—looking much more collected than you actually feel.
Maybe you shouldn’t have bragged to Sanji that you would find him easily, because you don’t.
You were mistaken when you thought all you’d had to do was look for a tall, blond man with a blue mask. (Sanji’s mask is surely going to be blue. He wouldn’t consider any other color. You bet your foot on it.) It’s unnerving how many people fit that description tonight.
You even find your brother before you find Sanji. August is dressed in surprisingly simple, all black attire. He looks more like a gentleman than a commander, lacking all those sparkly medals he’s usually required to wear at events.
“Where’s your date?” August asks, ducking his head slightly so that you can hear him over the crowd. “Chrysanth bragged about setting you two up.”
“I haven’t found him yet.” You answer dispiritedly. “I thought it would be easy.”
August looks around, and you know that if he knew what Sanji looked like, he would be able to track him down in a flash. You’re about to ask what you should do when August suddenly bows, extending a hand to you.
“May I have this dance, fair lady?” He asks in a fake pretentious accent that instantly makes you laugh.
It would be nice to say yes, but you desperately want Sanji to be your first dance. August would understand.
But you aren’t able to decline, someone else beats you to it.
“I’m afraid her first dance is spoken for.” Sanji’s voice reaches your ears and suddenly the room is brighter than it was.
You almost gasp, elated that he found you. Were it not for that frown on his face, you would have voiced out your joy.
August and Sanji stare each other down. Neither of them say anything, but it’s clear that their first impressions of each other aren’t the most pleasant. Not liking the hostility you’re sensing is building, you tug at Sanji’s hand.
Your brother’s eyes soften at that, and he bows again, this time to say goodbye. “I’ll see you later then.”
You watch August go, and Sanji grumbles something you don’t catch under his breath. You'll have to properly introduce them at some point, but worrying about their relationship can wait. You really must cheer up this grump who thought he was going to miss your first dance.
“Dance with me, stranger?” Intertwining your fingers together, you smile and take in how handsome he looks. His suit is still black, but there are several accents in dark blue—the same color as his mask.
The deep navy color makes his eyes look almost crystalline, and you recognize why you love him so immensely when he smiles.
“I would be honored.”
Sanji is more graceful than you expected. His movements are controlled and precise, never moving too fast and always making sure you’re falling into step beside him.
He’s proven, once again, that he can surpass your every expectation. Sanji spins you around, catching you by your waist and grinning before sweeping you off your feet again.
By the end of it, you’re left breathless due to far too many reasons, and they all involve him.
You had tried bringing Sanji to a romantic spot; maybe a balcony, or somewhere by a fountain in the gardens—but it seems that a lot of other people had the same idea.
Everywhere was crowded, but you suppose where you ended up is romantic in its own way. With the sky being cloudless tonight, you could see every star twinkling away through the greenhouse’s glass roof.
Let the stars bear witness to you pouring out your heart to this man.
“Sanji…” You start, mentally preparing yourself.
“Yes, ma chèrie?” Sanji tucks a lock of your hair behind your ear, you have his complete attention.
“There are things I must tell you.” You swallow the lump in your throat, not brave enough to look him in the eye yet; though you grip his hands tightly in yours.
Sanji waits. He doesn’t complain that you might be holding onto him too tightly, or nag at you for taking too long to put your words together.
When you finally look up to meet his eyes, you find the strength to breathe it out, “...I’m a princess.”
There’s this moment again, when you hold your breath and wait for his reaction; like when you first told him your name. Suddenly, it feels like you’re in the kitchen eating sandwiches with him again.
And, just as it did back then, his reaction surprises you.
His expression barely changes, the only difference being the barely-there furrow of his brows in concern.
“I know, love.” He says.
“What?!” You drop his hands in shock. “Since when?”
Sanji blinks. “Since the moment we met.”
“But, I—why did you pay everything back? Why didn’t you ever mention it?”
His eyes widen, “Ah, is that why you wouldn’t eat anything from me these past few weeks? I knew you couldn’t be allergic to pineberries.”
“Sanji, answer the question.” You pout, and he rubs your arms in an attempt to soothe you.
It’s Sanji’s turn to compose himself, you notice. He looks like he wants for your time together to stay lighthearted, when the thoughts in his mind are far from it.
“You didn’t want to talk about your duties, so I never asked.” Sanji shrugs, but you can see him getting nervous.
“As for reimbursing the ingredients, I suppose I was worried that… you wouldn’t think of our time together dearly if I was just another chef on your staff.”
Your heart shudders when he lets out a shaky breath. Oh Sanji.
“But that’s the truth isn’t it? I am, and yet I—” He pauses, eyes searching yours desperately. “If I didn’t pay for it, I would be admitting that a chef was all I’d ever be to you.”
You open your mouth to speak, but he cuts you off. “I don’t regret it. I would make the same choice if I had to.” Through the mask, you can see his resolve, but his hands shake as he holds you.
“I didn’t expect to feel this strongly about you.” Sanji continues, “You’re just so lovely, making me feel like I could take on the world for you.”
With your hands quivering the slightest bit, you pull at the ribbon behind your head. Your mask clatters to the floor. Raising your hands towards him, you push his mask up until it’s off, revealing the face of the man who has completely enamoured you; body and soul and all.
You think back to how the colors lit him up beautifully, that one sunset you shared under that blossoming tree. And now, he’s still just as beautiful, in this greenhouse under the moon and the stars.
You love him all the same as you did then and every moment before. With the weight from keeping secrets gone from your chest, you finally let yourself admit it out loud.
“I love you, Sanji.” You confess. “I’ll go with you, if you’ll take on the world.” You try to say it calmly, but tears build up in your eyes. “You mean so much to me. You’re my dream.”
Sanji inches you closer, wrapping one arm around your waist while his other hand cradles the back of your head. “I love you too. More than you could possibly imagine.”
You quip back at him while wrapping your arms around his neck, “I think I have a pretty good idea.”
Sanji leans in the same moment you do, lips meeting in a passionate kiss that sends sparks running through every inch of your being. He pulls you impossibly tighter against him, strong hands caressing your back and holding firm at your waist. Your fingers rake through his hair, touching him to make sure he’s real. He’s here. He loves you. He knew. He always knew.
That night, you realized that your favorite taste from Sanji is his lips on yours. But, once again, he won’t hear you tell him that.
…
Sanji first saw you when a ceremony was held to welcome the new palace staff.
Everyone’s attention had been on your sister, the queen. Understandably so, but his eyes always strayed back to you. You looked gorgeous, wearing a stunning dress perfect for a princess as yourself. A cape draped tastefully down your back. And your crown sparkled brightly under the sun; but try as it might, it couldn’t be as dazzling as you.
Sanji was drawn to you instantly, and he thought he would go on with his life never understanding why.
That is, until you walked into the kitchen at two in the morning to make a sandwich.
It would have been impossible for him to not recognize you. Regular office clothes or not, something was different in the way you carried yourself. It was difficult to miss.
Other people would have thought you appeared mundane. And yet, Sanji found you the most beautiful then.
Because you let yourself smile more when you don't wear your crown.
i love you i love you i love you i love you. (yan kalim x fem reader)
content: yandere behavior.
[more under the cut! <3]
hehehe look at him plotting !!
yandere!kalim (post-scarabia arc), for me, is someone who you first deem as an extroverted acquaintance who also happens to be your upperclassman. He yearns to be closer to you, so he does it in the way he knows best; socialization. It's not even noticeable at first - how he slowly worms his way into your inner social circle. You just suddenly acknowledge one day that after class, it's not just the hearshackle trio waiting for you at the entrance of the classroom, but the scarabia housewarden is also there, too.
And it's nothing unusual. nothing to think too much about, really. who doesn't like being kalim's friend? he's energetic, he's optimistic, and he's just so, so nice. he often comes across as naive, sure, but that's just the surface level of him as a person. plus it's hard not to be pulled into his gravitational pull, and who are you to deny a budding friendship?
As the friendship grows and your bond with him strengthens, so too do his feelings. And with less than platonic feelings, a new emotion he hasn't felt before is introduced; envy. It's not an obvious emotion that he shows at first. but when he treks back to scarabia (with jamil trailing a few steps behind) after an afternoon spent with you (and your heartslabyul friends)... kalim feels a green-eyed monster taking form underneath his skin. he is envious of how close you are to the other dorms, he envies your first-year best friends, and he's so envious of how he wasn't the first housewarden you formed a bond with.
it's fine to feel this way, right? there's nothing wrong with jealousy, it's a part of life!
still, he can't bear to stand the constant prickling sensation in his beating heart when he sees people get closer to you. his shiny glazes over and his sunny smile drops into a straight line. it's uncanny to see him this way.
even more so, when he snaps back to how he usually acts after he's successfully detached you from the student you were interacting with.
sigh... this is my first time paneling comics, doing a small drabble writing for this, AND drawing kalim pls don't bully me </3
fic/scenario: closed | headcanons: closed | fake texts: open
Hello everyone! Please feel free to scroll to the section you want to request for and read that fully!
‼️ Small disclaimer, I am autistic and would love if it if you used tone tags when communicating with me or joking with me if I don't know you! Because I can't tell if you're joking or not behind the screen! <3
BASIC INFO
WHAT I WRITE FOR
TWST | MY OC'S (more will be added soon)
CHARACTERS I WRITE FOR
TWST • all | MY OCS • all
CHARACTERS I SUCK AT WRITING FOR
vil shoenheit | rook hunt | silver | sebek zigvolt
FICS | ONESHOTS | SCENARIOS
I will only take one character for these (unless it's a love triangle or something similar to that) I can write fluff, angst , hurt/comfort! BUT I WILL NOT WRITE SMUT!
Please be clear with what you want when requesting the plot and character(s), I can't really do the request right if I'm confused.
FAKE TEXTS | HEADCANONS
Same premise, I can write fluff, hurt/comfort, angst, but no smut!
Again please be clear when requesting, I will struggle with making them if I'm confused 😥
FAKE TEXTS | I can take request in groups or a single character, for groups (depending on how many are in the group, and the request) I can do 2-4 images with texts. For a single person I can do alot more (again depending on the request)
HEADCANONS | will take requests for groups or a single character (will be longer the less characters) (⚠️ be warned I still suck at headcanons, I'm doing my best 😭) the groups I do are listed below, (smau and headcanons)
housewardens | overblot boys | vice housewardens (includes ruggie, excludes ortho) | first years | second years | third years | any dorm | or make your own group up to 5
REQUEST TEMPLATES
ONESHOT | FIC | SCENARIO •
Hello! May I request a [Oneshot/Scenario] with/for [Character(s)] where this happens [Plot].
HEADCANONS •
Hello! I'd like some headcanons for [Characters/Group] where [Plot].
FAKE TEXTS •
Hello! How about some fake texts with [Characters/Group] where [Plot].
PAIRINGS: Kalim Al-Asim x gn!reader / Jamil Viper x gn!reader
SUMMARY: The party infiltration doesn’t quite go as expected.
WORDCOUNT: 2.8k
WARNINGS: none (please tell me if I missed any)
NOTES: happy new year everyone!!
series masterlist | previous part | next part
The Asim's palace was massive, the gold details on the roof and walls were reflecting beautifully under the moonlight, it was breathtaking. Standing before it, you felt smaller and more insignificant than ever. Taking a deep breath, you tried to steady yourself before beginning the walk toward the entrance, wiping your sweaty and clammy palms on the loose red pants you're wearing, while trying to make them stop shaking.
Around you, a couple of well-dressed guests were stepping out of carriages and making their way to the entrance too, their clothing wes beatififull and expensive. Most likely made out of real nice fabrics, all their gold accessories were probably real. Unlike yours. You've noticed rich people had this certain aura around them.
Like nothing could ever burden them, which is probably right. They could never survive a single day in the slums you come from.
You look away from them, keeping your head down and avoiding eye with anyone. You tighten the bag on your waist, it was simple red one Mira had quickly made from some stolen fabric Elias got for her— the lovesick fool. you had tied it around your waist, trying to make it seem like it was apart of your outfit.
You adjust the intricate top you were wearing, hoping to make yourself look slightly more presentable. and finally stopping in front of one of the gate guards.
He looked up at you, a calculating look on his face, before looking back down to the scroll in his hands. "Name?" He asked, his voice quite deep, and firm.
You shift in place slightly, fingers playing nervously with the fabric of your pants. Confidence, Mira had told you, stand taller, make yourself look rich and powerful. You straighten your back, trying not to show the immense hesitation you felt.
"(Y/n).." you hesitating for a second before your gaze dropped to the fake gold bracelet on your wrist. The red gem glinted faintly, while catching the palace's light. You forced a smile, lifting your chin slightly. “Jewela. Nice to meet you!”
You wince slightly at how rushed it sounded. You didn’t have a last name—no one in the slums did, except maybe a couple of the elders. You shouldve asked Mira on what to do, you clench your fists for a moment, as you take a sneaky breath in, trying not to panic as the guard scanned the scroll in his hands again.
You wait, hiding your shaking hands behind your back to appear more graceful—or at least to keep the guard from noticing them. What felt like hours was, was in reality, only a few seconds.
He looked back up at you, a slight furrow in his eyebrows. "Not on the list. Please remove yourself from the grounds."
Your heart dropped at the sentence. Of course this wasn’t going to work. What was Mira thinking? You tilt your head in a slight bow, making the guard raise an eyebrow in surprise. Slowly, you turned to leave, panic already growing in your chest. But a voice behind you made you freeze.
"What’s going on here?"
You perked up slightly, looking back at the guard. His face turned pale as he quickly straightened up and bowed, his eyes focused on someone behind you.
"Master Kalim, what are you doing out here?"
The world seemed to stop at the name. Your breath hitched in the back of your throat as your eyes widened. This was not good. This was very bad.
You were screwed.
He would know you weren’t on the list. He’d figure out you were just some dirty street rat trying to sneak in, and then—what? Have you executed?
You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, taking in a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. When you open your eyes again, you force a small, polite smile onto your face, turning to face the person behind you.
A small gasp escapes your lips, and you quickly cover it up with a cough. It was the guy from before, at the market. The one you bumped into. Of course, the person you bumped into was one of the richest people in the Scalding Sands, the eldest Asim child.
You glance at him, hoping he wouldn’t recognize you. He looks at you, tilting his head slightly to the side as he squints his eyes at you. You widen your smile, before bowing your head slightly in an attempt to seem respectful.
You notice his gaze soften, and a smile quickly spreads across his face before he opens his mouth to speak. This is it, the moment he’ll tell you he recognizes you, the moment he’ll make sure you get arrested and thrown into jail, making sure you rot there for the rest of your life.
But instead, in a lighthearted voice he says something else, “You have really pretty eyes!”
The genuineness in his tone catches you off guard. You can tell he’s being sincere you've always been good at noticing out when people lie.
You blink in confusion. “Huh?” The word leaves your mouth as you raise your eyebrows at him, trying to make sense of what just happened. It takes him a couple of seconds to react, before his eyes widening in realization. Then, he’s apologizing left and right.
“No, don’t apologize—” you start, trying to stop him from making a bigger deal out of it. But before you can finish, he grabs your hand, a sudden, carefree grin on his face. “Here, as an apology, I’ll escort you inside!”
You blink, completely stunned. He smiles at you, while letting out a laugh, and before you can even protest, he starts dragging you through the gate. Behind you, the guard is left calling out to him, confused, still pointing out that you’re not on the list.
The inside of the palace was even more breathtaking than the outside. Beautiful golden arches all around you, with detailed carvings on them. The air in the ballroom was filled with the sound of conversation and beautiful traditioal music from the scalding sands.
Kalim’s wide smile never faltered, as dragged to past the groups of people, with some of them staring at you with raised eyebrows. Your mind raced as you tried to think of a way out of this, without raising to much of a scene.
“(Y/n) Jewela, right?” Kalim said, looking over his shoulder, to which you let out a small hum. “Ive never heard of that last name before! Are you visiting?”
You force a polite laugh at the question, before shaking your head slightly as the white-haired male comes to a stop and looks at you with a grin. “N-no, I’m from here.. where just.. not as well know. My family likes to stay undeground!” You reply, hoping the awnser would satisfy his curiosity enough.
He didn’t seem to notice the hesitation in your awnser, which made you quite glad. As his attention quickly shifts to the band infont of you. “Well, you’re going to love this party!” He jumps on the balls of his feet in excitement. "There’s food, music, and the best dancers in all of the Scalding Sands!”
You nodded again, trying to keep your smile intact as you start to feel slightly sick to your stomach. The stares from the people around you doubled in size, and intensity. Like they knew you weren’t supposed to be here, and it scared you.
The both of you stare at the band for a minute, before kalim turns towards you with an even bigger smile that before, "We should dance!" He says pulling you slighty closer by your hand that he was still holding.
You blink in surprise at the notion, trying to process the suggestion. Dance, with him. You feel fear overtake the panic you were feeling, but you quickly plaster on another polite smile.
“Oh, I don’t think that’s such a good idea…” you tried, your voice quiet. As you glanced at the crowd, where more faces turned to watch the two of you. Their gazes felt sharp, judgmental. Like they were about to pounce on you and eat you for lunch.
“Come on!” Kalim laughed, looking at the crowd around you. “It’ll be fun! Don’t worry about them,” he added, his voice growing slightly quieter as he gestured toward them with his free hand. “They’re just jealous they didn’t ask you to dance first!”
You felt your cheeks warm up at the statement, though you couldn’t quite tell if it was from flattery or embarrassment. “I’m... not very good at dancing,” you muttered, attempting one last time to decline.
“That’s okay!” Kalim beamed at you. “Just follow my lead!”
Before you could try to protest anymore, he dragged you into the crowd of dancers. The lively music was quite nice, and his enthusiasm was infectious. Though your first couple of steps were awkward, Kalim’s energy made it hard not to smile.
He twirled you around, his laughter ringing out like a melody. “See? You’re a natural!” he grins, voice full of encouragement.
You let out a laugh of your own, your nerves from before disappearing, if only slightly. As the two of you danced, you couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly he moved, like he’d done this a thousand times before. And despite everything you'd seen and heard about people like him, this wasn’t so bad. He wasn’t so bad. Maybe Mira was wrong about them.
The both of you were having fun, not at all caring about all the stares and whispers around you, at least until someone cleared their throat loudly behind you.
You froze mid-step, turning your head to see a figure standing slightly away from the both of you. Their sharp gray eyes stared into your own, their expression unreadable but clearly unimpressed.
“Kalim,” the figure said, their tone calm but firm. “Your parents are asking for you.”
Kalim’s grin faltered for just a moment as he quickly took a glance at you before he nodded. “Okay! Please lead me to them, Jamil!” he grinned again, now finally letting go of your hand.
The figure’s gaze—apparently named Jamil—shifted to you. His gaze made your skin crawl slightly before he bowed toward you, his eyes never once leaving you.
You sent a small, polite smile before bowing slightly yourself. He raised an eyebrow briefly before turning to lead Kalim away, who waved at you with a grin, making you return it halfheartedly. Slightly hoping this would be the last time you meet the white-haired male.
The buffet table infront of you was big, elegant dishes with meats, fruits, and delicate pastries lay all over the table. The scent of spices filled the air, making your stomach rumble as you looked at it all. You hesitatly raise your hand towards the food, while looking around you. Before grabbing a small pastry and stuffing it into your mouth.
A satisfied hum leaves you as you taste it, it was really good. Better than anything you've ever stolen before. You quickly make you way to the end of the buffet, a more calm side of the room. Before placing a few things in your bag, while trying to keep a neutral expression, making sure no one suspected anything.
As you reached for another plate of food— mainly bread and fruits, your attention was pulled toward a conversation to your right. A group of servants were whispering. Their voices were low but clear enough for you to overhear.
“The treasure room has more guards tonight,” one of them murmured. “I heard they’ve been reassigned there for portection of all the treasure's.”
“The windows would the only way in now,” another servant added. “I’ve seen the vault door locked tight tonight, so there’s no way in from the hallway.”
You smirk slightly, pretending to casually reach out for a drink as you edged closer, ears strained to catch every word. “It wouldn’t be long before someone catches on,” the first servant muttered. “Better keep an eye out to the windows when switching shifts to the kitchen.”
Before you could fully digest the conversation, you heard footsteps approaching as the group disperses, and you quickly take a sip of the drink as you grab another pastry, hoping to make yourself look busy. You quickly finish whatever was in your glass as you put it down and slowly make your way to the exist of the ball room.
The loud talking of the ballroom fades into a muffled hum as you slip through the quieter hallways of the palace, you admire the beautiful decorations as you try to quietly make your way though. The golden detail on the walls gleam faintly in the dim light, the soles of your shoes were silent against the polished floors, you remember one of the older boys in the slums teach you and Mira how to quietly walk like this.
You feel your heart pound with a mix of fear and exhilaration. If Mira's plan worked, you'd be out of here before anyone realized what had happened, with jewel you could sell and money that would last you all for a lifetime.
The servants' words replay in your head. The windows, the treasure room. It sacred you slightly, if you mess it up your life would be done for in the blink of an eye. Still, desperation fuels you, and you’re determined to find it.
Eventually, you spot an ornate archway leading to an open courtyard. The cool night air greets you as you step out, you scan for any sign of guards, and find none. Your gaze shifts upwards, spotting balconies and terraces that line the palace. A route to the roof. You exhale sharply and move into the shadows.
Just as your fingers grip the edge of a window covered by latticework to climb, you hear the distinct sound of footsteps behind you. You immediately let go and make yourself look presentable.
You see a figure walk through the arch you just came from, as he look at you. His eyes narrowed slightly.
"Are you lost?" The voice is calm but sharp, with a slight tinge of suspicion. It wasn’t hard to tell he found you suspicious.
You recognize the figure to be the same one as before in the ballroom, the one that had stopped your dance with the asim heir—Jamil was his name if you remembered correctly.
His dark eyes seemed to pierce through you, one of his brows raised in a question that felt more like a challenge. His arms are crossed, but his posture relaxed, it put you slightly on edge.
“Oh!” You exclaim, forcing a sheepish smile as you force yourself to walk towards him. “I—I didn’t mean to wander off. I was just… trying to find the exit.” You let out a nervous laugh, wringing your hands. “I need to leave. My sibling… they got injured, I just received a message.. and I need to check on them.”
Jamil’s expression doesn’t shift, but his eyes flicker briefly toward the arch you both had come from. “The main exit is on the other side of the palace,” he says coolly. “You’re heading the wrong way.”
Your heart races, but you try to keep your tone as steady as possible. “Oh, I—thank you for letting me know. I must’ve gotten turned around.”
His gaze sharpens, and for a moment, you swear he’s about to call your bluff. But then, he steps backwards and gestures toward the hall he had come from. “Allow me to escort you out,” he offers, tone polite but firm. “I wouldn’t want you to get lost again.”
You hesitate, you felt your mind racing. Refusing would only make him more suspicious, so you force down any hesitation you had and nod reluctantly, a forceful grateful smile fromjng on your face. “That’s very kind of you, thank you.”
As he leads you through the halls, his posture remains calm, but his sharp eyes occasionally flick toward you, like he was studying every move you make. You try to keep your expression neutral, but the weight of his gaze makes your skin crawl with fear.
When you finally reach the grand entrance, Jamil stops and turns to face you. His expression is unreadable as he bows slightly. “I trust you’ll make it home safely.”
You force a polite nod, murmuring a quiet thanks before stepping out into the cool night air. As you walk away from the palace, you feel the intensity of his gaze on your back, as though he’s memorizing every detail about you.
Once you’re out of sight, you exhale shakily, you could sneak back in. But you didn't want to risk it, so you walk back towards the dirty slums you came from a frown etched on your face.
for the musical muse, how about diasomnia + angst + razorblade kiss by him? ^^
him is the band name :0 razorblade kiss is one of their songs
PAIRINGS: Malleus draconia x Gn!reader
LYRICS: "I taste death in every kiss we share" / "Every time we touch we get closer to heaven"
WORDCOUNT: 540
GENRE: angst
NOTES: first event request done, YIPPEE!!
event post | event masterlist
The stars in the sky were beautiful, unwavering in the way they always shined. Never to be put out, never to die. They were gorgeous and full of color against the inky black abyss of the night. They gave you hope, you’d often look out of your bedroom window at the dark sky, wishing for more time.
But now, as you look up at the starry night sky, the stars glowing like fireflies, with Malleus by your side and the both of you perched on the Ramshackle roof, you’ve never felt more hopeless. You wish it could stay like this, just the two of you, forevermore beneath the breathtaking night sky.
Your back rested against his chest, your head just above his heart, where you could hear its unsteady rhythm. It wasn’t calm like it usually was, it was scared. He sounded scared. You’d never seen him like this before, but you supposed it was justified. You were scared too. You wanted more time. You needed more time. But wishing and hoping had never seemed to work for anyone. So it wouldn't work for you either.
"You think I’m going to become one of them?" Your question broke the heavy silence of the night, and you felt the fae behind you take in a sharp, trembling breath. It was the first time you had acknowledged it since you’d told him, the inevitable situation that loomed over both of you.
"I think," he began softly, his voice raw and full of vulnerability, "you will become the most beautiful star of them all."
You wished it could’ve been different. You had dreamed of timelines where the two of you were married, where you had children and even grandchildren. But you knew that would never happen, not with death looming over you, not with the sickness slowly claiming what little time you had left.
Malleus had tried everything, scouwering every book and scroll, but there was no cure. Nothing could save you.
"Malleus..." Your voice was frail, trembling with sadness and fear. You had turned your head, meeting his beautiful green eyes already fixed on you, full of an emotion you’d never seen in his eyes before as they rested on you. Reaching up, your hand cupped his cheek, gently guiding his head down. As your lips met his in a soft kiss.
His arms tightened around you, holding you as though his embrace alone could stop the inevitable. You hear a shaky exhale escape his lips as he presses a kiss to your hairline. "I love you too, my darling."
He was beautiful, more beautiful than the starry sky you adored. Your gaze trailed over his face, etching in every detail, But your body felt to weak to keep going. Your eyes fluttered closed as you let out a content sigh, wrapping your arms around him to pull him closer. "I love you..."
Your arms went slack, and your last breath left your cold lips as peace finally claimed you. Malleus held you closer, his voice a whisper in the quiet of the night. "Forevermore, my love."
PAIRINGS: Jamil Viper x gn!reader (Kalim Al-Asim x gn!reader)
SUMMARY: he always knew you liked strawberries
WORDCOUNT: 400
GENRE: angst
NOTES: I love angst, this might also be slightly ooc(?) Trying to get a better grip of writing him!
main masterlist | scarabia masterlist
Jamil knew you liked strawberries.
The first time he met you was in the Scarabia kitchen, where you were making a strawberry pie. Kalim had tasked him with making a snack that he was craving, which was why he was there. He had seen you at the sorting ceremony before—you were a first year.
You were a kind and calm new addition to his life, one he appreciated. It was nice coming into the kitchen in the mornings and seeing you there, baking something from a new recipe you found online or one you thought of yourself.
Jamil started to notice your little habits whenever he was in the kitchen.
The way you stuck out your tongue when concentrating, the way you always looked so excited whenever something was done, the way you hummed a random tune you’d learned on Magicam when mixing something.
It was something that would’ve annoyed him if it were anyone else, but it was you. So he didn’t mind as much.
He started to appreciate those days when he would enter the kitchen, and you’d greet him with a calm and serene smile. Those moments where you both just did your own thing in peaceful silence.
It was nice.
Jamil knew everything was going to go downhill from here.
He entered the kitchen at the same time he always did. Though he hadn’t expected to see Kalim standing next to you with a big grin on his face while you explained the process of making a pie.
He hadn’t expected the feeling in his stomach—the feeling of losing once again. The feeling of despair.
He told himself it was because he preferred the routine, that Kalim had just disturbed it. That was all. But deep down, he knew the truth. He knew he was lying to himself. He preferred it when you were there.
With just him, and no one else.
Jamil always knew you liked strawberries.
So why did it break his heart when you walked down the aisle toward Kalim and not him? Why did it break his heart when he had to stand in the shadows once again, never outshining Kalim?
Why did it break his heart when he got a piece of the wedding cake and it was strawberry-flavored?
SUMMARY: Being a thief in the bustling Silk City isn't the most fun, but it's the only way to provide for your family. So when a morning market heist fails and your twin sister comes with the idea to infiltrate the Asim household during their eldest child's welcome-home party, you have no choice but to agree. But now, why does the eldest Asim child suddenly want to befriend you so badly? | angst, fluff
KALIM AL-ASIM
there seems to be nothing here..
JAMIL VIPER
STRAWBERRIES
SUMMARY: he always knew you liked strawberries | angst
titsay
ellievsbear
vaporwave
gummygunk
turnnoffyourmind
andulkaphoto
