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bunnis-monsters · 4 months ago

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Your puppy girl

Fem!Werewolf x Fem!Reader

a/n: Patreon and kofi got to read this nearly 2 months early! This was a commission ^^

warnings: somno, pet play, pussy eating, fingering, panty stealing

WC: 5k+

In the dead of winter, the outside world looked more and more like a blank canvas ready to be painted upon each day that passed.

You have always enjoyed this time of year. Although the cold may bring unpleasant feelings and sickness, it could bring community and so much warmth as well.

People banded together when snow began to fall, offering shelter and food to those in need.

You were no different.

It had been a normal day, with the usual drama at work and a busy ride home. All you wanted was some peace and quiet in the sanctity of your cozy apartment… unfortunately, many things would happen that changed your life forever.

If only you had people to spend such a lonely and isolating winter with.

You spent most days alone. No significant other, no hobbies that made life worth living. If you were being honest with yourself, you were just living day to day, hoping to find something that gave you the strength to keep going.

For now, though, you would work, eat, sleep, and do the same thing the next day. No friends, no close friends…

Just you.

The sun was finally setting, and you stared out at the orange and red hues as they danced across the sky. Never before had you seen such a beautiful sunset.

It wasn’t like you to linger by the steps of your apartment for very long after you returned home. Usually, you were quick to get inside so you could take off your heavy winter coat and relax by the fire.

However you stopped to stare at that beautiful sunset, just long enough for some strange events to be set into motion.

While staring out into the sky, you heard something from the woods nearby. It sounded like someone, or well, something crying out to any nearby people for help.

Your first thought was an animal had fallen into the pond out in the woods and gotten itself hurt. It wasn’t uncommon, but something made you doubt that theory.

“Could be a wounded animal… or someone in need of help.”

Either way, you weren’t going to wait around while the owner of that voice was in the freezing cold, possibly hurt and scared.

You could remember what that was like. There had been times in the past when you were left all alone, abandoned in your time of need.

It wasn’t right to stand by while others suffered.

The path into the woods was slick with ice and snow, and you had to hold onto a nearby tree when you slipped and almost fell on your ass. You really weren’t wearing the correct shoes to be trudging through the slurry of icy mud and snow but there wasn’t time for a change of clothes and foot apparel,

The cries grew louder the further you trekked. As you passed the undisturbed pond, you were relieved to know no one had fallen into it. You weren’t sure if you would have been able to help someone if they had.

By the time you reached what was making the noise, the volume of its cries had risen so high that you could hardly heat anything else.

What seemed to be a medium sized dog was laying on the ground on its side, howling and barking before letting out those familiar heart wrenching cries.

Its fur was dark brown, almost black, but with the little light that remained you could see its true color.

“Hey…”

The dog went quiet when you spoke. With its ears perked up, you could tell it was on high alert.

“Are you hurt, little one?”

You crouched down, examining its pelt. There seemed to be no obvious injuries besides its leg being a bit… off looking. “Must of sprained your ankle… with how slippery these paths are, I can understand how.”

Usually, a stray or wild dog wouldn’t let you touch it, but this one didn’t seem to mind when you hoisted it up and walked on your way home. “You’re a big and fluffy thing, aren’t you?”

It was bigger than usual, and you made sure to walk slow and steady through the icy woods. Tripping and falling onto this already scared and injured animal wouldn’t turn out well for either of you.

The first thing you did when you got home was try off their fur. Placing it in front of a heater, you rubbed the towel over its pelt, watching as it closed its eyes in contentment while warm air flowed towards its face.

“Feels nice, doesn’t it?”

The more this dog relaxed in your presence, the more you figured it was someone’s pet. Why else would it be so calm while injured?

After it was warm and dry, you ran your fingers through its fur, thoroughly examining each part of its body to make sure there were no other wounds.

There were a few scratches and cuts, but each one was either old or already healing up. The sprained ankle was what you were most worried about.

As you began examining the bruised and swollen ankle, the fog sniffed at your shoulder and neck, giving your cheek a lick. You smiled down at it, scratching behind its ear. “I bet you have an owner, hmm? You’re a sweet pup.”

Its tail wagged at your words, that seemed to make it happy.

“Isn’t that better?” you cooed, looking down at its bandaged foot. The dog stood and took a few cautious steps. When it realized it could walk slowly without much pain, it barked and wagged its tail before sniffing you again.

“I’ll have to take you to the shelter tomorrow… your owner is probably worried sick.”

You would have done so that night, but carrying a heavy dog home and working a full day had you exhausted. Besides, what animal shelter would be open past 8 pm?

You got to work making yourself some dinner, feeding the dog some of the food from your plate. Pets weren’t really allowed in your complex and any strays were chased off by your landlord, so you didn’t keep any dog food on you.

It gobbled up anything you gave it, sitting by your side as you ate at the kitchen table. A slobbery pink tongue lapped at your hand, licking up any leftover bits of food.

“Hey, ew!” you giggled out, wiping your hand on your jeans. “Sorry, I know you must be hungry. I have some ham in the fridge…”

As it ate some leftover ham, you went to shower.

Walking around with only a towel, you lifted an eyebrow when you noticed the dog was gone. Hoping it hadn’t run to some corner of your apartment to take a piss and ruin your deposit, you began to look for it.

“C’mere, pup…” you called out, glancing behind your couch. “I got some more ham, c’mon. I gotta take you outside to use the bathroom before I go to bed.”

When you couldn’t find it in the living room, bathroom, or even the storage closet, you turned towards your room. The door was cracked open, when you remembered closing it that morning.

For some reason, you felt… uneasy. There was this primal fear that there were predatory eyes on you, and the hair on your beck was standing on end.

“Hello..?”

You flicked on the light to your bedroom, immediately spotting a lump in your plush comforter. Your shoulders relaxed and you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you had been holding.

“Ah, this is where you went… you have to get off of my bed. I haven’t given you a bath and you could have fleas or-“

The words died in your throat as you yanked off the comforter.

Instead of the ball of fluff you had been expecting to see, your eyes were met with a woman around your age, curled up in your bed.

She stared up at you with wild, yellow eyes, a pair of dog ears on top of her head perking up.

The woman was completely nude, blinking in shock before skittering back. Her back pressed against your headboard, and you stared back with your jaw agape.

It took you both a moment to process what was going on.

Should you scream? Was this a fight or flight situation?

Surprisingly, you were way calmer than you thought you would have been in a situation like this. For god’s sake, there was a naked woman in your bed and you sure as hell hadn’t scheduled a booty call!

“Don’t… be upset.”

The woman’s voice was deep, almost soothing. Her yellow eyes flicked up to meet yours, and she slowly pulled her leg out from under the blanket.

Bandages covered her ankle… this was-

“Oh my god.”

The dog ears, they weren’t some kind of accessory. No… they were real, and so was that tail you could see wagging nervously.

“I’m not human… that’s obvious. I will explain, I swear…” the woman sighed, the dark bags under her eyes crinkling slightly. “But I’m so tired, and the winter this year is harsh. Please… could I stay the night? I’ll tell you all you want to know in the morning…”

You stood there, contemplating your choices. While you were still flabbergasted at the situation you had gotten yourself into, you were able to slowly steady your racing heart.

The situation has not truly changed all that much. There was a being that needed your help, and you had brought that dog home knowing it could bite you or spread disease.

Could you not give an at least partial human being the same courtesy you gave an animal? It would be… inhumane to kick her out into the cold while she was injured and naked, especially when it was pitch black outside.

“… go to the living room, I’ll bring you a change of clothes.”

The woman darted past you with a swiftness that wouldn’t come easy to a human being of a similar stature. She really wasn’t human, but you weren’t quite sure what “non-human” was.

As you gathered an oversized shirt and some pajama pants that would be bagger on her lean frame, you pondered what exactly your next step should be.

When morning would come, what would you do?

Your original plan had been to take the dog to the shelter. It wasn’t feasible for you to take care of an animal while you were living in a tiny apartment.

This was different, though. The shelter wouldn’t accept her, of course not, but you weren’t sure if a human shelter would accept her either.

“Thank you…” she said softly, looking up through her thick eyelashes. When you paid more attention, you noticed how pretty she was. Yellow eyes that shone in the dim light of your living room, soft looking black hair, and a nice figure…

“It’s no problem. We’ll talk in the morning, alright? Get some sleep.”

You locked your door that night. Despite being kind enough to let a stranger into your home, your big heart didn’t make you stupid.

After you were sound asleep, the woman stood, her cheeks flushed a dark pink. There was a smell that had her body trembling with need, and she had been struggling to contain her lust all night.

She snuck into the bathroom, searching around silently until she found the source of that smell that drove her crazy.

A pair of lacy panties, the crotch slightly damp. She could remember you emitting a smell of arousal earlier when you were on your phone, and she was incredibly curious.

What had gotten you this worked up?

She lifted the pair to her nose, taking an intense whiff before letting out a shuddering moan. Her eyes nearly rolled into the back of her head as the heavenly scent filled her nostrils.

It was a bit embarrassing, but she slowly poked out her tongue to lick the damp spot, immediately growing wet at your taste.

You had been so kind to her, for no reason at all. When most people and werewolves alike would have swiftly abandoned an injured pup like her, you instead let her into her home.

Not only did you care for her wounds, but you fed and even clothed her.

She was just smitten.

Her hand moved to her now clothed cunt. She felt a bit guilty getting the pajamas you gave her dirty, but she couldn’t help but touch herself through the fabric.

“Mmph…”

The sound of her tail wagging and thumping against the floor could be heard by the downstairs neighbors. She was too busy getting off to the thought of devouring your pretty pussy to notice…

In the morning, you called in sick to work. It just wouldn’t be possible for you to leave this… person in your house while you were gone.

“Alright, you promised you’d explain,” you said, placing a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast in front of her. “Get to talking.”

You waited patiently as she wolfed down the breakfast you had prepared for her. She seemed even hungrier than she had been the night before, if it was possible.

“So… I’m a werewolf.”

Well, that wasn’t a huge shock. The revelation made relative sense, she could turn into a dog-like creature after all.

“I thought werewolves were like… big, hairy monsters. You turn into a medium sized dog.”

The woman huffed at that, waving her fork. “Well sorry, but over time werewolves have bred with basic humans and our transformations have become weaker each generation. Only a selective few can muster a full transformation, and they’re usually from families that do… the whole inbreeding thing.”

You rubbed your temple. Learning about werewolves at all wasn’t something you were super interested in, and now she was giving you more info than you needed.

“Alright, alright. You’re a werewolf. What about your living situation?”

The mood changed, the woman’s eyes becoming a bit dark and distant as she looked away.

“… even for my generation, my transformation is weak. I was kicked out of my pack when I came of age, and I’ve been pretty much winging it ever since.”

It was quiet for a moment. The situation she was in reminded you of many stories you heard from other people. Fresh adults being kicked out for being different, it was a tale as old as time.

“I see…”

Something clicked in your mind as you watched the way she curled up on your couch, her knees pressing against her chest.

“You don’t have anywhere to stay?”

With a nod, she took another bite of the second you heaped onto her plate. “Nope…”

You hoped you wouldn’t regret what you were about to say.

“This winter has been pretty harsh so far… alright. At least until winter is over, you can stay here.”

Maybe with another person living with you, even for just a while, you’d be less lonely during the most depressing season of the year.

She perked up, her tail beginning to wag as her eyes brightened. “You mean it? I can-“

“You’ll be paying for your own rent and food, of course.”

This made her pout a little, which you found strangely cute. “Of course… I can hunt for my own food. We can discuss rent after a shower, I’m sure I don’t smell very pleasant.”

She wasn’t wrong.

You curled up in bed after a long day. After taking her to buy some clothes and essentials, she handed over a wad of cash to be used for rent. It seemed she had enough money to keep herself afloat…

Renting wasn’t easy though, and you could understand why. Hiding her nature proved difficult. She was kicked out of several places for having a pet she wasn’t supposed to… but the werewolf was the very dog they accused her of having.

You turned on your side, rubbing your tired eyes. Work was a must, and you refused to miss another day.

Once you drifted off and your breathing evened out, your door creaked open.

A pair of yellow eyes peeked into your room, the soft swishing sound of her tail wagging mixing with the soft hum of your heater.

Like a true predator of the night, she snuck closer. It was easy to climb into your bed without your noticing. You were a heavy sleeper, and she was stealthy.

Her eyes settled on your breasts, your pretty nipples poking your thin shirt. The air was a bit chilly, she had noticed that when she walked in.

‘Don’t worry, I’ll warm you up…’

You were her savior, and all she wanted to do was repay you!

And maybe she was a little horny too…

Her fingers toyed with your nipples through your shirt as her knee rubbed against your clothed cunt.

She gave your breasts a squeeze, her wolf ears twitching when you whined in your sleep. ‘Ahh, so cute…’

After she gave you a nuzzle with her nose, she peppered kisses along your neck and chest, licking your exposed skin.

Taking off your shirt without waking you wasn’t easy, but she was fast and good at reading your body language.

Her lips wrapped around one of your nipples, and she began lightly humping your leg as she suckled gently. Your panties were getting wet, and the way she was toying with your clit through the damp fabric wasn’t helping things.

That pretty pussy of yours was oozing with arousal, and she abandoned your breasts immediately. Her eyes locked onto your panties, and she pulled them back just enough to get a good look at you.

From your puffy lips to your cute, throbbing clit, she couldn’t tear her eyes away. Already, drool fell down her chin and she couldn’t help but give you a little lick.

You tasted like Heaven, and she was addicted.

Soon her tongue was buried in your pussy, her hands keeping your thighs apart. You squirmed and whined in your sleep, and she had to pull away before you came.

Even with her skill, she was surprised you hadn’t woken up yet. Now she knew how much she could get away with before you were stirred from sleep…

After she dressed you again, the werewolf girl left your room, yearning for more.

How could she please you next?

For the next week or so, you became well acquainted with your new puppy.

Most of the time, she acted more like a dog than a human. When you got home from work, she’d jump up from wherever she’d been sitting and run to the door, sniffing and nuzzling against you.

You figured it was just a thing werewolves did, and didn’t question how quickly she had bonded with you.

More often than not you’d spot her making some sort of nest out of your blanket and clothes, all curled up and happy. She wasn’t doing anything wrong, per say, but you wished she wouldn’t get your blankets and clothes all filthy with dirt and some kind of sticky substance.

Was she eating something gooey while bundled up..? It smelled… musky…

You scratched her head, letting out a sigh as she carried around your hoodie. “It’s the middle of winter now. You don’t have any warm clothes, do you?”

She thought for a moment before shaking her head. “No, not really. It’s been hard finding work because I have nothing to wear.”

You rubbed your temple. “I have my day off tomorrow… I was going to pig out on snacks and sleep in, but I guess we’ll go shopping instead.”

She didn’t seem to sense your annoyance, and only gave your hand a happy lick before climbing into your lap.

That was normal, right? Her licking your face, curling up in your lap, and nibbling on your neck and ears was just… common werewolf behavior, wasn’t it?

In the morning, she bundled up in one of your coats and followed after you as the two of you walked along the icy sidewalks. Snow fell lazily, covering the hood of your jacket.

“I’ve never been shopping before.”

You glanced at her with a raised eyebrow. “Where did you get your clothes from, then?”

Her eyes hardened, and she opened the first shop door with a huff. “When I was in my pack, we stayed in our wolf forms. No need for clothes… and when I was kicked out, I stole and looked through dumpsters.”

Your heart clenched in your chest. It hurt knowing such a friendly girl had been thrown out for not meeting the pack’s standards.

“Well, shopping is pretty fun. C’mon.”

The two of you started off with some casual winter clothes. Long sleeved shirts, pants, and lots of layers. She favored earthy colors like green and brown, but you noticed a few pink and yellow items in her bag.

“Your shoes are worn out, let’s find you a better pair of boots.”

You helped her try on multiple pairs before she settled on some brown boots with fluffy pompoms. “Ahh, these are very warm and sturdy…”

“The pompoms are cute, too. You look good in them.”

Her cheeks flushed pink at your compliment, and her tail thumped around under her skirt. You had to be careful, someone would notice her tail moving.

Before leaving the house, you covered her ears and tail. If someone found out what she was, you’d both be in danger.

“… come on, let’s go to the next store.”

On your way to find her some underwear and bras, she turned towards a pet store. Her eyes were on a picture of a dog on the front window.

“This is a pet store..?” you whispered as she browsed the selection. Despite your words, the werewolf continued to look through the dog treats.

“Guess I’ll leave you to it.”

You walked around the store, only glancing at the shelves for a moment before moving on.

There were Christmas decorations covering the shelves, making you remember that it was only a few days before the holiday.

‘Guess I can get her a little something…’

You peaked into the aisle, watching as she stared at a frilly pink collar, with a bell and ribbon at the front. She picked it up, jingling the bell and letting out an interested “ooo”.

After getting home, you wrapped up the collar and leash with your cheeks warm with embarrassment.

Imagining her with that collar on… made you feel strange.

On Christmas morning, she yawned as you placed a plate of waffles in front of her. She didn’t seem to know about the holiday, so you petted her head before bringing her to the tree.

Over the past month, the two of you had become close and you had come to care for her. She made everything a lot less lonely, and you wanted to repay her.

“This is for you…”

She blinked as you set the present in her lap. Her tail began to wag, and she unwrapped it quickly.

When she pulled out the pink collar, her eyes widened. “You… got this for me?”

Her entire face was red, and her tail thumped against the floor so hard it looked like it hurt.

“I just wanted to thank you. It’s been nice having someone around for a change…”

You weren’t good at this. It had been several years since you last have someone a gift, and never before had you gifted a collar and leash.

She stared down at the collar for a moment before she pickled the clasp atound her neck, her yellow eyes looking up at you.

“I love it… but I didn’t get you anything…”

For a moment she seemed guilty, her wolf ears flattening against her head. This didn’t last for long.

Her eyes sparkled when she had an idea. Suddenly, her leash was in your hand, and she sat at your feet like an obedient puppy as she pawed at your pajama pants.

“W-what are you doing?” you stuttered out, yelping when she pulled down your pants and buried her face into your clothed cunt.

“This is your present…”

She licked you through your panties, letting out a happy yip when she tasted your arousal. It was her favorite!

“B-but..!”

You groaned, your hand grabbing a fistful of her hair. It felt too good, her tongue was long and a bit rough. You could feel it, even through your thick cotton panties.

“You always like it when I lick here…” she said with a sigh, looking up at you dreamily. “Nearly wakes you up sometimes…”

It took you a few seconds to process the implication behind her words. “You do this when I’m sleeping?!”

She nodded, nuzzling her nose against your panties. “Of course! I have to make my mate happy and relaxed!”

Her… mate?

It was clear that werewolves had a different idea of what was and wasn’t allowed. Still, you huffed and pulled her closer, pulling your panties to the side.

“If this is a gift, then do it right, pup.”

You tugged on her leash, and she complied immediately.

Her tongue lapped at your folds, as if testing the waters. When she wasn’t fast enough, you have her leash another tug. “C’mon, don’t act shy now. You’ve been eating my pussy for a month while I sleep, now get in there.”

She whined a bit, her cheeks red when she latched onto your clit. It throbbed in her mouth, and she suckled gently while her pants clutched your soft thighs.

She moved her mouth to your hole, lapping at it before pushing her tongue in. Your pussy was dripping, and she licked up every single drop.

“Use your fingers too, pup…”

Tentatively, she pushed a finger into you, moving it in and out. When you let out a satisfied moan, her tail began to pick up speed. “Like this?”

“Mhm… such a good girl…”

You cupped her cheek, watching her eat you out. Her cute, pink tongue moved out your clit as she inserted another finger, stretching you out a bit.

“Mmm… lay down for me, okay?”

Like the obedient puppy she was, she immediately laid on her back. Her fluffy tail was tucked between her legs, a sign of submission.

“Lemme see…”

You moved her tail out of the way, smirking at how wet she had gotten. “All this from tasting my pussy? Such a naughty girl…”

Your thumb brushed against her clit, and her back arched up. She was so desperate and sensitive, her tongue poking out as she panted heavily.

“Patience…”

You hooked her leash onto the couch, offering her your pussy as you moved to eat out hers. 69ing had being something you had only seen in porn, and you were excited to try.

Instantly she was drawn to your pushy, devouring it like a mindless beast. You moved your hips, riding her face a bit before you leaned down to get your first taste of her.

She almost tasted sweet, and you were quick to bury your tongue into her cunt. The little noises she made while you explored her with your tongue and fingers were adorable, and you held down her hips every time she tried to buck them into your mouth.

“Easy, pup. Keep doing that and I’ll stop.”

It was so hard to control herself, so she took out her frustration on your cunt. She sucked on your fat pussy lips, ignoring your engorged clit. It seemed like she was being a bit of a brat.

You’d have to fix that.

With a yank of her collar, you cooed and guided her mouth back to your clit. “Right there, puppy. Such a silly girl, don’t even know where to make me feel good do you? You wouldn’t do that on purpose, you’re supposed to be my sweet puppy.”

She blushed, and obediently went back to suckling on your clit. One hand stayed at your cunt, pumping her fingers in and out, while the other one held onto your plump ass.

“That’s my girl…”

To reward her good behavior, you added another finger, stretching out her hole. “See what good puppies get? They get their cunt stretched out.”

“I-I’m a good puppy! Promise!” she babbled around your clit, suckling harder. “I wanna make you feel good…”

You smiled, giving her clit another lick before latching on. You could feel her body trembling beneath you, and orgasm incoming. She was so close, and since she was being a good pup you decided to let her cum.

As she came, you started to ride her face clit brushing against her nose. She was in a daze, completely absorbed in your pussy and scent.

The only thing she could think about was how happy she was when you came in her mouth.

Once the two of you were thoroughly satisfied, you held her limp body in your lap. You squeezed her tits with one hand, the other rubbing circles into her overstimulated clit.

“Who’s my good puppy?”

She whimpered, keeping her legs open for you.

“Me…”

After this, the two of you decided it was best if she simply continued to live with you. After all, you were lonely and she had nowhere else to go. It was a win-win!

Every morning you woke up to her licking your cunt through your panties, ready to start the day by pleasing her mate. She was basically attached to your cunt, always wanting to be between your legs.

When you left, she missed you so much that she’d chew on your panties when you were gone, rubbing the clothing item between her legs and cumming all over them.

Of course, you didn’t mind at all. You had grown fond of her, and the two of you became a thing.

As she held your hand while walking to a restaurant for dinner, her pink collar jingled and you couldn’t help but tug a bit on her leash to hear that sweet sound again.

Your sweet pup was as happy as could be, and you were as well.

————————

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buddyfunnyspendtime · 2 years ago

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is there any like break up songs in enstars Like ones with lyrics of a heartbroken break up I think that should be a theme for a shuffle unit it would genuinely be so interesting

I think something with the sound of if you do by got7 would be fascinating tbh because enstars doesn't really do love songs that are romantic that often so i'd like to see how they'd dig at the more depressing cruel unhealthy (possibly toxic) side of love

I don't think enstars would ever go down a route of having a song that's about a manipulative toxic relationship like whatevers going on in if you do But. enstars music has a lot of potential for whatever and anything I want to hear enstars' sound and it's limits

#love is a canvas that you can stretch tear up leave blank paint with oil tempura watercolor acrylic paint more unlisted always more choices #is it possible for enstars to tear up a painted canvas #thats what i want to know can you give me it enstars #i hope the event story is about like slipping on a banana peel and someone monologues about it

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baeshijima · 9 months ago

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mr reca fic where he’s suffering a creative slump due to the lack of good scripts (by his standards) from various screenwriters. he feels himself going positively insane with every script he’s given.

it’s too dull. it’s too predictable. this one has no creative flair whatsoever!! that one just doesn’t spark enough imagination!!!

it’s troublesome, really. some think he’s really going through it, while others believe the scripts he’s been given won’t bring him enough money. but really, who cares about monetary value when it is he who cannot even begin to picture himself enjoying the process that comes with each script?

and so that is how he finds himself wandering around aimlessly. sometimes the outdoors is necessary for the mind, and who knows? perhaps he really will find something that will give him a spark. hmm, those trees are looking a little dull. the sky overhead is too cloudy. hm? did he just hear thunder—

something collides into his chest, a choked “oof!” following soon after. he stumbles backwards a little, papers flying through the air around him. he blinks once, twice, at the sight of you on the ground, muttering something under your breath before a sharp gasp escapes you, hastily scrambling to gather the papers fluttering and strewn around.

one such paper falls into his hands. he glances over its contents, skimming through it as he goes to pass it over to you with an apology at the tip of his tongue, only to freeze.

this… this is genius! this is absolutely the pinnacle of writing!! while a little rough around the edges (as drafts usually tend to be), his once clouded mind is now clear, giving way to a blank canvas which slowly depicts the imagery your writing induces. idea after idea pours into his brain as he can visualise exactly what he wants, his body trembling and heart pounding as he insantly fixates on your panicked form still collecting all the fallen papers.

“yes… yes! this is what i was looking for! everything about this is pure artistry! the possibilities are endless, the sky is the limit!!”

this is possibly the happiest and freest he has felt in what seems like eons! seriously, compared to those other mind-numbing scripts this truly is the pinnacle of writing itself.

a laugh full of pure, unadulterated glee escapes him, careful not to crinkle the god-sent paper cradled in his palms. “you! you’re a genius!”

“i’m a wha…?”

he whirls in the direction of the source of the voice, further praises and a proposal for a collaboration on the tip of his tongue, only for his breath to catch in his throat.

you… you’re so radiant! even with that disheveled appearance and absolutely adorable confused expression you’re giving him, he never realised such beauty existed! not only does your writing fill him with endless creativity, but his pounding heart, parched throat and warming skin tells him you’re definitely the main character!

but wait! if you were to be the main character, then would that make him the main character’s love interest? surely he wouldn’t have had such a cliché meet-cute like bumping into each other if he wasn’t the love interest! but what if there is a second love interest? no, no, he can oust them…

you, on the other hand, believe you’re about to get whiplash instead of the man, baffled at how he instantly switched from a maniac to stark silence to muttering senselessly with a dreamy expression.

well, each to their own. you have more pressing matters, and that’s to quickly return home and continue fantasising before you forget the idea! but first, you have to get the last piece of paper back…

“um… sir? can i have my paper back, please?”

in an instant, he kneels in front of you. now that you’re at eye level, he certainly is very handsome. if you didn’t know any better, you would have thought this was some movie or drama plot with him as the main lead! oh, but why is he holding your hands—

“yes, i will spend the rest of my life with you.”

“…what?”

tldr; you’re just a silly writer who daydreams far too much for their own good, and somehow managed to bag top-tier director mr reca with the power of said daydreams. (his ever-growing obsession with you is concerning to say the least but, hey! what genius isn’t at least a little insane?)

#sophie talks : concepts <3 #HE IS JUST A SILLY I LOVE HIM SO MUCH COBGRATS FOR FINALLY BEING REAL AFTER SO LONG MR RECA MY LOVE #i wanna turn this into a long fic…. delusional meets delusional….. grrr……#when he sees u for the first time u have the sparkly shoujo filters and everything no i do not make the rules #mr reca x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #mr reca x you #honkai star rail x you #hsr x you

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ackermanrage · 1 month ago

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could i request a one shot of Levi x fem reader where the reader is considered to be drop dead gorgeous by everyone and how he would handle everyone basically simping after her and trying to ask her out? i think it’d be very entertaining to read, especially how he reacts when a scout tries flirting with reader when he thinks Levi isn’t there lmao. maybe a little protective!Levi vibes too? also could i ask that reader also be a captain too, age gap one shots make me a lil uncomfortable 😅 love ur writing!

ɴᴏᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱ (ᴜɴʟᴇꜱꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀꜱᴋ)

levi ackerman x fem!reader warnings: none an: I really love this fic idea, and i hope you like what I wrote!

You weren’t the type to turn heads.

Or at least, you never meant to be. You didn’t flirt, didn’t primp, didn’t walk around HQ like it was a catwalk.

You were a scout captain. Just like Levi. Just like Hange. Just like any other soldier who’d earned their place through dirt, blood, and stubborn survival.

But that didn’t stop people from staring when you entered a room.

Part of it was your looks—you weren’t oblivious. You’d caught the mirror before. Long lashes, sharp cheekbones, soft lips that often looked out of place beneath the grit of dried blood and sweat. Your hair always seemed to fall just right, even after a fight, like the universe itself had given you some kind of charmed luck in the beauty department.

But it was more than that. You carried yourself with calm confidence. Shoulders straight, gaze steady. You didn’t try to impress. You didn’t need to.

Which, of course, made everyone want to impress you.

And that never failed to get under Levi’s skin.

Not that he said anything. He wasn’t exactly the flowers-and-declarations type. He wasn’t the jealous shouting type either. But you could always tell when someone got too close, looked at you too long, let their laughter drag on just a few seconds more than necessary.

His arms would fold. His mouth would tighten. And most noticeably he’d stop speaking altogether.

Which is why today was already teetering on the edge of something dangerous.

You had just returned from a two-day expedition—low stakes, mostly scouting paths for a possible expansion of the eastern outpost. You’d ridden beside Levi most of the time, a mutual rhythm long since established. Quiet nods. Silent trust. Shared maps. The kind of understanding that didn’t need words.

But now, back at HQ, with the mission done and your teams dismissed, you just wanted a hot drink and something vaguely edible.

You walked into the mess hall with your coat still half-unbuttoned and the scent of leather and pine still clinging to you. Your hair was loose, still slightly damp from your rushed shower. You were tired. Hungry. And blissfully unaware of the chaos your appearance was about to cause.

“Captain!” someone said brightly, too brightly.

You looked up. A table of scouts had gone silent the moment you entered. One in particular—new face, late teens maybe—was staring at you like he’d just seen an angel descend in combat boots.

You blinked. “Yes?”

“I just wanted to say…” He stood, pushing his tray aside. “You were incredible during that ambush near the riverbank. The way you redirected your horse around the slope and took that crawler out from behind? That was—” He stopped himself, smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. That was really hot.”

You raised a brow.

The table erupted into low snickers. One scout actually elbowed him in encouragement, which only seemed to fuel his misplaced confidence.

“Do you, um—have plans tonight? You probably get that all the time, I mean—look at you.” He laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was just wondering—”

“She’s busy.”

It wasn’t loud.

But it was sharp enough to cut through the laughter like a knife through wet canvas.

Levi stood at the far entrance of the mess hall, arms crossed, eyes locked onto the scout like he’d just suggested feeding Titans. He wasn’t scowling exactly—his expression was calm, almost blank—but it felt worse than anger.

Every scout froze. The flirty one especially looked like he wanted to evaporate.

“I wasn’t— I didn’t mean anything by it,” he stammered. “Just being friendly—”

“Your ‘friendly’ gets you cleaning latrines if it happens again,” Levi said coldly. “Eyes up when speaking to your superior.”

The boy nodded rapidly. You couldn’t help but feel a little bad for him. He hadn’t meant harm. He’d just been… bold. Or stupid.

Levi strode forward and came to stand beside you, close enough that your shoulders brushed. He didn’t look at you, but you could feel the heat in the air between you, like lightning waiting for the strike.

“I could’ve handled that,” you said quietly, once the scout had slunk away and the rest had gone back to pretending they weren’t listening.

“I know.”

You turned your head. “You jealous, Ackerman?”

His jaw clenched, barely perceptible. “Don’t like hearing people talk like that about you.”

You didn’t say anything at first. Just sipped your tea and let the moment breathe.

“You could always do something about it.”

That earned you a sideways glance. Levi didn’t blink. “I just did.”

You smiled. “I mean something that doesn’t involve threatening to exile the entire scout regiment every time someone calls me hot.”

Silence.

Then, after a pause: “Tch. Don’t tempt me.”

You laughed, and to your surprise, so did he—just a soft breath through his nose, but genuine. His shoulder leaned into yours, subtly, almost accidentally.

You didn’t move away.

---

You didn’t expect him to come by your quarters.

You were halfway through bandaging a scratch on your thigh—nothing serious, just an unlucky brush with a branch—when the knock came.

Three sharp raps.

You didn’t bother to cover up. He’d seen worse.

“Door’s open.”

He stepped in, eyes immediately flicking to the exposed skin before politely returning to your face. Classic Levi—always aware, always in control.

“You’re injured.”

“It’s barely a scratch.”

He stepped closer, took the roll of gauze from your hand without a word, and knelt.

“Levi—”

“Sit still.”

You did.

He worked in silence, fingers deft and careful. The touch wasn’t romantic. Not obviously. But it was reverent in its own way.

“You didn’t have to come,” you murmured.

“I did.” He pressed the gauze in place. “Didn’t like how they were looking at you.”

“Who? The kid in the mess hall?”

“All of them,” he said flatly. “The way they stare. The things they say when they think I’m not there. It’s disrespectful.”

You looked down at him. “To me?”

“To you,” he confirmed. “And to me.”

There it was.

You inhaled slowly. “You know, Levi… You don’t need to just protect what’s yours.”

He looked up. “No?”

You shook your head. “You can claim it.”

A beat.

Then his hand left your thigh, came to rest on your knee—warm, firm, unshaking.

“You’re mine?” he asked, low and even.

“If you want me to be.”

“I do.”

You leaned down, fingers brushing his cheek. “Then say it.”

“I don’t share,” he whispered. “Not with idiots. Not with scouts. Not with anyone.”

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t gentle.

It wasn’t practiced or smooth or romantic in the storybook way.

It was fierce.

Protective.

Possessive.

It was everything Levi Ackerman didn’t say with words.

And you kissed him back with all the fire he’d spent months trying to smother.

---

The next morning, you entered the mess hall again. Alone this time.

The same scout glanced up—and immediately returned to his food. No eye contact. No witty remarks. He looked like he’d aged ten years overnight.

You sat down with your tea and a smug little smile.

Across the room, Levi looked up from his own mug. Just once.

He didn’t smile.

But the twitch of his mouth said everything.

You were his.

And now everyone knew it.

©ackermanrage - please do not copy, translate, or plagiarize my work!

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kingkaisen · 4 months ago

Text

♡ — SUMMARY; your ex-husband, Nanami, asks you to meet him at a local diner.

♡ — CONTENT; heavy angst, toxic relationship, mentions of death, illness, loss of child, slight gojo x reader.

“I didn’t think you would show up.”

KENTO NANAMI took a tentative sip of his black coffee. Though he did not show it, his heart was pounding rapidly from the very moment he glanced out of the window and saw your car enter the parking lot of the old-fashioned diner.

“I didn’t think I’d show up either, to be honest.” You mumbled unhappily. You sat down in the booth across from your ex-husband. “Why am I here?”

Your face was as blank as an untouched canvas. Sitting his white mug of coffee down, Kento folded his hands, resting them on the table.

“You know what today is, don’t you?” He asked. As soon as his question fell from between his lips, he hated himself for the way he approached such a sensitive topic.

“Of course I do, and I’d rather spend it alone,” you snapped, speaking in a harsh tone slightly above a whisper. “I don’t wanna talk about this with you.”

“Well,” Kento took a deep breath. “To the rest of the world, today’s a regular day. But to us, it’s . . . his birthday. We’re the only two people grieving him today, so I thought-”

“Thought we’d grieve together? I’ve been grieving alone for four years now. Today’s no different. I needed your help then and you didn’t give it, but I don’t need you now.” Suddenly, you started to scoot out of the booth. “You know what? This was a bad idea, I’m just gonna leave-”

“No, no, wait. Don’t leave yet,” Kento’s words halted your movements, but you glared at him as he continued to speak. “It’s me who needs help. I know you don’t need me anymore, but I still need you.”

“Still?” You settled back down into your seat. “The word still implies that you needed me before now.”

“I’ve always needed you,” Kento said softly.

“You sure didn’t act like it.”

“That doesn’t make it any less true.” Taking yet another deep breath, Kento ran his large hand through a few strands of his blonde hair. “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for everything. I was an awful husband. Distant father. I’d do anything to make things right.”

His words were met with silence. Your eyes were scanning him — perhaps for some sign of dishonesty — drifting from his serious expression, white collared shirt, and even down to the laminated menu resting on the table in front of him.

“You’re a couple years too late,” your voice was soft. Filled with regret. “I’m remarried, and our boy is gone.”

Those were two facts Kento knew well. Even so, hearing them sliced through his heart, creating a horrific ache painful enough for him to wonder if he would truly die from heartbreak, here and now.

“Is Satoru treating you well?” He asked with as much composure as he could muster.

“We, um,” you hesitated. “I’m pregnant now, actually.”

Kento looked into your eyes. His eyebrows raised slightly in surprise, but his eyes were glassy.

“Oh. I’m happy for-”

“Save your breath. Don’t lie to me,” you interrupted.

“But I am happy for you.”

This time, it was your turn to raise your eyebrows in surprise, but your eyes flickered away from him and down at the salt and pepper shakers. “Really? You’re not upset?”

“I am. I’m heartbroken. Two things can be true at once,” Kento said. “You’ve moved on, and I understand that, believe me. I only wish I was the one to heal what I broke. But, as you said, I’m too late. I’m out of time now.”

A young brunette approached with a kind smile and a notepad in hand. She jotted down your orders. Though it was a little ways past eight p.m., you ordered buttermilk pancakes, while Kento opted to respect the time of day and ordered a sandwich with tater tots for his evening meal — not his favorite, but he wanted to order the first thing that came to mind in hopes of sending the waitress away as quickly as possible.

Her departure sparked a bit of small talk between you and Kento, and it lasted until she returned a while later with steaming plates of food. Your pleasant chatter was rather mundane, but even so, you said, “Seems like you’ve changed. I hope it’s genuine.”

Oh, how he wanted to hear those words more than anything. The left corner of his mouth twitched with the urge to smile, though not noticeably.

“It is. I quit my job,” Kento said.

“Wow, that’s . . .” For a brief second, you smiled, but it vanished as quickly as it had appeared. “That’s great to hear, but at the same time, I wanna slap you right now. Why did our lives have to fall apart for you to finally wake up? Why weren’t the hundreds of arguments we had enough?”

Happy and pissed. Two things can be true at once.

“Our lives would have fallen apart anyway,” Kento said calmly. “Whether I had quit my job sooner rather than later would not have changed what happened to Kenji.”

“No, but when he suddenly took a turn for the worse, I would have had my husband there to hold my hand, and he would’ve been able to see his father one last time.” Pain flashed across your face. There was a slight tremble to your voice. You were trying your hardest to control your anger among the quiet diner chatter from nearby groups and family. “He was scared. He was asking for you. And where the hell were you? Handling stocks while our son was dying.”

“They told us we had time-”

“It was fucking cancer, Kento! Any day could have been his last, and you knew that, and you didn’t care.”

A few heads turned in your direction, but with tears threatening to stream down your cheeks, with the memories of your dying boy replaying in your mind endlessly, drawing attention was the last thing you were concerned with.

“Of course I knew and cared, that was why I worked so hard. Someone had to pay for all of the stays in the most advanced hospitals, the finest treatments known to man, the rarest medication administered by the best team of doctors, surgery performed by some of the best surgeons we could find . . . Kenji had all the help money could buy and only because I worked every second of my life.” A tear fell from Kento’s eyes. He wiped it away quickly.

“And in the end, it was pointless, wasn’t it?” You said quietly. “Wasn’t it? Because he died anyway, and you weren’t there to say goodbye.”

“I know what you’re doing.” Kento’s voice had an unfamiliar, dark tone. “You feel guilty as well. About what exactly, I don’t know, but you’re taking the anger you feel towards yourself and letting it out on me.”

“You’re wrong, you jackass. Do you seriously think you’re blameless in all of this or something?” You glared at him with pure hatred. “I was wrong. You haven’t changed one bit.”

The way you looked at him now, as if he was worthless, as if he was a bug that deserved to be squashed; it snapped his heart into pieces, if it was capable of being broken further at this point.

However, it didn’t stop him from continuing on with his own form of cruelty.

“You can’t bring yourself to say his name. You haven’t said it. Not once.” Kento was as calm as ever. Or, at least, he was pretending to be. “You try to avoid talking about him. You try to pretend he didn’t exist by marrying a man I know you don’t care for, all so you can have another child to replace him-”

“Go to hell.”

“I, on the other hand,” Kento continued to speak despite your bitter interruption as if you hadn’t said anything at all. “I spend my time keeping his memory alive. All of my money goes towards research. Towards organizations dedicated to finding a cure so no parent has to go through what we went through. I wasn’t there for Kenji when he died and I will never forgive myself for it, but you aren’t here for him now, in the present.”

“Here for what? A pile of bones in a graveyard?” You glared.

“A graveyard you never visit, so I’ve heard.”

That was it. Those were the words that finally made your brewing tears fall. They splattered against your half-eaten plate of pancakes.

A long enough period of silence passed, long enough for nosy fellow diners to return to their own conversations.

Kento’s eyes softened at the sight of your crying face. “I’m sorry. Sweetheart, I’m sorry-”

“Don’t call me that. You’ve lost that right a long time ago.” You sniffled. “I can’t believe you’d accuse me of trying to erase the memory of our son from my life.”

Kento's brows were pinched as he frowned. “And I can’t believe you’d accuse me of not caring about him. It hurts, doesn’t it? The accusations we keep throwing at each other?”

Your face was unreadable. He knew you well, better than you knew yourself as fate would have it, but even so, he couldn’t tell what you were thinking right now.

Outside, it started to rain. For a moment, you eyed the raindrops coating the street. Neither you nor Kento said anything for quite some time, your food becoming cold, and together, you watched the rainfall.

“I’m sorry.” You said after a while. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I said. I’m just still so pissed off about it. I know you’ve suffered enough, and I know you only worked so hard to save him, but . . . you didn’t see him use the last of strength trying to call for you. It haunts me every day. I can’t live with that amount of pain, Kento, so I’m just trying to move on and keep on living, not erase his memory.”

“I know, I know. I wish I never said that.” Kento wanted to reach out and touch your hand, but the sight of the wedding ring sitting on your finger stopped him. “I wish I never did a lot of things in general.”

“You need to do what I just said.” You faced him, wiping away a few stray tears. “Try to move on and keep on living. Forgive yourself.”

“Can you ever forgive me?” Kento asked softly.

“I can.” You gave a sad smile. “Can you ever forgive me?”

“I already do.”

He matched your sad smile with one of his own.

“God, we’re a fucking mess. I can’t believe I caused a scene.” You buried your face in your hands for only a moment, then looked up at the sound of Kento’s voice.

“I would lie and tell you they won’t ever see either one of us again, but I’ve been coming to this diner for years, and I don’t plan on stopping,” he said.

“Yeah, yeah I know. We went on our first date here, remember? We were dumb teenagers back then.” It was a bittersweet memory, one you regretted bringing up immediately.

Never before had your smile been so bright. If only you could go back to that simpler time.

If only.

“But we were in love with each other back then, weren’t we?” Kento asked. His own question nearly pushed him to his limit.

“Yeah, we were.” You smiled, brighter this time, and continued, “You’ll always have a special place in my heart — you know that, right?”

“I do.” Kento paused. “And, I’m sorry, but you’ll always be my sweetheart.”

“Good,” you mumbled, though your words were guilt-ridden. Avoiding Kento’s gaze, you started to fiddle with your wedding ring. “It’s getting late. I should . . . I should probably go.”

He didn’t want you to leave, but you weren’t his anymore. How he felt didn’t matter.

“Thank you for coming. It meant more to me than you know,” he said.

“Well, I was lying when I said I wanted to spend his birthday alone.”

“I know.”

You rolled your eyes. Of course he did.

“Bye, Kento,” you got out of the booth, pulling your jacket tighter around your frame. “I . . . nevermind.”

Kento watched you walk through the chiming exit doors of the diner, your last sentence left incomplete. Raindrops were splattering against your head and clothes, but you were in no rush, not minding the drizzle.

Suddenly, your footsteps halted on the concrete sidewalk. You turned around, peering through the big windows, locking eyes with your ex-husband. At first, you gave him a soft smile — one that meant goodbye, and nothing further.

But then, he saw the corners of your lips fall into a little frown, and your eyes glistened with uncertainty. Hesitation. Regret.

You sighed, turning away from the sight of the man in the booth, the man who you knew for a fact held more than a “special place” in your heart, but still owned it entirely.

Though every step away from him was painful, you dragged yourself to your car, and drove away from the ex-husband you still loved, and home to the current-husband you somewhat liked.

Kento thought about rushing out of the door, wrapping his arms around your waist, and kissing you in the rain — passionately and deeply, as you once loved. After all, he knew what your final look towards him meant. He knew your past marriage, though destructive, still held more passion than your current loveless one.

But he stayed put in his seat, taking a sip of his cold black coffee.

Perhaps, he would regret not chasing after you for the rest of his life, but being that he discovered not too long ago that his son’s cancer was genetic, originating from Kento’s side, and would soon claim his life as well — even after he survived all these years — he knew he wouldn’t have to live with his regret much longer.

This was the last time he would ever eat at the diner he once took you to, back when you were both young fools excitedly in love, fools who would die for each other in a heartbeat.

And those couple of seconds in which you locked eyes with him through the diner window? That was the last time he ever saw you.

🏷️: @sad-darksoul @priv-rose @yihona-san06 @keriaonmarz @luvvmae @underworldsheiress @notgoodforlife @thewondrousdreamer @levisfavoriteteashop @preciousamethyst @iwanttohitmyself @shoyosdoll @lil-apple-pie @prettypixigrl @sonarspace @averysmolbear @starstoru @starlightanyaaa @dolphin1135 @ioveartfilm @filhadaanarquia @blackdxggr @jaegergirl @gunslxtz @he11okitty-mari @koikohib

#tw death #tw illness #cw illness #cw death #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #kento x reader #nanami x reader #nanami angst #nanami x reader angst #kento nanami x reader #jjk angst #jjk x reader angst #kento nanami angst #jujutsu kaisen angst #jjk fanfic #jjk fic

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corevibeself · 4 months ago

Text

𝑊ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑆𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑁𝑒𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝐴𝑝𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑀𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝐴𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓? (PAC)

How to pick a pile: Take a deep breath to ground yourself; once that's done, look at the images below and pick which image you feel most drawn to. This is usually the first one we pick! If you feel drawn to more than one, that is entirely possible, as there may be more messages for you there!

Remember, these are general readings; the messages may not all be for you. Take what resonates and leave the rest <3

⋆˚｡⋆୨✧୧˚ 𝑷𝒊𝒍𝒆 1 ˚୨✧୧⋆｡˚⋆

𝖠𝖿𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎: "𝖨 𝖺𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗈𝗋 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗒 𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗎𝗇𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝖾"

For you guys, I feel like there’s a need to appreciate just how much you get done and how bravely you push forward. You move through life, accomplishing so much, but you don’t always stop to acknowledge how far you’ve come. It’s like you’re running on autopilot, constantly moving without realizing all you’ve done.

I got the bee card, and I just saw the funniest thing. You guys know how bees have such a short lifespan and just fucking die once they’re done working? That’s the energy I get from you. It’s like, “My work’s done, finally—death.”

Like pause.

You are such a beautiful, sensitive, and creative soul. I feel called to tell you that your ideas aren’t crazy or far-fetched. Whatever you’ve been wanting to do—whether it’s a hobby, a career path, or just a random idea—trust it. Be more confident in those urges, in those moments of inspiration, because they’re leading you somewhere. And if you feel fear around them? That just means they matter to you. Fear wouldn’t be there if you didn’t care.

I also feel like some of you don’t fully see or appreciate your impact on the people around you. Worker bees all look the same, right? But each one pollinates a flower, helping the environment. The honey they make is so delicious it brings happiness to the world—it impacts cuisine, and even health. You have no idea how much every thought and action you’ve had has made a difference in the world around you, because I just saw a vision of someone walking down the street and smiling as they crossed a stranger, and that smile might've meant the world to them at that moment.

I feel called to say you might have doubts or insecurities about your purpose. Maybe it’s not as clear or as big as you think it should be. Maybe you even doubt whether you have a purpose at all. But let me tell you: your purpose isn’t just one thing. It’s not some huge accomplishment meant to look a certain way. It can be, but don’t expect it to be. Your purpose is you. It always has been and always will be. You’re a blank canvas meant to be painted by yourself, not by others.

I also want to say—you might not realize just how good of a friend you are. You’re kind, sensitive, understanding, and so loyal. You’re the person people go to when they feel bad because you know how to hold space for them. Not only that, but you recognize when someone truly needs support, and because you’re intuitive, you also know when something is too much for you to handle emotionally, but that doesn't stop you from helping, because I also see that some of you can have some selfless tendencies, so take care of yourself.

I saw a picture in my mind of someone laughing while everything is falling apart. Honestly, that could be your genuine reaction when things feel like they’re crashing down. But another message I got? You spark change in the people around you—just by being who you are. You might have these amazing ideas for people, and they’re like, “Oh my god, that helped so much!” And you just say thanks—but you need to fully bask in that appreciation.

See your creativity. See your determination. See the change you bring to your environment. See how far you’ve come.

My little worker bee, you are so much more than you believe you are.

⋆˚｡⋆୨✧୧˚ 𝑷𝒊𝒍𝒆 2 ˚୨✧୧⋆｡˚⋆

(this affirmation came out for pile 1, so if you were attracted to pile 1, there may be messages for you there too!)

First off, can I just say—you’re a literal baddie. Like, you’ve got your shit together, even if it doesn’t always feel like it. Because what I’m getting is that you’re a dreamer, pile 2. You might take your sweet time getting where you want to be, but you do it with such grace that I just feel like applauding you.

What you need to appreciate is your sheer dedication to following your dreams. It’s grounded in reality because you take your time—you’re not in a rush like others. You sit, contemplate your next moves, and don’t feel pressured to move the way everyone else does. You’re independent and self-reliant, and that energy radiates. I’m seeing someone looking at you and thinking, “She’s really got her shit together.” That’s what you’re not seeing about yourself.

We live in a society that expects independence, but so many people struggle with it. This isn’t to say you haven’t faced your own challenges—you have—but you handle them so well. Some people hit setbacks and give up, but not you. You keep pushing forward because you’re a boss. I see someone who always gets invited out to parties, but you’re focused on your goals. You prioritize yourself. You set boundaries. And you do it with such conviction that no one would ever guess you’ve had doubts or setbacks. But you believe in yourself enough that fear doesn’t stop you. You are your own clutch, pile 2.

I pulled the frog as your animal card, and when I felt it out, I had this vision of how frogs eat. You know how they wait—calm, patient—letting the bug come to them? They stay perfectly still, knowing their moment will come. That tells me you make things happen even when it seems like you’re doing nothing. It could also mean that an opportunity you’ve been waiting for is about to fall into your lap. So if you’ve been waiting on something, take this as your sign!

⋆˚｡⋆୨✧୧˚ 𝑷𝒊𝒍𝒆 3 ˚୨✧୧⋆｡˚⋆

𝖠𝖿𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎: "𝖨 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗒 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗀𝗇𝗂𝗓𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗒 𝗂𝗇 𝗆𝗒𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿, 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗅."

My pile 3s awhhh :( ngl I teared up.

You need to appreciate just how beautiful you truly are. This honestly breaks my heart—I can feel it, literally feel how pure you are. I know all we want is to feel worth it, to feel valued, but pile 3, you're not just some average-looking NPC (no one is). You need to stop comparing yourself to everyone around you because you're you. You’re not broken. You weren’t made wrong. You’re not different in a way that makes you an outcast or someone unworthy of love. That’s not the truth.

I love you, and I don’t even know you. So chin up, buttercup.

I know it can feel like the weight of the world is pressing down on you, but the cards are practically begging you to see your value—because you are the one with the power to change how you see yourself. No one else can do that for you. No amount of compliments will ever feel real if you don’t let yourself believe them. So what’s stopping you? Are you your own worst bully? Does self-hate feel more comfortable than self-love? Does accepting kindness make you squirm?

Pile 3, I need you to sit with that. Shadow work is calling. Because no matter how much I wish I could shake you and make you see your worth, only you can do that.

Look in the mirror—really look. The person staring back at you deserves your kindness. They deserve to hear something nice in the morning. They deserve to see a radiant, joyful smile looking back at them.

I won’t sugarcoat it—you may have been through heavy, painful experiences that shook your sense of self-worth. Maybe you’ve been bullied. Maybe you’ve seen or felt things that made you question your place in the world. But you know what’s incredible about you? Even after all of that, you still see the beauty in others. You would never judge someone’s appearance. You would never call someone ugly. Because you know how that feels.

So why not treat yourself with that same grace? Why not be your own friend?

I pulled the Peacock card for you, and the first thought I had was—you know peacocks never see their own feathers? Yet they are some of the most majestic creatures in the world.

Pile 3, that’s you. You are beautiful. You are radiant. You are fucking majestic. So act like it, dammit

______________________________________________________________

Thank you so much for reading!!!I love doing this hehehe, if it resonated, feel free to tell me all about it! I'd love to hear what you guys have to say <3

#tarot reading #tarotcommunity #pac reading #pick a card #pick a pile #eclectic witch #tarot #intuitive readings

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fushiguruuzzzz · 7 months ago

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HIDDEN WISHES — M.FUSHIGURO

“Make a wish,” you said, eyeing him expectantly.

And as he stared at you, birthday hat atop your head and a smile so wide it was almost child like, he couldn’t fathom the possibility of wanted anything more. What more could he want when he had you, pretty and warm and so sweet it hurt his teeth?

But for your sake, he humoured you. His lips curled into a barely-there grin, and he blew out his candles. Your name repeated like a mantra in his head, all he could ask for and all he could think about.

“Did you wish?”

His head tilted lazily to the side, eyes trained on you. “Mhm,” he hummed.

You smiled again—he figured he should’ve been the one beaming, it was his birthday after all. You always had a way of finding the light in things, of shining even in the darkest of places.

Picking up a fork and scooping a messy bite of the cake with the utensil, you held it up, the heap of icing and sugar hovering around his closed mouth. When your pointed looks proved worthless, you prodded at his lips with it. A sprinkle stuck to his face, making his otherwise nonchalant expression seem rather silly.

“Say ah,” you said, poking a little more aggressively. He quirked a brow, unimpressed. In all seriousness, he somewhat enjoyed your playful coddling. Not that he’d admit that, never. So he stared at you like he was bored, though you knew him better than that. The glint in his eyes told you well enough.

Some sort of impulse became too strong, and you smeared the baked good across his mouth—and everything around it. His jaw only then fell open, brows furrowing in a mix of amusement and offence. “Hey!”

You grinned, obviously proud of your work. A gentle hand came up, tilting his chin toward you. “I think you’ve got a little something there,” you teased. “I’ll get it for you.”

When you kissed him, you could taste the sugar. It was sweet, but you much preferred the taste of his lips on a normal day.

He chased you when you pulled back, a desperate attempt to get the fill that he wasn’t bold enough to ask for. When you opened your eyes, you wished you had brought a camera. He was a blank canvas smeared with cake and traces of your lipstick; remnants of your love clinging to him like they were always meant to be there.

Megumi couldn’t even find it in himself to be annoyed, eyes twinkling with something you’d never really seen before. Just then, he started thinking that maybe, just maybe birthday wishes came true after all.

a/n — mmm I tried to wait to write this so it didn’t simmer in the drafts but now it’s dec 11 and I’m writing this smh. Sigh I love Megumi so bad can you tell… also he shares a bday with my friend so today is a glorious day 🙏 my fav part of these is making the little icons for the top megumi is so silly

Jjk & general tags: @sh0ot1ngst4r @azinniya @kashee-h @anotherwriternamedclara @ruruisru @lizbix

#jjk #jjk megumi #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smau #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #fushiguro megumi #꩜ on replay :: mergurmur #collection of sprouts

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bytemee · 3 months ago

Text

۶ৎ STUNNER — yu jimin.

“my little angel in disguise..."

⌗ in which— you're a painter who hasn't picked up a brush in months. then one night at your best friends gallery, you meet a stranger who inspires you more than you ever thought possible. you don’t know her name. you don’t know that she’ll disappear before morning. you don’t know that when your hands finally remember how to move, how to paint, it’ll be her face staring back at you from the canvas.

but—when your best friend sees your finished piece, she says eight words that change everything:

"why the hell did you paint the princess?"

pairing. princess!karina x painter!fem!reader

warning(s). language, mentions of alcohol and smoking, mild angst, kissing + implied nsfw but not explicit, happy ending.

word count. 5.7k

authors note. @bimkayd for u. i also have to update my masterlist...bad.

when creativity strikes, it strikes.

like, really fucking hard. and it always comes at the worst times—when you’re in the shower, when you’re half-asleep, when you’re five minutes away from an important meeting you don’t even want to be at. but for the past few months, it hasn’t come at all.

time blurs when you’re stuck in the same four walls, staring at blank canvases like you're trying to have a staring contest with them. the paints dry in their tubes, waiting for you to wake up from whatever this is—this rut, this drought, this fucking nothingness in your head.

yunjin tells you it’s a phase. "everyone goes through it," she says over the phone, her voice tinny with excitement, too busy preparing for her own gallery opening to properly pity you. “come to my exhibit tonight. it’ll help.”

so you go to her art gallery opening. you haven't been out of the house in weeks. you haven't painted anything worth showing in months. it's a miracle you can dress yourself and brush your teeth without collapsing.

the gallery is packed when you arrive, an ocean of well-dressed bodies moving in slow currents, sipping expensive champagne from delicate flutes and admiring the artwork. most of these paintings are by yunjin herself—all bold colors and abstract shapes—but there are a few others here, too, and you spend some time wandering around, looking at them all.

your favorite is a painting done in blues and greys, full of sharp angles and harsh shadows. the paint looks thick enough to feel under your fingertips. there's a small plaque in front of it that reads "untitled" and nothing else. you stare at it for what feels like hours, but it must only be minutes because when you look up, yunjin is standing beside you, smiling.

"do you like it?" she asks.

"i love it," you reply. "it's stunning."

she laughs. "that's what i was going for."

yunjin nudges you playfully with her elbow. “so? feeling inspired yet?”

you scoff, but it lacks real bite. “i don’t think staring at other people’s work is going to magically make me able to paint again.”

“maybe not,” she muses, taking a sip of champagne. “but getting out of your own head for once might.”

you don’t have the energy to argue with her. not when she’s right. not when she’s always right.

you then let her drag you through the gallery, introducing you to people whose names you’ll forget before the night is over. collectors, critics, other artists—everyone here looks effortlessly put together, as if they belong in a world you haven’t touched in far too long. you nod, you shake hands, you make small talk. it takes every ounce of strength you have just to act normal, as if you haven't been locked inside your own head for months now. as if there isn’t a black hole where your creativity used to be.

"your work is so… bold," says one woman, sipping from her champagne flute. "i love it."

"thank you," you say, hoping your smile doesn't look as strained as it feels.

you glance around the room, looking for anything that might distract you from this conversation. a familiar face. a bathroom sign. anything. but all you see are unfamiliar faces and unreadable paintings on the walls, and suddenly you feel dizzy.

claustrophobic.

you need to get out of here.

now.

"excuse me," you mutter, slipping away from the woman before she can ask another question.

you don't know where you're going, but it doesn't matter. as long as it's somewhere else. your shoes click against the tile floor as you weave through the crowd, eyes focused on the exit ahead, sliding out the door into fresh air.

the night is cool on your skin, but not cold. you can still hear the sounds of the city echoing off the buildings, muffled music from inside the gallery mixing with distant traffic and the occasional car horn. it's a beautiful night, perfect weather for an art opening. if only you could appreciate it.

you lean back against the wall, fishing your pack of cigarettes out of your pocket. they're crumpled up but still intact, thanks to the tin foil wrapper you put around them before heading over here. you've been trying to quit lately, but old habits die hard.

besides, you figure you deserve this one.

you light a cigarette and inhale deeply, letting the smoke fill your lungs before exhaling slowly, watching as it curls and dissipates into the air. it tastes terrible—like ash and chemicals and bitter regret—but it calms your nerves, just a little bit.

and then the door swings open again.

at first, you think it's security. some guy ready to kick you out for loitering in the wrong place. but then you see her, stumbling out the back entrance of the gallery, looking flustered and annoyed. she's wearing an expensive-looking gown with a slit up one side, showing off her long legs, and heels so tall you'd trip over them yourself if you tried to walk in them. her hair is perfectly coiffed and her makeup flawless, but her expression says she wants to be anywhere else.

you stare, transfixed. she’s all contrast. elegance and frustration. poise and unrest. a picture-perfect masterpiece comes to life.

"do you have another?" she asks, motioning to your cigarette.

her voice snaps you out of your reverie, and you arch an eyebrow. she looks too perfect, too put together, to be standing here asking you for a cigarette. "you smoke?"

a pause. then, "no. never actually."

you laugh to yourself, not in a mean way, more like you're trying to convince yourself this isn't actually happening. "so why'd you ask me for one?"

"because i want to try," she says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "i want to try something new."

she’s so fucking out of place here. all that polish, all that perfection—it makes her look like a mirage, something that can't possibly be real. her hair’s perfect, her makeup looks like it was painted on by a master, and that damn dress? it’s made for a runway, not this alley. she’s like someone dropped a fantasy into a real, gritty world, and for some reason she ended up here.

her eyes don’t leave yours as she waits—most likely for you to respond, to offer the cigarette she asked for, to say something, anything—but you stay silent because your mind is working faster than your body right now, and you need a moment to catch up.

“you wouldn’t like it,” you finally say, once the gears have started turning again, your words sounding much steadier than you feel.

her eyebrow furrowed, her lips turning down just slightly at the corners. not quite a frown, not yet, but a near thing. you've never wanted to capture an expression on canvas as much as you do right now, her face in all its beauty and annoyance.

"why not?" she asks, sounding indignant, almost insulted. "do you not trust my judgment? my tastes?"

she seems to be talking herself into it, the challenge sparking something behind her gaze. and though her posture doesn't change, you can practically feel the determination radiating off her.

you laugh. "you're missing out on the exhibit, you know."

"i could say the same to you," she counters. "why are you out here?"

you could give her a simple answer, something about needing a break, needing air, needing to get away from the suffocating crowd of people who actually have something to show for themselves. but none of that would be the truth, so you simply shrug and say—

"—wasn't really feeling the whole art world pretentiousness thing."

"strange place to be if you're not a fan."

"my friend dragged me." you admit, dropping the cigarette butt to the ground and grinding it out with the toe of your shoe.

she cocks her head to the side, eyes flicking down to the now extinguished butt before looking back up. it's her turn to stare at you. to take in your appearance—the plain button-up, dark dress slacks, and polished black leather shoes. if not for the tattoos peeking out from your sleeves and collar, you'd just look like another patron, dressed to impress and blend into the crowd.

"are you an artist as well?"

you smile at the question, "used to be."

her gaze softens, "used to be?"

"haven't painted in a while."

the pout is back, her eyebrows scrunching together as she stares at you, clearly processing this information, taking in your words and decoding them, working through their implications and how they fit into the context. she settles with, "well, do you plan to ever again?"

it's a simple question. one you should have a simple answer to, but life isn't simple. and art, well, art's a fucking mess. your shoulders rise before dropping.

"why not?" her eyes narrow. "have you given up?"

"not giving up." you tell her. "just stuck."

her lips press together like she doesn’t quite believe you. like she’s debating whether to push, whether to pry, whether you’re just making excuses.

"stuck how?" she asks, arms crossing over her chest.

you huff out a laugh, shaking your head. “you ask a lot of questions.”

“i like knowing things,” she says easily. “and i like understanding people. you intrigue me.”

it shouldn’t affect you the way it does. but those words—you intrigue me—they lodge themselves somewhere deep, twisting and turning like a key fitting into a lock you didn’t realize was waiting to be opened.

you glance down, scuffing the toe of your shoe against the pavement, considering how to answer. the truth is ugly. the truth is that you used to paint like your life depended on it—because, in a way, it did. it was your lifeline, your voice, your way of making sense of things when nothing else made sense.

and then, one day, it just—stopped. the inspiration, the fire, the need—all of it dried up, like a well you kept going back to, only to find it emptier each time.

"you ever look at something so much you forget what made it beautiful in the first place?" you ask instead.

she doesn’t answer right away; she just watches you, eyes flickering over your face. trying to read you is like a puzzle box. or a book. you wonder what kind of story she thinks she finds on your face. what she sees, besides the tired bags under your eyes and the slight tremble in your hands.

when she speaks, her voice is quiet. low. it carries across the distance between you and hits you right where it counts.

"i think everything can be beautiful again. if you look at it the right way."

"yeah?" you say, a little more bitter than you mean to. "that easy, huh?"

her lips quirk, not quite a smile, but close. "i didn’t say it was easy. i just think… maybe beauty isn’t lost. maybe it’s just waiting to be found again."

you swallow, forcing yourself to scoff lightly, to shake your head. "you always this philosophical, or is that just the champagne talking?"

she laughs, soft but real. "i haven’t had a single sip tonight."

"then what are you doing out here?"

"i needed fresh air."

your fingers twitch. she speaks again.

"and maybe you just need a new muse."

you wonder if she even realizes what she’s saying. if she knows that, somehow, without even trying, she’s already painting herself into every blank canvas in your mind.

the night unravels like a half-finished painting—smudged, chaotic, too many colors bleeding into each other. you don’t remember who kissed whom first, only that one second she was looking at you like she saw something worth figuring out, and the next, your hands were on her waist, and she was breathing against your lips.

it’s desperate. messy. her dress pools on the floor of your too-small apartment, and her skin feels like something you’re not supposed to touch but can’t help but reach for anyway. you don’t ask her name. she doesn’t ask for yours. it’s better that way.

and then, when morning comes, she’s gone. no note, no number, nothing. you don't have to guess if it was real or not because the memories are too vivid, too sharp, for it to be anything but. you lie there for a while, staring at the ceiling, replaying everything over and over in your head.

the way she looked. the way she tasted. the way she felt.

your hands are itching, craving the feeling of your brush in your hand.

it’s not a choice. not really.

your body moves before your mind can catch up, reaching for the brushes, the paints, and the canvas that’s been gathering dust in the corner. the moment the bristles touch the surface, it’s like something clicks back into place—like an old wound finally scabbing over.

she appears in fragments first. the curve of her jaw. the slope of her neck. the way her lips parted like she was about to say something, only to change her mind. it’s obsessive, almost. you don’t even think about what you’re doing, only that you have to do it. the need rushes through you like wildfire, consuming everything in its path.

you don’t know how long you sit there, lost in the act of pulling her from memory onto canvas. hours, maybe.

that’s how yunjin finds you.

she kicks the door shut behind her, dropping a bag onto the counter like she’s another name on your lease. "you alive?" she asks, but then she sees you—sees the paint on your hands, your clothes, your face. sees the finished piece propped up in front of you.

and she stops short.

"oh."

her tone is surprised, breathless, then she laughs, loud and disbelieving.

"oh my god," she says, eyes wide with something between amusement and shock. "why the hell did you paint the princess?"

you blink, exhausted. “what?”

she gestures to the painting like it should be obvious. “why did you paint the princess?”

your stomach drops. “the what?”

she stares at you. “you’re joking.”

“i—” you look at the painting. at her.

your pulse thuds in your ears.

“yunjin,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “what the fuck are you talking about?”

it’s a joke. it has to be.

you wait for yunjin to laugh, to tell you she’s messing with you, but she doesn’t. she just stares at you, then back at the painting, then back at you again like you’re the dumbest person alive.

“you seriously didn’t know?”

your mouth is dry. you shake your head. yunjin lets out a sharp breath.

"oh my god. you—you slept with the princess, and you didn’t even know?” the words hit you like a punch. you stare at the painting—at her—but it doesn’t make sense.

princesses don’t sneak out of fancy events. princesses don't try to bum cigarettes off strangers in alleyways. princesses don’t have one-night stands with random depressed artists they meet in the back of art galleries.

you swallow hard, rubbing a hand down your face. “fuck.”

“yeah,” yunjin says, crossing her arms. “fuck.”

you stare at her, then at the painting, and then back at her. the gears turn in your head, trying to connect the dots, trying to fit this new information into the picture. "are you sure?" you ask, even though you know she wouldn't lie about this. "like, absolutely fucking positive?"

"of course i'm fucking positive!" she throws her hands up. "do you not pay attention to the news at all?"

your mind whirls with the new information.

it’s not that she was just some stranger slipping out before sunrise. she's a princess. a whole gorgeous untouchable, have you said untouchable? — princess.

and now she’s everywhere. on the news, in magazines, her face staring back at you from glowing screens and glossy pages. every headline, every camera flash, every fucking update on her. princess karina seen leaving in the royal car. princess karina attending an art gala. princess karina, princess karina, princess karina.

you try to forget. you try to be normal again—whatever that means. you go back to ignoring your canvases, sitting on the couch, flipping through channels you don’t really watch. you even let yunjin drag you out a few times, shove drinks in your hand, and tell you to move on already. but it doesn’t work.

because she’s still in your head.

so you chase.

not in the obvious way. not in the stupid, reckless, get-yourself-arrested-for-trying-to-climb-the-palace-gates way.

you chase in the quiet ways. the ways that don’t make sense to anyone else. the ways that make yunjin groan and say, “you are literally the most tragic idiot i’ve ever met. but i'll help you anyway."

and that's how you find yourself here. in a palace that is stupidly big.

like, what do you even do with this much space? big. it’s all gold and chandeliers and marble floors and suits of armor standing around, looking vaguely threatening. it makes your skin itch.

you don’t belong here. you know that. but neither did she, that night outside the gallery. and if she could slip out of this world for one night, maybe—just maybe—you can slip in.

yunjin had connections. she always did. you didn’t ask questions when she got you in, just pulled the sleeves of your borrowed suit down and tried not to look like you wanted to throw up.

you have a plan. it doesn't go smoothly.

"i'm sorry, miss. only those on the guest list may enter."

"oh, i—" you scramble to find an excuse. any excuse. "i am on the guest list."

the guard doesn't move. he doesn't even blink.

"what's your name?"

"uh—" your mind blanks. "it's a very long name. very, very long. with a lot of letters. like, a lot of them. you wouldn't be able to pronounce it."

the guard doesn’t look amused. or convinced.

"try me."

you throw out the first thing that comes to mind. "it’s, uh… y/n… the first… y/ln… the third."

silence.

then yunjin, from beside you, coughs so hard you think she might pass out. you nudge her with your elbow, but she’s already turning away, shoulders shaking.

the guard, however, does not laugh. he just stares at you like you’re the dumbest person to ever breathe.

"that’s not a real name."

"it could be," you argue weakly.

he crosses his arms. "it isn’t."

you exhale through your nose, willing yourself not to turn and run. not yet. not when you’re this close.

yunjin, finally recovering, clears her throat and steps in. "okay, okay, my idiot friend here—who, i assure you, is actually very harmless—just has a little bit of trouble with names. what they meant to say is that they’re a guest of lady yu."

the guard squints at you both, skeptical. "lady yu?"

"yes," yunjin says smoothly. "you know, lady yu. very high society. loves art. huge fan of… uh, brush strokes."

you resist the urge to slap a hand over your face.

the guard exhales, clearly debating whether dealing with the two of you is worth his time. eventually, he lifts a radio to his mouth, murmuring something you can’t hear. a beat later, he nods.

"you’re clear to enter."

you don’t ask how yunjin pulled that off; just grab her hand and pull her inside before the guy can change his mind.

and then you’re in.

the palace is even more ridiculous further inside. every inch screams money. gilded ceilings, more enormous chandeliers, even shinier marble floors that make you extra aware of how not rich you are.

you scan the room, searching, heart pounding in your throat. and then—

there.

at the far end of the ballroom, half-surrounded by nobles and dignitaries and all the kinds of people who actually belong here, she stands. regal. poised. effortlessly untouchable.

princess karina.

and she’s looking right at you.

you swallow. she arches an eyebrow. her expression shifts, then she's up and moving. in your direction. then, without a word, her fingers wrap around your wrist, firm but not rough, and she turns, pulling you with her.

you barely have time to process what’s happening before you’re weaving through the gilded halls, past guards who barely spare you a glance, past murmuring guests too distracted by their own conversations to notice the princess slipping away with some stranger in a borrowed suit.

she doesn’t stop until you’re deep in the palace, past the public rooms, past the private suites, past everything anyone else has a right to see. only then does she let go.

you swallow hard, rubbing at your wrist. "subtle."

she ignores you, crossing her arms. "what the hell are you doing here? you're not supposed to be here."

your throat feels dry. "i know."

"then why are you?"

you lick your lips, suddenly 1000x more nervous than you were standing outside the palace gates. "i—" you inhale sharply. "i tried to forget you. and i couldn’t."

"that’s unfortunate."

your chest tightens. "is it?"

she exhales softly through her nose. "what do you want, really?"

and it hits you, all at once, all over again. why you’re here. why you had to come.

you take a step forward, closing the distance between you. your eyes never leave hers. "do you know what it means to be a muse?"

that throws her. a small crease forms between her brows. "i—"

"it means you exist everywhere," you cut in before she can finish. "even when i try to ignore it. even when i don’t want to think about you. you show up in every color, in every stroke of my brush, in every painting i try to create. you are impossible to forget."

her mouth opens and closes. "that doesn’t—you can't—"

"it means you stole something from me," you continue, your voice growing softer as you close the last bit of distance between you. "something i didn’t even realize i was missing until you came into my life and showed me what it meant to feel alive again. you're my muse."

her breath catches at that, lips parting just slightly, as if to speak, but no words come out. you take advantage of the moment, reaching up to cup her face in your hands, brushing a thumb over her cheekbone. she leans into your touch, eyelashes fluttering against her skin, eyes falling shut for a moment. and then they open again, dark and intense and so, so beautiful.

she searches your face as her hand reaches up to rest against yours. you want to kiss her, want to tell her you want her in the simplest terms, in a way that even a princess can understand. you lean forward, pressing your forehead against hers, and ask, "do you feel the same? was it real, what i felt between us?"

you barely whisper the question out loud, barely hearing her inhale as she closes the space between you. her lips brush against yours, featherlight but enough to make your stomach flip. “i can't be that for you,” she says against your mouth.

and your heart breaks. you know you were just a one-time thing, just a quick fling for her. it's the whole princess thing. you knew it would be complicated, but you couldn't stop thinking about her, and she's looking at you with such an intense look, a look that says she can't forget you either, and that has to be worth something, right?

you don't realize you said all of it out loud until she pulls away, blinking rapidly. "wait, no—that's not—that's not what i meant," she stammers, suddenly looking much younger and more vulnerable than you've ever seen her. "that night at the gallery, with you, was real. that was—it was the only time i've ever felt that way."

"but," like always

her gaze softens. "we can't. you can't just come in here like this."

she says the last bit as if you've done something wrong, and her hands pull back to her sides. you don't have it in you to care about her rules anymore. her hands fall to her sides, but you stay still, your forehead hovering near hers, your breath mixing.

"i don't care about protocol," you whisper. "i care about you."

"stop," she says, softer than before. "you can't just say things like that and expect me to—"

"expect you to what?" your voice rises, sharp edges showing. "feel the same? you already do. you’re just scared. and i get it. i do. but don’t pretend this didn’t mean anything."

"i'm not pretending," she snaps, taking a step back, composure cracking. "i haven't stopped thinking about you either, okay? but that doesn’t change the fact that this—us—it’s impossible."

"why? because you wear a crown and i wear paint under my nails?"

"because my life isn’t mine!" she yells. "because everything i do is watched and calculated and twisted into something ugly. if they knew you were here—if they saw us like this—"

"then let them see," you say, helpless and stupid and in love. "i'll stand in front of every one of them and say it. i'll tell them how i look at you like the sun rises in your mouth and sets in your goddamn spine. i don't care."

"well, i care!" she shouts, her voice shaking now, full of fire and something just comparable to fear. "i can't afford to want things. not like you do. not recklessly. i don't get to choose who i love."

it's quiet.

"you need to leave."

you don’t move.

"if you don’t, i'll call the guards."

you flinch, and she notices. her jaw clenches. it takes everything in you not to beg.

“don’t make me do that,” she whispers. “please. just go.”

your throat is tight. you nod once.

you turn, heart heavy, the room blurring at the edges. when you open the door, yunjin is waiting, quiet and still in the corridor, like she knew this was how it’d end.

you don’t say a word as she walks beside you down the long hallway, past the grand ballroom, and out of the palace. she doesn’t push for information or ask about what happened. she just lets you stew in your thoughts, and you are grateful. when you get back to your apartment, you collapse onto the bed. you don’t cry—you never really did, even in high school, and now doesn't seem like a good time to start—but you come pretty fucking close.

you lie there for hours. maybe days. hard to tell. just you, your ceiling, and the hollow space behind your ribs where your heart used to sit before she carved it out with a single sentence and left like it didn’t matter.

you tell yourself it was stupid to fall for her. she’s a fucking princess. what were you expecting? that she’d run off with you into the sunset like a fairy tale? that she’d burn her whole world down just to be with someone who wears the same hoodie four days in a row and forgets to buy groceries until you’re eating plain rice and mustard?

but it still hurts.

the gallery night is yunjin’s idea. she throws a flyer at your chest and tells you to “get a grip and make rent.” you roll your eyes, but deep down you know she’s right. you need something to do with your hands, something to keep you from climbing the palace walls like some deranged romantic with a death wish.

you don’t expect anyone to show up, but people come. some friends. some strangers. a few art freaks who talk way too much about your “use of longing and space.” you just nod along, pretending you're three seconds away from yelling in their face.

everything is her. every painting. every messy, unblended brushstroke. every fucking streak of white paint on the canvas because she wore that blue dress when you first met, and now it’s like your brain can’t forget.

the last person leaves, some guy who said a lot of things you didn't understand, and you don't really remember the specifics of it, but you're pretty sure you shook hands, and maybe he wrote down your name and contact info? you don't remember. but there are no more guests. so you’re cleaning up. closing things. mentally debating whether or not you can drink paint thinner and survive.

the door creaks open behind you, and you don’t even look.

“sorry,” you call over your shoulder, wiping your hands on a rag. “we’re closed. private event's over.”

no response. just the sound of the door shutting. then —

“are you always this rude to royalty?”

you freeze.

slowly, slowly, you turn around. and she's standing there, in a white coat with her arms folded against her chest. there are shadows under her eyes, like she hasn’t been sleeping either. it takes everything in you not to run to her. not to kiss her until she forgets all the reasons why she ran the first time. you settle for swallowing hard and clearing your throat.

“you could’ve just knocked."

“i did." she lifts her hand. “twice. and then i panicked and came in anyway.”

you stare. she fidgets.

she looks down at her shoes. looks back up again. looks back down again. like she doesn’t know what to do with herself now that she's here. finally, she takes a step forward. you take a step back. it's reflex at this point, some instinct to keep her from getting too close.

"i came to apologize," she starts, sounding unsure, which isn't like her at all. "for—everything."

karina runs a hand through her hair. your throat goes tight at the familiarity of the action, at how much she reminds you of that night, that stupid dress, and the way she kissed you, indicating that she didn’t care what came next.

you exhale.

"don’t apologize," you say, because the words feel heavy and foreign in your mouth, because she's been living a life you can't even begin to imagine, because none of that matters if she's here, looking at you like this, and you have to believe in something. "you didn't do anything wrong. and if anyone needs to apologize, it should be me. i shouldn't have—"

"you were right," she cuts in before you can finish.

it throws you. "what?"

she swallows hard, glancing down at the floor, at your shoes. then back up again, holding your gaze this time. "i don't know much about art, but i know what you meant…for someone to be your muse." her voice drops low. "and i think you're mine."

you blink. "oh."

a pause. her cheeks flush, eyes widening in panic.

"was that—did that make sense? i probably sound like a—"

"yeah."

you nod, trying not to smile as you watch her rambling, trying not to stare too obviously at how her whole face is blushing now.

you want to tell her everything. to show her everything.

you settle for, "i mean, it does make sense."

it does. it doesn’t. none of this does, not in a normal way. it's the kind of thing you tell your grandkids about someday. or maybe a therapist, if you can ever afford one. either way, it makes something flicker deep within your chest.

you pause.

"so what do you mean, exactly?"

her lips purse. her eyes are pleading now. she looks younger. more human. not so much a princess anymore as she does someone trying to figure out how to tell the world to screw off. you're struck, again, with how much you love her. it feels like a physical ache in your chest.

"i want this," she says quietly, gesturing between the two of you. "i want this so much it scares me."

you're not used to this, to feeling seen by someone who isn't yunjin, and it throws you off. you clear your throat again, shifting from one foot to the other. "i want this too."

a pause. you try not to stare too openly at her lips. you fail miserably.

"we'll figure it out," she says softly. "together. whatever that looks like."

"together."

the word hangs between you, heavy with everything left unsaid. and then—

you don’t even realize what's happening until she's already moving forward, pulling you down to her level. you can smell her perfume. you can see every single detail of her face as she stares back at you. your lips are a breath apart. she hesitates.

"tell me you don't want this," she murmurs. "and i'll go."

your chest constricts, throat tight. you want to tell her it'll never be easy, not when you're you, and not when she's her, not when this could be so much more complicated than either of you are prepared for. but you also want this, want her, want to know what her skin feels like against your palms and whether or not the words i love you sound good when spoken aloud. you swallow hard, hands tightening on her hips.

"i can't," you whisper. "i don't think i've ever wanted anything more."

a smile flickers over her face. it's gone too quickly. "good."

her lips are on yours, soft and gentle, and everything in your life shifts back into focus, into place.

there are things you can't explain. the way she feels pressed against your chest, warm and perfect and yours, for now at least. the way your hands shake when you brush your thumb over the curve of her cheek. the way she tastes like starlight.

and there are things you don't have to.

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saintobio · 1 year ago

Text

blank canvas: the epilogue.

pairings. ryōmen sukuna, fem!reader

genre. past lovers, angst, opposites attract

tags/warnings. mentions of toxic relationships, purple hearts-ish themes, maybe some heartache

notes. 2.4k wc. i said it’ll come in a few days, but i had free time so here it issss!

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

TWO YEARS LATER

Tonight was Yuki and Choso’s going-away party.

Their decision to migrate to another side of the world was because Yuki had always talked about wanting to live abroad, and so when Choso was offered a once-in-a-lifetime job opportunity in another country, it became the perfect chance for them to make that dream a reality.

So despite your apprehensions, you couldn’t miss the chance to see Yuki one last time and accepted her invitation to the party.

The evening was alive with laughter and chatter as their families and friends gathered to celebrate their bittersweet departure. Among the crowd, you spotted some familiar faces who exchanged greetings with the couple, as well as some strangers you had never seen before.

But one person was conspicuously absent.

It had been two years since you had seen Sukuna, and the thought of potentially running into him again filled you with a strange mix of anticipation and dread. However, deep down, you knew he wouldn’t be there. There was no chance of him ever showing up because you hadn’t heard from him since that fateful night. The apartment you once shared together now housed a new tenant, and the tattoo shop across the street had transformed into a record store. Neither Yuki, nor Choso (even Yuuji), had mentioned anything about Sukuna since then, possibly avoiding any mentions of him to you out of his request. He had simply disappeared, evaporated from existence, leaving behind nothing but a fading memory.

As you scanned the room with a forlorn smile, your thoughts were interrupted by Yuki’s cheerful voice. “Y/N! So glad you could make it! I thought you weren’t gonna come, too.”

Your first instinct was to hug her tightly. “Of course, not! You know I can’t not see you before you go.”

“Aww.” She embraced you tighter before pulling away with a sad smile. “I’m gonna miss you so much. You’re like a little sister to me.”

Indeed, and she was the big sister you never had. Things would feel different without her here, but you supported her decisions and would always wish her the best in her future endeavors. So, despite the distance you two would soon have, you gave her a reassuring pat on the back. “We can still keep in touch. And maybe, I’ll pay you a visit there, too.”

“Honestly, I would love that!” she enthused, “Please do, even if I have to harass Getou and Gojou about it.”

You chuckled as she mentioned the duo’s name and spent the next few minutes with you chatting for a bit, catching up with your life, talking about your future plans. It was amazing how much can change in two years, and how some things can also stay the same. Like your friendship. And this bond that you would never find with anyone else.

For now, the night was still young, and you knew Yuki still had many more guests to accommodate, so you didn’t want to take all of her time. Eventually she did excuse herself to greet more guests, and you found yourself standing by the kitchen island, absentmindedly stirring your cocktail.

As you stood in the corner of the room, surrounded by the chatter and laughter of the party, you felt a sudden jolt run through your body as loud voices boomed across the room. They were Yuuji and Choso’s exuberant greetings cutting through the air, drawing everyone’s attention, including yours.

“Nii-san!”

“There he goes, Mr. First Lieutenant!”

Your eyes widened as you saw the figure they were addressing with playful salute—a man in a crisp military uniform, standing tall and confident. It took you a moment to recognize him, but when you did, your heart skipped a beat.

It was Sukuna.

He looked different, transformed almost, his demeanor more composed, his smile softer yet still retaining the undeniable aura of masculinity. He looked a lot more muscular than the last you remembered. His hair, now dyed back to its natural color, was neatly trimmed. You recognized that the uniform he wore was of the Japan Self-Defense Forces, adorned with badges and insignias that spoke of his achievements. The reckless, wild look in his eyes had been replaced by something steadier, more focused.

It wasn’t just the sight of him that made your heart skip a beat—it was how different he looked.

“That’s so cool!” Yuuji raved about his older brother’s badges, his starry eyes genuinely intrigued at the sight of Sukuna in a uniform.

Choso, on the other hand, was pulling him in a hug in an emotional jest. “Dammit. You said you couldn’t make it!”

“Don’t cry now,” Sukuna teased, patting the younger brother’s back. He seemed to be genuinely having fun teasing his brothers. “Had to pull some strings. I was on duty, but do ‘ya think I’d let you go without seeing you?”

You felt a pang of nostalgia in their interaction, but also recognized the visible difference in the way your ex-boyfriend spoke to others. He was genuinely happy. He was all smiles. He was the healthiest version of himself, both physically and emotionally.

It was clear to you that Sukuna had turned his life around, and it was evident that he was doing well in his field of work. The man you once knew, who had been consumed by his reckless way of life, was now standing tall and respected as an honorable member of the military.

When you said you had never met Sukuna again in your lifetime, that was true. Because the Sukuna you knew was no longer here. It was an entirely different man, changed for the better, just not for you.

As if sensing your gaze, Sukuna turned and your eyes mirrored each other’s surprise. For a moment, the world around you seemed to fade away, as if you were characters in a movie screen seeing each other for the very first time. It was as though your eyes were the camera, and he was the actor. You could say you were starstruck, your heart thumping so loud that you could hear it vibrate through your ears.

Two freaking years, and Sukuna still had that effect on you.

You didn’t know what to do. You found yourself at a loss, the red cup in your hand now shaking from the sudden surge of anxiety. Your mind was a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts, a kaleidoscope of heavy emotions, a tornado of nostalgic bliss, leaving you feeling adrift in a sea of memories.

You wondered if Sukuna hated having to see you here. And if so, should you leave to spare yourself—or perhaps him—from any potential discomfort?

Caught in this internal struggle, you felt paralyzed, uncertain of what to do next. But then, you saw a flicker of recognition and regret in his eyes.

Before you could even contemplate your next move, Sukuna was already excusing himself from his brothers. Their knowing looks exchanged in silence spoke volumes, indicating they were aware of where he was headed. The realization then hit you like a wave. Sukuna, your ex-boyfriend of two years, was coming toward you, and you were suddenly faced with a decision between confronting the past or making a quick escape.

“Y/N,” he greeted with a boyish grin, his voice deeper, more controlled. The bad boy persona he used to carry was completely gone.

“Sukuna,” you replied, struggling to keep your voice steady, a complete opposite from his confidence.

There was a moment of awkward silence before he spoke again. “You look great.”

“Thanks,” you meekly replied, clearing your throat and gesturing to his uniform, “You, too. Military suits you. I never saw that coming.”

He smiled in agreement, seemingly happy about his current appearance. You had never seen this kind of bliss from him before, like he was filled with content and a sense of self-worth. He was proud, and truth be told, you were, too.

“It’s been a good change. It gave me structure, purpose,” he paused, taking a red cup from the kitchen island nearby, “I finally got something ‘better’ to do with my life, huh?”

You smiled softly, not missing the implication of his last statement. “I’m happy for you. Really.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course.”

“Mhmm.”

The minutes that followed were some of the most agonizing of your life, not because of Sukuna, but because of the overwhelming awkwardness that enveloped the two of you. It felt as though you had nothing else to discuss, knowing full well that delving into your shared past was a territory you could never comfortably navigate. However, Sukuna, always the more vocal one in your relationship, had finally broken the silence.

“Do you…” he began, leaving you on edge, anticipating his question, “Do you wanna get some fresh air outside?”

Right. And with a smile, you nodded. “Sure.”

— —

You were grateful for the opportunity to escape the stifling atmosphere of the party and find some solace in the cool night air. Both of you were at the front porch, sitting over the pavement talking about anything but your past.

Sukuna excitedly talked about his time in the military, where you learned that he had enlisted two years ago and joined the army. After enlisting, he quickly excelled in the rigorous training required for the Special Operations Group (SOG). It didn’t surprise you that his physical prowess, sharp intellect, and determination made him a standout candidate.

“I actually completed advanced courses in counter-terrorism, reconnaissance, and combat survival,” he shared, his gaze set on the clear starry night above you. “Oh, and last month, I was deployed on a high-stake mission overseas. We extracted hostages from a conflict zone. Remember the action movies we used to watch? It was exactly like that. It was fun, thrilling.”

You listened intently, an elbow propped on your leg as you absorbed the enthusiasm in his stories. Pride and joy swelled in your heart as you heard him talk about something he was passionate about, because it was a stark contrast to the old Sukuna who wouldn’t have shown interest in these things. And this time around, you felt like you were infatuated again, but with the new him.

“I’m really proud of you.” Longingness dripping from your voice. “Very proud. And you’re First Lieutenant, too? Wow.”

The compliment seemingly made him blush, a sight so rare to see that you haven’t seen it throughout your relationship. “I wanted to become a better man.”

You felt a squeeze in your heart. You recalled the words he said that night at the parking lot, of him telling you that he had his own insecurities, too. That he knew all along that your uncertainties about him were rooting from his way of life. That he was aware that he couldn’t give you the life you deserved.

“Y/N.” Your name rolled off his tongue in an affectionate manner. He soon rose from his seat, prompting you to follow suit, before turning to face you. “I forgot to mention.”

You swallowed hard. “Yeah?”

His smile was sweet and genuine. “I’m engaged now.”

Oh.

Of course.

What did you expect?

His words settled in your heart like a suffocating shroud. Despite the ache in your chest, you managed a polite nod, concealing the storm of emotions swirling inside you. But you couldn’t contain it—the damn tears that pooled in your eyes. Please, not now. You turned away, hoping to shield your reaction from him.

But it was all too late.

He was already pulling you into an embrace, the familiarity in his warmth only making you weaker inside. “You are and will always be my greatest love,” he whispered into your ear, pressing his lips against your temple, “And also my biggest regret.”

Damn it. You covered your face with your hands, feeling ashamed of the tears streaming down your cheeks. What an absurd twist of fate. You could have gone about your day without encountering him again, yet here you were, shedding tears over the same man who had broken your heart two years ago.

“When I say regret,” he continued, cupping your cheeks and smiling at you lovingly. He ran his thumb across your cheeks, wiping your tears away. “I meant regret of not being that man for you. I didn’t treat you the way you deserved, or respected your boundaries like I thought I did.” Sukuna’s charm had you holding your breath still, too enamored by his beauty under the moonlight. He used to be a man of a few words, and now he didn’t shy away from pouring out his raw emotions. “I’m sorry I was two years too late. I’m sorry I had to let you go and be with someone else. But you and I know that it’s for the best.”

You weren’t crying because you wanted to get back together with him. You weren’t crying because he had promised marriage to someone else. You were crying because it felt like he was the one who slipped through your fingers, the one that got away, the one who could have been your forever if circumstances had aligned differently. It was the regret of a lost possibility, the ache of knowing that in another universe, you and him could have shared a lifetime together, untouched by the mistakes of the past.

He had dreams of making you his wife, dreams of having your children, dreams of growing old with you.

But the old Sukuna was dead, replaced by the new Sukuna who was happy and free from love’s toxicity. You realized it was time to let go. Time to bury the past and instead celebrate the future.

“Congratulations on the engagement,” you offered your well wishes, pulling away slightly to meet his gaze with your tear-filled eyes. “I hope she doesn’t find you a handful.”

He let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “No, no. I have to behave or else I’m a dead man,” he joked. “She's in the army, too.”

“Well, I’m glad you met her, Sukuna. You deserve it,” you said, your voice filled with genuine warmth as you wiped your lachrymose eyes.

Gratitude and comfort shone in his gaze. “And I’m glad you found your peace, Y/N. You always deserved better.”

You smiled in appreciation of his words as he helped you dust off your pants. Just then, your phone buzzed in your pocket, briefly taking your attention away from the current scene. “Uh, I think I need to go,” you hesitated, glancing back at the house. “But I think Yuki’s pretty busy.”

“It’s fine,” he assured. “Do you want me to call you a cab or?”

“No, it’s okay,” you replied, shooting him a grateful expression. “Satoru’s on his way to pick me up.”

He nodded, smiling. “Cool.” You were surprised when he offered his hand, a gesture to finally close whatever remained between you two. “It was nice seeing you, Y/N.”

You shook his hand and gave him a playful salute. “Likewise, First Lieutenant Ryomen Sukuna.”

As he returned to the party, immediately attacked by his friends, there was no hint of yearning or longing in him, as if the poignant exchange with his ex-girlfriend had never occurred. He was back in the scene in a fluid motion, laughing, catching up with his loved ones, telling stories about his life. No heartbreaks, no painful memories.

While as you stood there, knowing you had shared respect and love for each other, you were happy that there was a sense of closure in seeing Sukuna as the man he had become. You had both grown, both changed, and in that moment, you knew that your story, though painful, had led you two to where you needed to be.

That your love’s canvas, once blank, now held colors to complete the portrait.

#sukuna angst #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk angst

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