#camellia branch

[classic-asian-art]

Birds on Camellia Branch by Utagawa Hiroshige (Color woodblock print; chuban)

[justarandomlambblog]

It’s 230 am I cannot finish this tonight

Ignore the weird layout I was trying to conserve space for the sake of layers (reaallly big canvas) but they’re all on different layers so I will set them up like the paper dolls they are

If you’re curious how long this has taken me so far

Anyway gods in pretty dresses thank you

[moonmaiden1996]

The Monster Maomao Created Part 3

Your father had not returned that night.

Part 4

These things took time. Time to orchestrate, to implement, to get right. Time you, unfortunately, did not have.

In truth, you had seen him only in passing for weeks now. One glimpse from a corridor, another when he handed off urgent reports to aides as he rode through the outer gates. Between strategy councils and leading drills with the troops, he seemed more like a ghost than man lately. The latest dispatches from the northern border had stripped away ambiguity—rumors turned to warnings, warnings into facts. War no longer loomed like a distant shadow. It advanced—quiet, steady, inevitable.

And with it, your father had vanished into his duties, leaving you alone in the palace with your own battle to wage.

This was not the battlefield he knew—no clash of swords, no banners raised to the wind. This war wore rouge and whispered behind fans. It traded in glances, not arrows. And you had to fight it without him.

Which is why you had done the unthinkable: stepped directly into the lair of one of the most powerful women in the palace—alone.

The private chambers of Empress Gyokuyou were a place of cultivated tranquility, where even silence felt intentional. Amber light spilled through silk-paneled screens painted with cranes in mid-flight and branches of plum blossom that never faded. The delicate scent of camellia oil lingered in the air, subtle and clinging. Toys rested in artful corners—a carved rabbit, a painted drum, a silken ball—placed not haphazardly, but with care. Even innocence was curated here.

The Empress sat before you on a raised cushion of brocade, her robes a symphony of reds and pinks, her posture as precise as calligraphy. Her face was unreadable, carved with years of composure. She watched you with jade-colored eyes. Her lips curved into a faint smile—not cold, but not warm. Perfectly balanced.

"I do not want us to be enemies," you said softly, voice clear despite the weight of the moment. "My path seems already set. I must walk it, whether I would or not."

She lifted her cup and sipped slowly. The soft sound of liquid moving was the only reply for a long moment.

"I have always admired your father. He is an honorable man. Loyal beyond question. He has supported the Emperor since the beginning of his reign."

"It is true," you said, nodding. "My father respects and loves the Emperor deeply. And he holds equal respect for you, and for your children."

Her gaze lingered, searching, as though peeling layers you had thought well hidden.

"And you?"

You bowed your head, the jeweled hairpin in your crown catching the midday sun. Light glanced off it, a deliberate gleam—subtle, but unmistakable. A token from him.

Everyone knew what the pin meant. The pin had been given months before, hidden away in your dressing box, ignored. It was beautiful—carved of white jade and inlaid with white gold—a design too fine, too significant to be random. The Moon Prince's pin. In the court, such a gift was no mere ornament. It marked imperial interest. You were being chosen. Endorsed. And by wearing it now, you stated the choice you had made to the Empress herself.

"I came here because I wish to affirm my devotion to my empress. If this marriage… if it comes to fruition might cause some upset. I wish to ensure that doesn't happen" You straightened your posture as you met her gaze.

She paused. The silence was long, but not empty. Her eyes flicked once to the toddler nestled against her side, to the baby in her arms, before she turned her gaze back to you.

"Would you care for more tea?"

You had not been dismissed. That was something. A small victory, in a place where such things mattered. If you made an enemy of her now, you could very well be suffering the death by a thousand cuts.

"Yes, please." You smiled, demure and serene. A smile shaped not for affection, but diplomacy. You had long ago learned how to wield your expressions like weapons, same as the Empress in this you were equal.

At her signal, her ladies-in-waiting quietly stepped forward, bowed, and disappeared through a side door, their silk robes whispering as they moved. The hush that followed was deeper now, the room emptier. Just the two of you—and the Empress’s children, her preoccupied daughter and son, tucked against her side.

The children were the reason for everything. The reason for Jinshi—or whatever his name was to be in the rear palace, the reason for you needed to be here. Children were always sources of trouble—the need to secure their future, to keep them safe, to even have them. You did not know the Empress well, but you knew she was a good mother, and despite her kindness she would be as savage as any bear to protect her children. You appreciated that. You would be the same. But it made this even more difficult.

Then, without warning she spoke again.

"Could you love him? Truly?"

Your fingers hesitated on the rim of your cup. The question hung in the air. Did you? No. Could you? Maybe. As a young girl you might have been giddy, gushed around the Prince—but as a women you know how truly dangerous it was .

"I think… I could." You pondered. "I know I will be a good wife."

She looked down into her tea. "Jin... Ka Zuigetsu is shy after being isolated from much of court life due to his...illness. He... lacks confidence, even despite the front he wears. He is dear to me… I owe him much. I only want him to be cherished, as I cherish the Emperor."

"I can only try." You offered the words carefully, letting your tone soften just enough. A small show of sincerity—but never vulnerability.

She studied you again, not with suspicion, but with calculation—the kind that had become second nature to women like her. "You would be a fierce wife. Sharp. Loyal. Intelligent. The court would do well to fear you. And you would make a strong mother, no doubt."

Her hand moved gently, almost absently, to brush a lock of hair from her son’s face. He shifted slightly but didn’t wake, safe and warm beneath his mother’s arm. "This war comes too soon, when everything is unsettled.,. It gives people ideas," she said quietly.

You shifted slightly on your cushion. The Empress rarely spoke carelessly. But she was right, the prince was still a babe and with the war, it meant power struggles . And "ideas" could be the most dangerous thing of all in a place like this.

"They wouldn’t dare," you said, voice firmer now. You leaned forward, ever so slightly. "Your son is the only rightful choice."

Her gaze narrowed, not with anger, but with testing intent. "He is young. And there is no guarantee…"

"You will be blessed with more sons. All destined for greatness," you said quickly. It was true the young prince was young, and there were many dangers in the palace.

"And you? You want children, do you not?" Her eyes lifted sharply to yours.

Here it was—the threat. If you bore Jinshi children, they would not be minor princes to be married off to distant provinces. They would be born of imperial blood and martial lineage, noble on both sides. Children with your father's steel in their veins and your mothers connections to the western world, and Jinshi's royal blood, court-born charm and beauty and in anyone's eyes a dangerous weapon. Any child would be a threat that no amount of diplomacy could ignore.

Even now, the Empress must have seen it. How could she not? She was no fool. Her smile had been warm, but beneath it there had been calculation. The measured look of a woman who understood all too well how easily people turn.

You were not the enemy today. Not yet. But if you could establish a truce or an understanding, you and your family might just survive.

"I do." You held her gaze. No point lying. "But… these things take time. I doubt I will be blessed until there is a strong second born to bare the weight of the Emperors legacy."

You hated these layered words, this careful game of hint and half-meaning. Even if you did have a whole brood of strong boys, you would never let them near the court. It was too dangerous. You wanted a safe and happy family. Give them a childhood like you had. But that was not the game. No one would believe you. Why should they? So you played the game anyway, as all women at court did.

"You cannot know that," she said, though her voice softened around the edges. Her daughter toddled past the table, chubby legs wobbling slightly as she made her way toward her mother, giggling.

"There are ways," you replied. "Women have known them for centuries."

She understood. The knowledge passed between you, wordless but potent. Until the heir was secure—until a second son was born—you were not to conceive. It was easy enough to do. The safest thing you could do.

"It would be safer not to have children," she murmured, almost to herself.

A ripple of chill traveled down your spine, though you didn’t let it reach your face.

"I am still young. I have time to take a more leisurely approach," you said, still smiling, lifting the teacup with steady hands. "Though you do tempted me, especially when you show me your beautiful children to sway me into motherhood.'' You smiled the toddler as it chased a rather bashful cat across the room. ''Besides, I do not think you are cruel. You would not ask me such a thing."

"I would never ask that of a woman." Her voice shifted, and then, unexpectedly, laughter slipped from her lips. Not sharp, not mocking. Laughter that came too freely to be false. "I suppose that means you’ve thought about your future with the Prince… He is pleasing to the eye and kind… so kind… If he’s anything like his brother, he’ll certainly enjoy the act of making children." she teased.

Heat crept up your neck, though your smile remained composed.

"I’ll do my best."

"I'm sure you will—if the apothecary has anything to do with it. She has taught me more in keeping the Emperor happy than any other." More laughter, lighter this time. ''I am sure he wont know where or what to do with himself when he finally has you all to himself.''

You paled. For now you did not want to think about what or where he would put himself. Instead you would return home to your home. A tantrically retreat to regroup and plan your next steps. The hairpin shimmered again as you lowered your head, rising to stand.

"Then I think we understand each other. I look forward to our friendship. I will take my leave of you." You smiled and left.

Moments later, the lady-in-waiting returned with a steaming porcelain pot, blinking at the now empty spot.

"Your guest has gone, my lady. Is everything all right?" Hongniang whispered as she poured her lady a fresh cup of tea.

The Empress didn’t answer right away. She watched the steam curl from the teacup in her hand.

"I think so," she said quietly. "I hope so." Brushing her fingertips across her son’s soft cheek.

Xxxxxxxxxx

For now, you had the Empress on your side—tentative though her support might be. Still, it was something. In a court built on hidden knives and folded fans, the smallest alliance could mean survival.

Outside, the sun filtered through the latticework of the garden pavilion, tracing delicate patterns on the polished floor. The boys played among the chrysanthemums and peony bushes, their laughter echoing across the stone paths as they chased each other. When the food was laid out on the low lacquered table, the children rushed over like hungry foxes, settling onto the woven mats with eager hands.

Then—

“My lady, are you well?!”

Jinshi, his cheeks flushed the color of plum wine, his voice rising in panic. You really hoped none of the younger servants were nearby. The last thing you needed was a chorus of swooning girls gossiping about a blushing eunuch fluttering over your well-being or in his current state of dishevel. If one gushing girl saw the sight of his flushed skins you might have a riot on your hands.

“I came as soon as I heard,” he said, kneeling beside you, eyes darting over your form like a physician’s apprentice. “Should you be out of bed? Where is the physician? I—I’ll get you some congee, or ginger tea while you wait. You’re pale—too pale.”

Your brothers froze mid-bite, dumplings still in their mouths. A moment passed—then they burst into peals of laughter, delighted by the spectacle of the flustered young man circling you like a worried crane.

“I…” You blinked up at him, unsure whether to laugh or scold.

“Let me carry you to your chambers,” he continued, voice thick with concern. “The apothecary was right behind me. Apothecary! Where is she? Does your sister have a fever? I’ll send for herbs—a hot bath— maybe your father should be called he —”

Maomao entered just then, a little breathless and very irritated. “I told him not to come,” she muttered with a bow, “but he wouldn’t hear a word of it.”

“How can you say that right now? Tend to her!” Jinshi snapped, hovering so closely you could smell the faint trace of floral incense on his robes.

You sat still, trying not to laugh, as your brothers giggled behind their sleeves.

“Master Jinshi,” you said calmly, placing a steady hand on his arm. “Please calm yourself. I fear your concern is misplaced. I’m quite well.”

His eye twitched at your words. Something like frustration—or maybe embarrassment—flashed across his face.

“If you’re well… then why did you call for my apothecary?” His voice dropped. Behind him, Maomao tensed, her eyes fixed politely to the floor.

You hesitated, realizing your simple request for her to join you had been intercepted by a very nosy eunuch which could unravel far more than you intended. Damn him. You could not tell him your real desire to see his servant. 

“I… I have been having trouble sleeping,” you said gently. Not a lie, but not the truth “Yes… And I thought your apothecary might have a remedy to ease my rest. I didn't mean to trouble you… I didn’t think you would get the message.” You eyed him as he blushed bashfully at you. “Please forgive me. That was not my intention.”

You bowed deeply, and when you lifted your gaze, Jinshi’s expression had softened.

“My lady… you need not apologize. I’m only glad you’re well.”

“I’ll prepare a medicine for My Lady,” Maomao added quickly, already making her exit with swift, efficient steps.

Coward, you thought, glaring at her back.

Jinshi, meanwhile, was staring at you again—moonstruck, dazed. His beauty was… unfortunate. Smooth skin, lashes long enough to shame a courtesan, the gentle slope of his nose too perfect for a man. Even his robes did nothing to hide his physique. Too perfect for your peace of mind.

Handsome husbands cause problems. But perhaps, you considered, they were at least easier to bed—easier to maneuver once there. You had heard tales and tricks from women in the bathhouse of all the methods and positions they used to avoid looking at their husbands while they gave them pleasure. At least you would not have to deal with that. It would make taking him to your bed as a husband and a lover easier. You wondered how he would be as a husband. Would he even be interested in that? Perhaps only one way to find out.

“Please,” you said, composing your features into something soft and sincere, “won’t you join us?”

“I… I couldn’t possibly—”

“Please, Master Jinshi,” you interrupted, leaning closer. “As an apology. For troubling you.”

You smiled—not a practiced court smile, but a coy smile, not seductive, but warmer than you had given him before. You regretted it immediately.

Jinshi blushed violently and seemed to melt into his own shadow. “It would be… my pleasure,” he managed.

“Then please,” you said, bowing your head slightly, “sit beside me. Let me serve you.”

xxxxx

The food was a masterpiece of imperial luxury. Steamed buns puffed like clouds, glossy with sweet glaze. Thin slices of roast duck curled atop a bed of lotus root. Tofu steeped in a spicy sauce shimmered beside bowls of pickled cucumber, delicate and pale green. Long platters bore fish dressed in ginger and spring onion, while bamboo baskets steamed with dumplings stuffed with shrimp, pork, and wild chives. Fragrant jasmine rice steamed beside braised mushrooms glistening with soy and sesame oil.

Jinshi writhed—visibly—when you plated his meal with your own hands. He peered down into the soup you poured him with hesitant suspicion.

“I assure you,” you said with a sly smile, “the food is quite safe. All prepared by the palace kitchens, and my servants are thoroughly trustworthy.”

Your eyes flicked toward the silk screen, behind which a couple of blushing maids giggled uncontrollably.

“I… I’m sure,” he said weakly.

You lifted your spoon, plucked a glistening slice of mushroom and broth from his bowl, and slipped it into your mouth. Chewing slowly, you stared directly at him.

“I promise,” you murmured, “you are safe here. No women will chase you.”

You plucked another bite—tender chicken, still steaming—and held it to his lips.

He stared at you, eyes wide, wild, and a little glassy allowing you to bring the spoon to his lips— directly to where you put your lips. His eyes never left yours as he drank greedily, lips lingering too long on the spoon. You might have giggled had it not been so thoroughly satisfying. It would seem he was very interested in you. 

The meal continued in lively spirits. Jinshi proved himself surprisingly charming, if a bit overly fawning. But he was attentive to your brothers, which you rather enjoyed. He was good with them, he might be a good father, if the time came, if not a bit of a pushover.

“I want sesame buns!” your youngest brother pouted, lower lip wobbling, while the elder had already begun to sniffle.

“I—I will ask the kitchen!” Jinshi blurted, starting to rise from his seat in panic.

“You will get sesame buns when you finish your vegetables,” you said, voice calm but cutting. “And don’t even think about hiding them in the plant pots again like you do with Father.”

Your brothers flinched, wilting a little under your stern gaze and they weren’t the only ones. 

Jinshi  went scarlet—and then pale. A thin stream of blood trickled from his nose. It would seem Maomao was right—he did like to be told off.

“Master Jinshi—are you well?” you asked, arching a brow.

“A-ah! Yes!” he coughed, dabbing at his face with his sleeve. “A piece of sweet potato went the wrong way…”

He tried to compose himself with a cough and a dazzling smile, but his eyes flicked up—locked on your hairpin.

“That pin…” he said quietly.

You were surprised it took him this long to recognize it, but glad. If he was to interrupt the evening and spoil a chance at speaking with the indebted apothecary, you were going to make the most of it.

“It was a gift,” you replied, lowering your gaze modestly.

From the corner of your eye, you saw the bob of his throat as he swallowed.

“…It suits you,” he murmured, eye transfixed on you.

You smiled. Yes. Handsome husbands were trouble. But trouble could be useful.

So let me know what you think of this chapter and the concept in general. The reader is going to play hard and dirty but she has a way to go. I would love to know your thoughts on the reader or Jinshi

LIKE> COMMENT> REQUEST

More to come soon

@one-piecelover

[tanuki-kimono]

Romantic wintery antique kimono, depicting tachi-tsubaki (camellia tree with branches rising to the sky) over a ground of karamatsu (stylized larch).

Camellia are evergreen and are not supposed to loose their leaves, this pattern with branches barren but for flowers is pretty unusual!

[borkunlimited]

Take Your Time, Miss Deer (Sylus x Reader) - Ch. 9

In a tailor shop tucked in the calmer side of the N109 zone is a little room where all clothes of many different designs come together under the delicate hands of an unassuming deer living in the den of all sorts of beasts and sitting on them is the dragon who wears your clothes.

Your many interactions with Skye, Mr. Sylus’ messenger or-

-Sylus is waiting for you to finally figure out he is playing his own messenger.

A Deer Hybrid! Reader x Dragon Hybrid! Sylus Fic

Tags: Sylus x Reader, Hybrid AU, Suggestive Themes, Fluff, Angst, Predator/Prey

Chapter Summary: Do dragons dream of wandering deer?

Author's Note: There is a reason why I wrote him falling asleep at the end of Chapter 8 hehe

I realized I work well during night. Very very fun sewing (and working) because no one bothers me so sometimes I stop and write when inspiration hits. Also, they are selling White Rabbit Milk Tea Sea Salt here and its very very good drink.

Enjoy reading! As always, thank you everyone for the support and because of this fanfic, I found a friend I can yap about lots of stuff!

Tagging: @phisen @wrimaira

AO3

Ch. 1 / Ch. 2 / Ch. 3 / Ch.4 / Ch. 5 / Ch. 6 / Ch. 7 / Ch. 8 / Ch. 9 / Ch. 10 / Side A / Side B

9: My Dearest, Awaiting

“What do you think?”

A brief giggle escaped your lips while you watched your reflection in front of the mirror, raising a branch with snow crocus blooms tied around it on the top of your head.

Daisy gazed at your reflections, the small chirp coming from it echoed across the small bathroom. In its feet are used bandages and medical supplies you used to clean up the wound left by your remaining antler shedding.

It shook its head, shifting through the branches with flowers tied on them laid in front of you then dragged a branch of red camellias to you, the same choice it always proposes to you every day.

“I am starting to think these are your favorite.”

It tilted its head, watching you inspect the petals and it let out a beep, pleased, when you tied the red good luck ribbon around it and then taped the branch on your head.

It is as if you never shedded your sole antler at all.

“What do you think?”

Your crow friend did a spin, letting out a caw then resting on your shoulders. It tried to perch on your ‘temporary antler’ as you called it once but it can never hold its weight so it settled on the next best spot.

“Let’s go check on him before we start the day,” you said, closing the bathroom door behind you and walking through the winding halls of your dragon’s many homes. Your steps are easy now, and sometimes you skip towards one of the many interesting things on display but careful enough to avoid spilling the tub of water with you.

A rare vinyl record.

(You ask if you can listen to it and the twins said it would be better if it is the boss who will put it on for you when he finally wakes up.)

An empty flower pot with an intricate design.

(Your crow friend scolded the twins before when they pretended to bump on it while they were showing you around.)

A snow globe.

(The little dragon doesn’t seem to mind the snow falling on its scales, asleep on top of the blanket of white powder.)

They said that your dragon is dormant.

It is a very kind term to use for someone who has been asleep ever since the beginning of early winter, for over half a month, and even the best doctors that the twins and everyone in Onychinus managed to find only shook their heads, his kind already a rarity making them difficult to study but their theories are almost the same after hearing what happened-

-His body was so exhausted that it decided to put him in a deep slumber.

Were you terrified? At first, before the doctors came in, especially when he had not woken up even when a day had already passed by.

Are you still terrified? It bothers you when you don’t see him that your father had you take a vacation, taking over the full operations of the shop after hiring temporary help.

Even then, you still find yourself sewing, to pass time while waiting.

“Good morning, Mister Dragon,” you greeted softly, opening the door to where your dragon is fast asleep, then announcing your name, “Your tailor in a holiday break is here.”

It took you five strides to reach his bedside and Daisy perched on top of the headboard, watching you set down the basin at the side table before pulling your chair quietly.

It is routine at this point, waking up, getting ready, checking if he is still fast asleep, and then doing chores before returning to his side when the sun sets.

“You must be having a wonderful dream,” you spoke softly, dabbing the warm cloth on his head, cleaning him up. Every now and then, he would stir and you noticed stray droplets bother him so you make sure to squeeze excess water from the cloth harder first, “I hope you remember them when you wake up so you can tell me.”

Of course, you never expect an answer from him but you were told speaking to him would help and from there, you and the twins explore creative ways to interact with him, hoping your words will reach your dragon soaring through the wide skies of his colorful dreams.

How many vinyl records have you put on?

You are almost through the first box but more are waiting to be played at the foot of his bed.

How many tapes of films have you watched?

Too many, sometimes you fall asleep halfway through and sometimes you don’t, pointing at the clothes of the characters you love to him.

How many times have you winded up your music box?

More than ten, every morning and evening and you wonder if he is also in the same field of red wildflowers, gazing at the blue horizon after a tiring flight.

“Are you having a long journey there?”, you continued, and you smiled when water clung on his hair and on his eyelashes, “I am sure you have many friends there. Dragons just like you.”

He never gave away his dreams, only soft breathing escaping his lips, sometimes a smile and then his slumber continues.

You always made sure to change the bandages wrapped around his shattered horn after, setting the used ones beside the small flower pot in the bedside table where you planted the antler you have shed but you haven’t quite decided yet which flower to grow beside it.

If you had enough time, you believe you would have been able to salvage those pots with your and your father’s antlers before the fire of your old shop.

Those plants would be taller by now and they would have been very lovely to look at once work day ends, towers of greens and colorful blooms thriving together with your old antlers.

Once your dragon wakes up, you will give him the choice which seed you should plant for this one.

A tradition among deer hybrids commonly reserved for close family and-

Just the thought of calling him your mate is making you blush.

“You should wake up before spring, at least,” you hummed, a lopsided smile on your face from your earlier silly thought while making sure the new bandages are secured and then fixing the good luck ribbon tied around his remaining horn, “Every creature wakes up when winter ends.”

The morning routine ends with you pressing a kiss on his forehead after brushing his hair and you make sure he is covered by his blankets and the curtains are closed before  leaving with Daisy to continue your work.

The twins and a few people from Onychinus are too kind when they give you a room where you can continue projects you have brought with you, ones where your clients are very specific that you should be the one making and not the temporary help your father hired.

You always start working on the request of the man you had always held close to your heart, his form always hidden from the shadows.

Mr. Sylus.

He has been very clear from the start that he wanted you to be the one tailoring his clothes when he requests a set from your shop and of course, you still abide by it.

Saying his name with an honorific sounds strange.

It was supposed to be a shot in the dark, a guess where your favorite visitor will just laugh off and pinch your cheek after.

“You should consider being a comedian, sweetie.”

Those are the words you were expecting to hear from him but even then, the red good luck ribbon that tied the wreath said otherwise, as if it was intentionally left there.

A clue.

A hint.

An answer already spelled out.

The man you clothed to shape the image he wants with your own hands.

(He is always the man of the hour in every party, your clients recount.)

The man who answered your notes with gifts, all wrapped in perfect bows.

(He doesn’t spare a single penny, does he?, a voice in your head whispers while you pull the ribbon to reveal the latest surprise.)

The man who sat beside you until the late afternoons, holding the spool while you gathered the yarn that Daisy accidentally toppled over.

(His lips seemed to always quirk slightly in amusement every time you called him ‘Skye’.)

The game is nearing its end and you can still recall your reflection on the mirror of your small vanity table the morning after your little adventure in the museum when you hang the crown of flowers together with all your trinkets.

Curiosity.

Surprise.

Finally, realization.

The last piece of the puzzle to complete the picture.

The events after confirmed everything. How every hybrid in Onychinus tended to him, tended to you .

A bodyguard wouldn’t get that much special treatment.

Sylus.

Two syllables. Easy to say, easy to remember. A sharp inhale for the first and a continuous release for the last, a decrescendo, a dropping beat. Sy-lus: A soft sigh ending with a hiss, reminiscent of a kiss, and of a postponed promise. Foreign to your tongue, yet rolls quickly for the rest. A name for a face, a name to be unique, a face to recollect.

To others, he had always been Sylus. 

Over his business meetings and the coat on his shoulders barely moved by the cold breeze, on the dotted line, an elusive creature that will show its face when called by its name and even then his appearance is a gamble, he will always be Sylus, distant, watchful, untouchable.

To you, he had always been Skye. 

Over his visits and his sleeves rolled up, his coat left hanging on the armchair, he is simply Skye, under the warm sodium lights of each sentries by the road that herald his come and go that reached your little paradise through the windows, your antlers grazing against his horns, he has always been Mister Dragon and you will always be his Miss Deer.

His real name ricochets through every four walls of every building you have stepped inside and even in this room where it is just you and your crow friend putting together clothes, his true name stayed, your mind repeating it, trying to overwrite the one syllable into two and every attempt, never a success, only one question stood.

Why?

“Oh, I didn’t realize-”, you blinked, the urgent beep coupled with the flapping of wings from your crow friend cut your thoughts short and you noticed that the bobbin had already been refilled.

Your gaze moved at the fabrics, already cut, waiting to be joined together and become a suit for the incoming Spring Festival that your dragon will attend but maybe, today is not the day their wish will be granted.

It's not good to use Mister Sewing Machine if your mind is wandering.

“How about we just do our wolf plushies today, Daisy?”, you suggested and you picked up the basket where your project is waiting and that’s how your day went, your crow friend plucking the polyester filling for you while you rolled it in your hands, the two wolf puppies finally taking shape.

“Do you think he will wake up soon?”, you asked the twins when you set the two wolf plushies near your sleeping dragon.

It was already evening when they have arrived back to check on you and the boss and even with your gentle smile, they always caught the scent of sadness-

-Of longing.

Slightly wilted wildflowers, waiting for the sun, for the rain, and of cotton gathering dust.

“He probably gobbled up so many bad humans that he needs to sleep to digest them,” Luke joked and that earned him a slap in the arm by his brother and a sharp peck from Daisy.

“I think we just need to give him more time,” Kieran answered, and if you ask him, the boss does stay up for days, perhaps this is also his body’s way of forcing him to rest, “He will be fine, miss.”

A warm embrace, and the two of them sit near your legs while you knit scarves for all of them until one by one, you all have closed your eyes, drifting off until only the embers of the fireplace and the sound of the vinyl player remain in the dragon’s chamber containing all of his dreams he is keeping for himself.

On Sylus’ bedside, his odd family awaits.

────────────────────

He was a very lonely dragon.

A sudden crash through the forest, ungraceful, and maybe that is because of the arrows and spears that managed to lodge themselves between his scales that he is very wary of every forest creature that tries to approach him, snapping at them, all of them cowering back in fear.

As they should, everyone does with his sharp teeth.

“Mister Dragon, that’s not a nice way to make friends,” a voice came in, gentle and polite, and his eyes immediately landed at you.

The only thought that came in his mind back then were three words.

“You are beautiful.”

A soft laughter escaped your lips, a sound he wanted to hear more, and he realized he might have blurted it out loud when he noticed the used to be frightened forest creatures giggling, whispering among themselves that this mean dragon isn’t so mean at all, making his large tail swished in annoyance, and maybe slight embarrassment.

It was an unlikely friendship.

You who almost look like a human but not really, not with antlers growing on your head, your soft deer ears and short tail, and he relished how you leaned against his body during your afternoon naps, after sewing little clothes for those forest creatures.

A cat wearing a bow tie.

A fox with a cape around its neck.

A goose with a bandana on.

These forest friends of yours frolicking about in human clothing.

“How can we make you friendly, Mister Dragon?”

It was a question you asked him once during those lazy afternoons and his snout pressed against the side of your neck, sighing softly as he took in the scent of cotton and wildflowers, before he answered.

“Are you saying I look hideous, little doe?”

Sylus does enjoy teasing you and you always misinterpret his words as you are quick to apologize, kissing his snout and he knows it is a very underhanded but effective tactic because you always grant him these little gestures.

“I think you are very good-looking.”

If you leaned closer, his body grew extra warmer on your words and he only chuckled at your compliment then you continued.

“Yet, I think a crown would be fitting for a magnificent dragon who worked hard in protecting our forest.”

“Precious metals would only weigh heavy in my head, sweetheart. It will make the knights who always mistake you for a missing princess more determined to cut my head off.”

“Oh, I have a different idea in mind.”

A flower crown worthy of his name, as you said.

Every forest creature brought the best flower across the land to your forest after you announced your plan, all of them unique, and you braid the wreath with him, day and night.

It is almost done with one flower remaining to be picked and only him can bring it back to you.

“Take care, Mister Dragon.”

“I’ll be back before the first flower blooms, little doe.”

His wings shook the trees, the flowers that spread across the grove as he pierced the skies with the air gradually getting thinner, the region becoming colder and colder but he is one to always push through all odds.

Relentless.

Determined.

Unwavering.

The flight was only half of his journey and Sylus had finally landed on the highest peaks of the harsh mountain ranges of this land. With his claws, he had scaled through the rough terrain and his sense of smell is useless for this particular flower native only to this land but his vision is certainly helpful, his eyes darting back and forth looking for the bloom his precious deer described to him before he left.

“Woolly, like a sheep,” you said, and you held up a sheep wandering close to you for him to see and the lamb let out an indignant huff before you let her go then you pointed at the twinkling night sky and the moon, “And silver, like the stars.”

The star of the glacier.

The lion’s foot.

The mountain flower, Edelweiss.

It was fragile, small, and when he was about to slowly uproot it with his large claws, he was met with blinding light and a surprise.

In place of his claws are hands.

Human hands.

The same hands he used to quickly check his face and then his body.

He is not very impressed with this prank but at least his horns and tail stayed, even when they seemed to also shrink to accommodate this new form and oddly enough one thought came to his head even if he should be certainly alarmed at the fact the journey back to your forest will be more perilous and longer.

You and him are almost the same.

With these arms, he can pull you closer.

With these legs, he can tangle them with yours every time both of you call it a day under the night sky in your endless field of red wildflowers.

With these hands, he can hold your face and brush his nose against yours.

A window of opportunity.

He can do so much with this body and with the flower he put inside a makeshift pot he had crafted from the rocks nearby he only then made his descent, his thoughts filled with you and him, dancing together, rolling on the grass together, and-

-He had to stop himself from his train of thought after a particular image came to mind, not when it drifted to the shape of your lips when you laugh, not when he remember the many times humans who passed by your forest often pressing theirs together under the cover of the tall trees when they thought they are alone.

Greed.

Sylus is all too familiar with what greed is and he knows he is one when his desire was also to do the same to you especially when he found out you do those gestures to people close to you.

Surely, you wouldn’t mind if he asks nicely, right?

He is already reciting his question, revising it many times while he follows the path down the cold mountain and the travel that should take him a week or maybe longer was cut in half, not when he is too eager to see you soon.

“Sweetie, we should do what the humans do.” 

(No, that doesn’t sound polite.)

“I am home and I brought it back, sweetheart. Can I have a reward?”

(Not that one either. He doesn’t want it to look like he does these little favors just so he can get a treat after.)

“Your kisses always land on the wrong spots, little doe.”

(That will just make you confused. Not like you can directly kiss him before when he was a dragon.)

His thoughts were cut short when he heard a sound nearby. It was faint, and he can say that he is fortunate he was able to keep his sharp senses because he can clearly recognize the sound a few distant away from the foot of the mountain he is currently standing.

He should have turned away but he chose not to, not when he heard barks, laughter and-

-Music.

You love those and since you do, he also loves it as well.

It should have been a quick look, just to see what the ruckus is all about only to be met by the most surreal sight.

If he looked closely, did the sky above him have a ceiling with a faint fracture?

Two wolf cubs, each covered with a white blanket and their pointed ears and tails poking out. Whoever made these little alterations, they kept in mind that the fabric will not drag to the ground every time these two rowdy cubs run around chasing butterflies or walk by the lake to take in the scent of freshwater and paw at unsuspecting fishes.

These two wolf cubs, running around, playfully snapping at each other’s tails, and-

-A wooden box with a spinning large disc on top and a golden horn that produces a pleasant sound yet, a voice, certainly his, points to him it is called a vinyl player.

Why does he know what it is called?

“Hey, what are you looking at?!”, one of the wolf cubs barked at him, his tail puffed upon noticing his presence.

“Mind your own business, mister! We found this first!”, the other cub exclaimed, and Sylus doesn’t need to see what is under the blanket to know they are baring their teeth at him.

Luke and Kieran.

Why did those names come to mind when he gaze at these annoying wolf cubs who accused him of stealing their loot?

Sylus doesn’t need that wooden box with a spinning disc (The same prideful voice corrects him again that it is called a vinyl player which he ignores) when you love his singing voice anyways.

“You can keep your box,” he answered and he turned around, a clear sign that is supposed to mean that his curiosity is satiated and he is done with the conversation but the two wolf cubs said otherwise.

“Hey, why do you look like that, mister?”

“That’s not how good and cool boys ask questions, Luke.”

“Right, Kieran. Hey, where did you get those horns and tails, mister?”

“That’s better,” the other wolf cub responded and Sylus doesn’t have to check that these two, who oddly wear the same names that came to his head,  is following him-

-No, stalking him.

“Did no one teach both of you manners?”, Sylus answered, and one of his eyes twitched when one of the wolf cubs tried to snap at his tail, the sharp teeth almost grazing his scales.

“Manners? What’s that?”, the more energetic of the two asked and Sylus shot that one a glare when he noticed he was midway on biting his tail again.

“Oh, I know that one, Mister,” the calmer of the two replied, and he seemed to get the hint that the odd human is not pleased with his brother’s antics so he gently shove his body against his twin chasing the tip of Sylus’ tail, “Those are set of rules good and cool boys follow.”

Why are these two very set on becoming something they don’t even exactly know how to be?

Sylus chose not to answer, his eyes forward and that should have been a clear indicator that he wanted to be on his way alone but these two wolf cubs have decided that he is more interesting over the wooden box they found earlier.

“So, mister, what brings you here?”

“Did you also come here to see the miss’ dragon?”

“We have been waiting for him down here but it looks like he is taking his sweet time up there.”

“We are planning to ask him if he can teach us to be good and cool boys!”, Kieran piped and every time they say those last words, their goal, Sylus noticed both of them seemed to vibrate in excitement just at the thought of becoming one, their tails wagging harder.

“Go find another teacher,” he said instead, making his strides longer but that didn't seem to deter the two despite their short legs who somehow managed to catch up on him.

“Hey mister this isn’t a contest. I am sure he can teach all three of us,” Luke huffed, keeping up with him.

“Yeah, no need to be so selfish,” Kieran added, who was panting as Sylus increased his walking speed.

“Teach the two of you,” Sylus corrected them both, rolling his eyes, “I don’t take students.”

He doesn’t have time for that, not when he has the entire forest to look after that needs him back as soon as possible, not when he has a lovely deer who he will devote his remaining free time to.

That made the two wolf cubs halt and they both looked at each other at this odd human with horns and tail of a dragon carrying a flower.

He was about to sigh in relief when he heard them bursted into laughter behind him.

“What’s so funny?”, Sylus asked, annoyed and his eyes narrowed at the two wolf cubs now rolling on the ground, their laughter mixed with barks.

“Just because you have horns and a tail doesn’t make you the miss’ dragon!”

“Yeah, who are you trying to fool here, weird human?”

“You aren’t her dragon. We’ve seen him!”

“Liar!”, they both said in unison.

Liar.

That word shouldn’t hurt as much but it did.

It certainly did when your face was the first that came to mind, your delicate hands with a bandage around one of your fingers, and your clothes rustling, the soft orange light bathing you in a room filled with the humming of machines and colorful fabrics.

“What brings you here today-”

Skye.

Why are you calling him by a different name?

“I am her dragon,” Sylus said, each word punctuated with his stride and he picked up one of the wolf cubs by the scruff of the neck gentle but firm, “I have never lied to anyone and never will so take that back.”

“Hey, put him down!”, the one still on the ground said, pawing at his leg and if he isn’t holding a flower, he would have lifted this one too just so they both get the point.

“T-the blanket!”, the one in the air exclaimed, horrified when the white blanket slowly slipped away, and his paws reached up to cover his snout, anything that would reveal his face.

“We take it back!”, the other twin cried together with his brother, “We take it back! We believe you!”

Scars.

Clearly inflicted by someone with something sharp.

Wounds that never healed, hidden by white blankets so both of them will still be identical.

Maybe he has been too harsh at these two wolf cubs without a pack.

“Now, Mister Dragon, don’t forget, we have small friends living here too.”

Your soft reprimand echoed in his mind when he accidentally toppled over a rabbit, breaking their leg by accident during a brief scuffle with bandits who thought they could come into your home and take you away.

Right, you wouldn’t be too happy when you see him being too harsh with these wolf cubs.

Sylus put down the sniffling wolf cub beside his twin, the two were quick to lick each other’s tears, and just so they understand that he is sorry , he tugged the blanket and made sure it covered the face the twin was so ashamed to show.

“Go home,” Sylus sighed, and he gave their ears a scratch, hesitant, trying to mimic what you do to your forest friends who end up crying over the simplest things.

“But we don’t have a home.”

“We just followed you here.”

Would you leave them here?

No, he doesn’t think so, not when you welcome every animal that finds your forest, no matter how fearsome they are, with open arms.

“I don’t want to hear you two complaining on my way back,” Sylus answered and their ears perked up, their tails wagging and suddenly, the little incident earlier is forgotten at the fact that the dragon turned odd human is letting them tag along.

“Really?!”, Luke asked, he and his twin back on their feet, “Does that mean you will teach us too?”

“No.”

“If you won’t teach us, then we will be your henchmen, boss,” Kieran piped in, matching his stride. “Learn on the job!”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Come on, boss, we’re really good at a lot of stuff! Sniffing, biting, you name it!”, Luke added and his brother joined in, listing down their other abilities (Peculiar ones too. Fixing burnt rice?)

Perhaps Sylus is wrong.

This journey is going to be more than long.

────────────────────

“This is really difficult to do.” 

Luke complained and you chuckled softly when he let you take a look at his progress, his brother hard at work beside him, focused on knitting the cuff of the sock he is working on.

“It doesn’t look promising at first but it will all come together,” you smiled, adjusting the slight gaps between his stitches before handing it back to him who eagerly examined your fix before picking where he left off.

It is getting colder, the neck scarves that the twins used to wear for you are now replaced by red woolen scarves you have knitted yourself, the fabric tied around their necks like a bow and every person who dare tell them they look silly always earn a good shower of threats from them, not when it was you who put it on to them before they leave during the mornings.

You watch over Luke and Kieran huddled together, sitting on the floor by the foot of the bed where your dragon is currently sleeping, all three of you opting to come closer to the fireplace to have a better view of your little projects.

The usual energy they brought with them becomes more tamed when they are focused, only speaking when exchanging notes over their progress or asking for your help. Maybe, winter has a special effect on hybrids like you with all of you being at your most docile self, conserving energy once spring arrives.

The red yarn you are using stretches through the entire mattress, moving by a centimeter every time you put one loop through your knitting needles and then repeat. There is still one last scarf you are working on and its owner is right beside you, still in a deep slumber.

Every now and then, the chimes you and the twins hang on his bedpost sway gently, making faint little notes and earlier, it was an orchestra with Daisy pulling all of them in rapid succession, a little mischief recently it does believing your dragon would wake up due to annoyance.

Anything, just to wake him up before spring arrives.

“Feeling sleepy, Daisy?”, you asked, noticing that your crow friend is huddling near the plushies lined up on the other side of your favorite visitor, and if it stayed still, it is almost similar to the crow plushie it is sitting next to.

It only lets out a beep and perhaps mechanical crows also need to rest when its eyes slowly close but you watch it stand up, fixing the yarn for you and you know it doesn’t want to miss out on anything especially when the twins are around.

“That’s right, fall asleep so all the kisses supposed to be yours will go to us, bird.”

“All the pats, all the hugs, hey-”

Your odd little crow was quick to retaliate, their words waking it up and it tried to peck at them, chastising them and the twins ran around, ducking across all the furniture and jumping over boxes scattered inside the room while you clap, cheering for both sides, the projects you are working on set aside.

Does your laughter reach him in his dreams?

The list of your questions grows as day turns into night, the twins making themselves comfortable at the foot of the bed, tired, all curled up and you set aside the socks they are working on in your basket of yarn.

“Perhaps we should make yours longer,” you mumbled, still awake even when the rest is already asleep, wrapping the scarf around his neck to check.

This silly, silly liar.

This silly, silly dragon.

This silly, silly hero.

Making plans with you, bringing maelstrom upon those who hurt you, and then falling into a deep slumber, here but not quite.

“You lie so gently,” you laughed softly, brushing your nose against his and your tears began to fall into his cheek that you are quick to remove, remembering stray droplets of water bothers him, your fingers grazing his cheek.

Nice and friendly dragons don’t lie yet maybe they do, if that is what it takes to be held close, to be loved and maybe it was greed, selfishness, that drove him to wear such a flimsy mask that took you time to see through.

“Wake up soon,” you said, and this time, perhaps it is longing, a sadness, that you nuzzled your nose against his hair, taking in the scent of fresh blankets and faint cinder.

“I’ll forgive all of your silly, white lies.”

Your soft sobs slowly quiet down, all of you falling asleep at any space around him and you hold the almost finished scarf close to your chest and it might be a cause for celebration but everyone has fallen asleep at this point, failing to notice the subtle sign that the dragon soaring through the skies has finally heard your voices all the way down.

Still unconscious, Sylus’ finger gently hooked itself around the thin red thread of the yarn.

On Sylus’ bedside, his odd family awaits.

────────────────────

He was a very lonely dragon.

At least, that was before and this journey isn’t so bad with two little wolf cubs following you around, making interesting observations and watching them come up with different ways to entertain themselves is something he is looking forward to telling you when he sees you again.

“I spy with my little eye,” Luke hummed, his gaze roaming up towards the sky and then added, “A sheepie!”

“But I don’t smell one right now,” Kieran answered, his snout raised up in the air to take in the scent of the forest.

Good noses.

These two have ridiculously good noses that actually impressed him.

They also make for good compasses, being in this form made Sylus realized that the terrain is much more different on the ground than up in the air and there are many times he almost made a wrong turn but the two are quick to steer him back to the right direction.

“Hey boss, that way is going to the desert.”

“The world is a bit different now that you aren’t flying, huh?”

“I’ll map everything out once I get back,” Sylus answered, giving them a brief nod and their tails wagged faster because of the acknowledgement, the game they were playing earlier now forgotten.

“Can we help?”

“We will carry your things for you!”

He doubts those small bodies can take on much weight and again, you wouldn’t be too happy when you see two wolf cubs used as horses.

If anything, he had a foresight that these two will always be at your side any chance they get.

“Come on, boss, say yes,” Kieran said and the two started to do this tactic again where they would weave between his legs.

“We’re very strong.”

“You’re still way stronger than us though.”

There they are again with this self-promotion that would have worked if they weren't unintentionally making him trip and he secured the flower pot on his arms closer to him, the woolly petals still vibrant despite the long journey, its color brighter under the sunlight passing the leaves of the tall trees scattered on the borders of your forest.

Every now and then, small creatures pass by, barely making a sound, and even the breathing of larger ones are overwhelmed by the rustle of the fallen leaves carried by the gentle breeze, the chorus of birds, all familiar except a particular faint sound.

No, collection of sounds, resounding.

If he looked closely, did the sky above him have a ceiling with a growing fracture?

“Hey boss, that’s not the right way,” Luke pointed out, noticing Sylus turning in a different direction but they followed him, curious why the dragon who is very insistent on getting to you as soon as possible is deviating from the road where you are waiting.

Sylus just had to check, every unfamiliar sound is a cause for action. A ringing, tinkling, even harmonious as it could be, means swords being sharpened from a distance.

Did those humans think they could come for you just because he isn’t around?

Only, he is met with the strangest sight.

Chimes, hanging on every branch, and they all grow in number as they venture deeper, the road leading to a cliff and at the edge, a small belfry.

Of course, the two wolf cubs did not find this odd at all when they are sounding each chime they can reach one by one and with all this ruckus, he is sure that all the forest creatures are making their way to you already to file a complaint, even if they have to take a long journey to the heart of the forest.

“Must you two ring every single one of them?”, he asked, slightly exasperated, and two wolf cubs wagged their tails, the wet snowflakes from the trees’ branches falling on his cheeks but faded away just as fast.

“Not really, but they make the nicest sound!”, Luke said, jumping over his brother’s back to pull the rope of a chime hanging on a particularly higher branch.

“You should ring the ones you can reach, boss,” Kieran suggested, and this time, he rang one of the chimes beside him, “We might get a prize!”

Then, he knew that the small belfry certainly is the most enticing among all of them because the two immediately went for it, running towards it and he had to put the flower pot aside just so he could hold both of them under his arms.

“Oh, we get it!”

“You want to ring the most important looking of them all!”

“All yours, boss!”, they said in unison.

Sylus rolled his eyes but it only took him a few strides until he was standing in front of the small belfry and while turning away is indeed an option, he knows the twins would pester him with all their might.

“I wonder what that bell would have sounded if you rang it.”

Your possible words echoed in his head if he recounts this story to you after his return and he would hate to disappoint that one of his stories doesn’t have a definite conclusion.

“Fine, let’s see if this one will get you both a prize,” he sighed and he reached out to ring the lone bell by the edge of the cliff.

If this grove of chimes is an ensemble, then this bell is certainly the conductor because the rest stop making a sound, the toll of this one resonating across the trees and further beyond the boundaries of your forest.

It continues its solo, the clapper hitting the lip in an equal interval until finally, it comes into a halt.

Then, silence.

“Where’s the prize?”, Luke asked.

“Maybe the prize is the friends we make along the way-”, Kieran replied only for his words to be cut off, the ground shaking, and Sylus stepped back further from the small belfry, closer to where he left the flower pot.

Might as well see this until the end.

A rumble, the finale of the bell’s overture, and then-

-A loud aria akin to a songbird.

The singer perched by the edge of the cliff, a giant crow carrying a red thread on its beak that it dropped to caw at them loudly, certainly annoyed at being summoned.

“Since when did Mephisto grow so large?”

The same prideful voice, certainly his, mused in his head (and thoroughly finding the strange sight hilarious) and the crow tilted its head side to side, studying him and the two wolf cubs before letting out a loud caw once again, shaking the trees and sounding all the chimes at the same time, as if telling them it is clearly busy and if they need anything, they should get on with it.

“See, I told you!”, Kieran exclaimed, wagging his tail and still under Sylus’ arm.

“I never thought I would see such a large chicken,” Luke said, awed and Sylus had to take another step back because clearly, Luke’s way of inspecting new discoveries is by snapping his teeth at them.

The crow let out a series of beeps and caws that oddly enough, Sylus managed to piece together, begrudgingly telling them if they need a ride to the home of the deer and her dragon living in this forest, then it will give them just that.

“She is clearly busy knitting a scarf for her beloved but if you want to disturb her like the rest, then go ahead.”

Yet, those words lingered in Sylus’ mind and his eyes landed on the red thread that the giant crow was carrying.

It was helping you put together the scarf you are making for him, expecting him to indeed return before spring, at least in the last days of winter.

“I am her beloved,” Sylus corrected the crow, letting the two wolf cubs hang on his shoulders while he picked up the flower pot, the mountain flower swaying gently against the cold breeze, “And I intend to fulfill my words to her.”

The giant crow just cackled, letting Sylus hold on to its feet before picking up the red thread on its beak.

“Right, odd human, try telling that in front of her dragon.”

With its large wings that almost covered the winter sun, it took flight and the two wolf cubs hanging on his shoulders huddled closer to him for warmth against the cold breeze, howling in excitement.

This journey is finally nearing its end.

────────────────────

“Sylus.”

How many times have you repeated his name in front of the bathroom mirror of this home only to end up blushing?

Addressing him without the honorific sounds impolite despite you and him spending so much time together.

You mostly do these little ‘practices’ as you called it by the balcony, not by his bed because it would be embarrassing for your favorite visitor to wake up and see you using the deer puppet to talk to the dragon puppet acting as his stand-in.

There were already hints, breadcrumbs left behind just for you.

Expensive watches with various designs.

Leather shoes crafted by artisans.

Vehicles with sleek exterior imported from other countries.

Every visit, they change, all of them unique but you always pass them off, convinced that Mr. Sylus is an extremely generous employer and an understanding one too because there are many times that your favorite visitor stayed longer than he should inside your studio.

“You’re a funny man, Mr. Sylus,” you sighed, gazing at the dragon puppet sitting on a chair across from you then you shook your head, correcting yourself, “I mean, Sylus.”

The two syllables tumbled out of your mouth haphazardly, not when a lopsided smile is forming in your face every time you say his real name.

His intentions had always been pure, his actions are clear and you can never harbor anger towards the man who started this charade.

Mr. Sylus’ life has been foreign to you but you are aware he is a very powerful man and he could have everything in the world and more, his tower of treasures reaching the heavens yet your simple question of ‘why’ is much complex.

Why choose an ordinary seamstress? 

(You only know how to sew clothes. The fabric scissors are a tool to cut through clothes, not enemies. The needle to repair tears, not inflict pain.)

Why did he lie? 

(Afraid. Perhaps predator hybrids are all too familiar with all kinds of fear, the fear of rejection always so common, and he, the strongest of them all, is most likely expecting you to flee if you know his real name.)

Why is he afraid? 

(He has always been brave in your eyes but his request, no, a plea, for you to close your eyes on that fateful day says differently.)

“Miss Deer, we’re back!”

Luke’s voice carried all the way to the balcony from the entrance hall and you stood up, brushing your apron and then pointing your puppet at the dragon puppet.

“Let’s talk more later,” you said and then you added, the syllables as always, a little lopsided, “Sylus.”

You picked up the dragon puppet, removing yours and walking towards the living room to find the twins setting down all the shopping they have brought with him the usual stack of papers pending your dragon’s signature, the pile growing larger as each day passes by in his deep slumber.

“Your husband is still asleep?” Louis greeted you and you immediately grew red, covering your face with the two puppets and looking away.

Aside from the twins, a few select members of Onychinus, the doctors, Louis, and the older lion hybrid are the only people allowed to come by and visit this place, dropping off important items, often for him, but sometimes for you.

“Now, Louis, Mr. Sylus wouldn’t be too happy if you are the one making the miss blush and not him,” the older lion hybrid chided the young male deer hybrid who only rolled his eyes, and your eyes darted at the familiar package he left at the counter.

That package is certainly from your favorite bakery and you are also sure your father had them sent it to you on his behalf.

“What do you think the two of them are doing when alone in her studio?”, Louis pointed out while you slowly inch closer to check the contents of the box, recognizing the scent of strawberries, not minding his remarks.

“Hey, our boss is nothing but a gentleman!”, Luke exclaimed.

“They talk, that's what they do!”, Kieran added and Daisy also beeped in agreement.

“Right and oddly enough they both carry each other’s scents,” Louis replied and then you only halt your step when he turns his attention to you.

Maybe you should retract your newest impression of him because you are finding him quite rude.

The male deer hybrid had been counting days, of course, and while N109 zone is still in the same state (A state of chaos that’s its default by now) several of the prey hybrids expressed concerns to him that Sylus laying dormant means a temporary power vacuum and while everyone is still cowering on the dark, he is sure they will step out one by one and fight over his empire.

That dragon really had to wake up soon because all of his allies can only handle so much.

“You,” Louis said, looking at you as if you hold the key to this current dilemma.

“Me?”, you asked, tilting your head.

“Yes, you,” Louis started, frowning,  “Who else? Anyways, have you exhausted all of the possible options of waking your husband up?”

Why does he keep referring to your favorite visitor as your husband? You can’t even call him by his real name yet.

“I-”, you opened your mouth but the twins were quick to intervene.

“She talks to him day and night if that’s what satisfies you.”

“She’s taking care of him and even the doctors said to wait it out.”

“Louis, you are putting unnecessary pressure over the miss here,” the older lion hybrid added, standing at your side but the male deer hybrid shook his head, in thought.

Talk. These two are claiming you talk to Sylus but he believes that the dragon hybrid might need a more potent medicine than that.

“I also sing to him,” you said softly, looking down on your feet and your ears drooping slightly.

Perhaps there are other options you haven't tried but your favorite visitor’s room is overflowing with trinkets at this point with the number of ideas you and the twins are coming up with.

“Hear that?”, the lion hybrid chuckled when he saw Louis sighed in frustration while the twins comforted you, telling you to not mind the grumpy deer, “Everyone is doing their best. The next step lies with Sylus.”

These people throw around his real name so easily it is making you slightly envious and your eyes lingered at the package with a handwritten note clearly from your father.

Once your favorite visitor wakes up, you and him should have tea and cake just like you always do.

“If all options fail, perhaps you should take a page of how fairy tales are written,” Louis grumbled, setting the rest of the boxes with your name in it on top of the counter, clearly gifts from your neighbors.

“Fairy tales?”

“I think the boss misses your voice. It is time for his evening music anyways,” Kieran is quick to cut, shooting a glare towards the male deer hybrid before he and his brother guided you gently towards the room where your dragon is sleeping.

Your eyes lingered at the pastry box but followed them anyway and you hope they don’t forget to put it in the refrigerator later or else the icing might not be as good if left out overnight.

“Don’t mind him,” Kieran said when you stepped inside the room, always very diligent as he already pulled the usual chair for you to sit, “You shouldn’t be forced to take unnecessary measures.”

“We can still handle it even without the boss,” Luke added.

They don’t need to tell you but you count the number of tears their clothes have every time they return here, steadily increasing, how their sleeps are deeper, how they stayed longer than usual inside the bathroom fixing their wounds, and you know that the N109 zone will need more than two wolf boys to keep everything at bay.

“You’re nice boys,” you smiled, your hands reaching up to pat their heads. “Both of you have always been.”

Their tails wagged in delight, stooping slightly so you wouldn’t strain yourself.

Your approval is more than enough for them to keep going.

“You think so?”

“I think so.”

You scratched their pointed ears and they hugged you tight around your waist, their tails wagging faster and your eyes wandered to your sleeping dragon.

His eyes still closed, yet every now and then it flutters.

His remaining horn, pointed as ever, and you look forward where you and his grows back.

His forehead, his cheeks, places where you have gifted him many kisses hoping he will receive it in his field of dreams.

And then, his lips,-

-You have finally understood Louis’ suggestion.

Naive as you can be, you know there are kisses that shouldn’t be granted without the other person’s permission.

In Sylus’ bedside, his odd family awaits.

────────────────────

He was a very lonely dragon.

Hitching a ride with a giant crow certainly cut his journey short and in the distance, he caught a glimpse of the clearing, the endless field of red wildflowers now covered with a thin layer of snow.

An oasis, a paradise and ahead is his precious deer, always so patient.

Dealing with the two wolf cubs was bearable but a bird who constantly pokes fun of his identity? If they weren’t so high up and if it wasn’t helping you knit, he will certainly show this bird he is indeed your dragon who went on a journey.

All Sylus wants to do now is to hand you the mountain flower, take a long rest with you in his arms, and-

-Right, the question .

These three have been bothering him that he hasn’t even been able to reword his request, aware that he can’t hold your face and press his lips against yours.

He is a fiend but he is better than that.

“You live here, boss?”

“There are so many new things I don’t know which one to sniff first!”

The moment they landed, the two wolf cubs already had their snouts pressed against the ground, taking in the new scents and it is not difficult to miss them even when they are wearing white blankets because of their dark tails poking above the snow.

The giant crow cawed at him for one last time, snobbish before it wagged its tail feathers in a flourish, before picking up the red thread it was carrying, looking for you.

Even with the different surroundings, Sylus knows where to look for you and with the mountain flower but perhaps the long red thread of the scarf you are knitting for him helped.

That scarf could have been a blanket now considering he isn’t technically a dragon anymore.

Snowflakes clung on his hair, his lashes and those that fall into his cheeks melt quickly and it is home.

Home is where the red wildflowers grow.

Home is where you and him stand in the field of flowers, listening to the voices of this land.

Home is where your soul is.

There you are, huddled against your forest friends, bears, deer, foxes, and even that giant crow managed to beat him on finding you first, your arms already wrapped around it.

Your deer ears flick the falling snow, and your breathing was easy.

The sacred deer of the forest, waiting, always waiting, for her dearest to return from a far-off land.

He is home.

His hand, his human hand, reached out to brush the small braid you always wear by the side of your face and you stirred, leaning against the warmth of his palm.

Then, he leaned down, brushing his nose against yours before pulling back, gazing at you fondly as you slowly opened your eyes.

There was a moment of silence, your eyes studying his face and you smiled.

“Now, why are you going around with a new face without telling me?”

“You are the one person who is yet to call me your false dragon, little doe.”

His eyes lingered on the shape of your lips when you laugh, soft and careful not to awaken your friends as he helped you stand up, on your hands is a scarf certainly for him.

“You came home just as you promised.”

Of course he did, and he reached out to hold your hand while you walked through your grove. From a distance, he can hear the two wolf cubs running around, barking happily.

Contented.

Secured.

Safe.

He has always been at peace here and yet-

-The sky above him has a ceiling and slowly, the fissure grows larger.

Was the horizon always like that?

Yet, you were so calm as you examined the mountain flower he had given to you, your delicate hands brushing against the petals.

“Darling.”

He called out softly, and his eyes did not move from you when you tuck the bloom, the prize he had brought all the way from the mountains, behind his ear.

“Yes?”

It was your voice, he is certain and yet when you wrap the thick scarf that pooled on his feet around his neck, your hands lack the certain familiarity when you guide his hand when cutting the fabric.

No words formed, not when he is slowly coming into terms that this is but a distant dream, one of the many, longer than usual and he had overstayed.

All the fragments, his wishes, his desires, his emotions, always converge in one place and in his mind, they always take form of-

You.

“I always have to remind you many times that I am not her.”

You held both of his hands, laughing softly and even with the realization, hearing such a sound always brings a smile on his lips.

“You can’t blame me for that, sweetie, you always make the wait difficult sometimes.”

“You have told me several times.”

“Even then, I can never be angry at you. Not when I am too selfish to end the game.”

“You have always been scared that I would look at you differently if you do.”

A pause.

A hope.

A longing for reassurance.

“Would you?”

“You simply need to hear my answer.”

He was never the guardian of this forest.

Yet this dream, this dream is the most pleasant he has that it convinced him so well, so well of the role he never took and then, perhaps it was the long journey that when you lead him back to the rest of your forest friends, still asleep, he knew he only had a few moments to say goodbye.

The wolf cubs, tired from playing, finally have friends.

The giant crow, content, rests its body beside you.

The dreaming dragon, on your lap, is now ready to return to his true home.

For the finale of his dream, a pleasant awakening awaits.

────────────────────

Was it that Sylus always longs for?

You have never been in his bed, you have never stepped foot on any of his many houses, yet the scent of cotton and wildflowers had always followed him, subtle, gentle, comforting.

When he opened his eyes, everything almost overwhelmed him.

The colors, the sounds, and the scents, all blending together that he had to close his eyes to steady his breath and his heart racing too fast, not when your scent had taken reign among the rest.

“Sy-”

He froze.

“Sy-”

It was a second attempt, trembling but he will always recognize the gentle pitch belonging only to one very special person.

“Sy. Lus.”

A third attempt and he turned around to the source of voice who is once again, trying to pronounce his name, to be more continuous this time.

There you are, sitting by his bedside, clearly aware now that he is awake and you are holding on your apron too hard.

The red dusting your cheeks has always been a wonderful color on you.

His precious deer, too sweet, always trying her best, and his sunrise, the light above your head like a halo.

“There’s my darling.”

Perhaps he had held on your arm too hard, only wanting to look at you closely and maybe brush his nose against yours, just to check if this is the waking world but you stumbled towards him, your chair falling against the floor and were you always this light? Yes, you have always been and only the sense of parting with you, even for just a few hours, have made everything too heavy, too hard to let go.

Here you are, finally taking the place he had reserved just for you.

You were quick to lift the hem of your apron near your face, not when he is too close, hovering above you and the first thing you have thought about is you certainly have not practiced for this outcome with the puppet.

Yes, Sylus is certain this is real and even with his mind still hazy, he knows he still owes you an appointment.

“You sounded almost confident there, sweetie,” he laughed, his voice slightly hoarse, and he rested his forehead against yours, “Let’s try again.”

“Sy-”

You paused, looking at the chimes above his head and lowering your apron.

Your lips have never been this inviting.

“Come on.”

He gently coaxed, his tail flicking in excitement and his smile grew.

“Sylus.”

You said softly and you gasped when he pulled you close, hugging you tight and perhaps his laugh was so infectious that you can’t help but do the same, both of you rolling against the white blankets.

There are many things you want to say, questions you want to ask but with him wide awake, all you want to do is also make sure he is here, talking, laughing.

“Mister Dragon?”

He didn’t say anything, playfully smiling at you as he took your wrist, taking in that familiar scent and the warm touch, making sure this isn’t one of his too pleasant dreams.

“Sylus?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Will it be too much to ask if you keep your eyes open for a bit longer today?”

“Was I asleep for that long?”, he asked but he doesn’t need a confirmation, not when the clock by the bed already answered it for him.

Midnight.

Here you are, still clinging to the waking world, not wanting to miss a moment if he wakes up.

It was a weak nod but Sylus knew you have been waiting patiently, and the many trinkets scattered in the room finally explained the odd elements of his long dream.

“I’ll keep them open for you, little doe.”

“Thank you. I would like that very much.”

“Are there any requests my precious deer wants to ask from me?”

Your deer ears perked up upon realizing you might be imposing on him especially he just woke up but maybe, there is nothing wrong being selfish for once, just for a little favor.

“Will you keep them open even if I fall asleep?”, you asked slowly, trying to keep your eyes wide open, “I am afraid you might take a long nap again.”

“You’re so silly, sweetheart. I had a long rest. I’ll be awake before you”

“But why?”

“Well, I can’t have a guest in my home starving when she wakes up,” he answered, pulling the thick blanket above your heads, “She might not come back anymore to an inhospitable dragon.”

“Oh-”

How could you forget? He was asleep for so long that you haven’t thought that he might be hungry right now.

His eyes widened, watching you slowly unbutton your blouse.

“Now-”, he chuckled, strained when he held your wrist gently to stop you and his gaze may have lingered at the slope of your exposed neck and then at the strap of your bra barely covered by fabric of your blouse, “You don’t need to offer yourself up to me, sweetie. I feel just fine.”

He carefully buttoned your blouse again, taking one last look at the fading mark he had left on that fateful night.

Even with your clothes slightly crumpled, you were true to your word and he has a suspicion you dress up nicely everyday, waiting at his side.

“Are you sure?”

“I have never been sure.”

You hummed in thought and he pressed a kiss on top of your head, chuckling softly.

“You can rest easy now, sweetie.”

“Then you will still be here?”

“I couldn’t fall asleep now, not when you are here beside me, little doe.”

The soft exchange, the little reassurances that he won’t be taking a long nap anytime soon, and all it took was a pinky promise sealed with a kiss when your eyes drooped slowly, tired from your vigil.

His thumb brushes against your bottom lip but that is the closest he can have for now.

When you wake up, it might be his turn to be a little selfish in the morning.

Afterall, would it be too much to ask you to repeat his name a couple more times?

.

.

.

In Sylus' bedside, his family waits no more.

────────────────────

Author's Note: I honestly wanted to write a dream sequence ever since with a mix of surreal undertones (You know how trippy dreams can be.) and I wanted those parts to also be a reflection of Sylus' perspective of this odd game of charade he started between our Miss Deer and him. Did lots of foreshadowing prior to this and here we are!

I am now off playing BG3!

As always, see you in the next update!

AO3

Ch. 1 / Ch. 2 / Ch. 3 / Ch.4 / Ch. 5 / Ch. 6 / Ch. 7 / Ch. 8 / Ch. 9 / Ch. 10 / Side A / Side B

[seraphinitegames]

The Wayhaven Chronicles—Update 04/April/2024

Quick one this week as there’s still a few more tasks I want to check off before next week!

Most of the editing is completed! Woohoo! It’s just editing on the current chapter holding me up a little as not only is there a TON of variation in it along with the branched scenes, but I decided to add in a massive choice set because, you know, I can’t help myself, hehe! :D

The choice set I had before was good, but I don’t want good I want more, lol! So, I’m expanding it for all the love interests. Now it definitely feels way more impactful!

Plus, it means I got to add in another small romantic moment before a bigger romantic moment, which is on-theme for this book which is seriously all about any opportunity for the romance!

I also had great fun starting the Spring Scenario Specials for Patreon! Loving the flower language theme :D

Started with Mason/Morgan this week and the pink camellia meaning ‘Longing for you’!

Will let you know the others as I write them!

Next week, I should be able to move onto the next chapter. I’ll be re-printing out the plan to go over ready in prep after my last set of notes for it!

Hope you all have the most amazing weekend! We’ll be offline as usual, so I’ll update you all again next week! <3

[nibeul]

spring’s promise

[id: It’s a redraw of the JJK volume 26 cover. Gojo, who is depicted here as albino with freckles peppering his skin and gold earrings, is still the main focus and takes up the center frame. He is smiling softly at the viewer. His outfit is nearly identical to his cover counterpart, though his kimono here has a dragonfly pattern on it and is folded right over left as how one would dress someone for burial. Branches stretch up around him and spring’s promise camellias frame his face. The sky is blue but snow is gently falling. /end id]

[nudibro]

Leshy with a mullet and a beard wasn't something I thought I needed in my life.

[ID: Image 1: A colored headshot sketch of Leshy from cult of the Lamb. He smiles big. He has red camellias and vines on his branches. Image 2: A rough side view sketch of Leshy, his mouth is relaxed and neutral. End ID]

[bestruction]

Flower's language

Summary: How you two stared to secretly date

Warnings: None

@enouche

Following his release from prison, Sasuke finally had the time to focus on the Uchiha district, a place abandoned and forgotten by time. At first, he couldn’t bring himself to face that place alone, so he called you for help. And how could you say "no" to him knowing everything that happened there ? Little by little, you found yourself drawn into the work, getting lost in the process of restoring what was left behind. After all, he had once been your friend— even more than that. Not that it mattered anymore.

Part of you was still hurt after everything that had happened, but another part understood what he went through. For all the good memories you shared, you promised to help him make the house more... livable. After that, you hoped to finally let go of the feelings you refused to admit you still had for him.

By morning, you were ready and made your way to the district, just as you had every weekend for the past few months. The main house—his house—still exuded a haunting stillness, as though frozen in time. The grandeur of the Uchiha clan lingered in its bones, but the absence of warmth and life was palpable. Each creaking floorboard and the faint rustle of wind through the broken windows echoed the loss and tragedy of the clan that had once lived there. It was a place both beautiful and melancholic, a physical embodiment of Sasuke’s memories and grief.

Today, you two had agreed on cleaning the garden and planting a few vegetable seeds that could be useful for him. 

It doesn't take long until you find him in the back of the house. You left your backpack on a bench and knelt beside Sasuke, your hands quickly brushing the earth as you worked to clear the area, pulling out invasive plants and cutting away dead branches.

You look around noticing how the once-meticulously groomed garden had succumbed to nature's reclaim. Stepping stones lead to a koi pond, now murky and overrun with algae. A stone lantern leans precariously to one side, and the bamboo fountain no longer flows. Wild wisteria and ivy climb over stone statues of Uchiha symbols, and the air is heavy with the scent of damp earth and decay.

Sasuke wasn't much to talk but he seemed particularly off, his broad shoulders stiffed while he focused on the task he was doing.

“Do you know what this is?” you asked trying to save him from whatever was happening in his head.

He looks at the small sprig of something you’d found struggling to grow amid the chaos “A flower?.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s lavender. In the language of flowers, it symbolizes calm and peace. Your mother might have planted it here for that reason.”

Sasuke paused in his work, his gaze flickering to the delicate sprig in your hand. “The language of flowers?”

You nodded, smiling faintly. “Every plant has a meaning. For example, the camellias over there—represent admiration and longing. And the wisteria near the gate is a symbol of endurance and devotion.”

He looked toward the garden as if seeing it for the first time, his expression unreadable. “Didn’t know you were an expert.”

You laughed softly. “I’m not. But I’ve always liked the idea that flowers can say things people can’t"

He looked at you wondering if his mother thought the same. He remembered seeing her in the garden many times but the reasons for it now were blurry and lost in his head. Sasuke didn’t respond, but you caught the way his shoulders seemed to relax slightly as he returned to clear the weeds.

"What does this one mean?" He asks pointing at a single tulip he had found in the middle of the invasive herbs. You got closer to see it better, thinking to yourself it was unusual to see such a delicate flower in a wild scenario.

"Love," You say looking at it. It wasn't grown and its petals were suffering from the lack of care, but it still had the charm only a tulip could have.

"I thought roses were the flowers for love," He said looking at what, in his eyes, was just a plant.

"Roses and tulips," You said caressing the dry petals "Roses represent love and its nuances, but tulips represent it as a whole"

His dark eyes were fixated on you and when you looked at him again, and in that short second that followed you gulped thinking he had grown into a handsome man. You coughed pushing away that thought and quickly said "Did you buy the vegetables seeds that we talked about?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna grab it"

You drummed your fingers on your legs, waiting for him to come back while telling your stupid heart to stop beating so fast.

He came back and the two of you set to work planting the seeds, side by side. The quiet companionship that had grown between you was something you cherished, but it was still fragile like stepping carefully over thin ice. As you dug into the soil, your hands brushed his. The contact was fleeting, but it sent a jolt through you. You froze, glancing up at him, only to find that he was already looking at you.

"You didn't have to help so much"

“I know,” you said with a small shrug. “But I wanted to.”

Neither of you spoke, the silence stretching between you like a taut string. Slowly, almost hesitantly, Sasuke leaned closer, his dark eyes searching yours. His long fingers brushed the dust on your cheek but not just that, he was testing the waters, and once you didn't move away, he let his fingers hold your chin before putting his lips on yours. It was tentative, almost unsure.

His lips were unsteady as if he was uncertain of how to give or receive this kind of tenderness. He placed his lips on yours, feeling the texture and taste of your toothpaste. You closed your eyes and his hand found its way to the back of your neck while his tongue finally entered your mouth to quickly meet yours.

Fuck, did he have to taste so good?

You hold his shirt pulling him closer, making him smirk in the kiss while you wrap your tongues again and again until the world seems to slow down its rotation just to make it last longer. You felt the soft scrape of his teeth against your lower lip, a gentle bite that sent a shiver down your spine. A low sound escaped you, barely audible, but he heard it. And god, if you were gonna whimper like every time he kissed you, he would do it until your lips were swollen or both of you were naked.

You break the kiss reluctantly, needing to breathe. Sasuke gives you a few more pecks, loving the way your mouth is wet, before pressing his forehead to yours.

"This..." You whisper not opening your eyes but you can feel his gaze burning on you "Doesn't change anything, hm?"

"Doesn't it?" He asks pressing his lips on yours shortly once more

"Sasuke..." You lean back, trying to create space between you and him but grabs your waist, anchoring you closer "You are not being fair to me"

The Uchiha's house wasn't the only thing stuck in time after he left, you were stuck in time too. Lock in the feelings you had for him and unable to move on. Then why the part of you that hated him was so easily folded?

"I know" He whispers knowing he is being selfish by not letting you put an end to this cycle "We can take things slow, huh? See if it still works out between us and if it doesn't..."

You want to say "no" but your head shakes in a "yes" before your lips can open and you hate yourself for feeling so damn hot at the way he holds you close now, nearly pulling you on his lap "No one needs to know, okay?"

"Sure" He nods, eager to make you stay "Anything you want"

You stayed there for a moment, wrapped in the quiet intimacy of his touch, your heart warring between reason and desire. The garden seemed to hold its breath, as though the ghosts of the Uchiha district were watching, bearing witness to this fragile new beginning. Sasuke's grip on you loosened just enough to let you step back, but not enough to let you go. No matter how much you tried to tell yourself otherwise, you weren’t ready to walk away from him, and not from the chance that, just maybe, some things were worth saving.

[moldychefboyardeecan]

Flowers From Smoker

tag list: @hannahbarberra162

thank you Hannah for beta-ing, as always!! if anyone wants to join my taglist (aka the moldy mailist), don't be shy to let me know :)!!

a/n: he needs some love man😭😭 sorry not sorry! reqs are paused for now-- my ask box is still open though! AMAs, hcs and to just tell me anything are always and forever here :3

tags: fluff, drabble, SFW

wc: 1k

Smoker told himself it was just a flower. Just one.

Nika damn him for an idiot.

To leave such an inconspicuous flower, a single camellia bloom, white like his hair, set on your desk. A subtle love, that what you two are—A quiet confession for a quiet love, if you could even call it that. Most of your "romantic escapades" happened in the janitor’s closet or whichever office had a lock.

Fuck him if he didn’t wish for more.

But of course you'd notice. Captain of half of G-5's fleets, professional at shouting down pirates twice his size, and yet...hopeless when it came to him. You and him had done a great job at keeping your relationship secret..for the most part. There were a few times where his smoke clung to your clothes, leaving you smelling like an ashtray, or, times when your lipstick would stain his collar with that pinky nude you always wore. Tashigi caught on rather quickly, watching how he interacted with someone else..for once; but she wouldn’t meddle in the Vice-Admiral’s personal affairs (never aloud, that is.) 

Though, she would say that there were moments that surprise her the most, such as: putting the final piece on who the Vice-Admiral was smitten about.

Opening your office door, you were greeted with the bloom sitting on your desk.

Of all the things you expected to find on your desk: reports, stolen snacks, maybe a live grenade—a flower just wasn’t one of them. A flower was just a direct opposite on what you see everyday. Something so gentle, so soft.

You’ve seen strange shit on your desk before; stolen pirate maps, half-empty liquor bottles, the occasional seastone bullet. But this?.. This was romantic. Beautiful. You had already known who gave it to you the moment you laid your eyes on it.

“That damn fox..” you chuckled as you thought to yourself, looking amorously at the camellia as it laid , contrasting on the dark mahogany wooden desk—standard issue for any high ranking Marine. Only you did realize, you had left your door open.

Oh shit. You left your door open.

Tashigi was staring back, intrigued by your reaction, leaning against the doorframe, her glasses gleaming a hint of knowledge. She already fucking knows.

“Lieutenant,” you said, acting casually, palming the camellia like contraband.

She adjusted her glasses. “Captain.”

You both stare at each other for a moment, acknowledging the tension and awkward silence in the room, before Tashigi broke:

“That’s a lovely flower.”

Shit.

You shrugged. “Found it on my desk. Probably a prank from one of the lower branches.”

"Mmm. A prank." She adjusted her glasses, the light flashing across the lenses. "Do keep me updated on any further... office break-ins, Captain. Wouldn't want your secret admirer stumbling across classified documents."

"I'll be sure to file a report."

"Excellent." She opened her mouth to continue—

Almost immediately before lauching into the next question, you were both cut off by the sudden boom of a certain someone’s voice.

"TASHIGI! GET YOUR ASS TO MY OFFICE—WHAT THE HELL IS…THIS INVOICE FOR TWELVE DOZEN—"

“That 's my cue. Keep an eye out, captain.”

You nod Tashigi off, hearing her footsteps grow quieter. Once you were able to confirm no more accidental walk-ins, you shut the door and prepare a vase for the flower. Setting it back on your desk after, you sit down and work on the paperwork meant for your quarterly reports.

You fell asleep at your desk.

It happened—stacks of quarterly reports made for shitty pillows, ink smudged on your cheek, and the camellia still standing vigil in its vase. The click and lock of your office door didn’t even register.

Neither did the heavy coat draped over your shoulders, smelling of cigar smoke and sea salt.

“Mm..” you mumbled at the sudden weight put on your body. The strong cigar scent followed until it reached your head, pressing into a soft kiss onto your forehead.

“Just rest, you hellcat.”

It would stay this way with your breathing slowing back down, the presence of his body calming you back down. He stayed, brushing your hair back from your face, adjusting you until he sat in your chair, you on his lap, chest to chest, clinging to his scent. Hours pass, and his voice rasped against your hair, low enough to stir the strands.

 “Sun’s up.”

A grumble escaped you, half-protest, half-sleep. His chest vibrated with a quiet laugh, but his arms tightened anyway, holding you in place for one stolen second longer. Then, with a roughness that didn’t match his hands;gentle as they tucked your hair back, straightened your clothes, he peeled himself away.

The morning light stabbed through your eyelids before you registered the warmth missing from your lap. Your back protested in its soreness as you straightened in your chair—now empty , except for the lingering scent of cigars and sea salt clinging around the room.

The camellia stood untouched in its vase. But beside it now stood white rose, its stem carefully cut, and placed neatly beside the other flower. And tucked beneath it, a scrap of paper with familiar, jagged handwriting:

"Stop sleeping at your desk. -S"

Outside your window, the base was coming alive with shouts and marching boots. Somewhere beyond the chaos, he's at his desk, scowling at paperwork, pretending last night never happened. For both of your sakes.

The door burst open without warning.

"Captain! Vice Admiral Smoker wants these reports—" The recruit froze, eyes darting between the flowers, and his nose twitching against the scent.

You leaned back in your chair, fingers steepled. "Tell the Vice Admiral," you said sweetly, "he can come get them himself."

A beat.

"I'll be waiting for him."

The recruit's Adam's apple bobbed. "M-Ma'am, he said—"

Cutting him off, "Did he now..?" You plucked the rose from its vase, rolling the stem between your fingers. "Then you can also tell him..."

You inhaled the scent—fresh, like dawn, like the stolen hour before; when his hands had been in your hair; before meeting the kid's terrified gaze. "His hellcat says come here."

Somewhere down the hall, that familiar voice bellowed: "WHERE THE HELL IS MY—"

'Speak of the Devil.'

The recruit fled.

You set the rose back in its place, humming as you reached for your coffee, that had been left by that fox himself, acting like a high school boy with these quiet gifts.

But that’s all it took for you to know that he loves you, all you ever need, even with or without all these decorated subtleties.

[nekomori-art]

Tea Time | Also available as a sticker sheet!

---

[ID: Illustration by Nekomori Art, showing various items related to tea-time, arranged loosely in rows. The first row shows a vintage enamel teapot decorated with red camellias, a Japanese teacup filled with warm green tea, a vintage mug decorated with strawberries and filled with steaming milk tea, and a golden teaspoon. The second row shows a shallow tray containing three rectangular biscuits, a lace doily, a vase filled with a bouquet of red flowers, a cookie tin adorned with lemons, and a small milk jug with the illustration of a branch on it. The third and last row shows a framed picture of a smiling fox character in a button-up shirt, a lighted tea candle, a stack of books, and a cupcake with a cherry on top.]

[autumnmobile12]

Finishing Touches on Malicious Compliance

Fanart for the Endeavor Agency Annual Christmas Party because I just felt like it.

It's kinda weird drawing them with the height differences in mind and showing how tall Touya is compared to the women in his family. We know Fuyumi is 5'3" and Touya clocks it in at 5'9". Rei doesn't have an official height listed, but we can see in the family shot she is a little shorter than Fuyumi. So I put her mother Grandma Himura's height about the same at 5' exactly.

Also, I don't know if there was an attempt to contain Touya's fluffy hair, but if there was, I think the ladies gave up pretty quick.

Part 2

...

With Touya wearing a woman's kimono, this seems like a good time to bring up gender identity. In the Ambush Sim AU, he does identify as male, but he is not opposed to wearing feminine clothing for comfort/practicality purposes, or in this case, pure spite. So I suppose that's a characteristic that skews more demi-masculine(?) orientation. Except I think if anybody tries to pin down exactly how Touya identifies, all they're gonna get is a shrug because he is long past the point of caring about labels. When it comes to gender identity and which public restroom to use, Touya is very much in Camp 'Just Wash Your Hands When You're Done And We'll Get Along Fine.' So while wearing a woman's kimono may have started out as malicious compliance against his father, it may also have served as some self-realization for him. Here, he's a teenager who missed out on three years of mental/physical/emotional development and figuring himself out. And he has a very encouraging and understanding grandmother.

In any case, I hope I'm using the demi-masculine term correctly. I know someone in real life who identifies as demi-feminine, and she said this was accurate, so I'm trusting her opinion.

...

You would not believe the amount of research I put into drawing their kimono accurately according to situation/season. Because kimono do have seasonal patterns/colors and are varied by formality, age, and sometimes marital status of the wearer.

So breaking down the kimono in the fanart to the best of my understanding:

All three of them are wearing homoungi, a semi-formal to formal kimono that is typically worn by guests to formal parties, such as a wedding, graduation ceremony, dinner party, etc. Since the Endeavor Agency Christmas party is a company event, I figured it would be considered semi-formal. Homoungi are generally characterized by having a pattern along the hem, sleeves, and over the left shoulder seam.

The kimono colors:

With winter colors, shades of red are popular, but otherwise, more neutral colors work just as well. Since Grandma Himura is an elderly widow, I thought dark green would be a good choice since it's not flashy and more what you'd expect a dignified older woman to wear. (That's a cultural thing, not my personal opinion!) The pattern on hers is bamboo stalks and leaves. Fuyumi's kimono is white with bare branches and camellia blossoms. Touya's is a wintry blue (actually, that's same color as the rindou flowers) and has a roughly drawn yukiwa motif. Yukiwa is a Japanese pattern made to resemble snowflakes or flowers.

Obi:

Again, neutral colors/patterns. Or at least ones that complement the kimono. Fuyumi's scarlet one matches the flowers. Touya's is black lacquer (urushi) with abstract silver embroidery. Grandma Himura's obi is white for snow with abstract flowers in silver embroidery.

Kanzashi:

Again, winter-themed hair pieces, so Touya's is a carnation arrangement hana-kanzanshi and Fuyumi has a camellia. Touya's also wearing a wisteria kanzashi, which I don't think are considered winter flowers, but I like the look of them, so they were included. If you look closely, they also have little bells. Grandma Himura's is mostly hidden because of how she's standing, but she's wearing a tama-kanzashi and a kushi.

Deepest apologies for any inaccuracies above. I am not a kimono expert and I did the best I could with what I had to work with.

...

I realized something rather sad while drawing this. In The Summer Camp Ambush Simulation, it's mentioned Grandma Himura died a few weeks after Touya's eighteenth birthday, so he can't be any older than sixteen or seventeen in this fanart. Since I don't think he made any public appearances so soon after returning home, he's more likely seventeen years old here.

Seventeen years old, it's Christmas, and he has a January birthday. So Grandma Himura dies in maybe two months after this, and I swear I did not intentionally set it up to be that tragic!

[theravenoffice]

// A LIGHT IN THE DARK //

Location: District 23, L Corp. Branch U-04

The area looks like your standard District 23 backstreets area, save for the decrepit surface of the facility. Some electrocuted Rats can be seen nearby. Looks like they tried to jump Katya.

🍾 Hoo...alright, all's clear.

Katya is equipped with her E.G.O. gear (Electric Screaming) and weapon, alongside her Volta Workshop spear. She's all bright like usual, but her eyes are a tad shaky.

🐟 W-We just gotta wait for the rest to arrive... hopefully these notes c-can help with extraction.

Owen is equipped with his E.G.O. gear aswell (Dimension Shredder), clutching his dual daggers. In a bag, he's carrying some notes from Galina that she wrote during her days as an agent of the Extraction Team.

// @camellia-office @silverbranchoffice

[heartkaji]

★… 999 OKINAWA !❞

𝜗ৎ sum. endo’s never met a girl made of flowers.

𝜗ৎ notes. short poetic / flowery word vomit. mentions of blood. possible part two coming if i’m not too lazy </3

you met endo yamato in the summer of ‘99.

he died that summer with ivy in his teeth & dogwood in his mouth. when you asked around, the locals said the marigolds bit him to death.

funny how you met him in a marigold field, thistles in your hair & rosevines at your feet. endo yamato was dirty ink & swollen ankles bruised by rose thorns & japanese barberry. you thought he was beautiful.

but you didn’t dare near him, not when he crushed holly stems between his fingers, petals splitting in his palms. he seemed to have issues with the snapdragons & lamp grass—you watched from afar as he stomped on gold petals & camellia leaves till you decided the greenery had suffered enough.

“excuse me ? please don’t hurt the flowers.”

your voice is a dandelion in midsummer breeze. if you were any quieter, endo could’ve ignored it, but he turns to you, gashes on his forehead & blood dribbling down his chin,

“who the hell are you ?”

you want to shrink in on yourself, crawl into a mouse hole if you could. but instead you stand frozen like a deer in headlights, knot in your chest & voice swelling in your throat, “please don’t hurt the flowers.”

it’s more or less a squeak but endo seems amused. his lips curl into something of a grin & you don’t miss how he licks blood off split lips. “okay then, miss. but what’s in it for me if i do as you ask ?”

your lips tremble & your eyes sting & why the fuck are you crying ?

endo makes a face akin to surprise. your hands are dappled in tree sap & redmud yet you reach to clean your tears & now you’ve got soil & earth on your face too. endo feels bad. his brows are furrowed & his chest feels tight & how the hell did he get you sobbing?

his hands are faster than his head. his fingers are still drenched with earth & blood but they move to cup your cheeks & clean salt water off your face. now you’ve got soil on your skin & blood on your cheeks & holy hell you look even prettier up close.

endo tenses when you lean into his palm. there’s tears dribbling down your cheeks & it’s fucking disgusting but endo doesn’t necessarily feel repelled. he wonders what you’re doing out here, crown made of glaze lilies & cherry branches sitting on your hair. you’ve got a basket of holly & hawthorne in your hands & endo can’t help but think of how your cheeks match the rose petals.

“you’re beautiful,” endo’s got summer in his throat so it comes out as a whisper. he thinks you didn’t hear him but your heart bleeds up your throat. you free your cheeks from his hands & flowers spill from your basket, “please don’t hurt the flowers.”

endo gives you a nod. the flowers are safe with him.

© ─ heartkaji; do not steal, copy, edit, translate or reupload

[angy-brows]

11, 44 and 50 for Leshy!

11. What’s each Bishop’s favorite food?

While he'll eat pretty much everything, Leshy loves to eat meat. Whatever he eats determines how healthy his leaves grow, so he'll eat a lot before winter hits to be as much of a bush as possible.

Also red berries. They just taste good.

44. How does each of the Bishops handle being teased or joked with?

I like to think that Leshy in all his chaotic nature is quick-witted and can turn a joke back around on you, usually by either taking it too far or just by being an ass.

Examples:

Leshy may be an idiot, but he's not stupid.

50. Free headcanon space!

I like to think that because of the crown's influence, Leshy's body has become half-insect, half-plant life. The branches and leaves on his body grow directly out of him, although they can still wilt and fall off like normal plant life does.

It's part of the reason why he's able to sprout camellias. You gotta be careful plucking them off of him, though - the fresher the flower, the more it hurts when it comes off.

Edit: Forgot to link back to the questions

[arthenaa]

a daffodil's camellia— ominis x gn!reader

summary: you think your purpose has always been to love him.

warnings: angst/no comfort, arranged marriage, indirect exclusion, HEARTACHE, unrequited love, reader is kinda a pushover but its bc of generational trauma guys !!! imelda is a great friend, the imelda bias here is unreal so sorry im just projecting, ableism behavior guys bc these mfs are too privileged, i am fr trying to break ur heart ig. NOT PROOFREAD im lazy.

note: HAPPY CHINESE NEW YEAR!!!! i slept on this mb,,,,, the angst ominis fic that i talked abt last time but didn't upload until now .... oc cameo from @localravenclaw and @esolean !! (Ren and Lydia) hope u guys enjoy this! anys have fun reading

All your life, you think that this was what you’ve been born to do.

It’s engraved in years of tradition and history, a role you had to partake in the moment you came out of the womb. It was predetermined that your fate would end up in this situation.

Purity was an important factor for the historical families of the Wizarding world. Those who had come down from powerful bloodlines consider the tradition of keeping the family pure a sacred tradition of their power and authority over society.

A pedestal created from years and years of bloodshed to hone the perfection of wizardry and magic today. You suppose it was only an act of gratitude to be part of a long-lasting dynasty that preserved the sacred power of your ancestors. You know it’s an honor to be tasked with this role—to be given the duty of creating more branches for future generations.

You should know because this was what you were born to do.

Born and raised to be a bridge for other Pureblood families to lengthen their authority and claim over their self-built thrones. They say it’s a privilege—to be part of a family descended from the Great Four or just have connections with them through their ancestors’ relationships.

To be pure is to be great.

To be pure is to live a life filled with luxuries.

Opportunities are immediately given with just a snap of their fingers. Their authority precedes those whose blood is stained with the lesser. You’d think living a life of a pureblood would just entail all roses and gold.

Y/N would beg to differ.

“Keep your head bowed and hands on your lap,” Your mother’s voice is ever so cold. The carriage rustles with each bump against rocky terrain. You suppose it's about time you've gotten used to her tone but the booming surprise of her voice has a way of sinking its claws deep within your small heart. As a child, obedience was the foremost value you learned to be of importance. You knew that if you flick your head slightly off angle to your usual disposition due to an interest in your surroundings or the people around you, you would only get the receiving end of your mother’s wand. You knew that you'll be locked down in that dreaded abyss if your bow stuttered due to a misplacement of your foot in front of other pureblood families.

At a young age, you knew enough to not make a mistake.

Born third to the Rosier family's eldest son, you knew that your duty was to form connections—Marry off into other pureblood families and create the next generation of talented pureblood wizards. Wizards have the natural right to take what’s theirs because of their authority over society. A vision that threatens those beneath them.

So you keep your head bowed and palms tucked nicely on your lap with one palm over the other. Your mother is a cold and moving force beside you as you tried to match her pace despite your small little legs. At the age of 7, you are brought by your mother for marriage negotiations.

“Your husband will be an esteemed member of the Gaunts,” You remember your father declaring over tea. He sits menacingly in the front of the table, the glow of the flames behind him making his figure all the more unreachable. You know to only nod and not question any further. He makes a point by knocking on the wooden surface of the long dinner table that seems to stretch farther with each day. You wonder if the spaces beside you will ever be filled. You turn to him at the beckoning of your attention. “You listen carefully to your future husband, child. I cannot afford another failure.”

His words engrave deeply within your poor meek heart. You know that if you deny it, you’ll suffer the same fate that of your older sister—the one who tried to get a glimpse of the love and normalcy she desperately wanted yet ended with a tragedy.

You remembered that day in such vivid detail—the cold looks of your parents as they looked down at the state of their eldest daughter, who bawls and claws at any sort of reaction from the still and lifeless figure of her former lover.

So just like the obedient perfect child that you are, you nod and bow—subservient to the influences of those who claim to be wiser than you. You can only do so much to control your faith so alas, you let go and let the others hold the reigns.

That is until you meet him.

You were faintly aware of what he looked like. A boy with eyes as bright as the clouds, hair so smooth—so blonde that it gleams perfectly in the sunlight, and moles that litter his face, mimicking the night sky. These were murmurs of him from the servants in the halls of your manor. They say his beauty is compared to that of Rowena Ravenclaw and his demeanor spoke true as a descendant of Salazar Slytherin. However, there were also whispers of his only flaw.

“They say the young lord does not see.”

You wondered before how true the nature of the gossip of the young lord was when you took your first step inside the Gaunt estate, but now, as you stand before him who seems detached from the world with his eyes as dull as the morning sky on a rainy day, you suddenly make a conclusive remark about him.

He was truly a sight to behold.

“This is the young Lord, Ominis Gaunt," His mother declares proudly from her place, chest puffed and earrings dangling from the heaviness of the jewels that clung tightly to their placements. His father stands idly and lets his wife do all the matching. Your mother only smiles, placing a firm hand on your back—reminding you of your duty.

You bow with the elegance that of a noble—A move you’ve honed to perfection from years and years of teaching and practice. You rise back up with the same pace, eyes peering up at him from your lashes. He only seems to daze off into the distance.

“This is Lady Y/N Rosier. We’ll serve you well.”

The silence is unbearable.

You think that maybe after the taxing interaction with the grown-ups and being able to interact alone with the young lord would allow you to finally discover his true personality.

That, however, continues to be a difficulty.

"Do you like fencing, my lord?" You ask, trying to break the ice as you sit across from him in one of the receiving rooms of the Gaunt's huge manor. "Or perhaps history?"

"Stop asking." He replies curtly, stance devoid of interest. You continue to dig deep into that shell of his, hoping that your incessant need to make conversation would crumble the defensive walls he put up.

"I hear you're quite skilled in astronomy, my lord—"

"Don't call me that."

"What do I call you then?" You perk up, cheeks gleaming with a smile. The furrowing of his eyebrows only digs deeper.

"It appears that I am an avid fan of silence. I suggest not speaking at all," For a 7-year-old, his voice is cold and authoritative. You suppose it's because of his closeness to the Great Four that he is granted with such ability to freely talk however he wants. Your eyes glimmer in awe.

"I just want to get to know my future husband," You retort, trying to make sense of your fiance. You pout like a child, feet swinging back and forth—allowing yourself a moment of reprieve from the stiffness of tradition. "Mother says it's customary for us to be familiar with one another at a young age to establish proper connec—"

His hands slam hard at the wooden surface of the table in front of you. You flinch, a bit surprised by his sudden show of strength. You admit that maybe you've gone a bit too far with the questioning, but it was all for a good purpose anyway! You two are to be one in due time. So, what was so wrong about getting to know him?

You wonder if you'll ever be like him someday. To carry himself in such a stance that he doesn't need to nod or bow to anyone. He tilts his head in the direction of your voice, face contorted into a glare.

"I'll be on my way," He murmurs, voice calm, and yet his disposition evokes anger and frustration. You watch him with bated breath as he walks towards the double doors, the servants bowing and opening it for him with ease.

You know that this should be the final nail in the coffin. To detest the boy you'll soon marry as he turns into a man whose values and inhibitions clung onto him like a wolf who won't release it's jaws onto prey. You know and yet your fingers crumple the fabric of your skirt, eyes looking forward to your next meeting.

The next time you meet him is over tea. It was the turn of the Gaunts to visit your manor as dictated by the tradition of courting within noble houses. You've practiced this scenario over and over. Countless of times alone, with your governess, and with your mother. It's engraved within the depths of your mind as the wounds of the past sting with each sip of your drink.

Act like a noble. Drink like a high-born. Be a pureblood.

The thoughts ring harshly with each thump of your beating heart. Your fingers twitch, and your form stiffens—all for the sake of tradition. The words branding the forefront of your mind as you feel the intensity of your mother's gaze.

I have to do good. I need to do good.

"Your estate is a wonderful place, Lady Rosier," The Gaunt Matriarch addresses your mother with an esteemed elegance—to which your mother only responds with a courteous smile, a part of her façade.

Your mother never liked purebloods but she respected tradition. She smiles and bows in front of her peers but mocks and beseeches them in the comfort of her room.

You don't understand your mother but as a young child, validation from her was the only thing you ever wanted.

And so you try.

"It's all due to our ancestors' hard work in keeping the Rosier history alive through the manor's architecture," You respond, lips contorted into a gentle smile. The Gaunts seem impressed by your interest in the conversation and from the corner of your eye, you see your mother shift in her seat.

"I see," Lord Gaunt eyes you with a glint of interest in his eye, and he shifts his attention to your parents. "Lord and Lady Rosier, you've raised a daughter worthy of her blood. I applaud you."

Your mother smiles and for the first time, you feel your heart thump at the recognition of doing good. She then responds, "As they should be. It is their role to be worthy and I'm sure she'll be a wonderful spouse to the young master."

Your attention then shifts to the quiet blonde sitting idly in his seat. His face is stone cold, eyes dull, and fists clenching the material of his seat so hard it turns white.

Anger was the first emotion you've seen on Ominis's face.

You wonder if you'll get to see more.

"Aren't you excited?"

You squeal, influenced by the utter joy of finally attending school. It's your first year.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where most wizarding families are built and made from. Many of your relatives built their name from their experiences as a student in Hogwarts—after all it was in your blood to be ambitious. To dream of the impossible and achieve it by any means. That's why your family house dons the colors of green and silver—a direct allegiance to the house of Slytherin, that of which many of your blood relatives reside during their time as a student.

While being excited about Hogwarts was already a given factor as a child of magic, there's also one thing you're most excited about.

"Stop bouncing about, Y/N," Ominis grumbled as he heaved his bag over his shoulder. "We still have to find our damn car."

Your relationship with Ominis did progress in some ways. He's less grouchy now and tolerates your personality enough to let you stay by his side. You've gotten used to its indifference but you think that it's good progress with how he talks more with you albeit still with glares and a cold demeanor.

He pays you no mind as he traverses through the narrow pathway of the train with the guide of his wand. You follow closely behind, hands carrying your suitcase as Ominis guides you to your assigned car.

"I can't help it, I'm literally bursting with energy," You whine as Ominis finally reaches your destination, slides the door open, and places his things inside. He plops down to the farthest corner and leans back to rest. You immediately claim the seat next to him to which he grumbles.

"There's plenty of seats for you to take," He scowls, gesturing to the empty seats in front of you both. You only giggle as you snuggle up next to him.

"Oh don't be such a stone-faced troll, Ominis!" You whine, slapping his arm. He tenses with anger at the gesture. "It's natural for me as your fiancée to be as close to you as possible."

"Stop calling yourself that," His eyebrows furrow in annoyance, jaw clenching in anger. You roll your eyes, not minding his hostility.

"But I am though?"

"I swear to Merlin's name and everything he holds dear, if you don't—"

The slide of the door halts your conversation as your eyes and his head flick toward the sudden disturbance. Two brunettes pop in, one seemingly looking like a direct copy of the other. They blink, eyebrows raised as they stare at the two of you.

"116?" The boy asks with an awkward smile. "Are we interrupting something?"

You pull yourself slowly from Ominis's space at the prospect of new friendships. You smile. "No worries, just a lovers' quarrel. I assume you're the ones we'll share the car with?"

"There is no lovers' quarrel." Ominis firmly states. The two purse their lips in slight hesitance. "Please, do join us though. Merlin knows I need it."

The two then make their way to sit in the remaining two empty seats, placing their luggage in the compartment under. You smile as they settle down in their seats, bright smiles plastered on their faces.

"Right," The boy starts. "Uh, I'm Sebastian Sallow and this is my sister, Anne. It's nice to meet you both."

You nod excitedly at the introduction, delighted to make friends at the present opportunity.

"I'm Y/N Rosier," You respond. You then gesture to the blonde next to you. "And this is Ominis Gaunt, my fian—"

"Friend." Ominis cuts through, overpowering your voice. You turn to him with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. "They mean friend."

The twins glanced at the two of you, puzzled by the shifting of the balance in your dynamics. Anne breaks the silence.

"Well, we'll be spending quite a long while here, I hope to make your acquaintance," The Sallow girl beams. Sebastian nods at his sister's words while Ominis responds with a hum of agreement.

There's not much to say when the group falls into silence once more. The four of you were strangers after all, still not used to the presence of someone new but the feeling is welcomed.

Your eyes glance at Ominis who seems to have been resting his eyes, leaning his head against the wall—waiting for the train to begin its course. The corner of your lips curl up at his iridescent beauty.

The train sounds its whistle beginning your journey.

"Are you dumb?"

Imelda blatantly states as she stares at you with disinterest in her eyes. She takes a bite of her apple. "Or just purely ignorant of what's actually happening?"

On your 3rd year at Hogwarts, you somehow get grounded to reality through the presence of Imelda Reyes.

You suppose it's all in due time that you'd be awakened from the trauma-inducing nightmare of tradition and sacred rules of your family. The need to fulfill your role. To give Ominis a home he needs, a family he wants, and a lover he deserves. You suppose that your role overshadowed your judgment of his character and behavior.

You had gotten used to it. To his blatant ignorance of your efforts, the glares, sarcastic comments, seething scoffs, or the fact that sometimes, he doesn't see you at all.

He's always like this, you think. You were never bothered by his indifference. You believed that you could love him enough for the both of you.

You were stupidly wrong about that too.

Sebastian and Anne are terrific company. After being acquainted in your first year, your little group had been formed then and there. The two of them stayed for the past 2 years and you were truly grateful for them. However, the twins were mostly close to Ominis. You didn't mind the gaps between you and the siblings seeing as you prioritized your relationship with Ominis more than anything.

You never really considered it to be a bad thing.

That is until Imelda begins to scratch at the surface of your finely built walls.

You purse your lips, minding your own business as you continue to sew a new stitch into the stretched fabric. You were unfortunate enough to share the dorm room with Imelda and while you enjoyed the rambunctious' Slytherin Quidditch Captain's companionship, this was certainly not something you'd rather talk with her. Everything was fine and there was no need to nitpick at every detail.

Your needle pokes through the hole, goes in, then out—thread sliding swiftly in the path you've carved out for it.

"I'm not sure what you mean, Imelda," You try to deflect her inquisitive nature. She rolls her eyes.

"It's just–" She pauses to readjust her position, leaning forward to rest her arms on her knees—she eyes you with keen interest. "I'm truly amazed how you've gone 3 years with him."

You glance up at her with furrowed eyebrows. "Stop speaking ill of Ominis."

Imelda lets out a loud laugh at your response. "And you even dare to defend him? Are you sure you're not dumb?"

You forcefully drop your sewing tools on your lap as you heave a sigh at her words. You turn to face her fully. "What do you want?"

"Why stay?" She responds, direct. She takes another bite of the apple.

There's a momentary pause of silence as the question rings in your mind. You had half a mind to just drop the conversation and leave but some part of you somehow wanted to defend yourself.

"He's just Ominis. He's always been like that," You respond, chest puffed in self-proclaimed confidence. "We grew up together. We're promised for each other. That's all I need—"

A sudden burst of laughter from Imelda catches you off guard. You flinch in surprise as you watch the brunette Slytherin double down in laughter. Somehow, the clawing feeling inside you becomes more prominent with each giggle and huff from the woman's lips. Your nail begins to scratch at the skin of your thumb.

"H-Holy shit," Imelda sighs in laughter, brushing off a stray tear. She giggles a few more times before finally settling down with a smile. "You're worse than I thought."

She tilts her head with a condescending look on her face.

"Have you ever seen him with the twins? Alone?" She asks. That sets off wave after wave of uncomfortable thumping within your chest. You let out a shaky breath. "I suppose you don't because you're always so focused on your dearest fiance—Actually, y'know! If you just tried to properly look at him. Maybe, just maybe, you'd finally get a grasp of yourself."

Your jaw clenches and palms sweat.

"Stop it." You try to get a hold of yourself. To take control of the situation and get a grip on your thoughts that seem to get more and more chaotic as time passes. However, despite your tries, Imelda overpowers you once more.

"Y/N," She leans forward to rest her arms on the wooden surface of the table. "Maybe, you don't know much about him at all."

Your eyes are locked on hers at the prompt of her words. You can't bring yourself to deny despite the flurry of emotions bursting within you. She tilts her head and gives you a sympathetic look.

You walked out with no response.

On your 5th year, the presence of a new student shook the halls of Hogwarts.

It was uncommon, of course, that a wizard would get admitted at such a late year and while the idea of a new 5th year would turn a few heads in curiosity, this was not the only source of attention.

Over the course of the first few days back to school, you hear talks of the new 5th year's incredible feats of surviving against a dragon attack. There were exaggerations, of course, and different variants of the story with how widespread the gossip had reached, but it all reached the same conclusion at the end.

This new girl had already made her mark as a formidable wizard.

You admired her at first, wanting to know how she did it and what brought on such circumstances. However, there was a slight uncomfortable nagging deep within the depths of your heart at your first meeting. While you felt regretful of such impression despite her kind deportment, you still felt uneasy at the arrival of her presence.

It was probably partly because of Anne's leave of absence since the start of your 5th year. Sebastian was quite privy to the details concerning Anne's sudden absence. You knew she was sick, but other than that, you were quite left in the dark. You convinced yourself that maybe Sebastian feels conflicted when talking about it, and his sudden avoidance of you bringing up the topic proves a testament to that. However, you've seen him and Ominis on the train when you came back after getting refreshments. You've seen Ominis give him a comforting hug—an affection you've barely received from him if there was any at all. You've seen Sebastian tap Ominis to stop talking whenever you enter the room.

People tend to have that misconception that you're awfully unaware of your surroundings due to you being characterized as a 'pushover.' You knew that your bond with Ominis or Sebastian was way different than what they had for each other. You knew it and chose not to dwell too much on the semantics. You'd rather focus on Ominis. On being the person he deserves.

This was solidified when Sebastian began including her in your lunch hangouts.

You were unfortunate enough to be separated from Sebastian and Ominis for your Potions lecture. You had to scour across the castle just to get with them for lunch. They were usually at the same place—lounging around in the Defense against the Dark Arts Tower or the Undercroft.

This time, however, you were finding it quite hard to spot the two.

"Look," Lydia Parkinson, a Ravenclaw from your year, twirls the cup of drink in her hand as she lazily looks up at you due to the lulling atmosphere of the afternoon. "Maybe you could just have lunch with us. Just saying."

Seated beside Lydia is Ren Aries, your potions seatmate (also a Ravenclaw). She has rumored romantic ties with Sebastian, which brought you to their spot in the Great Hall in the first place. Who else would know Ominis's best friend better than you?

Your eyes turn to Ren, who merely rests her chin on her palm propped up by her elbow on the table. "Don't look at me."

"You're basically dating!" You whine, hands grabbing on your books tighter. "Of course, you know where he is."

"No, we're not." Ren answers swiftly.

"Wrong." Lydia raises a breadstick and accusingly points it at Ren.

"Is she talking to you? I don't think so." Ren swats her hand away, causing the breadstick to fly across the table and into a group of first years. The three of you immediately turn your heads, not willing to face the confused glances on their faces.

Just as the first years begin to mind their own business, Lydia begins to lean in with pursed lips. "Well, I might've heard that the two left the Great Hall with the new fifth—"

Suddenly a loud slap intercepts her words. You flinch back at the sudden movement, watching as Lydia rubs her arm as she crumples over the table. Ren sends a glare toward Lydia before turning to you with a half-lidded stare.

"Don't mind her. She's delirious after drinking the pumpkin juice." Ren intercepts easily, not minding her best friend wincing beside her. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion.

"I heard what she said?'

"No you didn't."

"I mean ..." You trailed off, eyes glancing between the two. "I just heard her say the new fifth year."

There's an uncomfortable silence as the two gaze at you with an unreadable stare. Somehow, this gaze seems quite familiar. You've seen it from Imelda, from Anne during your short moments together, and now these two. A budding stem of annoyance begins to grow in your skin.

"Why are you looking at me like that? They're probably just hanging out." You shrug it off like you've always had. It is no use fretting over such simple matters.

"Sure they are—" Lydia chuckles before Ren sends a nudge to her ribs. The redhead merely groans and grabs at the edge of the table. You look at her in concern.

"As I said, delirious." Ren lightly curls the corners of her lips to give you a polite smile. There's a pause of silence before Ren sighs—eyes gazing with an unreadable expression on her face. Your fingers twitch at its familiarity.

"They're in the Undercroft, Y/N." She says, nodding slightly. There's a slight hesitance to her tone of response as if telling you where they were wasn't something she was supposed to be doing. "Sebastian dropped by our table to tell me that, just in case I wanted to join."

Sebastian referred to Ren. Just in case she wanted to join. You wanted to ask if Ominis at least told her to tell you, but you're too much of a coward to do that.

You couldn't will yourself to look at her eyes, afraid that you might finally recognize the emotion that lingers in the depths of her mind. You suppose the inquisitive and empathetic nature of Ravenclaw runs deep within Ren's blood.

You nod as a thanks and left without a word.

You hear laughter first. Your footsteps halt at the archway of the Undercroft—breath faltering as your eyes find the familiar tufts of blonde you've grown to love over the years.

Normally, you would've already bounced over to him, reveling in his attention no matter how negative or neutral it might appear. You would've teased him and wormed your way into his arms.

However, things were quite different from where you were standing.

You hadn't had the opportunity to meet the new 5th year. You only relied on hushed whispers and murmurs across the halls of Hogwarts just to get a glimpse of what she was actually like. You take slow steps towards the source of laughter, eyes trained on their figures—smiles, and gleeful expressions plastered on their faces.

You're caught off guard by the unfamiliar presence of the new fifth year—hair as dark as midnight with a touch of silver strands that decorate the front of her hair like the stars that litter the sky. She's as pretty as they say, as radiant as they whispered about, and evokes the aura of a true born wizard.

However, the true reason for her shock lies in the fact that Ominis—the man she'd known to be stoic, unmoving, and unphased, was laughing. Ominis was laughing.

"Oh, Y/N." It's Sebastian who notices you first. You flinched at the greeting, watching as the other two paused—the new fifth year turning towards you with wide curious eyes, and Ominis subtly turned his head away from you. Your breath hitches at his actions. Sebastian awkwardly glances between the two of you. "I think this is the first time you actually met Nora. Nora, this is Y/N Rosier. Y/N, this is Nora Finley."

Nora waves at you with a smile. "Hi Y/N. Hope you don't mind me intruding."

"None at all." You reply eyes glancing at Ominis who continues to have his back towards you. You decide to continue the conversation. "I was looking for you guys. I thought we were going to have lunch."

"Oh," Sebastian scratches the back of his head, hesitantly glancing at Ominis who continuously remains silent and indifferent. "We already had lunch. Sorry."

You slowly nod in an understanding, a stiff smile plastered on your face.

"That was because you were too hungry to wait," Nora intercepts with joking shove. "Apologies, Y/N. I didn't know they were waiting for someone else."

Your finger twitches slightly at her words. "It's fine."

"I was waiting for Ren! Ominis was just being an asshole." Sebastian defends himself which earns a slap on the arm from Nora. Then, you suddenly hear Ominis speak up.

"Not my fault you were actually coward enough to not go to her yourself," Ominis says. This earns a laugh from Nora who bumps her shoulders against Ominis. "I had to pull you over." The three laugh at the situation at hand, faces plastered with glee and comfort.

So Ominis was there, with Ren and the others. Yet no one thought of telling you where they were. An anxious heavy feeling settles over your chest.

Suddenly, you feel out of place. Your ears ring, zoning out, as their motion becomes more distorted in your eyes. You feel as though you shouldn't be here—that you're the one intruding instead. The ache overwhelms you.

Your feet shuffle a few steps back. "I-I'll get going." You say, voice weak as you announce your departure. Sebastian gives you a moment's glance before nodding. Nora gives you a big wave (you feel bad, she's too much of an angel). However another reason piles onto your aching heart—mind in a daze as it beats fast with anxiety.

Ominis had not once acknowledge your presence.

You leave with your dignity intact.

Seeing Nora is now a regular occurrence.

You didn't mind it at first. You liked the girl. She was a social butterfly, easy to talk to, and her presence brought comfort whenever she was around. You couldn't argue the comfortable nature of Sebastian and Ominis around her. While you were also a generally talkative and social person, it still varied among your peers. Your personality often ventures between the lines of introvert and extrovert—only becoming active to a certain amount of people, and silent to the rest.

However, despite your positive impression on Nora, there was also the case between her and Ominis. You've seen them hanging about in various points of the castle. Even going out together when they leave classes. You haven't had much alone time to spend with Ominis as he somehow begins to become more non-approachable and cold as days pass by. Somehow, he becomes more indifferent than before.

Back then, Ominis indulges in your whims despite his initial opposition. You suppose it's probably to get you to stop, but he had always listened—one way or another. Now, he merely leaves without a word—cutting you off mid-talk and bouncing off to Nora who had just entered the room.

Your heart begins to waver and your breath speeds up. You couldn't deny the hurt that flows through you with each indifferent response of your fiance. Your fiance. He was yours as much as you were his.

So why does it feel like you're the one intruding?

"What do you think we should get Anne, Omi?" You smile, siding up to Ominis whose hands run through the braille engraved on his book. "Do you think we should get her some scented candles?"

"Anne has a sensitive nose." Ominis furrows his eyebrows before slightly tilting his head towards you. "Didn't you know that?"

"I did!" You respond with a defensive tone. Of course, you did. Anne was your friend. "I was going to buy her those simple scented candles. Just to help her with the stress."

Ominis scoffs at your words before going back to reading his book. Just as you inquire a little more about his day, you hear Nora and Sebastian chattering as they reach your spot. You were about to greet them when you felt Ominis nudge your hold away from his arm. You flinch at its intensity as he rises from his seat to walk towards the two—specifically in Nora's direction.

Your heart thumps loudly against your chest, knocking against your ribs like an ache you can't explain. You sit silently, eyes watching as they chatter amongst themselves. The looming realization begins to crawl under your skin, chipping at you—limb from limb. Your breath falters.

"Y/N!" Nora greets like the angel that she is. You smile back, albeit forced and hesitant but welcomed her warmth with open arms. She slides up to you, before calling over the two. They follow with ease. You feel Nora's arm intertwine with yours, thumbing the cloth of your robe.

Just as the two have finally settled down, Nora begins the conversation. "I'm glad you don't have DADA with these two. It's always a chaos."

You nod, still quite perplexed by the whole situation. "Really?"

"Please, Nora." Sebastian teases, arms propped on the table. "Just say you're mad that I beat you at a duel."

"Throwing a ragged cloth to my face before casting a Levioso isn't a win that you think it is." Ominis intercepts with a disappointed shake of his head.

"Blah, blah. Looks like a skill issue to me." Sebastian leans back, arms crossed over his chest. He rolls his eyes playfully. "Life isn't fair on the battlefield, Finley."

Nora turns to you with a scrunched nose. "Are you really friends with these guys?"

You find yourself pausing at her question. Thankfully, she laughs afterward, pulling tease after teasing towards Sallow. The question begins to etch into your brain as your mind conjured every possible interaction you had with Sebastian. Was he even your friend? You remember the silence and the awkward tensions whenever Ominis had to go to the bathroom or get called up by Professor Weasley. Even before then, when Anne was present in your little group of 4, the twins were always stuck to the hip, if not with Ominis. Never the three of you alone together.

Never with you.

You suppose Imelda was right. Blinded by the idea and concept of love through duty, you unintentionally neglected the possible ties that you could've had with the twins. You felt helpless.

"Oh, yeah. Before I forget, what are we getting Anne this weekend?"

Your head turn towards Nora in surprise. "You're coming?"

There's a momentary pause at your question. You wouldn't have minded it before, but now you feel the stares clawing at your skin.

"Of course, she is." Ominis replies with a tone of disbelief. "Don't be ridiculous."

"She hasn't met Anne, though? I don't think—"

"Don't speak for my sister, Y/N." Sebastian cuts through the tension with an offhanded response. You turn towards him in surprise. Nora shifts uncomfortably beside you. "We already planned this. Let's just go with it."

"You didn't tell me anything?" You're not sure as to why your voice suddenly begins to rise. Your hands clench under the table.

"My bad?" Sebastian shakes his head in confusion, as if he's the one incovenienced. "Listen up, next time then? Instead of you know—ogling Ominis, all the time?"

"Sebastian!" Nora calls out, perplexed at the sudden hostility. The brown-haired Slytherin merely turns his head away. A dreadful feeling submerges over your body as you glance at Ominis who sports an indifferent look in his face. There's a paused silence before Sebastian stands from his seat.

"Where are you going?" Nora asks, worried.

"Out. I'm floo-ing to Hogsmeade for the gift. Catch up if you guys want to." Sebastian mumbles in response. He leaves abruptly, robe trailing behind him.

Just as you were about to turn to Ominis, he stands up. "Omi?"

"You should've known better." Ominis mutters. Your breath hitches at his words. He follows through with Sebastian. Your hand clenches into a fist.

"Y/N," Nora grasps at your arm with slight comfort. You couldn't be mad at her even if you wanted to. "Are you okay?"

Your head is lowered, hair framing your face as you try to gather your emotions. You then turn towards her with a smile you've practiced from your childhood days.

"I'm fine."

The silence was unbearable.

You're not sure when was the last time you and Ominis were seated together in a room, alone—much less the receiving room of your manor. You can feel the nervousness clawing up your throat. Your mother had persisted on the two of you visiting the manor during your winter break. You wanted to accept the invitation at first, seeing as this was an opportunity to spend time with Ominis.

But seeing the disdain on his face as soon as you told him the news, somehow regret only fills your body. You had no choice either way.

"Is Hogwarts treating you well?" Your mother sips her tea with the elegance fitting for her role as the matriarch of the house. You shift in your seat, uneasy from her attention.

"Well enough," Ominis answers from your side. His face lacks the enthusiasm of talking to your family.

Your mother furrows her eyebrows at the response but doesn't say anything regardless. "I do hope you're both preparing for your engagement once you graduate in 2 years. Merlin knows how much both of our families have prepared for it."

You nod submissively, unable to resist the pointed stare your mother gives you. Ominis stands abruptly at her words, not opting to pardon himself as he walks out of the room. There's paused silence before your mother scoffs.

"Insolent child," She seethes, taking a sip out of her cup. "If it weren't for his family name and heritage, we would've found you a more suitable heir to marry. Merlin knows his family's treating him like a dispensable asset, when his brother's already married and up to take the role as head of the house."

You sit silently, eyes focused on the untouched cup of tea. Your mother's voice booms through the room, causing you to flinch at its sudden intensity.

"Go after him, Y/N. Beg on your knees if you have to. Keep him tied to the leash before he goes off pawing at others." Your mother orders. "Your sister's a testament to that. Do I make myself clear?"

Your mother's word was law. Everyone in the house knew that. Even your father, who is recognized as the head of the house. She easily controls those around her to do her bidding, and those who resist are met with dire consequences. You'd rather be by her side than against her blade.

"Yes, mother."

You found him by the courtyard.

Your family dog, an Alpine Mastiff that was gifted for your father by a collector of muggle creature, pants against his lap—enjoying the gentle caresses that Ominis runs through his fur. He sits against the huge tree in the middle, the leaves giving his face a gentle shade from the light. You make careful steps before standing in front of him.

"Feeling lethargic, Omi?" You smile. The dog, Xavier, looks up at you with its sleepy eyes before yawning against Ominis's touch.

"I told you to stop calling me that." He replies, eyes devoid of emotion. He merely runs back and forth Xavier's fur as if its stimulation calms his nerves.

"You never allow me to call you anything." You retort, voice calm as you look down at him with a forlorn expression. He doesn't need to know that.

Ominis shakes his head, a sarcastic smile on his lips. "That's because we're not friends."

You purse your lips before responding. "If you say stuff like that, I'll get hurt, Omi."

Ominis chuckles. "You've bound me to your chains, made me a spectacle with your jokes, and you're worried about getting hurt over the truth?"

You stared at him as he continues to pet the massive dog on his lap. You've gone through this routine before, and you'll go through it again. Why get hurt now?

There's a miniscule pause of silence before you let out a laugh at his words. "So touchy with everything, Omi. You really hate me that much?"

It's a joke. Don't take it to heart.

"Yes," He answers with no hesitation, face devoid of any emotion. He finally looks up and its as if those beautiful cloudy blue eyes could stare through you. "Yes, I do."

It's not true.

You've observed Ominis enough to know what he's thinking.

As much as others regarded him as an intimidating figure, he quite wears his heart on his sleeve. You know when he's angry, when he's joking, being sarcastic, sad, or whatever version of Ominis you're facing for the day. You didn't spend 8 years of your life loving him just for you to not recognize every detail on his face.

You've known him well enough to recognize patterns on his behavior, subtle differences to his emotions, and his current mood of the day. If anything, you're well versed in Ominis's body language, that you've grown well accustomed to how you act around him based on it.

That's why besides you're being hit with two realities, instead of one.

You've watched them from across the hall, chatting up a storm as the three of them were huddled in the corner. You've long since opted to observing them rather than being in the group itself, and ever since then, you've begin noticing things you weren't supposed to.

"What's got you looking so focused there?" Imelda's voice reaches your senses as a figure settles beside you. You give her a glance before looking back at the trio. She hums, following your line of sight. "Looking at your asshole of a lover boy again?"

"Don't I ever?" You sarcastically remark, laughing slightly. Imelda looks at you with a slight raise of her eyebrow.

"Wow," She nods. "That's improvement. You don't make sarcastic remarks when I point out your obsession with white boy over there."

You glance at her, heaving a breath as you contemplated letting Imelda know of your thoughts as of late. You suppose that she's the only person who has been real with you since the start. Everything's been a blur since your visit with Ominis to your manor. You've been trying your hardest to appear normal but things had just gone way off. You've started to distance yourself as well, only responding when asked or talked to—which most of the case is Nora's doing. Though, with Sebastian's constant needs for adventure and Nora's inquisitive nature, she had also lost the attention towards your interaction with the group.

With Ominis, you knew well enough that wherever Nora and Sebastian went, he went to as well. You've seen the three of them flee the Great Hall, not minding your lack of presence to the group. 4 years as a group of friends and 8 years with Ominis, and they haven't had a single thought about you that passed through their minds.

You suppose you should've gotten used to their exclusion to your presence. You're partly aware that this is due to the engagement between you and Ominis, how much he despises the centuries-old tradition of marrying those of the same stature as he is. How much he detests the forced nature of your relationship. You wished you had the power to null it, to start over, and meet him under different circumstances. To dream of a reality where he actually finds love in you, and wishes for a future with you in it.

But alas, life is hard for someone like you. To hold so much authority within your fingertips but be shackled by tradition and generational trauma. You've long accepted your demise.

"Ominis likes Nora." The words slips out of your mouth with ease. Like what you just said was something out of the news. Imelda chokes at what she hears. You look at her with concern.

"E-excuse me?"

"Ominis likes Nora." You repeat calmly. Imelda sweatdrops, moving to stand in front of you as she analyzed your facial expression.

"You're saying that like it's the weather—are you okay?" She asks, worried.

You shrug, eyes looking down at your twiddling thumbs. "It's inevitable. Everyone knows about it, no?"

Imelda pauses, face cringing as she places her hands on her hips. You chuckle at the silent admission. "I'm always a bit too late."

"Look, Y/N," She sighs, taking a step forward as she places a hand on your arm. "Ominis was doomed to be your fiance from the start. He's an asshole and just overall rude! You've got nothing much to lose anyway!"

Your tongue darts out to lick your bottom lip before pulling between your teeth. "I do. That's not how it works, Imelda."

You glance up at her, finally meeting her concerned eyes. She lets out a breath at your forlorn expression.

"I always knew Ominis didn't like what we had. I've spent most of my childhood years with him to not know the familiarity of his disdain." You reply. You recall the times you've received cold and indifferent actions from him. "He's made himself clear. I was always the one who wanted more."

"Y/N," Imelda sighs.

"I don't think Ominis ever considered me to be someone dear to him," You whispered. "I had always been something he easily cast aside. A nuisance—I've seen the way he whispers to Sebastian whenever I've said something they considered out of line. I was never something he deemed important."

Imelda is silent. You heave a sigh.

"He's happy now." You mutter. "Nora's everything I'm not, and even if I wanted to hate her, despise her—she's so pure and likeable that it's so unfair. Why is it so unfair?"

You feel tears well in your eyes. Imelda's breath hitches at the sight. She looks around, trying to see if anyone was watching. She then hears the familiar voices of the three. Soon enough she sees them walking over to pass by their area. Imelda did what she could only think of.

She pulls her off her robe before throwing it over your head, shielding you from their stares. She pulls you in her arms as the three near towards you. You couldn't see a thing but you could hear them.

"... Imelda?" Sebastian's voice comes out as confused, probably because of her hooded figure. "What's up?"

"Hey!" Imelda smiles, hands making gentle pats to your back. "Friend's not feeling well. Hope you don't mind."

There's pause of silence before Ominis responds. You feel your heart speed up. "Ah, hope they'll feel better."

"They hear that quite well!" Imelda responds with enthusiasm. You slump against her hold, feeling lethargic from thinking.

"Alright, we'll get going." Sebastian waves before the two follow them off. Just as the three of them began to make their way down the hall, you hear Nora suddenly backtrack.

"Ah, by the way, if you do see Y/N around, tell her that Professor Weasley's asking for her?" Nora says. Your body freezes and its as if Imelda had felt it as she had pulled you closer.

"S-sure." Imelda responds. The three of them began to go on their way, chatting and laughing as they disappear down the hall.

Imelda finally pulls her robe off you, eyes filled with concern. "Y/N ..."

"They knew I wasn't around," You mumble, breath trembling, and eyes devoid of emotion. "They knew. He knew."

Imelda raises a hand to fix your hair before smiling. "There's nothing much I can say that will be of help, but I do hope that you'll take care of yourself—Of what you'll do from here on out."

You pause at her words before nodding silently.

The realization settles in and its heartbreaking and grueling. However, despite that, things haven't been much clearer than before. You'll set things right. For him. For yourself.

Because love is your greatest weakness, no? Your greatest threat. Love for him, and love for your family.

Whichever will prevail?

A/N: before yall ask, yes this will have a part 2 ... i just really wanted to finish this and it went beyond what ive planned. stay tuned mwehe!!! this will not have a happy ending btw. the title daffodil's camellia is in reference to their meaning in love. daffodil can mean new beginnings but it can also mean unrequited love, camellia means romantic love or devotion. just wanted to let yall know that!