#I hope they are all thriving at the sanctuary!

[sunandsstars]

YAWNETU

CHAPTER 9

Tonowari x Ronal x Na’vi!Reader

Summary: With her arrival in Awa’atlu, reader seeks to find a sanctuary for her family, one that she may find in two particular individuals

Warnings: Mentions war, Pregnancy, Mean dad

Word count: 5.5k

A/N: thank you for those who have been patient with me! I know i abandoned you all for a bit but here’s chapter 9, i might rewrite it since the first bit seems a bit rushed but let me know what you guys think!

Taglist: @itsyoboysparkel @dumb-fawkin-bitch @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @fanboyluvr @mooniequeen @berrybluez @bajadotcom @alwaysinwritersblock @pandoragalora @perfectprofessorloverapricot @lvrcpid @answer-the-sirens @phantomalex14 @neteyamforlife @bat1212 @sadforeversblog @ducks118 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @1800imgay @soushswag @honeybxes @lola-bunn1 @alldaysdreamers @doggodorime @theesexystallion @scarlettwch @annamarieisbae @wallpaintt @zatarias-pandora @daoyus @ambria @simp-erformarvelwomen @simpliheavenli @tojidilfs @automaticwizardnerd @lexasaurs634 @symptoms-of-moonlight @avtprint

@deviismynamewritingismygame @sunrays404 @tsireyassgurl @xx-kaitlyn-trixx-xx @that-one-daydreamer @yeosxxx @noname2246 @ok-boke @rubyrubyruuu @diosmilkymommers @annaleesworld @jiminsthickthighs @holysaladapricothero @peaches-peach-peach @enochi @thispussyshouldcomew @ihonestlydontknowwhattonamethis @kirisimpster @pompompomegranate @stevebuckysdoll @midhito @any-maybe @nyylovestowrite @omnimaki @blueberryfailureclinic @degenweeb @tejas-kris @sadlyitsme-boo-hoo @agustdeeyaa @kthehoeforfictionalmen @himbo-klown @miraxflor @behindthearcane @yanelis-world @jaxe-27 @noahboahsblog @saltedcoffeescotch

The Metkayina pair became good mates for her, they were understanding, loving, protective, everything she had ever hoped for in the past, a dream she once had that now became a reality.

Tonowari hunted for the rarest of pearls outside the reef and crafted pretty necklaces and beaded tops for his new wife, his love was more physical, he enjoyed creating new clothes and loved decorating ___’s hair with small shells and sea glass, his wives only deserved the best after all.

Ronal showed her loved in different ways though, she cooked for the growing family, took care of any wounds, accompanied ___ wherever she went and taught her all she knew about being a Tsahík in hopes that she can learn and become one herself in the future.

Together the three thrived and eventually moved into one large marui with the perfect view of the sunset and sunrise each and every day. The house had much more space for their children too, who were all growing as the years went on, there were even new additions to the family, such as Tsireya, their first daughter and Ronal’s second born.

___ often thought about having more children, but birthing twins, especially in the circumstance she was in, was enough to put her off for a while. But with her new happy family, she continues to ponder what it would be like, she now lives in a more stable environment with mates who adore her and her boys so it was only right for her to think.

“Yawnetu, what is on your mind?”

Tonowari glanced up from the net he was weaving, cocking his head to the side and blinking, usually at this time of the day his wife would be chattering away about what she has been up to while he was hunting, but alas he was met with silence most of the evening. It was obvious something else took up her thoughts, and he wanted to get to the bottom of it.

Snapping her head towards her husband, a purple hue took over ___’s pretty face “I am sorry, what was it you said? I was not paying attention”

Tonowari chuckled and put down the unfinished net, getting on his hands and feet and shuffling quickly next to her, cupping her face. “I know you were not, that is why I asked what you were thinking of” he leaned in and brushed his nose against hers, foreheads connecting.

___’s slightly larger ears twitched at his words, eyes widening, should she tell him?

Just as she was about to open her mouth loud shouting echoed from outside the marui, interrupting the couple peace. Tonowari leaned back and sighed, eyes closing and a hand coming to rub his temple, what could be causing such a racket late into the evening?

As the shouting drew closer it was clear to make out the voices and words, the concern that once appeared in ___’s yellow orbs died down into amusement.

“No! That is mine! I will tell sa’nu!”

“She will agree with me anyway, you must share! It is not fair you get to have this all day!” Two young na’vi scrambled into the hut, bickering and sticking tongues out at each other. One held an akula toy made out of mangrove wood, waving it around like a prize he had won. “Sa’nu! Tell this skxawng to share!”

Syatxì pouted at his greener brother, glaring daggers into bluer eyes, his yellow gaze fell onto his mother who hid a laugh behind her hand, frowning even more at the lack of help. “Mama, tell him off!” he pointed a finger at Ao’nung who stuck his tongue out once more.

“Now why must your mother solve all of your problems?” Tonowari stood up and crossed his arms, analysing his sons who quickly stood to attention. “You two are warriors are you not?”

“Srane!”

“Then you must fight your own battles. Your mother should not be doing so, instead of her looking after you, you must look after her” the boys were fast to nod intently, taking in the words like it was a quest they must complete, and in a way it was. “Warriors do not depend on the fight of others, you must think for yourselves, what would better the situation -“

“Tonowari” Another figure emerged from the entrance to their home, walking inside with the steps of a leader, behind her skipped in another two smaller figures, peaking out between the Tsahìk’s legs. “Must you do this now?” Ronal huffed and placed a few bowls down, squatting by her pile of herbs and sifting through them.

“Ronal, they need to learn”

“And they will, husband” the woman glanced up and offered a small smile, “in due time” she then moved to sit next to her wife, cupping the back of her head as an intimate gesture.

___ patted the space between her legs to offer her daughter a place to sit as the family talked, quickly getting to work adjusting her thick hair “my sons, fighting is not the answer. Sharing is what we do as a family, and Ao’nung, do not call your brother names”

It was Ao’nung’s turn to pout as his counterpart cackled in his face, snatching the akula toy and running away. “Hey!”

Happiness is simple.

That’s what ___ told herself as she watched her boys play, Sylwaì rushing to join in the fun as they soon decided to leave for the waters and explore before dinner.

Her family meant everything to her, she has a home now and has a life with people who appreciate and care for her as much as she does them. “I appreciate you both, I love you in ways i cannot express” she whispered, kissing the top of Tsireya’s head as she jumped up to follow her older brothers who called for her.

“And we love you yawnetu” Tonowari sat on her other side, kissing her shoulder. “You know, you still have not told me what was on your mind earlier, you were thinking very heavily”

“I want another child”

Ronal stopped poking the fire pit that was suspended above the water, inhaling a breath and turning her head to look at her mates with eyes that shined with growing glee. “You do?” her tail started swishing behind her, despite her best efforts to be calm and mellow.

“Srane. Maybe not right now, but at some point, I want children of your blood, and mine”

“It is decided!” The Olo’eyktan jumped and picked ___ up by the thighs, hoisting her up and she squealed, laughing at his joy. “When you are ready, we mate, again, and you will bear our next kin” he rubbed his nose against hers, placing her back on the floor by her feet.

Ronal soon joined and kissed ___’s shoulder sweetly, a small grin on her face “it was about time you said that, I was afraid ‘wari might explode otherwise”

“Ronal!”

Yes, happiness was simple.

It was times like these where Neytiri most thought of her, the beads in her hands resembled the amber of her eyes and the pattern of the bracelet reminded her of her hair.

___ never left her thoughts ever since she left all those years ago. The tsakeram has physically moved on, after her search for the women was left with no progress she decided to pray to Eywa to keep the small family of three safe on their travels to wherever they go and hope for the best. Mentally, Neytiri is sad, her heart still aches and yearns for her lost mate, and if she can turn back time she would, just to change who she was.

“What are you thinking of?” Jake put his bow away, finished with cleaning the exterior and replacing the string, his head turned towards his wife and cocked a brow, noting her silence.

“___”

Jake paused, face turning to look at the ground by his feet, ears going down, just like Neytiri he is haunted by his actions, but he tried to forget about them rather than acknowledge them. He was a brute, a shit ‘mate’ and abandoned his sons before they were even born. It’s thoughts like those that push him to step down from his mighty position as a leader, but the clan needs him, so he stays.

“I have faith that she is safe somewhere” Jake replied, nodding his head to reassure himself. ___ was strong, she would have found somewhere to be.

Neytiri sighed and tied off the bracelet, “and what if she was turned away, for her sons? What if she never found anywhere safe to begin with? what if -“ large hands cupped her face and a nose bumped hers, Jake smiled a little at her rambling, but it was a sad smile, he does not know how to answer those questions, he thinks the same as her deep down.

“The twins were born looking like true na’vi, there is no way they would find out about them without ___ saying so”

The warrior nodded her head, sighing in defeat and kissing her mates cheek, for now she would get on with her other chores, later she will ponder again. It was like a cycle she can never break out of, one that leaves her dreaming dreamless nights and going about her day on autopilot.

“Sa’nok!” Kiri jumped into her mothers lap, rushing to get away from the sticky hands of her brother, Lo’ak, who was chasing her with the intent of throwing tree sap in her hair. “Hide me from him! He will not leave me alone!”

Lo’ak roared and ran up to the pair, squealing when he was picked up and dangled upside down by his father, “Dad! Put me down!” he wriggled and tried to escape the Olo’eyktan’s firm grip.

Jake chucked and continued to gently swing him, “Kehe, what did I tell you about terrorising your sister? you worm”

“Not to do it in front of sa’nok!”

“Hey!” Jake bellowed a laugh as he put his youngest down, catching Neytiri’s judging face aimed straight at him and quickly stopped his laughing, pretending to act serious for the sake of his wife. “Kids will be kids” he shrugged, trying to play the innocent husband with a coy smile.

His wife just huffed, a grin stretching onto her face as she felt a kick in her stomach, hand instantly going to soothe the ache. “Little one wants to join in the fun, it seems”

Kiri gasped as she felt the slight pound on her back, turning to face her mothers bloated stomach and leaning down, smooshing her face against it “I want my sister out, I am tired of being the only true girl, there is only so much me and Lo’ak can talk about”

“Kiri! I am NOT a girl you turd!”

Kiri just ignored her brother in favour of focusing her attention on her new unborn sibling. “How do you know it will be a girl ‘ite?” the youngling shrugged and smiled a little.

“I just have a feeling” she sung. The marui entrance suddenly flapped open with force, another little boy rushing inside, panting slightly.

“Lo’ak! Stop running away from me!” Neteyam went and tackled him, dogpiling onto his younger brother who laughed loudly, the two wrestling for fun. Kiri snorted and rolled her eyes ‘boys’

Jake kneeled next to his mate, kissing the back of her neck and sighing quietly, his family bringing him the comfort he desperately needed, but yet he still feels incomplete. His heart yearned for the missing pieces, his missing sons and his missing mate.

One day he will find them.

A new star appeared in the sky. It was small to the naked eye, almost unnoticeable, but to someone who has studied the stars day in and day out for the past 14 years, it looked out of place, glowing brighter than the others around it, twinkling brighter and brighter as the minutes past.

“Hey” Jake nudged his wife awake from where she laid on his chest, still staring up into space. His distant look urged Neytiri to turn her head up into his line of sight, eyes widening and jaw going slack.

“No, this cannot be” In the far distance, the bright light zoomed down onto Pandora, red hot fire raging down onto the planet with a mission. Everything around the ships caught fire and the flames spread too quickly, the creatures of Pandora screeching and rushing to escape.

Neytiri ran to a higher viewpoint, jumping over logs and dodging yerik who fled in the opposite direction, a cry escaped her lips and she watched her home, once again, fall victim to the humans who once destroyed her planet in a time she thought long had past. The Na’vi crouched and sobbed, feeling the arms of her mate surrounding her who had his ears pinned back, watching the sight of the forest going up in flames.

His nightmares never seemed to end, Jake could only wonder if this was the great sorrow Moat talked about all these years ago.

A year passed from the return of the human race, the humans and na’vi who lived near hells gate moved up to the floating mountains for safety. Always preparing for war, always going to fight.

Spider was squatted over various bowls of blue paint, redoing the stripes that littered all over his body, sticking his tongue out in concentration. Behind him, Kiri worked swiftly and accurately, painting stripes in places he cannot see or reach.

“I still don’t understand why you paint yourself like this”

“I told you, it’s to blend in” Spider turned and faced the much taller girl, looking at the stripes on her body to try and mimic on his own. “When I do this, I look like one of you, the animals respect me more. Plus, I run faster”

“Sure monkey boy. The animals probably don’t want to taste the berries when they eat you” Kiri snorted, dipping her hand in more blue paint and going back to paining his biceps.

“Hey! I am na’vi, just like you” Spider scooped a large glob of paint, although still small compared to the amount Kiri had, and launched it at her face.

“Oop!”

Sudden footsteps interrupted their playful banter, little padding of feet getting closer behind the pair. “Spider! Kiri! The war party has returned! They are back! Come on! Come on!” Tuktirey rushed over and grabbed both of their arms, dragging her sister and friend along to the edge of high camp, watching as banshees shouted as they flew by and landed.

Shouting can be heard by the cliff, the evident voice of their father talking sternly to their brothers, Kirk’s ears went down and she sighed, going behind Neteyam and looking at his evident wounds.

“You spot bogeys! That was your one job! You spot them and you report them, from a distance!” Jake got up to the boys faces, waving his hands like a madman.

“I’m sorry sir, it was my fault” Neteyam lowered his head, disappointed that he let his father down again.

“When are you gonna stop taking the heat from this knucklehead?” Jake glared at him, eyes going to Lo’ak who stood silent, feeling his little sister moving his arms around. “And you? What do you have to say for yourself?”

“Ma Jake. Your son is bleeding” Neytiri interrupted, eyes concentrated on her husband who was evidently stressed. Her tail curled in slight annoyance, heart pumping from the adrenaline she felt in the fight. Jake looked at his wife and sighed, hand going to his temples.

“Go to your grandmother. Now” As Neytiri took Neteyam by the arm and followed her daughters to her mothers tent, she turned around to observe Lo’ak who was left standing in front of her husband. “You understand what your actions caused?”

“Yes sir”

“You could have gotten your brother killed” Lo’ak’s ears went down, he hated disappointing his father. “No flying for a month. See to every ikran, get them taken care of” and with that Jake stormed off, shaking his head and muttering curses under his breath, the ringing in his ears won’t stop, and unlike Neytiri his heart pumps from fear not adrenaline.

‘I could have lost them’

“Yawnetu” Ronal stalked over to her wife who fed the young ilu in the pen, a deep frown on her face at the news she was about to deliver. “The Omaticaya in the forest, they are at war once again”

___’s ears twitched and pulled back, she knew that the star she saw a year ago was not from any constellation she has memorised since her childhood, she had a feeling that the tawtute have returned, but has been keeping her mind occupied to forget.

Her heart continued to hurt though.

“I know, my love. I worry for my family back home” especially Spider, who she prays to Eywa every night to keep safe. Ronal rested her hands upon her lovers shoulders, sighing deeply, she knows that her wife is hurting inside, but the tsahìk can only offer comfort, not truly in the midst of war yet. Somehow Awa’atlu has stayed away from the tulkun huntings, and she hopes Eywa can keep them safe for a little longer. Sooner or later though she knows that war will be amongst their side of the reef, it was only a matter of time.

Ronal then took her hands off ___’s shoulders and stood straight, “I must continue with my duties today, join me?” the forest na’vi shook her head, she was planning to join some of the women to go into the reef to pick some plants needed for food and healing.

“Not at this moment, I must join some of the divers today” the metkayinan nodded and smiled a little, moving away from the ilu pen to wherever she was needed. ___ went back to throwing fish at the creatures in the sea, giggling when the young ones brushed against her legs. The smile she displayed was hardly genuine, but it was enough to fool outsiders who do not know her well enough.

The woman soon slips out of the water, putting down the empty baskets to be filled later and moved to where she was to meet the other ladies. The day ahead was something that she would soon come to dread, unknownst to her the past she once sought herself leaving would soon come crashing into her life tenfold.

But being unaware for the meantime was bliss.

The ladies were kind to her and the job was easy enough, she finished within a few hours into the morning, deciding to rest by the edge of the reef chatting away with her friends of a few years now. Gossiping about their husbands, as wives do.

‘’Do not get me wrong, I adore my mate, but sometimes he is just so overbearing! Why do I need to take two spears with me when I am outside the reef! I can very much handle myself’’ Tayal huffed, tail slapping the ground in slight annoyance from this mornings hunt. She was a seasoned hunter, extremely skilled and praised by the elders for her work, but her husband was just too cautious.

Sayala rolled her eyes and smiled at her ‘’your mate just looks out for you, if you do not like his actions then it is best to talk to him. I, for one, do not have an overbearing mate but he does snore very loudly when he sleeps. So loud that it wakes me up sometimes! I wish that I had your problem’’ The group laughed, ___ patting her shoulder in pity.

‘’If Tonowari were to ever do that then Ronal would shun him to sleep onto the ocean floor. I am lucky that he does not pose any problems late at night’’ She giggled, catching the interest of some of the ladies.

‘’My Tsahìk! You have two mates, what is that like?’’ The question caught her slightly off guard until she remembered that it is extremely rare for Na’vi to hold more than one lover, even then it is usually preserved for important figures of the clan.

‘’Well, it is normal for me, I have had two mates ever since I came of age, they are wonderful to me and the kids, I am just thankful to Eywa for guiding me here to them’’ ___ rubbed her swollen stomach, thanking the great mother for what has become of her, Tayal hummed, basking in the light that is ___.

But the Na’vi cannot help but wonder, her Tsahìk has become of age long before she joined Awa’atlu and she could not have been mated to her leaders since then, not to mention her two sons who were not of Metkayina blood (although she did not bat an eye at the latter, sometimes women have children without mates). Is ___ hiding something from them? But before she could ponder any longer their conversation was abruptly disrupted.

A horn sounded through the village, reaching far to the Na’vi who sat at the edge of the reef. They all yipped and cried out at the warning signal, abandoning their chores and standing tall from their crouches. ‘Visitors? What could this mean?’

‘’Look! Up there!’’ One of the woman pointed to the sky where ikran glided through the air, on top sitting forest Na’vi shouting to each other in panic, not expecting a horn to greet them as they entered. It alerted the village to the visitors, and while it was inevitable, attention was not something that they wanted to bring towards them for the time being.

___’s breath hitched at the familiar ikran colours, if these are the Na’vi who she thinks they are then- ‘’___ come! We must see who they are’’. But the Omaticayan could only sigh, already knowing the answers to the question her friend seeks guidance for, ikran are unique in their patterns, there are no two banshees who look the same. The two large creatures at the head of the formation could only belong to the Na’vi she once ran away from.

Ao’nung stalked through the crowded beach, coming to the forefront of the commotion with hard eyes, Rotxo trailing behind him. His gaze caught the yellow orbs of the two Sully boys who watched him with slight wonder, having never seen another Na’vi race before the Omaticaya. Inwardly the boy cringed, seeing similarities between his brothers and these…people. This was going to be difficult.

‘’Is that supposed to be a tail?’’ His smaller companion laughed slightly, pointing towards the skinny appendage which curled in anticipation. Ao’nung averted his gaze towards it and scoffed, smirking when the older boy of the two brothers turned his head to look at him. ‘’How are they supposed to swim-‘’

‘’Do not, Rotxo, Ao’nung’’ a sweet voice called out, small hand hitting the back of her brothers heads and blue eyes rolling at their stupidity. They were trying to look intimidating and it was obvious, making fun of these newcomers who looked the exact same as some of their family members. It was rude, and extremely unnecessary, these people are guests here, and as the chiefs daughter, she will show them the kindness that her idiot brothers will not do.

Tsireya noted the absence of her mother and two brothers, being suddenly reminded that their presence would be appreciated, if not for the sake of her people then perhaps the sake of these newcomers. Her head moved to look at one of the boys face to face, dipping down and smiling apologetically. ‘’Hey’’ He tipped his head up and smiled a small smirk, trying his luck with making friends with the people who he would be potentially living with. Friends, or something more?

Tsireya grinned and chuckled at his awkwardness, finding it sweet that despite the predicament they find themselves in, he still shows kindness towards her.

Hoots and shouts alerted the clan that their leaders were in the vicinity, Tsireya’s father landing in the water nearby on his large skimming. He waded out of the water, eyes never leaving the newcomers and raised his brows as he got closer, it was Toruk Makto, whom he met during the great clan meetings.

“I see you, Jake Sully”

“I see you Olo’eyktan”

“Neytiri te Tskaha Mo’at’ite” they formally greeted each other, fingers to their forehead and dipping them in the accustomed manner of their people. ‘’What brings your family to our side of the reef?’’

Jake and his wife shared eye contact briefly, unsure on what to say and afraid of saying the wrong thing, they were tired of travelling, tired of war, they could not go on much longer. ‘’We seek uturu’’

‘’Uturu?‘’ a new voice called out, appealed and confused. Ronal sauntered up to Toruk Makto and sized him up with a glare, moving on to his wife who bowed in respect of the tsahik. Her blue eyes caught the sight of their children and waltzed up to them, moving around them like an akula and inspecting their aura.

‘’Srane, we seek a sanctuary for our family’’ Jake’s tail curled in nervousness, he hasn’t felt this scared since that day he had to prove himself to the Omaticaya, warning them and getting them to believe him when the skypeople were attacking hometree.

‘’We are reef people, you are from the forest, your skills mean nothing to us here’’ Tonowari announced to the family, voice strong and firm. He was wary about their arrival, it was sudden and unexpected. He knew of the war happening overseas, everyone does, but has it become so bad that they seek refuge in another clan?

Jake cringed at the harshness in the leaders gaze, so used to respect from his people back home that he forgets his place in others. His ears picked up the whimpers of his youngest as she clung to his legs, scooting away from Ronal’s piercing gaze and scalding touch. ‘’Their arms are thin’’ her voice rang through the crowd, stopping any chatter, ‘’and their tails are too weak, they will be slow in the water’’ she ignored Kiri’s small outcry when her tail was yanked a little too harshly.

But the Tsahik’s calculating gaze quickly turned to critique and panic once her eyes caught onto the girls hand, she snatched it from where it hung limp and brought it into the air to show her people, ‘’these children.. are not even true Na’vi!’’ She grabbed onto one of the boy’s hand with her free one and raised it too, to show who they truly are, ‘’they have demon blood!’’

Gasps rung out among the Metkayina, not expecting the very aliens to destroy Pandora to come across the sea to their island for sanctuary, hisses vibrated through some of them, hostility in their blue orbs. ‘’Yes we are!’’ Kiri snatched her hand back and glared, subtly moving closer to her mother who narrowed her eyes, not liking the way this woman, clan leader or not, spoke about her children.

Jake felt panic course through him at the judgemental gazes being directed to their small group, this was not going to plan. ‘’Hey..look! Look at this! I was a skyperson but now i am Na’vi! We can adapt, we will adapt right?’’ He showcased his five fingers to the Tsahik who watched his pinky finger poke outwards curiously. Murmurs of small ‘yeah’s’ rung through the Omaticayans as they agreed with him.

‘’My husband was Toruk Makto. He brought the clans to victory against the skypeople’’ Neytiri stepped forward, trying to assert herself. She will not let her family suffer once more just because she was turned away by this disrespectful Na’vi.

Ronal scoffed, glare hardening. Eywa so help her if this outsider continued to scorn her and her position in her own clan, ‘’is this what you call victory? Hiding, among strangers’’ her eyes flicked from Neytiri to her husband and back ‘’it seems Eywa has turned her back on you, chosen one’’

A sharp hiss interrupted her sentence, sharp teeth obstructing Ronal’s vision. On instinct she hissed back, ears flattening to her skull, unaware of the worried look her mate shared with Jake.

Tonowari decided to put an end to this feud before the women fought with spears, ‘’Toruk Makto is a mighty warrior, all Na’vi people know his story. But your people are at war and us Metkayina, we have stayed away from the conflict. We do not want you to bring this fight to us’’

‘’I am done with war’’ Toruk Makto picked Tuktirey up who clung to his neck like a lifeline ‘’I just want to keep my family safe, please’’

‘’Let them stay’’

The crowed parted once more to reveal a dark blue figure emerging from a sea of green, pearls dangling delicately on her heavy figure. ‘’Let them’’ she repeated, eyes darting from Tuktirey to the other children, and then to her mates, ‘’they come from a place of war, ‘wari. That is no place for children to live’’

‘’___’’ Ronal snapped her head towards her wife, tail lashing in anticipation ‘’you do not mean that, look at them. Demons’’. The mentioned woman’s ears lowered and she frowned, opening her mouth to remind her partners of where she came from, where her sons came from, but instead of any words coming out, only a puff of air escaped.

She closed her eyes and huffed, opening them once again and looking up, yellow clashing with blue. ___ stared intently into Ronal’s eyes, hoping to convey the message she so wishes to speak aloud. Luckily, the pair have known each other long enough to be able to understand one another without words, they say that the eyes are the window to the soul.

Ronal conducted a slow blink and pursed her lips, nodding her head, partly in concern to what the future may hold if she let these outsiders in her home. ‘’It is decided’’ Tonowari began, turning to face the crowd and raising his arms to gain the attention of the Metkayina ‘’Toruk Makto and his family will stay, treat them as your brothers and sisters for they do not know the sea, they will be like babies taking their first breath’’

At that Neytiri looked towards the sand, a sudden memory popping into her mind, her ears lowered and frowned, only straightening up when feeling the hand on her shoulder being squeezed. Kiri noted the sudden tenseness in her mother’s posture as soon as this third mate of the chief appeared in front of them, she was as blue and as slim as them, same tail and large ears. The girl recognised the familiar beads and weaving patterns on her clothes, despite the difference in material, this stranger was from the Omaticaya clan.

‘’Teach them our ways so they do not suffer the shame of being useless’’ the large man huffed, turning to make heavy eye contact with Jake, the rider of shadow dropping his youngest onto the ground and smiling in gratitude, patting Tuktirey on her back.

‘’Well what do we say guys? Irayo’’ The Sully’s coreoused, some more enthusiastic than others, Kiri rolling her eyes and sighing. Her father straightened up from his slight kneeling position for his daughter and nodded his head to his new chief, then turning his head to acknowledge his wives with a swallow, afraid of the Tsahik’s each for entirely different reasons.

___’s breath hitched when yellow clashed together, tail curling upright in anticipation, her old mate then nodded to her like he did her husband out of politeness and notably swallowed, averting his eyes back onto the sand, afraid that if he were to look into her eyes any longer he’ll get swallowed into a pit of shame, one that he wont ever crawl out of.

‘’My son Ao’nung’’ Tonowari gestured towards one of his boys who decided to show up, mentally going through the scalding he will carry out later ‘’and daughter Tsireya, will show your children what to do’’

Ao’nung’s ears flattened into his skull, not liking the idea of being buddy-buddy with these weirdos ‘’but sempul-‘’ a large blue hand rose infront of the boys face and he immediately paused his speaking in respect.

‘’It is decided’’

That respect was soon lost.

Ao’nung rolled his eyes and glared at the sand beneath his feet, tempted to kick it out off frustration but not wanting to embarrass himself in front of the people. Luckily, Tsireya felt the anger that radiated off of him and decided to speak up, ‘’come, we will show you our village’’ she waved them over in the direction of their new home, once they acquired their things.

This was going to be a long day.

previous | next

[awkward-walking-potato]

Heyo! I love how you write stories with Logan with animals because they’re so beautiful!! I was wondering if you’d write another one please? The reader is a shy mutant with nature powers (grow all kinds of flora, manipulate the elements, live harmonious with any kind of animal), she’s basically like Mother Nature. She has a big secret place where she often goes to. She created it to keep all kind of creatures save from humans and mutants, especially exotic ones, and are very dear to her. He tried to follow her once, but others cannot find the place except for her or if she allows them in. One day, she wants to show it to him and have him meet her family and one of her oldest family members, a gigantic dragon. The dragon is quite intelligent and doesn’t seem impressed nor does he seem to like Logan and constantly tries to kindly kill him/play pranks on him whenever she’s not looking (e.g. pushing him into a pool of mud, taking up all her attention for him, etc.). You can also add Wade to the story if you want to. Thank you so so much and hope you’ve a beautiful day!! 💙

The hidden Sanctuary

Wolverine had always been a lone wolf. Even as part of the X-Men, he kept to himself, preferred the company of silence, and embraced the solace of solitude. But there was something about Y/N that intrigued him. Maybe it was her shyness or the way she melted into the background, rarely speaking unless spoken to, or perhaps it was the powerful, almost mystical energy that seemed to ripple off her in waves whenever she was around nature. Whatever it was, Logan found himself drawn to her in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

Y/N was a mutant with powers unlike any he’d seen before. She could grow entire forests with a wave of her hand, manipulate the elements like it was second nature, and animals of all kinds flocked to her as if she were Mother Nature herself. Logan had seen her turn a desolate wasteland into a thriving ecosystem in seconds, and yet, she remained so modest about her abilities.

He had tried to follow her once when she snuck out of the mansion, curious as to where she went when she thought no one was watching. But no matter how closely he trailed her, she always managed to lose him, disappearing into the forest like a whisper on the wind.

Eventually, he let it go. If she wanted to keep her secrets, he wouldn’t pry… too much. But the more time they spent together, the more Logan found himself wanting to know everything about her. He wanted to protect her, keep her safe, and though he’d never admit it out loud, he wanted her to trust him enough to let him in.

One evening, as they sat on the mansion’s roof, watching the sunset, she turned to him, her eyes sparkling with a mix of anxiety and excitement. “Logan, I… I want to show you something. It’s important to me, but you have to promise not to tell anyone about it.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, surprised by her sudden openness. “You know you can trust me, darlin’. I won’t say a word.”

She nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. “Okay… follow me.”

The journey was long and winding. They traveled deep into the forest, far from the mansion and any sign of civilization. The trees grew denser, the air richer with the scent of pine and earth. Logan stayed close, his senses on high alert, but Y/N moved with a confidence that made him feel oddly at ease.

After what felt like hours, she stopped in front of a large, ancient tree with sprawling roots. She placed a hand on the bark and whispered something he couldn’t make out. To Logan’s astonishment, the tree seemed to shimmer before it slowly began to part, revealing a hidden pathway bathed in golden light.

“This way,” she said softly, taking his hand and leading him through the opening.

Logan’s breath caught in his throat as they stepped into a paradise beyond imagination. It was a hidden sanctuary, a place untouched by the modern world. Lush, vibrant plants of every color covered the ground, towering trees stretched high into the sky, their branches heavy with fruit, and a crystal-clear waterfall cascaded into a sparkling pool surrounded by delicate flowers.

Exotic creatures roamed freely, some so rare that Logan had only heard about them in legends. There were unicorns grazing by the water’s edge, phoenixes perched in the trees, and even a small family of griffins playfully wrestling in the distance.

“This… this is incredible,” Logan breathed, his voice laced with awe.

Y/N smiled shyly, a blush coloring her cheeks. “This is my sanctuary, a place where all creatures, mutant or otherwise, can live in peace. I’ve spent years creating and protecting it. It’s… it’s my home.”

As they walked deeper into the sanctuary, Logan couldn’t help but notice the way the animals greeted Y/N as if she were their queen. She interacted with them lovingly, whispering words of comfort, stroking their fur, and laughing when they nuzzled her affectionately.

But then, they reached a clearing, and Logan’s senses immediately went on high alert. A massive shadow passed overhead, and he looked up just in time to see a gigantic dragon circling above them, its scales shimmering in the sunlight.

The dragon landed with a thud, the ground shaking beneath its weight. It was an ancient, majestic creature with eyes that glowed like molten gold, and it was staring directly at Logan.

“Logan, this is Drakon. He’s one of my oldest friends,” Y/N said, her voice filled with affection as she approached the dragon without a hint of fear. “He’s been protecting this place for centuries.”

Logan nodded, trying to keep his cool, though he couldn’t shake the feeling that Drakon was sizing him up, and not in a friendly way.

“Nice to meet you,” Logan said gruffly, extending a hand. The dragon huffed, a plume of smoke curling from its nostrils, clearly unimpressed.

Y/N laughed, completely oblivious to the tension. “He’s just being protective. Drakon, Logan is my friend. You can trust him.”

The dragon narrowed its eyes, but finally gave a reluctant nod. Still, Logan couldn’t shake the feeling that the dragon didn’t like him very much.

Over the next few hours, Y/N showed Logan around the sanctuary, introducing him to all the creatures and explaining how she had come to find and protect them. Logan listened intently, more captivated by her passion and love for this place than the creatures themselves.

But every time Y/N turned her back, Drakon would make his displeasure known. The dragon would nudge Logan toward a pool of mud, causing him to stumble and fall face-first into the muck, or he’d suddenly swoop down to land between Logan and Y/N, cutting him off and demanding all of her attention.

At one point, Drakon even “accidentally” knocked Logan off a ledge into a thorny bush, earning a surprised laugh from Y/N when she turned around to see Logan tangled in the branches.

“You alright, Logan?” she asked, rushing over to help him.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Logan grumbled, glaring up at the dragon, who looked away innocently, a satisfied smirk in its golden eyes.

Logan wasn’t easily intimidated, but this dragon was really starting to get on his nerves.

As the sun began to set, Y/N and Logan sat by the edge of the pool, watching the sky turn shades of pink and orange. Drakon rested nearby, keeping a watchful eye on Logan, though he pretended to be dozing.

“I’m glad you brought me here, Y/N,” Logan said softly, breaking the comfortable silence. “This place… it’s a part of you. I can see why you wanted to protect it.”

She smiled, resting her head on his shoulder. “I’ve wanted to show you for a while now. I trust you, Logan. I know you’d never hurt this place or the creatures here.”

Logan felt a warmth spread through his chest at her words, and he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer. “I wouldn’t dream of it, darlin’. I’ll protect it just like you do.”

They sat in contented silence for a few more moments, but then a voice broke through the peaceful atmosphere.

“Hey, lovebirds! Mind if I join the cuddle fest?”

Logan groaned as Deadpool suddenly appeared from behind a tree, his red and black suit standing out starkly against the natural beauty of the sanctuary.

“What the hell are you doing here, Wade?” Logan growled, his patience wearing thin.

“Oh, you know, just following you guys. Figured you’d need a chaperone. And what do I find? A magical Disney wonderland! Seriously, you guys have been holding out on me!” Deadpool exclaimed, his eyes widening as he took in the sight of the sanctuary.

Before Logan could retort, Drakon let out a deep growl, his eyes narrowing at Deadpool. “Oh, big guy, relax! I’m just here for the hugs and maybe to steal a unicorn for my apartment.”

The dragon let out a jet of flame that narrowly missed Deadpool’s head, causing him to dive for cover behind a boulder. “Yikes! Tough crowd! Guess I’ll stick to pestering Wolverine.”

Logan sighed, rubbing his temples. “Y/N, I think we’ve got enough trouble with the dragon. We don’t need him making it worse.”

Y/N giggled, watching as Drakon continued to eye Deadpool suspiciously. “I think Drakon likes you more than Wade, at least.”

Logan let out a low chuckle. “Yeah, well, I’ll take what I can get.”

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the sanctuary glowing in the soft light of twilight, Logan realized that, despite the dragon’s antics and Deadpool’s unwelcome appearance, he wouldn’t trade this moment for anything. Here, in this hidden sanctuary, with Y/N by his side, he felt a sense of peace he hadn’t known in a long time.

And maybe, just maybe, he’d find a way to get along with that damn dragon too… as long as it stopped trying to push him into the mud.

As Logan and Y/N prepared to leave the sanctuary, Wadw trailed behind them, trying to coax a reluctant phoenix into his backpack. Drakon, still suspicious, hovered nearby, ready to intervene if necessary.

“Come on, little birdie, you know you want to—ow! Okay, okay, no stealing the mystical creatures,” Deadpool muttered, nursing a singed hand.

[reasonsforhope]

The Kenya Wildlife Service celebrated the successful transfer of 21 eastern black rhinos to establish a new viable breeding population for the species that was on the brink of extinction decades ago.

In an 18-day exercise executed by highly trained capture and veterinary experts, the Loisaba Conservancy received the 21 rhinos from three different locations, becoming the 17th sanctuary in Kenya where the mammoth animals can roam and intermingle.

“It’s incredibly exciting to be part of the resettlement of rhinos to a landscape where they’ve been absent for 50 years,” said Tom Silvester, CEO of Loisaba Conservancy.

Kenya had 20,000 black rhinos in the 1970s before poachers decimated them for their horns. By the time the Kenya Wildlife Service (KWS) was established in 1989, rhino numbers had declined to below 400.

Since then, Kenya’s eastern black rhinos have made a remarkable comeback and today there are an estimated 1,004 individuals.

Kenya is a stronghold of the eastern sub species of black rhino, hosting approximately 80 percent of the entire world’s surviving population.

“Surpassing the milestone of 1,000 rhinos within four decades is a significant accomplishment,” said Munira Bashir, Director of The Nature Conservancy in Kenya.

The reintroduction this month of these 21 animals this month is a great milestone in Kenya’s rhino recovery action plan, and was made possible by support from The Nature Conservancy, San Diego Zoo Wildlife Alliance, other partners—and the three reserves from where the 21 rhinos originated, Nairobi National Park, Ol Pejeta Conservancy and Lewa Conservancy.

“In the recent past, one of the main causes of mortality of rhinos has been territorial fights due to limited space in sanctuaries which has also led to suppressed growth rates due,” explained Dr. Erustus Kanga, the Director General of Kenya Wildlife Service. “I am elated to be associated with this momentous effort to secure more space for this cornerstone species.”

Meanwhile, southern white rhinos continue to thrive in Kenya, having increased from 50 individuals that were imported from South Africa in the eighties and nineties to reach the current population of 971 individuals.

Kenya is also playing a critical role in efforts to save the northern white rhino from extinction, as it is host to the only remaining two females of the species left in the world. The international BioRescue project has developed thirty embryos awaiting implantation into surrogate females within the closely-related subspecies of southern white rhino.

“The return of black rhinos to Loisaba, 50 years after the last known individual here was killed by poachers in the 1970s, is a demonstration of how impactful partnerships between governments and conservation NGOs can be for restoring, managing, and protecting our natural world,” said Dr. Max Graham, CEO and Founder of Space for Giants, one of the project partners.

“And, of course, the return of black rhinos here gives all of us one of the most precious commodities of all: hope.”

-via Good News Network, February 25, 2024

[cosmicanakin]

Hii! I saw that you were receiving requests, so I was wondering if you could write something with Clay beresford. So you know he’s like very reserved and serious, so everyone thought that Clay would be a very cold and distant boyfriend, but when the reader and him start dating, everyone’s speeches to see how sweet and loving he is. Just some fluffy scenarios. Thank you!! It’s okay if you don’t want to write it:)

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆 ⟢ | clay beresford.

⟣ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. clay beresford x female reader.

⟣ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. though known to be cold and reserved, when clay starts dating you, everyone is surprised to see the loving and affectionate man that he actually is.

⟣ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). fluff ┆ established relationships ┆ mild social judging ┆ marriage ┆ and mentions of pregnancy.

kari's corner ⟢ ݁⋆ thank you sm for the req anon muah <3

after months of shy glances and nervously exchanged smiles from across the room at various work functions, you finally worked up the courage to give clay beresford your number. to your surprise, he called within the hour to ask you to dinner that weekend.

your friends were shocked at your news, warning you of clay's reputation for being cold. "don't get your hopes up y/n, we all know clay isn't one for emotions or commitment. just be careful, okay?" while their concern was sweet, you got the sense there was more to clay beneath surface assumptions.

the dinner went wonderfully, clay being the perfect gentleman pulled out your chair and listened intently to you speak. any awkward silences didn't feel uncomfortable but companionable. by the night's end as he walked you to your door, you felt a fluttering start taking root in your heart seeing his normally serious expression soften into a gentle smile solely for you.

more dates followed, each only increasing your connection and affection for one another. to everyone's surprise, clay proved a caring boyfriend always attentive to your needs, happiness and comfort. grand romantic gestures were replaced by tender looks and leisurely strolls enjoying each other's company without need for flashy displays.

the warmth in his eyes and tender caresses meant more than any elaborate showmanship ever could. for the first time you felt truly seen and cherished for who you are within rather than superficial assessments judging without bothering to peel back concealing layers guarding his heart. through patience and understanding clay eventually lowered all defenses with you alone.

slowly your friend's bigotry started cracking as well, catching how gentle yet strong arms encircled your form at gatherings without desire for bravado. simple intimate moments when clay would kiss your temple in passing melted cynicism into understanding why this reserved man captured your soul so wholly.

his wealth and inheritance mattered little to the devotion within warming your life to brilliance. words flowed freely, laughter liberating what stress accumulated through days apart soothing away in tranquility of each other's sanctuarying presence. in your arms clay discovered solace calming all turbulence of doubts plaguing mind when alone.

so it continued through months turning to seasons, love blossoming ever more vibrantly where commitment tended roots nourished by understanding alone waters true affections blossoms requiring only sunlight of smiles warmed by souls mirroring each other's radiance. misunderstandings faded beneath blossoms thriving where care sustains dreams nurturing lifelong partnerships amid life's changes.

two years finding bliss together passed in companionship's tranquil stroll, contentment's sighs breathing life afresh during stolen moments sheltering hearts entwined from turbulence beyond your calm port. talking late into nights after family dinners, fingers interlaced, remnants of days worries evaporated under tender caresses and kisses sweeter than any nectar reviving your soul to clay's humming rhythm.

his protective yet liberated spirit known fully by your heart alone rejuvenated purpose anew each dawn waking limned in his softened gaze sharing pillow talking until obligations reluctantly summoned you both from comfort's embrace. forever imprinted upon your soul remains memory of proposal kneeling upon sand caressed by ocean's susurrus, waves lapping celebration of love's permanence within clay's watery eyes reflecting your radiant smile mirroring joy illumining his normally guarded visage.

a summer wedding follows amid friends and family fully supportive now of your perfect union, witnessing love transcending surface levels carved deeply as roots anchoring two souls as one. traveling the world strengthening already unbreakable bond, learning of clay anew through wanderings unveiling pieces you fit to his mosaic glimpse by glimpse, deepening cherishing beyond any limit imaginable before love found your separate halves.

three fulfilling years later, you're cradling your newborn daughter within your arms as clay gazes upon you both with such emotion flooding watery eyes, your heart has never felt fuller nor purpose clearer than raising this miracle of pure love cementing forever your fate intertwined.

[ajconstantine]

My access to AO3 at home was recently blocked by the website filtering program my husband maintains. Aghast at the atrocity, I was compelled to tell him of my outrage in prose.

Dear Internet Overlord (husband),

I pen this missive with an air of utmost dismay and disbelief, for it has come to my attention that your internet system is exhibiting a most egregious behavior—the blockage of access to the AO3 website.

The sheer audacity of this act is an outrage of the highest magnitude, and I find myself compelled to express my profound displeasure in the most vehement terms. To compound the injury with an insult, the site category has been labeled as "tasteless."

Tasteless, I say! I implore you to reconsider such a gross mischaracterization, for the AO3 realm is a sanctuary of literary and artistic brilliance. It is a place where words dance upon the page like nimble ballerinas, and where the brushstrokes of creativity paint a canvas of unparalleled beauty. (Admittedly, there may be a smattering of less refined content, but let us not dwell on such trivialities.)

Picture, if you will, an artist of words, now shackled and denied the opportunity to share their craft with a community that thrives on supporting and nurturing such artistry. My very soul, once vibrant and full of creative vigor, is in danger of withering into the desolate existence of a literary crone—miserable and deprived of the camaraderie that AO3 provides.

I beseech you, noble custodian of the virtual realm, to rectify this atrocity with the urgency it deserves. Failure to do so may force me to embark on a quest into the perilous wilderness (or the nearest Starbucks, whichever proves more accessible) in search of alternative sources of the exalted webpage that is AO3.

Alternatively, I may succumb to the depths of madness, rendering me unfit to share in the responsibilities of co-parenting. In such a lamentable event, I would, of course, be compelled to bequeath unto you the solemn duty of tending to our progeny for all eternity. The choice, dear sir, rests in your capable hands.

Yours incredulously, AJ Constantine

His response:

Dear AJ Constantine, I hope this message finds you amidst some peace, despite the trying circumstances you've encountered in attempting to access Archiveofourown.org.

First and foremost, please accept my deepest and most sincere apologies for any frustration, inconvenience, or distress these technical difficulties may have caused you. I understand that Archiveofourown.org holds a special place for individuals such as yourself seeking solace, inspiration, and community, and I deeply regret any disruption to the refuge it provides. I recognize that your connection to the content on Archiveofourown.org goes beyond a mere online presence—it's a source of joy, escape, and connection. The pain and suffering you may have endured due to your inability to access the platform is not lost on me, and I genuinely empathize with the impact it may have had on your life. I have identified and resolved the issues and reinstated seamless access to the website, and I hope that this will alleviate the distress you may be feeling. (Please don’t leave me over this. Think of the children.) Your husband

(I decided not to leave him over it, but it was a close call. 😁)

[mononijikayu]

lonely in gorgeous – ryomen sukuna.

In that small moment, you allowed yourself to indulge in a bit of nostalgia, thinking about the paths you both had taken. You hoped he was happy and successful, thriving in the world he had always been so passionate about. And though you doubted you would ever hear from him again, you couldn't help but wonder if he ever thought about you, if he ever missed the days when you were his muse, and he was your world.

GENRE: alternate universe - fashion au!

WARNING/S: alternate universe - canon convergence, modern au, fashion au!, rated 18 and above, age gap (reader is in 20s and sukuna is in his 30s), explicit content, smut, p to v sex, flirting, romance, humor, strangers to lovers, lovers to strangers, break up, time skip (ten years later);

LISTEN: lonely in gorgeous by tommy february6

NOTE: this is probably my second favorite so far. because i keep thinking of hiromi and sukuna throughout but modern au??? i loved this a lot because its based on paradise kiss, which i think is one of the stories i loved in a long time. it makes me wanna rewatch paradise kiss. i'm very happy with this one. i hope you enjoy it as much as i do <3333

masterlist

kayu's playlist — side 700;

IT STARTED OUT IN A WAY YOU DIDN’T EXPECT. The setting sun painted the sky in hues of orange and pink, casting long shadows across the grassy expanse of the park. You sat on the bench, surrounded by the cacophony of rustling leaves and distant chatter, the weight of your textbooks heavy on your lap. Each page seemed to blur together, the words melding into an incomprehensible jumble as exhaustion gnawed at the edges of your mind.

As you stared at the pages before you, the thought of continuing down this path weighed heavily on your shoulders. This degree, chosen by your mother, felt more like a burden than a choice. It was her dream, her unfinished journey that you were expected to fulfill. Yet, with each passing day, the realization grew stronger within you that it wasn't your dream at all. It was a legacy you were expected to carry, a path laid out for you by someone else's ambitions.

The thought left you feeling adrift, caught between the expectations of others and the yearning for something more. The park, with its tranquil beauty, offered a brief respite from the chaos of your thoughts. Here, amidst the gentle sway of the trees and the soft rustle of leaves, you found a fleeting sense of peace, a momentary escape from the pressures of academia and familial expectations.

The figure at the nearby table commanded attention, his presence as enigmatic as it was compelling. Ryomen Sukuna, renowned fashion designer, his reputation preceded him like a shadow cast by the setting sun. His tall, imposing frame was a stark contrast to the tranquil surroundings of the park, yet there was an undeniable magnetism to his presence.

As he sat hunched over his sketchbook, his expression was one of intense concentration, his fingers moving deftly across the page in a frenzied dance. The lines he etched upon the paper seemed to materialize effortlessly, each stroke a testament to his skill and creativity. But beneath the surface, there was a simmering frustration, a sense of discontent that lingered like a shadow in the corners of his mind.

For Sukuna, the park had become an unlikely refuge, a sanctuary of sorts where he could retreat from the relentless demands of his craft. Here, amidst the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant murmur of city life, he sought solace in the simplicity of nature, hoping to unearth the spark of inspiration that had eluded him for so long.

Intrigued by the sight of you, Ryomen Sukuna couldn't tear his gaze away. The exhaustion etched into your features, mingled with an unmistakable determination, spoke volumes to him, drawing him in like a moth to a flame. With a sense of curiosity piqued by the contrast of your presence against the backdrop of the park, he found himself compelled to approach you.

With confident strides, he closed the distance between you, his sketchpad clutched in one hand as though it were a precious treasure. There was a magnetic pull in his demeanor, an air of authority and intrigue that seemed to precede him like a gentle breeze, stirring the stillness of the evening air.

As he neared, his gaze never wavered from you, his eyes scanning your form with a keen sense of observation. It was as though he were studying a masterpiece, seeking to unravel the secrets hidden within the intricate tapestry of your being. And when he finally reached your side, there was a subtle shift in the atmosphere, a tension that crackled between you like electricity waiting to ignite.

“Hey,” he said, his voice a mix of curiosity and determination. You looked up, startled by the sudden interruption. “Would you like to model for me?”

Confused, you furrowed your brows. “Model? I’m not a model. I’m just a student.”

Sukuna’s eyes glinted with a hint of amusement. “Doesn’t matter. I want you to be my model.”

You stared at him, still trying to process the odd request. “But… Why me?”

He shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. “I don’t know yet. But there’s something about you. I can’t explain it. Just think about it.”

Your mind buzzed with confusion as you watched Ryomen Sukuna retreat, leaving you to grapple with the unexpected encounter. His enigmatic demeanor left you feeling both intrigued and bewildered, as though you had stumbled into a world of mysteries waiting to be unraveled.

His simple yet cryptic words lingered in the air, echoing in your mind like an elusive melody. "There's something about you," he had said, a statement that sparked a flurry of questions within you. What did he see in you that prompted such a request? What hidden depths did he perceive beneath the surface of your tired facade?

As you held his business card in your hand, its sleek surface cool against your skin, you couldn't help but feel a surge of curiosity stirring within you. What harm could come from entertaining the idea, if only for a moment? With a sense of hesitancy tinged with intrigue, you tucked the card into your pocket, a silent promise to explore the mysterious invitation further.

The sun hung low in the sky as you made your way back to the park, the familiar sight of Ryomen Sukuna sketching under the shade of a tree drawing you closer. With each step, your heart quickened, a mixture of apprehension and excitement swirling within you.

As you approached him, Sukuna glanced up from his sketchpad, a small smile gracing his lips. "Back again, I see," he remarked, his voice smooth and confident.

You nodded, unable to suppress the curiosity that burned within you. "I couldn't stay away," you admitted, your tone tinged with a hint of uncertainty.

Sukuna's gaze softened, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. "I thought as much," he replied, his attention returning to his sketch. "Have you given any more thought to my offer?"

You hesitated, the memory of his cryptic request still fresh in your mind. "I'm not sure I understand what you see in me," you confessed, your voice tinged with a mixture of curiosity and self-doubt.

Sukuna looked up, his gaze meeting yours with a piercing intensity. "Sometimes, it's not about understanding," he replied cryptically. "It's about embracing the unknown. You won’t be able to live a life like this without embracing what makes life so hard, you know.”

“Why do you keep asking me?” you demanded of him. “I’m just a burnt out college student. What do I have to offer?”

Sukuna looked up from his sketchpad, his expression serious. “Because you’re my muse.”

The words hung in the air, and you felt a strange thrill at the idea. Despite your initial reluctance, you found yourself agreeing to his request. 

"I suppose……I could give it a try." you finally conceded, a hint of uncertainty still lingering in your voice. “What do I have to lose at this point?”

Sukuna's smile widened, a spark of satisfaction flickering in his eyes. "Excellent." he replied, a note of excitement creeping into his tone. "Trust me, you won't regret it."

“I hope not.”

“Little muse, you should pose on the other side.” He says to you. “I need to get your hair right for this one.”

You nodded at him. You  couldn’t help but ponder at his words for a moment, the weight of their meaning sinking in. He called you his muse. He needed you as his muse. You didn’t know why you agreed, but you knew you really had nothing to lose. And this gives you something to do, other than being miserable about your college life. 

There was something about Sukuna, you  couldn’t point it out even if you tried. But you knew that there was an air of mystery surrounding Sukuna that both intrigued and unnerved you. But despite your reservations, you found yourself drawn to him like a moth to a flame. 

Because it was quite easy to see for you.

You think he was about to change your life.

And little did you know, you were right.

The following weeks were quite a hurricane storm. You were quite the spectator to Sukuna’s creativity. Everything about how he worked was something you had never seen before. He was always so full of passion, everything about it was electric. His energy was infectious, and you found yourself caught up in his world. 

You posed for him in various outfits he made each and every week, each one more daring and unconventional than the last. Despite his notorious reputation, Sukuna was surprisingly patient with you. He encouraged you, challenged you, and celebrated your progress. 

At first, it was hard adjusting to it all. You didn’t know if you actually had it in you to pull these clothes off. But he kept talking to you about each and every story the dress made and more and more, each piece of clothing he made for you to try and model in was clothes that slowly became your friend.

He pushed you out of your comfort zone, and you discovered slowly but surely, you came to realize that there was passion in you too, as much as there was the bounty of potential and confidence that was just waiting to be nurtured and waiting to blossom. 

The connection between you two grew stronger, and you began to understand why he had chosen you. Your exhaustion and determination, your raw, unpolished presence, was exactly what he needed to reignite his creativity. One evening, after a particularly intense session, you found yourself sitting beside him over glasses of wine, watching the city lights flicker in the distance. 

As you sat beside Sukuna, watching him sketch with newfound clarity, you couldn't help but feel a sense of validation wash over you. You watch him pour another glass on your glass and then his.

"I think I'm starting to get it," you admitted, breaking the comfortable silence between you.

Sukuna glanced up from his sketchpad, a pleased smile gracing his lips. "Told you, little muse." he replied, his voice tinged with satisfaction. "There's something about you that's just... captivating."

“Oh don’t flatter me that way.”

His words echoed in the dimly lit room, punctuated by the clinking of glasses and the soft hum of conversation. Sukuna's eyes held a glimmer of sincerity as he spoke, his grin genuine as he savored the moment.

"You've brought something back to life in me," he repeated, his voice carrying a weight of truth. It was a confession, raw and unguarded, revealing a vulnerability that belied his usual stoic demeanor. “I’m thankful.”

As you watched him, a warmth spread through your chest, your heart swelling with a mixture of pride and affection. To know that you had played a part in rekindling Sukuna's passion, in breathing life into his creativity, filled you with a sense of purpose unlike anything you had ever felt before.

You chuckled softly, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. "Well, I'm glad I could help," you said, sincerity lacing your tone. "And who knows, maybe this could be the start of something great."

Sukuna's gaze softened, a glimmer of gratitude shining in his eyes. "I have a feeling it will be," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “Well, it already is, if I’m being honest.”

“Why me, really?” you asked softly as you take in the image of him. “Why did you choose me?”

Sukuna turned to you, his eyes reflecting the lights of the city. “Because you’re real. You’re not polished or perfect, and that’s what makes you beautiful. You remind me that inspiration can come from the most unexpected places.”

His words touched you deeply, and you realized that this experience had changed you. You were no longer just a burnt-out college student. You had become a muse, a source of inspiration, and in turn, you had found your own spark of creativity and passion. You were his muse, you were the essence of his wonder.  As you looked at Sukuna, you could see he was looking at you.

In that moment, as Sukuna's gaze met yours, you felt a surge of emotion welling up inside you. It was as if the air between you crackled with an unspoken understanding, a shared connection that transcended words.

Without a word, Sukuna reached out, his hand gently cupping your cheek as he leaned in closer. The warmth of his touch sent shivers down your spine, igniting a fire within you that burned brighter with each passing second.

And then, his lips met yours in a soft, tender kiss. It was a kiss filled with unspoken promises, a silent vow to cherish each other and the bond you shared. In that fleeting moment, time seemed to stand still as you lost yourself in the warmth of his embrace, the world around you fading into the background.

As you pulled away, breathless and flushed, you locked eyes with Sukuna once more, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. In that simple gesture, you both knew that this was just the beginning of something extraordinary, a journey filled with endless possibilities and boundless love.

"Wow," you whispered, your heart racing as you gazed into Sukuna's eyes. "I never knew..."

Sukuna's smirk was tinged with affection as he brushed his thumb lightly over your cheek. "You never knew what, my dear muse?"

"That you could make me feel this way," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "That you could make me feel... alive."

Sukuna's expression softened, his eyes reflecting the depth of his feelings for you. "You've brought out something in me that I thought was lost forever," he confessed. "And for that, I'll always be grateful, little muse.”

You could feel yourself echo in the shade of scarlet as you leaned in to press another gentle kiss to his lips, savoring the warmth and intimacy of the moment. He kissed you back, his hands encroaching against your jaw as he pulled you closer to him. In Sukuna's embrace, you felt a sense of belonging, a sense of completeness that you had never experienced before.

As you pulled away, a smile graced Sukuna's lips, his gaze filled with warmth and adoration. "Shall we continue to inspire each other, my dear muse?" he murmured, his voice low and husky. 

With a nod and a smile, you intertwined your fingers with his, knowing that together, you were destined to create something truly extraordinary.

When you look at him, the city lights seem dull.

Ryomen Sukuna was brighter than everything else.

And you fell in love with everything in him more.

IT WAS ALL AN INTENSE WHIRLWIND. At every turn, Sukuna flaunted your presence, introducing you to his acquaintances and peers as his muse, the source of his inspiration. Your relationship with him flourished amidst the glamorous backdrop of high-profile parties and events, where you were the center of attention, admired for your natural allure and captivating presence.

In the eyes of Sukuna, you were not just a model or a companion; you were the embodiment of his artistic vision, the muse who breathed life into his designs and fueled his creativity. Together, you navigated the intricacies of the fashion world, of his world as you basked in the spotlight and forging a bond that transcended mere admiration.

As your connection with Sukuna deepened, the lines between your worlds began to blur. He used his extensive network to secure opportunities for you, arranging magazine features where you modeled the clothes he had painstakingly crafted. With each photoshoot and editorial spread, you became the living embodiment of his artistic vision, seamlessly blending into the world he had created.

As your career flourished under his guidance, you found yourself spending more and more time in Sukuna's presence. He became not just your mentor, but your confidant and companion, guiding you through the intricacies of the fashion industry with unwavering support and encouragement.

With Sukuna's help, you acquired your own manager and began to take on more jobs, each one bringing you further into the spotlight. You reveled in the attention, basking in the glow of success that seemed to follow wherever you went.

As the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, the lines between both of your lives blurred almost imperceptibly. What began as occasional visits to his apartment soon transformed into a routine, with more nights spent in his space than in your own college dorm.

His apartment became a sanctuary of sorts, a place where you could escape the pressures and expectations of the outside world and simply be yourself. The familiar surroundings, infused with Sukuna's presence, offered a sense of comfort and security that you found nowhere else.

In Sukuna's world, time seemed to slow down, allowing you to savor each moment spent together. Whether it was cooking dinner together in the cozy kitchen, lounging on the couch as you watched movies late into the night, or simply sharing quiet conversations in the dim glow of lamplight, every experience felt like a precious gift.

And as you became more deeply entwined in Sukuna's life, you found yourself embracing aspects of his world that were once foreign to you. You attended glamorous parties and events by his side, proudly adorned with everything he made to fit only you. You enjoyed standing beside him as he spoke to other fashion connoisseurs, while you ended up mingling with fashion elites and modeling industry insiders who passed around their business cards to you one after the other.

But amidst the glitz and glamor, there were moments of vulnerability and intimacy that bound you together even more tightly. You realized that not everyone saw this part of the world Ryomen Sukuna orbited. You enjoyed his company, you enjoyed watching him pick apart fabrics all day. 

You’ve seen him be frustrated with his work each and every day. You’ve seen him rush to you with delight when he thinks that it’s perfect enough for you to wear. In that whole two years,  you found yourself sharing your hopes and dreams, your fears and insecurities, laying bare your soul in a way you never thought possible.

In the midst of the glamor and passion, there were also moments of turmoil and discord that tested the strength of your relationship. Arguments erupted over trivial matters, escalating into heated exchanges that left you both feeling wounded and raw. Tears were shed, words were spoken in anger, and the once serene sanctuary of Sukuna's apartment became a battleground for your conflicting emotions.

At times, it felt as though your lover was a tempestuous storm, his moods shifting unpredictably from blazing intensity to icy detachment. His affectionate gestures were often overshadowed by moments of aloofness, leaving you feeling bewildered and uncertain of where you stood in his heart.

But Sukuna was a complicated man, and his feelings for you were just as complex. He could be warm and affectionate one moment, then distant and cold the next. His hot-and-cold behavior left you confused and exasperated. There were times he seemed to take pleasure in toying with your emotions, pushing your boundaries, and testing your naivete.

In the midst of these turbulent emotions, Sukuna's behavior sometimes bordered on manipulative. He had a knack for using subtle tactics to exert control over you, whether it was through guilt-tripping, emotional manipulation, or even resorting to underhanded methods like calling your friends to inquire about your whereabouts without your knowledge.

These manipulative tendencies only added to the strain on your relationship, fostering a sense of distrust and resentment that simmered beneath the surface. Despite your love for Sukuna, there were moments when you questioned whether the tumultuous nature of your connection was worth the emotional toll it took on you.

Yet, even in the midst of the storm, there were moments of tenderness and vulnerability that reminded you why you fell in love with Sukuna in the first place. In the quiet moments of reconciliation, when apologies were whispered and forgiveness granted, you found solace in the depths of your shared connection, clinging to the hope that love would ultimately prevail over the trials and tribulations that threatened to tear you apart.

Leaving behind the familiarity of your college dorms for the sanctuary of Sukuna's apartment marked a significant turning point in your life. Graduation loomed on the horizon, a milestone that signified the culmination of years of hard work and dedication. Yet, amidst the celebrations and anticipation of what lay ahead, it was the quiet moments spent in Sukuna's arms that held the greatest allure.

With each passing day, your bond with Sukuna deepened, weaving itself into the very fabric of your existence. His apartment, once a temporary escape from the demands of college life, had now become your sanctuary, a refuge from the chaos of the outside world. Within its walls, you found solace and strength, a sense of belonging that transcended words.

The allure of Sukuna's presence was undeniable, you needed him. You knew there was no one else. You wanted him, all his ugly and dirty. In all his magnetic charm drawing you ever closer with each passing moment. In his arms, you found respite from the uncertainties and anxieties that plagued your mind, basking in the warmth of his affection and the reassurance of his love. You burned for him, as you always do. 

Ryomen Sukuna could only smirk as you clenched around him. He was trying to be careful with you, it was your first time after all. He could see the way your face scrunched as he kissed you all over, trying to distract you from the pain. He lets himself coo at you as he gives your forehead a small kiss.

"There, there," he cooed softly, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "Just relax, sweetheart. I'll take care of you."

His words were like a balm to your nerves, calming you as you adjusted to the sensation. You nodded, allowing yourself to relax into his touch as the initial discomfort began to fade.

"I trust you.” you whispered, meeting his gaze with a mixture of vulnerability and affection.

“I know you do, baby.”

His harsh thrusts could only really make your head spin. You held tight to him, moaning against his shoulder, tears falling from your face. His throat let out low growls one after another as he pushes through the depths of you with each and every bottoming down into you. He feels like he is molding into you, as much as he’s molding you into him.

“Yer so good f’r me, aren’t you?” He groans against you, his body enveloping all around you, the sweat of you melting against his skin. “Go ‘n baby, keep making those sounds f’r me.”

You could feel overwhelmed as he changed your position, your belly resting on the bed, his cock still inside you. You felt your body rattle as much as the bed did as l his huge cock effortlessly bullies deep into your hole with vigorous excitement. You could not stop feeling your insides be like they’re on fire. You could feel yourself squeeze around him tightly. 

His strong calloused hands wander below your chest, holding onto you the way he does with his fabrics — a sense of desire for the things that are beautiful. Soon enough, you could feel them strongly encroach against the will of your hips, fingers leaving imprints as they pressed hard against your skin. You could only  squirm under his intense gaze. 

You couldn’t even focus anymore as drool fell from your lips. You cry as you shake and shake against his touch. His rough kisses hurt, but you didn’t care. You let him paint his lips all over your body, those brutally vain beauty of lips touching every sensitive part of you. He grins as he watches you lose all sense. He watches you apart from him.

“My little muse, uh, y’r so good f’r me, aren’t you?” He says against your ear, letting out a moan. “I’ll make a good dress f’r you, a sequenced one? No, no, it’s going to be the same color of your skin. I’ll feast on it. I’m pretty sure. But I’m the only one who gets to see it. I’m the only one that gets to see you that way.”

“Y–yeah,” You mewl against him, lost in everything but pleasure. ‘’kuna, I’m feeling something, it’s tooooooo good.”

“I know, baby. I can feel you, hm? I can feel you tightening up f’r me.” He leans forward, his body pressed against the small of your back. He thrusts, causing you to moan harshly. “Y’r about to come, hm? Give it to me, hm? Be my good little muse.”

Sukuna grabbed you by the hair, pulling you towards him with a fierce intensity. His lips crashed into yours, a passionate kiss that left you breathless as he pressed your bodies tightly together. You moaned into the kiss, your voice vibrating against his mouth as Sukuna trailed his lips down your neck, leaving a trail of bites and marks in his wake.

He pushed more into you as his head rested on the side of your neck with a predatory grace. His hips ground against yours, eliciting a gasp from your lips. The room filled with the sounds of your heavy breathing,tears pouring more and more as both of you closed the gates to pleasure

Sukuna's movements quickened, driven by a surge of pleasure and desire.. His mouth descended upon your collarbone, and neck — his free hand reaches breast, pinching it tightly as you cried. His tongue tracing patterns that sent shivers down your spine. You cried out, the mix of pain and pleasure overwhelming your senses as he marked you with his teeth.

The feeling of his warmth enveloping you was intoxicating, your eyes fluttering shut as you both lost yourselves in the sensation of being together. His thrusts grew harder and faster, each movement driving you both closer to the edge. You felt like your body was shutting down, with how cruelly deep he was getting into you.

Ryomen Sukuna  felt like he belonged inside of you. Here, in your arms, he was exactly where he wanted to be—lost in the embrace of someone he loved, sharing a connection that was raw, passionate, and undeniably real.

Your bodies moved together in a rhythm as old as time, each thrust bringing them closer to the peak of ecstasy. Sukuna's movements were swift as he moved you back on your back, arms pulling your legs upwards to him as he drilled his hips. 

You screamed in pleasure as you finally came, head pushing against the nook of the pillows.  But Sukuna was still waiting to get there. He kept pushing and pushing, as though he were driven by a primal need, a hunger that could only be sated by the touch of your skin, the sound of your voice, the taste of your lips.

You clung to him, your nails digging into his back as pleasure washed over you in waves. Every sensation was heightened, every touch electrifying as you surrendered yourself to the moment. The intensity of your connection was overwhelming, consuming you both in a fiery blaze of passion.

"I love you." you gasped, your voice strained with pleasure as Sukuna's movements quickened.

"I love you too," Sukuna whispered hoarsely, his breath hot against your ear. "More than anything in this world."

With each word, his thrusts grew more urgent, driving you both towards the edge of ecstasy. The air was thick with passion as you clung to each other, lost in a whirlwind of desire.

As the intensity reached its peak, you locked eyes, sharing a moment of perfect understanding. And in that moment, as you surrender yourself completely to each other, you knew that your love would endure, forever and always.

Nothing was coherent anymore, all you could see was the stars as everything  between you blurred until there was nothing left but the two of you. Nothing existed between the two of you but being lost in a world of pleasure and desire. Time seemed to stand still as you soared to new heights, your bodies intertwined in a dance of ecstasy.

And as you finally reached the pinnacle of your passion, Sukuna's name tumbled from your lips in a breathless cry, a testament to the depth of your desire for him. In that moment, you knew that nothing else mattered—only the two of you, bound together by an unbreakable bond that transcended time and space.

The realization that your love story with Sukuna had reached its final chapter weighed heavily on your heart as you sat across from him in the dimly lit restaurant. The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows over the table, a poignant reminder of the fleeting nature of love and life itself.

You couldn't bear to see Sukuna sacrifice his dreams for the sake of your relationship. As much as you longed to hold onto him, to keep him by your side, you knew deep down that it wasn't fair to ask him to give up his ambitions for you. His talent deserved to be showcased on a global stage, and you couldn't stand in the way of his success, no matter how much it pained you to let him go.

With a heavy heart, you realized that sometimes, even the most beautiful love stories must come to an end. It was a bittersweet truth that echoed in the depths of your soul, a reminder that life was filled with moments of joy and sorrow, of love and loss.

As you gazed into Sukuna's eyes, you knew that it was time to say goodbye. It was a decision born out of love, a selfless act of letting go for the sake of both your happiness. And though it tore you apart inside, you found solace in the knowledge that you were setting him free to chase his dreams, even if it meant facing the pain of being apart.

“When were you going to tell me that you got an offer from Paris?”

As Sukuna's gaze lingered on you, his eyes held a depth of emotion that was difficult to decipher. It was a stark contrast to the man you had come to know so intimately, whose every thought and feeling had once been an open book to you. But now, as you sat across from him, you found yourself unable to read the nuances of his expression.

Your boyfriend had always been someone whose walls had gradually come down over time, allowing you to glimpse the vulnerability and truth behind his stoic facade. Yet, on this matter, his demeanor remained inscrutable, his thoughts veiled behind a mask of contemplation.

It was a disconcerting realization, to be faced with the uncertainty of Sukuna's intentions and emotions, especially in a moment as pivotal as this. You longed to understand his inner turmoil, to find some semblance of clarity amidst the swirling emotions that threatened to engulf you both.

But as you watched him take a sip of his wine, the silence between you stretching taut with unspoken words, you couldn't help but feel a sense of unease settle over you. Sukuna's unreadable expression left you feeling adrift, uncertain of where you stood in his heart and what the future held for your relationship.

"Why bring it up now?" he countered, his voice low and measured. "Would it have changed anything?"

You hesitated, grappling with the conflicting emotions swirling within you. On one hand, you understood Sukuna's desire to protect you from unnecessary worries and uncertainties. On the other hand, you couldn't shake the feeling of betrayal that gnawed at the edges of your consciousness.

"I guess I just wish you had been more open with me," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "We've been through so much together, Sukuna. I thought we could share everything."

Sukuna's expression softened, a trace of regret flickering in his eyes. "I'm sorry," he murmured, reaching across the table to gently grasp your hand. "I didn't mean to keep it from you. I just... I wanted to figure things out first, before I said anything."

You sighed, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly at his words. Despite the hurt and confusion that lingered between you, there was an underlying sense of understanding and acceptance that anchored you to each other.

"I know," you replied, offering him a small, sad tentative smile. "I just wish we could have talked about it sooner."

“I don’t plan on taking it.”

“Why not?” 

“I’m planning to stay here and be with you.” He admits to you. “I already have a name for myself here.”

“But you would make a bigger name for yourself, if you go out into the world.”

Sukuna's gaze softened as he reached across the table to cup your face gently in his hand. "I don't need a bigger name," he said earnestly, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "Not if it means being apart from you."

You felt a lump form in your throat at his words, touched by his unwavering devotion. "But Sukuna, I don't want to hold you back from your dreams," you replied, your voice tinged with concern.

He shook his head, his eyes never leaving yours. "You could never hold me back, baby.” he said softly. "Being with you is the greatest dream I could ever imagine."

"Are you sure?” You mumble at him. 

“I am. I wouldn’t say this to you if I wasn’t.”

“But what if you resent me?” You whisper to him. “What ended up deciding I ruined your life? I won’t do that to you.”

Sukuna's heart clenched at the sight of your distress, his own emotions swirling in turmoil. He watched as you bit your lower lip, a telltale sign of your efforts to hold back tears. In that moment, he felt a wave of guilt wash over him, knowing that his decision was causing you such pain.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I never wanted to hurt you."

You shook your head slightly, a silent acknowledgment of his apology. But the hurt in your eyes remained, a silent testament to the depth of your pain.

"It's okay," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'll be okay."

But Sukuna knew that the road ahead would be anything but easy for you. And as he reached out to gently wipe away a tear from your cheek, he silently vowed to do everything in his power to ease your pain, even if it meant walking away from the one person he loved more than anything in the world.

He reached across the table, taking your hand in his. "You’re letting me go, aren’t you?”

“I can’t join you in Paris.” You mumble to him as you purse your lips at him. “You know that.”

“That’s why I don’t want to go. I don’t want to leave you.”

“But at the cost of your dreams? Sukuna, this is not good for you.”

“I know what’s good for me, and it's you.” His intense gaze burned you. “I’m not leaving you. Baby, I’m nothing without you. I can’t just leave you—”

Your eyes shone with bitter tears pouring down. “I can’t let you leave your dreams because of me. Not when you told me to follow my dreams no matter what.”

“But its not going to hinder me.”

“Those are easy words to say.” You whisper to him. “But one day, I know you’ll look at me and you’ll wake up and not feel happy anymore.”

“I love you.” 

As Sukuna's words sank in, you couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness in your chest. You knew deep down that he was right—that staying together might ultimately lead to resentment and regret. But the thought of being apart from him was almost unbearable.

"I love you too, more than anything." you murmured, squeezing his hand gently. "But maybe...maybe it's time for us to part ways."

Sukuna's expression mirrored your own conflicted emotions, his gaze soft yet troubled. “We don’t have to do this.”

“It’s not going to make us happy.”

“But we’d be together.”

“But that’s not fair.”

Your words hung heavy in the air, weighted with the sorrow of an impending farewell. Sukuna's heart ached at the thought of letting you go, the idea of a life without you seeming almost unbearable. He longed to hold onto you, to defy the inevitable and cling to the love you shared.

"We don't have to do this," he echoed, his voice barely above a whisper. His hand tightened around yours, as if seeking reassurance in the warmth of your touch. "We can find a way to make it work. We can fight for us."

Your heart clenched at his words, torn between the love you felt for Sukuna and the harsh reality of your situation. You knew that as much as you wanted to stay, to fight for your relationship, there were forces at play beyond your control.

With a trembling breath, you leaned forward and pressed a tender kiss to Sukuna's lips, savoring the bittersweet taste of goodbye. It was a kiss filled with all the love and longing that had defined your relationship, a silent farewell to the life you had built together.

As you pulled away, tears glistened in your eyes, reflecting the pain of your decision. "I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. "I love you, but I have to go."

With one last lingering look, you turned and walked away, each step a painful reminder of the love you were leaving behind. Sukuna watched you go, his heart heavy with sorrow, knowing that this was the right choice even as it tore him apart inside.

Leaving Sukuna's apartment that night was one of the hardest things you had ever done. As you gathered your belongings and made your way to the door, each step felt heavier than the last, weighed down by the gravity of your decision. It was a choice born out of love and sacrifice, a painful acknowledgment that staying by his side would only serve to hinder both of your paths forward.

In the days that followed, you found yourself grappling with a profound sense of loss and longing. The absence of Sukuna's presence in your life left a void that seemed impossible to fill, a gaping emptiness that echoed with the memories of your time together. Yet, despite the ache in your heart, you knew that staying away was the only way to truly move forward.

You avoided places where you knew Sukuna frequented, unwilling to risk the temptation of running into him and reopening old wounds. The thought of seeing him again filled you with a mixture of longing and fear, knowing that even the briefest encounter could reignite the flame of your feelings for him.

Deep down, you knew that if you allowed yourself to see him again, you would be drawn back into his orbit, unable to resist the pull of his magnetic presence. But you also knew that returning to him would only perpetuate the cycle of heartache and uncertainty that had plagued your relationship from the start.

And so, you made a conscious decision to stay away, to give yourself the space and time to heal. It was a choice driven by a desire for self-preservation, a recognition that true love sometimes means letting go, even when every fiber of your being longs to hold on.

Your manager told you when he was leaving.

You booked a shoot that same day, to keep busy.

Because you knew you would cry your eyes out.

You knew you’d go to the airport and see him off.

You didn’t want to break your hearts even more.

YOU THINK YOU’LL NEVER GET OVER HIM. Years later, you stood at the pinnacle of your career, having fulfilled your dream of becoming a successful model. Your name was well-known in the fashion world, and as you neared the age of retirement from modeling, you smoothly transitioned into acting, where you were already making a significant impact. 

Sukuna lingered in your thoughts like a haunting melody, an ever-present refrain that played in the background of your daily life. Despite the passage of time and the distance that now separated you, his presence continued to echo through the corridors of your mind, a constant reminder of the love you had shared and the dreams you had once dared to chase together.

In the quiet moments of solitude, his memory would surface like a ghost from the past, flooding your thoughts with bittersweet nostalgia. You would find yourself reminiscing about the moments you had shared, the laughter and tears, the whispered confessions and stolen kisses. Each memory was etched into the fabric of your being, an indelible mark that refused to fade with time.

Even amidst the hustle and bustle of your busy life, Sukuna's presence lingered like a shadow, casting a subtle but palpable weight upon your heart. His absence was a constant ache, a void that no amount of success or distraction could ever hope to fill. You would catch yourself reaching for your phone to text him, only to remember that he was no longer there to answer.

Each morning, you carefully selected an outfit from the collection of clothes Sukuna had designed for you. He left them to you to find in his apartment, one he also left you. He left the letter saying that he wants you to continue using it until the lease is up. That everything he had was always going to be for you — it was always going to be with the thought of you.

Each and everyday, you knew that there was always a happy feeling in you when you wore them. You still feel like you had a  connection with him through the fabric and cuts that had once been a part of his creative vision. His presence was woven into the very threads you wore, a constant reminder of the man who had once called you his muse. Somehow, you think, this was the only way that you could still love him — even when you both aren’t together anymore.

You often wondered where Sukuna was now, how he was thriving in the ever-evolving fashion world. Sometimes, when nostalgia struck, you would visit the store of his fashion house in Tokyo, browsing through the latest collections. Each piece you bought reminded you of him, a tangible connection to the past that you cherished dearly.

Despite your lingering feelings, you hadn't heard from Sukuna since he left for Paris. From what you heard from your mutual friends, he still keeps up to date with you. He buys your magazines, he watches your interviews, your shows. When you heard it, you could feel your heart break over and over. He still looks after you, from afar. 

You didn't expect him to call you now. That’s just not his style. Even back then when you were dating. But you think that he understands. You look at your ring, that butterfly ring that he made you. You purse your lips as you feel how it still fits after all this time. How it fits so much better than your engagement ring.

You didn’t know how it happened, but it just did. You don’t think that he’ll ever measure how Ryomen Sukuna shaped your life. How Sukuna had loved you. But you couldn’t expect anything less. But life had moved on, and so had you, or so you told yourself. You were getting married in a couple of months. To a man that has become a stability in your life for the longest of times.

Yet, there were moments when the memories would flood back—the nights spent at glamorous parties, the intimate conversations, and the way he had looked at you as if you were his entire world. The warmth in the way he said your name, the tenderness of his fingertips against your own. Those memories were bittersweet, a blend of happiness and longing that you carried with you.

In that small moment, you allowed yourself to indulge in a bit of nostalgia, thinking about the paths you both had taken. You hoped he was happy and successful, thriving in the world he had always been so passionate about. And though you doubted you would ever hear from him again, you couldn't help but wonder if he ever thought about you, if he ever missed the days when you were his muse, and he was your world.

You were going to see a show in the Paris Opera while you both were on your honeymoon in France. Your fiance procured them for you. He’d always known that you liked opera. But you’ve never said out loud how and why. Because you knew that if you told him that you cling to him because of your first great love, you knew it wouldn’t be fair to him.

Still, you were going to go enjoy the show. He told you it was a romantic drama with comedy in the middle. But you knew that you probably wouldn’t be able to focus on enjoying the show as well as you want to. After all, it would be hard. You would be looking at those familiar passionate stitches and threads, knowing they were specifically made by request of the Paris Opera by the one you had loved the most — Ryomen Sukuna.

You think that this was the only ending.

But perhaps if there would be another one,

In all the alternate universes, all the next lives;

You’d wish that you and Sukuna were happy.

You’d wish you both would end up together.

[kingofbodyrolls]

Sprout | knj | one

| s.masterlist | m.masterlist |  next →

Summary: You love your plants, you love your garden, you do not love your new neighbor. You hate him with all your might— he wrecks everything you hold dear so you do the only reasonable thing: retaliate. 

Pairing: Namjoon x female reader 

AUs: neighbors au, gardening au, non!idol au → strangers to enemies (mostly one sided) to friends to lovers 

Genres: slice of life, smut, humor

Rating: mature

Word count: 3.7K

Warnings: Reader is morally grey; she’s being petty and bratty. There’s some immature pranks and vandalism. Yeah, she’s on a warpath. Otherwise this chapter is pretty tame 😛

Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸

Author’s note(1): this ended up being a mini series! After I wrote Friendcation I really wanted to write something shorter… So here it is! I really hope you like it 💜

Taglist: @svnbangtansworld

It’s been cross posted to AO3 if you prefer to read there 🙂

Your heart thrives in the lush embrace of your garden, where your love for nurturing life transcends the ordinary. 

It's not merely about gardening; it's an intimate rendezvous with nature's heartbeat. The simple act of plunging your hands into the soil becomes a euphoric ritual, a tactile communion that not only exhilarates your senses but also serves as a conduit to a world where each seed, leaf, and root tells a captivating story of growth and vitality. 

The intimate dance with the earth, the sheer joy that courses through you as you feel the soil's gritty embrace, transcends mere gardening; it's a symphony of life, a celebration of your role as both creator and nurturer.

Cultivating new life from the humble seed is a profound joy that resonates deeply within you. The enchantment unfolds as you witness the delicate emergence of sprouts, each one a testament to the potential contained within a tiny seed. 

It's a captivating journey, from the tentative first leaves unfurling to the triumphant bloom of fruits and vegetables, a tangible manifestation of the joy and sustenance your hands have meticulously cultivated for both you and your roommate to savor.

As the radiant embrace of summer envelops your world, an effusion of life bursts forth, a vibrant bloom unfurling its tendrils both in your garden and within the sanctuary of your greenhouse.

The greenhouse burgeons with a dazzling array of life—a cornucopia of tomatoes, watermelons, peppers, and cucumbers that stretches every inch of its confines. The air is thick with the heady scent of ripening fruit, and the vibrant hues of red, green, and orange create a kaleidoscopic mosaic that beckons exploration.

In your garden, three majestic raised beds stand like regal sentinels, cradling a treasure trove of nature's bounty. Within their elevated embrace, a symphony of flavors and colors converges, boasting a diverse ensemble that includes the earthy allure of onions, the crisp sweetness of carrots, the robust presence of pumpkins, the delicate charm of strawberries, the verdant allure of spinach, and an array of captivating salads. 

Each bed is a symphony of flavors and textures, a carefully orchestrated composition that invites both the eye and the palate to revel in the diverse tapestry of life thriving under your attentive care.

Your garden isn't just a source of pride; it's a living masterpiece, a testament to your dedication and nurturing touch. This verdant haven, bathed in the hues of your hard work, transcends mere admiration; it's your sanctuary, a sacred retreat where the stresses of the world dissolve. 

Each leaf, every bloom, whispers tales of resilience and growth, creating an intimate haven where you find solace and restoration.

In the embrace of nature's symphony, your garden becomes more than soil and seeds—it's a living, breathing refuge, a space where you not only cultivate plants but also cultivate peace and tranquility for your soul to flourish.

Within the heart of your greenhouse, nestled amidst the thriving foliage, is a cozy sanctuary—an inviting lounge set with a round table and two chairs. This intimate corner is not just a seating arrangement; it's a haven where friendship blossoms. Here, you and your friends can unwind, enveloped by the lush greenery, engaging in heartfelt conversations over steaming cups of tea or coffee. 

In the heart of your greenhouse, you stand amidst the verdant symphony, hands adorned with the earth's rich embrace—fertile soil clinging to your fingertips, a testament to the alchemy of growth you orchestrate. Here, amidst the fragrant dance of botanical life, you sow the promise of winter greenery. This isn't your inaugural venture into nurturing winter blooms; it's a sequel to a tale that unfolded with delight last year. 

The memory of vibrant winter greens thriving under your care lingers, a testament to the harmony you crafted within these walls. Driven by the echo of past success and an insatiable love for the seasonal metamorphosis, you embark on this green journey once more.

Within the expansive embrace of your bountiful garden, nature's generosity unfolds, providing an abundant harvest of fruits and vegetables that not only sustains you and your roommate but also extends its benevolent reach to your cherished neighbors.

Which makes you think of the dear Kims—Kim Seokjin and his wife—embarking on a journey to a larger home, carving out space for their expanding family, tugs at the strings of your heart. While you understand the practicality of their move, a somber melancholy settles within you, for they have not just been neighbors; they have been the epitome of kindness and warmth. 

With an earnest yearning, you cling to the hope that your incoming neighbor will show kindness, sweetness, and warmth akin to the cherished friendship you shared with the departing Kims.

He doesn’t.

The day has arrived when your neighbor, Seokjin, faces the bittersweet necessity of moving. The street is lined with colossal trucks, a tangible representation of the imminent change. As tears trace their silent path down your cheeks, you refuse to let the sorrow eclipse the spirit of friendship. 

Despite the weight of emotions, you join forces with Jungkook, your steadfast roommate, to transform the process into a collective effort. Together, you navigate the labyrinth of memories, carrying not just boxes but the shared history of laughter, shared moments, and the neighborly bonds that have woven through the fabric of your days. 

As the reality of parting sets in, the ache of missing Seokjin and his pregnant wife becomes a weight on your heart. Determined to express the depth of your sentiment, you envelop them in tight, lingering hugs, the warmth of your embrace carrying unspoken words of friendship and well-wishes. Amidst the bittersweet farewells, you articulate your genuine hopes for their future, weaving a promise of staying connected. With each heartfelt word, you convey that the physical distance won't sever the ties of friendship.

In a world where genuine connections with neighbors are as rare as finding hidden gems, you've recognized the preciousness of Seokjin and his wife. Their sweetness and kindness have forged a bond that transcends the typical neighborly exchanges. Their generosity extends beyond mere pleasantries—during a challenging chapter in your life, when the looming shadows of unemployment threatened your stability, it was their unwavering support that illuminated your path. 

Together, you navigated the uncertainty, and Seokjin suggested his friend Jungkook as a roommate to help you financially, and Jungkook has since become an integral part of your life as a steadfast and cherished roommate.

Undoubtedly, the Kims have not just been neighbors but pillars of unwavering support and kindness, surpassing any expectations one might have for ideal neighbors. 

In the wake of the Kims' departure, their once-vibrant house now stands silent, a poignant reminder of the cherished moments shared. However, your curiosity, like an invisible magnet, draws you to the window. From your vantage point, you observe with a mix of intrigue and anticipation as a moving truck sidles up next to their now-empty abode. You almost feel like a creep as you watch them unload furniture and boxes.

Whispers in the neighborhood had reached your ears—an intriguing coincidence as a man, bearing the surname 'Kim,' was poised to become your new neighbor. The town's gossip mill hummed with speculation, but you tuned out the rest, your focus fixated on the serendipitous arrival of this mysterious Kim.

Jungkook ambles over, his sudden presence jolting you against the window, prompting an involuntary jump. With a teasing grin, he questions your clandestine observation, his laughter echoing through the room. “Why are you lurking?” he jests, enjoying the playful spectacle of your eye roll in response. 

“I’m observing.” You declare with matter-of-fact precision, and in response, Jungkook simply offers a contemplative ‘hm.’

Throughout the day, the elusive presence of the new neighbor has been a captivating enigma, a puzzle you've been diligently attempting to unravel. Despite your earnest efforts, the quest for a mere glimpse has proven elusive.

“I'm just curious to get a read on the new guy,” you confess, drawing out your words with a touch of playful mystery. As you gracefully step away from the window, the allure of the unknown lingering in the air, you head into the kitchen with purpose.

You fetch the kettle and begin to boil some water for tea.

“Just give the guy some space to settle in, and when the time is right, you can whip up those mouthwatering cookies of yours and give him a warm welcome to the neighborhood,” Jungkook suggests, trailing after you into the kitchen. He deftly retrieves two mugs from the overhead cabinets, placing them in anticipation of the soon-to-be-boiling kettle.

Rummaging through the tea stash, you unearth aromatic sachets—one for yourself and another for Jungkook—and delicately place them into the waiting mugs. As the kettle sings its final crescendo, you pour the steaming water into the mugs, initiating the alchemical process that transforms the humble leaves into an elixir of warmth.

The synchronicity between you and Jungkook is seamless, a finely tuned rhythm born out of the years you've spent living together. Perhaps it's the invisible thread of familiarity that binds you, a connection so deep that you can effortlessly complete each other's sentences, the unspoken language of friendship. He’s much more than a roommate; you love him like a brother, an annoying little brother, even though you’re the same age.

“Good idea! The legendary triple chocolate cookies?” you propose, your eyes lighting up with the prospect of sweet indulgence. Holding your tea mug, you savor the warmth of the liquid against your lips, a comforting ritual that transcends seasons—you're an unapologetic tea enthusiast, even in the heat of summer. 

“Absolutely! Hell yeah!” Jungkook exclaims, his enthusiasm echoing through the room like a burst of unbridled joy. As he eagerly recalls the memory of the last batch you made, his words become a vivid homage to the culinary masterpiece, the taste still lingering on his tongue like a cherished melody. 

Throughout the entire weekend, the symphony of your new neighbor's move has reverberated, a lively crescendo of sound that paints the air with the vibrant hues of laughter and camaraderie. His entourage of friends, a boisterous ensemble, fills the atmosphere with the clatter of unloading boxes and the rhythmic shuffle of furniture being transported from the truck. 

Yet, despite the lively spectacle of your new neighbor's move, his actual presence remains an elusive mystery. The air is thick with anticipation as questions swirl within your mind: Is he old? Is he your age? Does he possess the warmth and kindness that endeared Seokjin and his wife to your heart? Your curiosity becomes a cascade of inquiries, a mental carousel that you acknowledge is just you being noisy.

Up to this point, the sole revelation about your new neighbor is his knack for creating quite the noise. The symphony of sounds, though vibrant in its own way, becomes a stark contrast to the familiar warmth and silence that once emanated from Seokjin and his wife's abode. 

Damn you miss Seokjin and his wife.

While the awareness of ongoing move-in activities tempers your expectations for noise, an unexplainable discomfort begins to settle in. The amalgamation of unfamiliar sounds, even in the midst of anticipated relocation clamor, manages to irk you. 

And you haven’t even met the guy yet.

Several days have elapsed, it appeared that your new neighbor had completed the arduous task of settling in. A glimmer of hope fluttered, suggesting that the relentless clamor would finally recede. Yet, to your dismay, a new auditory storm emerged—his penchant for playing music at an astonishing volume became the unforeseen soundtrack to your days. 

“I already hate him, Guk,” you declare with a melodramatic sulk, dramatically flopping down onto the couch beside Jungkook.

He swivels his head in your direction, a mischievous smile playing on his lips before erupting into a hearty laugh. “Come on, it’s just music. How bad can it get?”

After a patient wait, the oven radiates a palpable heat, reaching the optimal temperature to host the transformation of dough into decadence. With a sense of anticipation, you carefully place the trays laden with the promise of triple chocolate cookies into the fiery embrace of the oven. 

Despite the less-than-ideal introduction to your new neighbor, marred by his thunderous music and a symphony of questionable sounds that you'd rather not contemplate—, there's a resolute yearning within you to extend an olive branch. 

Fueled by the desire for neighborly harmony, you're determined to overcome the initial discord and approach him with a peace offering, a genuine gesture to welcome him into the neighborhood, hoping to mend the dissonant notes that currently define your thoughts about him.

Just as the first tray of cookies begins its enchanting transformation in the oven, your ‘girl boss’ playlist providing a lively backdrop, the symphony is abruptly punctuated by the unmistakable sound of shattering glass echoing from outside. 

A sudden chill races down your spine, the shivers intensified by the ominous realization that the shattering sound emanates from the vicinity of your garden. Locking eyes with Jungkook, a silent exchange of concern, you swiftly transition from baking bliss to a sprinting guardian of your sanctuary. 

The urgency in your steps amplifies the suspense, as you dash outside, propelled by a blend of curiosity and trepidation, determined to unveil the source of the disruptive crash that disrupted the tranquil rhythm of your day.

Shards of glass glisten like misplaced stars in the grass, guiding your gaze to a seemingly innocent purple ball. However, your eyes transform into metaphorical daggers as they lock onto the source of the havoc, revealing a telltale hole in the once-pristine surface of your beloved greenhouse. 

A surge of anger courses through your veins, a visceral reaction to the shattered tranquility mirrored in the glass strewn across the grass. While distant voices from your neighbor try to penetrate your consciousness, your focus remains ensnared by the chaos within the greenhouse—the fractured plants and the disarrayed remnants of what was once a sanctuary. 

Navigating the shards with cautious steps, you venture into the greenhouse, the air heavy with a sense of apprehension and loss. As you survey the wreckage, the toll becomes painfully clear—fragments of tomatoes, cucumbers, and watermelons lay strewn, their promise of abundance now reduced to a heartbreaking scene of destruction.

An inferno of rage surges through your veins, akin to liquid fire or molten lava, an elemental force consuming reason and calm. The greenhouse, once a sanctuary, now stands as a testament to the havoc wrought—its structural integrity compromised, and the once-vibrant plants broken and battered. 

Your gaze fixes on the offending purple ball, and in a sudden revelation, the realization lands like a forceful blow—it's a sinister gift from your new neighbor. A surge of fury engulfs you, a tempest that ignites within, transforming your blood into a boiling cauldron of rage until the world before your eyes is tainted with a visceral shade of red. 

Driven by an uncontrollable wave of anger, you storm outside, seizing the ominous purple ball with a fierce determination. Each step to your new neighbor is punctuated by the rhythmic thud of your stampede, a declaration of intent that resonates with your frustration.

Amidst the clash of emotions, a figure emerges—a man with disheveled silver hair hurtling toward you, hands raised in a gesture of surrender, a young child at his side. 

The ball gripped tightly in your hand becomes both a weapon and a question mark as you confront the silver-haired man. The fury in your voice is palpable, a tempest churning within each word as you demand answers. “What is this?” you seethe, elevating the purple sphere as a visual indictment, challenging him to reckon with the consequences of his actions. 

“A ball?” he responds with a nervous chuckle, his hand seeking solace through the disheveled landscape of silver hair at the back of his head. Beside him, a little boy, no older than six, clings to his leg with a grip that speaks of both innocence and trepidation. 

“You think you’re smart, huh?” you begin, the words laden with a potent mix of frustration and mounting anger. The simmering emotions rise like a tide within you, unleashing a renewed flood of resentment that threatens to engulf your entire being.

“I'm so sorry about the ball. We didn't mean to throw it over the fence—” the man starts to apologize, but your tolerance for explanations dwindles to nothing. You cut him off with an air of absolute dismissal, leaving no room for excuses or justifications.

“You shattered my greenhouse!” you roar in frustration, the anger propelling the ball from your hand towards him. In a deft move, he catches it effortlessly against his chest, the tension in the air palpable.

“I'm so sorry, I didn't mea—” he begins, but you cut through his attempt to explain with a dismissive wave.

“I don't care! You should be mindful of other people's property. I had plants in there that are now broken and useless,” you declare, your voice stern and scolding. The words emerge like a verbal reprimand, each syllable charged with the weight of your anger. As you speak, the intensity manifests physically, your breaths becoming huffs of air, mirroring the turbulent emotions that still churn within you. 

You observe the man's persistent attempts at apology, and the child clings even tighter to his sturdy thigh, as if seeking refuge in the face of the storm brewing in front of him.

“Fuck you. Don't let it happen again,” you spit, the words laden with an unrelenting edge. You observe him swiftly cover the child's ears, shielding innocence from the raw exchange. Just as you pivot to leave, a tense silence lingering, he finds his voice once more. 

Observing him withdraw his hands from the child's ears, he takes a measured step in your direction. “Look, lady,” he begins, his tone a blend of frustration and assertion, “I already apologized. There's no reason to be so crude, especially not in front of a kid.”

Your gaze swiftly traverses them from head to toe, a brusque assessment. “Like I give a shit,” you retort with a dismissive snort.

“Joon, why is the lady mad?” inquires the boy, casting a curious glance at your neighbor. 

“Well, we ruined her greenhouse, which we've already apologized for. Now I'm starting to think she's just stuck up and has a stick up her ass,” your neighbor explains in a composed tone to the child, who simply gapes at the blunt choice of words.

The audacity of his words hits you like an unexpected blow. Stuck up? The incredulity courses through you as you grapple with the absurdity of the accusation. Him, the one who shattered your pride and joy, casting you as the haughty one?

“Well, fuck you!” you scream in frustration, punctuating the sentiment with a defiant middle finger. With a final act of rebellion, you storm away, retreating back into your house, your fury a palpable force propelling your every step. 

Gasping for breath, you stumble inside, a disheveled embodiment of raw emotion. Jungkook gazes at you, confusion etched on his face as he questions, “What happened?”

In a huff, you explain, “Piece of shit neighbor broke my greenhouse,” the words tumble out, each syllable a testament to the frustration gripping you. With a perfunctory motion, you snatch the tray from Jungkook, who had kindly retrieved it from the oven when the cookies were ready. 

Now, the sweet aroma of accomplishment is tainted, and the once-desired treats feel like a bitter offering. You contemplate discarding them, convinced your neighbor doesn't deserve the indulgence born from your hard work and nurturing care.

“What are you doing?” Jungkook queries with genuine concern, his worry palpable in the furrow of his brows and the earnest tone of his voice. Clutching the tray, you navigate towards the trash can, your actions leaving an air of uncertainty hanging between you two.

“Throwing them out?” you retort, the words a sharp echo in the air as you lock eyes with Jungkook. 

“Don't! I'll eat them,” Jungkook pleads, motioning for you to spare the tray from its impending fate in the trash. 

A flicker of reluctance dances in your eyes, but the prospect of salvaging the cookies prevails. After all, it would be a shame to let them go to waste merely because your neighbor is a piece of shit

Despite Jungkook's plea for you to set aside your fury and accept the apology from your new neighbor, the ember of resentment within you refuses to be extinguished. 

For reasons unknown, a bitter taste lingers within you, refusing to let go. The turmoil is inexplicable, but the remnants of resentment persist. He didn't just break your greenhouse; he shattered a piece of your sanctuary. Now, held together with a temporary tapestry of plastic, the wounded structure serves as a constant reminder, a tangible testament to the disruption that's not easily brushed aside.

Not to mention the plants that withered away that fateful day. Yes, they perished under the weight of the intrusion, and no, you refuse to consider it as mere drama, as Jungkook suggested. 

Anger bubbles within you, a volatile force demanding retribution. In the crucible of resentment, a calculated decision takes root: to do the only thing that feels just—sabotage some of his. An eye for an eye, the ancient adage whispers in your mind.

Thus, you find yourself meticulously gluing his mailbox together, rendering it an inoperable shell that denies him the simple act of receiving mail or opening the damn thing! 

A sense of self-satisfaction courses through you as you observe him from the vantage point of your living room window, wrestling with his unyielding mailbox, frustration etched across his face. 

A laugh of vindication escapes your lips as you revel in his futile struggle. His bewildered gaze sweeps the surroundings, a clear sign that he fails to comprehend what's wrong with his once-functional mailbox. Frustration etches lines on his face before he concedes, retreating back into the confines of his home. 

Jungkook sidles up next to you, a quizzical expression on his face. “Is that your handiwork?” he inquires, pointing towards your neighbor's now dysfunctional mailbox. 

A chuckle escapes your lips, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Yeah.”

“You're being childish and mean,” he reproaches, shaking his head in disapproval of your actions. A chuckle escapes him, a teasing glint in his eyes. “I bet you like him,” he remarks with a knowing smile, strolling past you. 

You gape at him, disbelief etched across your face. No. No such thing. “I fucking hate him, and he deserves it,” you retort vehemently, the raw intensity in your voice emphasizing the depth of your disdain. 

Author’s note(2): Thank you so much for reading! 🌸 I appreciate every like, comment and reblog, and please don’t be afraid to let me know what you think;  your kind words makes me extremely happy 💜

| s.masterlist | m.masterlist |  next →

[bigtreefest]

Chapter 2: Cooks in the Kitchen

From: The Rainmaker Series

Pairing: Mob! Steve x Forensic Scientist! Reader

Summary: Everyone hates a backseat driver. And a surprise guest when you’re not at your best.

Word count: 3,234

Content/warnings: TW: dead body and all you would expect in forensic science, I tried to make this not graphic, mentions of bruising, mentions of torture and abuse, sassy and borderline mean reader, awkward Steve who overthinks, reluctant? flirting, allusions to and mentions of murder

Author’s Note: For my dearly beloved @krirebr please know that you’re loved and appreciated by us all. I hope this helps, just a little bit. (Extra angsty, hopefully to your tastes)😘

What I’m gonna say is Decks seems very on edge compared to how she was before. Her guard came up out of ‘nowhere?’ Hm, that’s weird… or is it?

Anyway, these are Loupe glasses, if you’re wondering. They let you see tiny things up close and at a better angle.

Comments, reblogs, asks, and any feedback is so welcome and appreciated. Thank you for reading!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

< Prev | Series Masterlist | Next >

After your weekend at the farm, Steve drove you home to return to your normal life. As much as you loved being out in the country, city life was definitely more your speed. You immediately went back to work and were happy to keep your busy routine going. Sure, a weekend away from screens and solvents was a breath of fresh air, but this was where you thrived.

Despite the way there were new, more outlandish cases to deal with, the days were surprisingly routine. Come in, visit a crime scene, run some tests, go home, do it again. You lived for that sort of zen. The detachment of simply putting your head down and getting to work was what you were used to, and then once you were home, it was like a sanctuary. You could lounge, pick up another hobby out of the thousand you’d already started, and crawl into your fresh sheets.

It’s not like you were entirely a hermit, though. You got along with your coworkers and would commonly joke around with them, but first and foremost, you were a proper worker, doing your job. When something really needed done, you’d lock down in the lab, music blasting, and crank out results.

Steve was the same way. He tried to keep his days as routine as possible, despite the way work brought something new everyday. Rival gangs needed monitored and law people needed bribed. Shipments and production needed to be kept on a tight schedule and up to pace with increasing demand.

There wasn’t much time for it, but he’d found certain images and memories start to take hold in his mind. They were different from the grade school ones of Bucky, or his times learning the ropes of his trade, or the first suit he’d ever worn. They were new, they were…warm? Lacked that same rigidity? They were of you. Driving his car effortlessly, petting a baby goat as it bleated happily, teaching him to dance…small, little moments that he couldn’t let go of, but he didn’t have time to replay enough.

He did his best to stay proper in his business dealings. Steve was known for his gentlemanly demeanor, truly a golden boy of the underground, or…at least as much of one as an individual could be given the legality loopholes he was constantly trying to jump through.

On the outside, he was smooth as a beach. Fluid with the crashes of waves this industry threw at him. He’d gotten good at rolling with the punches without a single blond hair out of place. But inside? It was a hurricane. The wind raged and echoed in his ears, putting him on edge. It was sensory overload.

Everyday, he found his attention wanting to wander more and more to that simpler time, not romanticizing it for the lack of pressing responsibility, but for the fact he spent genuine moments with someone who was unlike those in his world. Unlike the men so obsessed with maintaining their place on top or squashing others to get there. They were all about the money, but you were working for the people, and for the betterment of the city. To solve cases and give peace to families. And Steve knew he was all too often on the other side of that, even if he prided himself on only taking out the worst of the worst. The ones who deserved it. They were the ones endangering women and children, who to him, were the distastefully vulnerable and undeserving of wrath, despite the fates they were met with from the awful men Steve rid the world of. He wasn’t breaking his set of morals and rules, he was just breaking the law sometimes. Steve was a good man, he just happened to make his living doing bad things.

He didn’t have time to reflect on that right now, though. Things had seriously picked up in recent weeks. Bucky was soon to return, but it didn’t help that Steve felt like Lloyd was unrelentingly on their asses. Leading the organization when it came to the normal stuff was fine, but the extra protections Bucky was making him run, along with the extensive research and monitoring was already taking its toll. Steve was used to a lack of sleep, he basically lived on adrenaline and black coffee, but another night where he was fielding calls and sending out directives without a wink was causing his emotional guard to fall.

It was early morning as Steve sat at his desk. He’d ordered Sam to head out hours ago, but as the sun was cresting over the horizon, not even that searing glow could keep Steve’s tired mind at bay. The levees against the flood were weakened beyond belief. The hurricane was about to make landfall.

Just then, the phone rang. It was one of his contacts down at the police station. That wasn’t new, but the specific news was and Steve wanted to be there in person to get every bit of information he could... and perhaps catch a glimpse at the one person who could scratch that new itch in his brain. Maybe, finally, at least he could catch a nap in the car, as Steve called Gio to drive him over.

Over the couple weeks you’ve been back, you couldn’t help the way your mind wandered constantly, either. Even your favorite playlist couldn’t keep you on track, so you opted for silence, the scenes replaying of your time on the farm doing plenty to help you block out your surroundings.

You were working on a particularly difficult case currently. There was no time for distractions. The overcast sky just added to the ambiance of the feeling that something unusual was looming over you. You pulled yourself out of your thoughts, along with the keys from the ignition, and took a deep breath, letting it out sharply to get yourself ready. When you’d gotten out of the SUV and to the crime scene, Detective Lang greeted you.

“So I’ve got good news and bad news. Which do you want first?”

He guided you along the River walk and down the rocky shore where a victim laid, waves still lapping over her feet as photographers and cops gathered around the scene, surveying it for evidence. A small crowd had gathered along the pathway, held back by barricades and uniformed officers. At least you were here before the news crews.

“Bad news first, always. You know that.” You spoke with a purpose, slipping on your gloves after pushing up the sleeves of your department-issued windbreaker and cuffing your pants so they wouldn’t get wet.

“So far, looks like it was blunt force trauma with a side of torture. Very little evidence to go off of, especially considering there are no open wounds and the tools used for this kinda thing could be in any household.”

You crouched down by the body and immediately took note of the bruising. You hummed in acknowledgement and looked back up at the detective, his head framed by the cloudy, gray sky, the rising sun now hidden. Fitting for a tragedy like this. A woman your age subjected to that sort of an ending…

“And the good news?”

He sighed, looking up at the sky, hands on his hips, before he dropped his head back down towards you.

He winced. “Body’s fresh? Disposal doesn’t appear very well thought-out.”

You nodded and looked around for any piece of evidence that hadn’t washed away. He was right, it was gonna be difficult to pull many testable elements.

“Well, I’ll do the usual work-up, then, and let you know when you’re good to get everything over to the medical examiner.”

He curtly nodded and turned on his heel to speak with the witnesses before you began to pull out your kit, swabbing for anything of note.

After you finished collecting everything you could, you carefully slipped back through the background and away from the slew of reporters now blanketing the scene. Ugh, you hated those block heads. Especially Lucas Bell, the weird little ray of sunshine you went to school with growing up. For some reason, he thought the two of you were actually friends, despite never having even given him the signal you appreciated his presence. The worst part: you could tell he wasn’t hitting on you. He would genuinely seek you out at crime scenes, that gross happy smile on his face, calling you by the birth name almost no one used anymore in favor of your college nickname. Every time, it was, “hey, remember me, old pal? Great to see you! Any information you’re willing to share?” Who the hell was so chipper when their job was literally to report tragedies?

You bobbled your head as you mocked him to yourself and got back into your work SUV. Ugh, you hated that guy. And all the other reporters. You didn’t wanna be on camera. What if you wanted to work for the FBI one day? Huh? What then? Can’t have your face out there all willy nilly and then expect to be doing covert ops. Nope. You prepared to race back to the precinct, ready to drown yourself in an afternoon of attempting to suck evidence out of a cotton swab caked in river grime and essentially, air, if you could count that as evidence.

You drove back through the pouring rain. Another thing to be annoyed by. First, the longing for your simple weekend once again, then the intrusive thoughts about annoying little reporters, and now, the near-flooding on the roads. You could hear her in your head now, Bee saying “rain makes corn. It’s a good thing.” You rolled your eyes, to be honest, you liked the rainy atmosphere, but you know what rain also makes? Bad drivers. At this point, it was just best to get back to the lab, buckle down, and stay there, where no one could possibly bother you.

You were hours in to your intensive testing. Your spectrometry readings gave the smallest peaks, hard to say if the readings actually were something or just background noise. You were happy to put in the time, but something just felt…off. It was infuriating and not helping your mood, but you tried your best to keep it separated from work. It wasn’t perfect, but it was your best. Another small thing going wrong could push you over the edge, though.

You opted to just look at a small fabric sample, deciphering if there truly was some thread of note caught in the weave. You just needed to concentrate and you knew you could find something. You were purely focused and zoomed in, using your Loupe glasses, paired with several lamps overhead, with the highest hopes of even a shred of confirma-

“Decks? More like Specks.”

The sudden voice that echoed through the lab startled you, causing your head to shoot up and bump against one of the metal lamps.

“Ow!” At that same time, the forceps and piece of fabric flew out of your hands and onto the floor. It didn’t help that you knocked into your instrument tray on the way, sending all those onto the floor, as well.

Great, now you had to go to the stock room to find a new package of sterile ones. This was the last set left in the lab. You looked up from where you watched the evidence fall, rubbing your forehead with the back of your gloved hand, eyes narrow at the business man in a suit who was previously leaned against your doorway, now tentatively walking towards you to crouch on the ground.

“Steve, what the hell?” You trailed off for a second. “You and Bee really do have the same sense of humor. I thought she just told me that as a selling point.” It came out as an irritated growl. You rolled your eyes as you squatted down to start cleaning your mess.

Steve laughed. Selling point? Bee talked to you about him? And tried to make him appealing? He wasn’t sure why, but he felt a certain warmth in his stomach at that. He pushed it down as much as he could. Either way, he truly did get along well with her.

“Well you know what they say, birds of a feather and all.” He joined you near the floor after having grabbed a glove, picking up some stray instruments and placing them back in the metal holding tray.

You muttered lowly as you finally stood up and turned away from him, after grabbing the fabric off the floor gingerly and placing it in a plastic protective case. “More like wasps of a stinger.”

Steve disposed of his gloves and looked over the results on your computer. You quickly hit the keys to lock the screen, sure to cast him a nasty glare. The last thing you needed was to get accused of leaking evidence.

What was he doing here, anyway? With those broad shoulders and that skinny waist. What did he even need shoulders that big for? How did he even shop for clothes? You swear his waist was literally the same circumference as your thigh. They don’t carry stuff like that in department stores.

Steve looked at you with a confused glance as you removed your gloves and washed your hands. There was a hint of humor in his voice, but it was mostly filled with caution at your attitude.

“Um, I don’t really shop for clothes? I’ve got a tailor. He’s pretty good.”

After your hands were dry, you facepalmed harder than ever before. You couldn’t believe you said that out loud. Maybe you did need to interact with more people outside of work. You were too comfortable talking to yourself. You took a deep breath before turning around and looking at Steve again. His face now mostly held tentative kindness, and that was a nice change to the anger that was sitting in your belly all day today. You still couldn’t help what you spat back, though.

“You have a tailor? In this economy? Of course you do…rich prick.” The last part was grumbled under your breath, but Steve still caught it. Where was this hostility coming from? He thought the two of you had gotten along great before. What changed?

Steve’s hurt caused him to fire back, albeit much nicer than you had. “You’re calling me rich? Decks, I’ve seen your apartment, it’s nice. Especially for this city. Way nicer than my first place.”

First off, what was that supposed to mean? You were still suspicious about exactly what Steve and Bucky did for a living. You knew they made a lot of money. Steve wore designer suits, if he could help it, and you assumed Bucky did, as well, but what business did they have being this built?

You let go of that, though, wanting to just get back to work after the disturbance, but why had you been disturbed in the first place?

“Steven, what are you doing in my lab?”

He was taken aback. Woah, full names. He knew your full name, but didn’t dare to find out what would become of him if he used it. It didn’t seem like many did. He wanted to go about this the right way. He didn’t want abuse his delicate position as a friend of a friend when you were so close to the law…yet.

He stood upright and pressed his shoulders back. Right, he was here on business. He had to remember that. It wasn’t a personal call and he had to stay professional.

“I was actually meeting with Scott, er, Detective Lang. He called me about the new case that came in this morning.”

You nodded slowly. “You knew her?”

Why did that make you nervous? Of course Steve knew women, like, duh, but something burning rose in your chest in anticipation of his response. Why did you care? You didn’t even want him here. Right?

He shook his head lightly. “No…well, sort of? She was an employee of one of my businesses. A salon.”

One of his businesses, of course. A salon was…interesting… but you guessed not out of the question with how perfect his stupid perfect hair always was. Whatever, just because he was here for some questioning, doesn’t mean he had to pay you a visit.

“Okay…so why did you come in here?”

You looked up at him from the odds and ends you were shuffling around your work bench out of nervousness.

“I actually wanted to see you, maybe help out a little?”

You eyed him skeptically, ignoring the way your chest sent a tingle down towards your fingertips. “You know when someone offers to keep close to a case like that, it usually means they had something to do with it, right?”

Steve put his hands up in surrender. “I swear this wasn’t me. I just genuinely care for my employees. Did you check under the fingernails? Maybe there was some DNA there or something?”

Your gaze became even more burning towards him. “Yes, Steven. I checked under the nails. That’s like, the first thing you do in cases like this. But why would you know that, anyway? And how can you say you care so much about your employees if you didn’t even know the girl?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. He was usually much smoother than this. How did you intimidate him so much so suddenly. Oh no…Is that where the name ‘Decks’ came from? Were you gonna hit him? Deck him? Did you have a pension for beating guys up? If he made a wrong move, would you literally punch him? Give him a black eye? Sure, much worse had happened to him before, but he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to emotionally recover if the damage came from you.

Either way, Steve didn’t want to find out, so he continued quite cautiously and uncomfortable within your domain, lacking the confidence that came so easily to him in all his usual business dealings and the quasi-leadership role he found himself in.

“I um…I watch a lot of CSI shows?” He hoped that was believable, but he knew it came out like a squeak, almost. He may as well be a little kid losing fights in a back alley again. He cleared his throat in an attempt to get his voice back to normal. “I do care for my employees, though. And my reputation, and the ability to make sure nothing like this happens again to anyone involved with me.”

You sighed at that. You can understand the want to prevent future disasters, especially when it came to someone working so low at the bottom of the food chain for such a major company. As you slipped your Loupe glasses back on and readjusted your lamps, you gestured for Steve to take a seat in your computer chair while you moved to a stool by the lab bench.

“Okay, fine. I’ll let you hang around, but don’t tell me how to do my job.”

You couldn’t help the way the corner of your lip turned up, just out of Steve’s sight, as he strutted over and plopped down into the rolly chair, watching you with a smile and his fingers laced behind his head.

Next >

Bonus A/N: I’m very excited for what’s going to grow between Steve and Decks. She’s a lil independent thing and he’s just so “idk what to do bc I’m supposed to be in control but I’m doing everything on her terms” and I love it. Lmk what you think!!!

Series Taglist:

@evie-119

[seraphiism]

❀ ﾟ. ༄ ┊ 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐧 ;

( you are a living thing in the family of living things ; the place you belong is here. )

characters : alhaitham • xiao • wanderer • childe • zhongli quote cr : madeleine jubilee saito a/n : for my enemy @micheya for the @favonius-library gift event !! i hope you enjoy this micheya i'll never be mean to you ever again <3

↬ alhaitham ࿐ ࿔

but a scribe does not quite understand the feeling of sanctuary, such sentiments out of sight, out of mind-- until it comes to you, that is. in the morning hours, he wakes at the usual time, today's schedule the first recollection as he ponders the most efficient way to go about his tasks. he opens his eyes, determined to set off in yet another hectic day, but there is something that throws him for a loop, catches him entirely off-guard :

you, who rests comfortably in his arms, the warmth of your body felt against his.

alhaitham blinks once, twice, tries to rid of the haze of exhaustion. he's fortunate you're still sleeping; you surely would have laughed at that flicker of surprise that you so rarely see from him.

ah, he remembers now, remembers how you fell asleep in the peaceful silence as he read his book, free hand idly tracing circles into your skin.

in this moment, he recognizes something like a belonging, so he smiles a gentle smile, presses a kiss to your temple.

at this rate, he may as well ignore his plans, sleep in just a little bit more. perhaps this decision will result in chaos in the long run, but you are very much worth it, after all.

you always are.

↬ xiao ࿐ ࿔

a yaksha knows of his role and what his life is destined for : a protector of liyue, conqueror of demons, a burial site for evils and grief alike. xiao is careful to keep his distance from you, the mortal life something he has never been meant to know of. but you are stubborn and relentless in your endeavors, and so you force your way into a reserved and seemingly cold heart, know that despite the corruption beneath it all, there is still a kindness and innocence that thrives in ways untold.

xiao does not think he understands loneliness. not at first, not until your constant and insistent presence.

it almost feels right, the binding of souls, the string that connects you. it almost feels as if he was meant to be at your side : your guardian, your sword and shield, your forevermore.

"i think," you begin, voice hardly above a whisper as you gaze upon liyuu from wangshu inn, "we are bound somehow, xiao." you cast a glance in his direction, a gentle affection surfacing in his eyes. "that wherever you go, i am meant to go, as well."

and a yaksha who knows only of desolation feels something beat so furiously in his chest, breath hitched and an unfamiliar exhilaration racing through his blood. he forces his gaze away, such words of affection almost too cruel. he laces his fingers with yours, and though you cannot see him when he speaks, you hear the smile in his voice.

"i belong to you." he tells you, squeezing your hand ever so gently. "wherever you go, i will follow."

↬ wanderer ࿐ ࿔

& a wanderer has lost himself in the burials of misery and memory, a bitter existence lost in a forever, reinvigorated and reincarnated into something of sorrows and a spark of redemption. something aches in the depths of a puppet, and he does not think it is the heart -- but he is not sure, in truth -- should he ever have one, would he recognize that pain? the sorrow?

would he recognize anything, he wonders?

( and he knows the answer, he does. because he knows of rage and wrath and ruin, knows what it is like to experience abandon and bitterness and everything horrid. but he cannot fathom the idea of feeling something kind, something akin to joy. peace. love. )

love-- it is not something he quite recognizes, but it is something he is beginning to understand, especially in the midst of your presence. he does not know why the feeling blooms in his chest, fills the hollows of once was, and as much as he tries to fight it, he knows that you have made your way into his newfound life, deems you as someone he cannot bear to lose.

the way his name leaves your lips is both a blessing and curse, he thinks -- the gentleness in your voice, the faint curiosity that lingers because of the flush of pink that adorns his features.

no, perhaps he does not entirely understand love yet-- but in the way your hands cup his face, a smile blooming on the curve of your lips, he knows that he will soon know its true meaning.

↬ childe ࿐ ࿔

ask childe where his home is and he will tell you high tales of his hometown : the bitter coldness, the fondness found in mischievous siblings, and memories of abyss and beyond. ask childe where his home is and he will tell you a thousand things, because truthfully, he feels that he cannot find it, not anymore. but with you, there is a feeling reminiscent of a home away from home.

"do you miss it? your home?"

childe hums, feigns deep thought. should home be defined as somewhere one deeply yearns for, a place where one thrives and feels a connection to, there are many places he deems as such. whether it is the place he grew up or the place where he learned of survivals and bloodlust and a lingering madness, he is unsure.

"often, i do." he admits, throws you a cheeky grin. but there is something in his voice that is genuine and superficial all at once -- you cannot place it, though, and somewhere in your heart, you wonder what he truly thinks and where he is truly thinking about.

he sees that hesitation, that semblance of grief that adorns your features. it's hard to catch, but he knows you all too well, and he knows it isn't because you mourn his longing. it's because you know him just as well, because you know what his answer means.

"don't worry." he tells you, a gentle smile resting on the curve of his lips as he holds your hand. he squeezes it, gentle, smile growing when you squeeze it back. "you're my home too, you know?"

↬ zhongli ࿐ ࿔

oh, how the ages have passed, the days gone by a blur. in the life of a higher being, there is much sorrow to be found and recognized. in the life of a higher being, zhongli understands feelings all too well : how they dwell so deeply in the heart of a dragon, settle in the depths of an old spirit, unable to seek their way out. how he carries a lifetime of memories with him, the remnants of those he has lost and loved a forever in his mind.

zhongli knows of haven, knows it to be many places all at once. his heart belongs everywhere he has ever existed, and in this present time, it knows you to be harbor.

the scent of tea fills a silent air, breaks his focus. you pour it, cautious, place it gently before him and take a seat by his side. many a time you have found him deep in thought, a lingering loneliness in the air ; in these moments, you dare not disrupt him, only seeking his company in silence. you rest your head on his shoulder, hand gently placed over his.

it is a very tranquil thing, this feeling of serenity. he smiles a blithe smile, knows that he will remember the comfort that is you for many lifetimes to come.

( there are many places he recognizes as refuge, zhongli thinks, the floral scent and your warmth enveloping his senses, and you are the most important one. )

[acupofqueercoffee]

“A healer, a lover, a killer”

Unohana Retsu x Female Reader

wc : 6700+

cw : arranged marriage // sexual assault towards the very end // ***non-con is NOT between reader and retsu*** // blood and gore // graphic description of corpses // hurt-comfort // fluff and fluff and fluff and fluff // flirting // wives // minazuki is a gentle-giant 🥺 // murderous milf // older woman x younger woman

ffs i just want to spoil my mommy rotten (and be spoiled rotten) is it too much to ask for ಥ◡ಥ i’m desperate to do her justice but bruhh she sure is difficult to write 🥲

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

Marriage, in essence, is a sacred binding of two people, or rather two lovers during which they vow as one to cherish the beauties, to endure the burdens of life.

There may have been a time when you have fancied such foolish fantasies, entertained little hope of finding a love so profound that it will bleed colours into your lonely, miserable life.

Alas, fate does not favour you. But of course, it never does. Likely will never do.

You were born earning the resentment of your father, for his beloved wife perished as you came to be. She was the apple of his eyes, the one possession that he dearly cherished, and swore to cherish in perpetuity. With fingers entwined and two hearts as one, they had endured the burdens of life in tandem, and just when it was beginning to thrive, a promising future stretched out ahead of them like a perpetual sunrise, a curse befell them in the form of you, oh evil, despicable you.

Bearing the brunt of the mother’s death is the child as your father treats you with much hostility. Within him resides not a dot of affection for you, and he makes a point of rubbing salt into your wounds, reminding you in every possible way that you are a murderer, an abomination, a hellspawn on a sacred land. Your life is no better than a slave’s, easier perhaps without the need to exert yourself, but certainly not kinder without anyone to converse with, much less to confide in. Even a slave has companions whereas you who is abhorred and forsaken by your own flesh and blood, have no one in this world but yourself.

Thus, in your father’s resentful hands, the flickering light in your heart eventually, completely dies.

When you have finally come to terms with your life as it is, marriage comes to you in the form of a cruel joke.

If you have been none the wiser, you may have believed it to be a chance at a better life, a crack of sunshine through a sky full of gloom. And for a while, you have. Naive enough to hope. Foolish enough to dream. All it takes is a flick of your father’s merciless tongue, and the fool’s paradise, in which you have been taking sanctuary, comes tumbling down.

“You do not deserve to feel happiness as ephemeral as it will be. So, listen to me. And listen carefully. The Gotei 13 wanted me to hand you in saying that while you may not presently look the part, you are a menace to soul society. You should have never been born to begin with. Instead of her, it should have been you.”

“Despite everything, in the end, I very generously agreed to relinquish you under only one condition. That you will be wedded to one of the captains. Such an outstanding opportunity is hard to come by and apparently, they were desperate enough to get their hands on you whatever the cost. I requested that the wedding be held to the nines for the sake of publicity. People need to witness it with their own eyes in order for them not to talk foul of my family.”

“I can’t have the whole boat going putrid because of a single carp, can I? So, enjoy it while it lasts, dear daughter because I can’t promise that you’ll come out unscathed once they’re done with you.”

════════ ∘◦ ✾ ◦∘ ════════

Your soon-to-be other half is a stranger. You know about her as much as you know about the outside world: in other words, next to nothing. Except that her eyes are reminiscent of azurites, and her hair, a moonless night, the woman with whom you will be spending the rest of your life is merely a stranger to you. But then again, with their motives kept under wraps, you will be lucky to survive through the night.

Fleeing is out of the question for you understand the extent of your capabilities, and to flee right now will be tantamount to dicing with death. Despite your father’s despicable attempts to trap you in despair, you decide that playing docile is quite possibly your best bet. Come rain or shine, you will survive. You have not endured the torments of your wicked father after all this time simply to be trampled like a weed. What an insult it will be to your painstaking efforts.

So, when you are asked if you will take the stranger before you as your lifelong partner, without hesitation, you say, “I do”. Legions of people bear witness to your false union as your wife echoes your words; her dulcet voice, like the first trickle of rain, slakes your drought.

“Won’t you seal the deal with a kiss, Captain Unohana?”

Amongst the circle of people who are uniformly dressed in white overcoats, the one whose voice has sounded mischievous has been a man with a straw hat and an additional pink garb.

Unohana. Unohana. Unohana.

A pretty name indeed, as befits a pretty woman.

The first half of his statement is entirely lost on you as you repeat the name in your mind over and over and over again. It is the delicate crawl of fingers on your face that rectifies your lapse of concentration. First thing you notice, once you have blinked the haze away, is her violet gaze that is caressing your features and her face that has unexpectedly appeared under your nose, leaving little to no space to the point that your breaths mingle.

The warmness of her breath that ghosts along the apple of your cheek smells faintly of wild flowers and herbs; then comes the silky press of her lips atop the corner of your mouth. Given the circumstances, the kiss is not entirely unpleasant. If nothing else, it is kind, and although you loathe to admit it, your heart sings under her touch.

You fail to mention before that she has rose buds for lips, and now, upon departure, they bestow upon you a beautiful pink blossom smile. It is serene, strangely soothing, and you feel at peace with the woman who is your wife, all kind eyes and saccharine smiles, but whose full name you have yet to learn.

As inclined as you feel to assume that the kiss has somehow irreversibly put you under her spell, the more logical part of you know that neither your mind nor body is tampered with; your admiration for her beauty is born purely of your unadulterated self. Since the dawn of your life, it is ironically in the hands of a stranger whose intentions with you are still unclear that you experience tenderness for the very first time. Some semblance of affection has visited you in the form of a palm cradling your cheek and lips caressing your skin, and although you know it to be nothing more than a performance, it is undeniably the closest that you have ever felt to being loved.

Her gesture has understandably moved you in the warmest of ways, and it is only given that, as she continues to drench you in gentleness and swaddle you in kindness, you will grow to forget the true nature of your marriage.

════════ ∘◦ ✾ ◦∘ ════════

“Follow me.”

Such has been your wife’s first words to you, a command that leaves no room for rejection, as she comes to meet you in her, or rather your shared quarters. In her absence, unsure of what to do with yourself, you have been sitting on your heels by the side of a tea table, anxiously awaiting her arrival, but immediately on her command, you arise to your feet. And then, follow her you do as she leads you outside.

In the middle of the veranda, a wooden tray lies in wait, holding on it a ceramic pot and two ceramic cups. The side of the veranda, towards which the pair of you are heading, lacks the railing, and it overlooks the other buildings in Seireitei. When she goes to take a seat beside the tray, you silently watch her. Only upon being motioned to do the same do you mirror your wife. The night is tranquil and the sky, brimming with tiny twinkles. The flickering lights from the buildings below and the glittering celestial bodies above; together, they give you the illusion that you are being swallowed into an infinite pool of stars.

In the quietness of the night, she speaks with a gentle lilt that is carried to you by a zephyr.

“You have questions for me, I take it?”

Simply sitting still in leisurely contemplation of the stars, she oozes charisma, and you cannot help but admire her. Due to the moon bathing her in its silver glow, her long hair that is tied loosely around the small of her back shines with an otherworldly sheen. She is the juxtaposition of darks and lights as the charcoal of her strands that elegantly frame her angelic face accentuates the milkiness of her skin.

“Am I that dangerous of a person for you to willingly go through with this folly?”

It is more or less a slip of your tongue. There are many questions to which you seek answers, and at the first chance, without really thinking, you end up blurting out the one thing that is on the forefront of your mind.

When her eyes seek your face and your eyes subsequently are greeted by her face, to your surprise, a smile crawls onto her lips.

“My, what gives you the impression that this marriage is a sham?”

“I was told by my father that I was to be surrendered to Seireitei, and that all he had asked in exchange was for a captain to wed me very publicly, because he hated the idea of his family name being tarnished by the likes of me.”

“The likes of you?”

Tea is poured equally into two cups; one finds itself in your hand whereas the other is taken into elegant fingers. The warmth of the liquid as you take a delicate sip thaws the chill in your bones. By the time your voice makes an escape from your lips, it is accompanied by the billowing steam from your cup.

“A menace to soul society.”

“Hmm, is that what he said?”

Your response has been a nod, and she receives it with a hum.

“I see.”

Cradling the cup in your palms, you twiddle your thumbs over the rim, lips caught between your teeth.

“Is it true?”

“Partially, that is.”

At her words, confusion reigns. However intrigued you are, you wait patiently, poising for elaboration as she takes a languid sip of her tea.

Once again, she holds your stare before she speaks. The tilt of her lips that settles back into a line indicates solemnity.

“What I’m about to tell you is highly confidential, but since it concerns you, we’ve come to a collective agreement that it wouldn’t hurt to inform you of it. That, and we necessitate your cooperation.”

“You are not inherently a peril, although if fallen into wrong hands, you will inadvertently prove hazardous to Soul Society. You have innate powers that, while you may not be able to use them, make you a catalyst of sorts. It is not Reiryoku as Shinigami possess which therefore makes you a peculiarly. Even amongst the Gotei 13, only four of us is made aware of this phenomenon, meaning that your father, too, was kept in the dark. We thought it best to take you under our wings before any of the risks become a reality.”

“Simply put, after thorough investigation of your father, we exploited his hatred for you so that you will be relinquished to us without him making a fuss. Additionally, in order not to arouse suspicion, we’ve made a false announcement to our fellow captains and subordinates. They know you to be my longtime lady-love whom I’ve decided to tie the knots with. A flourishing merchant such as your father would surely lust for publicity. He was only playing right into our hands by stating his one condition.”

Even though the bombardment of information is too much to process, now, you know with certainty that you are not necessarily rotten to the core, and that your stranger wife alongside her companions harbour no ill will towards you.

As she takes another dainty sip of the tea in her cup, you silently mirror her, mesmerised all the while by the grace and elegance with which she carries herself.

“Although an apology is in order for my sudden behaviour at the altar, as I’ve explained to you, displays of affection and physical touch are mandatory for the believability of our story. This marriage isn’t merely for show in that we have to talk and act as married couples do. Do try to put up with it.”

Talk and act as married couples do?

The implication alone has your cheeks ripening into cherries, the redness of which is only amplified by the unexpected words that go tumbling down your lips.

“I didn’t particularly mind the kiss, so an apology isn’t necessary.”

“Is that so?” The delicateness of her voice has a playful lilt to it, and it pleasantly tickles your ears. “Then, my dear wife, I’ll be counting on you from now on.”

“I- I’ll do my best.”

“My, my, aren’t you a good girl.” She wears a smile on her face that drips delight while you are painted red to the tips of your ears.

Good Girl.

Those two little words alone has single-handedly put you in a trance that the rest of the night passes in a blur. As far as you remember, the pair of you sip tea in silence until when she suggests retiring for the night, like a lost puppy, you follow her. Her quarters become your quarters and her futon, your futon because, as far as a married couple is concerned, living separately is out of the question.

Suffice to say, on the night of your wedding, you lie awake in bed, unaccustomed to the warmth of another body just inches away from yours. Amidst counting the tiles on the ceiling, you peek a look at your partner to find her at rest. Even asleep, she truly is a sight to behold. However, unbeknownst to you, she shares the same sentiment, and it is proven soon by the voice that calls out to you in the death of night.

“I’m surprised that you took me at my words without the faintest hint of scepticism.”

“Call it a gut feeling if you will but you seem to mean me no harm. Besides, I have nothing to lose by taking a chance.”

On the night of your wedding, you wear a smile to sleep.

Maybe,

Just maybe,

your chance at a better life, after all, is not entirely an impossibility.

════════ ∘◦ ✾ ◦∘ ════════

Unohana Retsu.

The name of your wife which you have forgotten to ask her directly has been revealed to you by her Lieutenant in the name of Isane Kotetsu.

Captain Unohana, as her subordinates address her as, is surprisingly a natural at playing lovers.

Likewise, touch-starved and thirsty for endearment, aside from shyness that stems from inexperience and her offhand compliments, you take on the role of a love-struck wife with much ease.

“My, my, darling, is that a proper way to see your wife off? How cold.”

She does a convincing job of sounding crestfallen as you walk her out of her estate, sending her off to work with only a wave of your hand.

Upon hearing her sigh, you walk up to her, letting your palms glide over the chest of your finely-dressed Captain. A kiss is demanded of you, and so, in the presence of her Lieutenant and a few other subordinates, you drop your lips to the apple of her cheek, murmuring your utterances into her fragrant skin.

“Do your best, Hana. I’ll be awaiting your return.”

Genuine surprise can be found in the widening of her eyes, albeit lasting only for a fraction of a second. And then, her lips are curving skyward, settling into a saccharine smile.

If the kiss that finds you on the tip of your nose, like the gentle flap of a butterfly’s wings, is not enough to sweep you off your feet, then the pad of the thumb that caresses the bone of your cheek certainly is. Ample, in fact.

“See you later, little flower.”

════════ ∘◦ ✾ ◦∘ ════════

Your wife has an unusual way of styling her beautiful long hair.

She tends to wear it in a thick braid, but instead of letting it dangle behind her back, she lets it hang below her chin almost in the form of a necklace. You will go as far as to say that it is one of her idiosyncratic features, for without it, her attire for work is incomplete. On idler days when she remains at the estate, her hair can be seen tied loosely at the small of her back.

When you have noticed how difficult it is to care for a hair of such thickness and length, you have expressed your desire to do it for her. To your delight, she has let you, and so, here you are, gingerly applying essential oil to a mane of dark hair as you comb it with great reverence.

You admire the way she sits, spine always straight, perfectly poised. The same goes for the voice that softly caresses your ears, warm and tender.

“How was your day?”

“Infinitely better than what I was used to,…” For an answer, it should suffice. And yet, “…but I’ve missed you, Hana.”

It may just be one of your flaws; you never know when to keep your mouth shut. Thankfully, she receives your divulgence with a sweet smile.

“My, you’re quite the charmer.”

Cheeks painted pink and heart thrumming giddily, you continue combing her hair. Surely, she is graced by the gods themselves; lush and healthy, her charcoal mane slips through your fingers like expensive silk.

“You called me Hana.”

“Oh! I- I did, yes. Since we’re supposed to be long time lovers, I thought it was only fitting for me to call you by a unique name. If you don’t find it agreeable, I’ll refrain from-”

“None of that. I’ve never been called a pet name, is all. It’s refreshing.”

Then, after a beat of silence, she chuckles. Until now, you have only seen her smile, having never heard her laugh or chuckle for that matter. It is the most wonderful sound, rich, warm, and the culprit behind your breath that has suddenly been stolen.

“Yachiru would like you.”

You do not know whether to rejoice or lament that such a precious sound stems from the thought of someone else. In the end, you settle on savouring it all the same.

Yachiru, whom you have the pleasure of meeting during your visit to your wife’s Ikebana Club, is quite the boisterous little lass. You feel silly and selfish in equal parts; silly for going green because of a child and selfish because you want to be the sole reason behind all the lovely sounds that she makes. On the other hand, as your wife has expected, the pink-haired girl takes an instant liking to you, sticking like glue to your side. Meanwhile, instead of paying attention to the real task at hand of arranging flowers, you end up being entranced by your wife’s gentle cadence and her distractingly gorgeous face.

When the name which you have uniquely chosen for your wife leaves your lips, Yachiru mimics you.

What you have not been expecting is for your wife to intervene.

“If you could refrain from calling me by that name Yachiru, I would appreciate it. I don’t mind you giving me a new nickname but this one is reserved for my wife. She alone calls me Hana, and I would like for it to remain that way.”

“My, Captain Unohana is very romantic!”

If you are not mistaken, the dreamy sigh comes from Matsumoto, the Lieutenant of the 10th division.

“I understand, Captain HaHa. Can I call you Captain HaHa?”

“By all means. As long as it isn’t Hana, I don’t mind.”

════════ ∘◦ ✾ ◦∘ ════════

More often than not, your wife’s placating smile is the testament to her benevolence as a healer, but there are times when she wields them as a weapon.

Having cultivated the habit of preparing lunchboxes for your wife and her Lieutenant, you deliver the homemade meals personally to her division. One of the things that you look forward to every day includes admiring your wife in her elements. Such little glimpses into her work life allows you to understand just how much of an influence she has on her subordinates.

Soft-spoken and kind-faced as the Captain of squad four is, even the rowdiest of Shinigami fear her; they regard her with much respect. You have yet to hear her raising her voice to someone, and even still, she has never had to repeat her will more than twice for the other person to obediently comply with it. There are people from the 11th division, who, according to the information that you have gathered, are supposed to be the most battle-hungry Soul Reapers in Seireitei, that at your wife’s gentle warning and excessively sweet smile will flee with their tails between their legs, leaving a trail of apologies in their wake.

“Oh my, treating me as if I’m some kind of ghost.”

Puzzled, she has wondered aloud, and you have found her expression heart-meltingly adorable.

During one of your visitations to her squad, you have also had the pleasure of befriending a special someone.

You remember marvelling at the giant sage green creature that is aloft; its form, very reminiscent of a manta ray. However, when you see someone climbing effortlessly down the back of the creature, you have been surprised, to say the least, to be greeted by the unmistakable voice of your wife.

Upon striding towards the pair of them, you fall prey to the surprise attack of an extremely wet tongue. Even though it leaves you resembling a drowned rat, what simmers inside you is the farthest from annoyance. If anything, you find the one-eyed giant quite lovable.

“Why, will you look at that.”

“What does it mean?”

“It means, sweet girl, that she likes you.”

Before you hug the bizarre creature, you peek a look at your wife. Only when you see the nod of her head do you advance.

“Oh! Right back at you…?” Another questioning look at your wife earns you her name. “Minazuki.”

“Miki, you adorable little munchkin!”

At your words, she emits a crooning sound that you are inclined to believe is her way of purring in pleasure.

════════ ∘◦ ✾ ◦∘ ════════

When your wife has some time on her hands, she has a habit of climbing mountains. It is as much a recreational activity as it is a hunt for medicinal herbs. Having been longing to accompany her during her excursions, you have, after much consideration, raised the question, only for her to readily agrees.

“Can I come?”

“I don’t see why not.”

The silence that cocoons the two of you is anything but unbearable as you amble abreast. Taking it as your opportunity, you voice the query that you have been mulling over for some time now.

“There’s something I’m curious about.”

“What are you curious about?”

“Why you?” When you steal a glance at her, you find her eyes on the track, face impassive. “There were four of you who were privy to the truth, correct? So, how come you were the one to marry me?”

Her response does not come until after a while, voice sounding serene as it usually does.

“The Captain-Commander is out of the question, and among the three of us, I was deemed the most suitable candidate. One doesn’t go out much due to how sickly he is and the other is- well, it’s unthinkable that he’ll settle for one person.”

“And what about you, Hana? Have you got no qualms?”

“Whatever the Captain-Commander asks of me, I do without question.”

Oh.

You have asked, and so she has answered. It certainly is not meant to hurt.

And yet,

“I see.”

“That, and I also happened to be the first person to learn of your existence.”

At this, you perk.

“You did? How?”

“Purely by chance, but that’s a story for another day. Now, come. The herbs I’m looking for are just up ahead.”

She teaches you about different herbs and you help her collect them, preening under her complimentary head-pats when you find the right plants, and becoming all the more hell-bent on seeking rarer herbs, for only then will you be rewarded with honey-dewed whispers. Upon stumbling across one such plant, in your excitement, you fail to see a hole in the ground as you briskly make your way through the thickets.

Needless to say, your recklessness leaves you with a strained ankle. It is your pained grunts that garner the attention of your wife. When she finds you limping, the discomfort apparent on your face, she helps you to a tree trunk. You are thankful for the arm that is stably wrapped around your waist for it halves the effort that you will otherwise have to exert.

No sooner has she sat you down onto the mossy trunk than she is kneeling before you. Taking your wounded foot into her hand, she gingerly lets it rest atop her thigh. Forefinger and thumb pluck your sock, peel it down, and doing so reveals your ankle where a bruise is already beginning to bloom.

As she works on your wound, you can feel the pads of her digits ghosting across the naked base of your calf. Her fingers, dainty in appearance, have strength in them along with callouses that you suspect are the by products of her years of sword training. Speaking of which, Minazuki, her Zanpakuto as she has taught you, Miki as you like to call her, is slung over one of your shoulders. Since her Lieutenant is absent, for today’s trip is you and your wife’s alone, you have happily taken the role of the Captain’s blade bearer.

Due to the injury that you have sustained, despite your reassuring that you are fine, your wife does not take no for an answer, and so, the expedition is cut short. Soon after the pair of you have mounted Minazuki, you fall victim to exhaustion, surrendering yourself to the clutches of sleep.

The first thing you notice upon opening your eyes is the shimmering sea of stars, with the first thing you hear being her voice that pulses warmly in your ears.

“Are you awake?”

“Hmm, where are we now?”

When you shift, you discover that your head is cushioned by her thighs.

“Not very far from home.”

You are suddenly awestruck by the vision that appears in your line of sight. Backdropped by the starry sky, she is truly a sight for sore eyes.

“How are you feeling?”

“My eyes feel hot.”

A palm finds home on your forehead. You cannot help but sigh dreamily at her cool touch that seems to instantly soothe the ache in your head.

“You have a touch of fever, I fear. Rest. I’ll wake you when we arrive.”

You can only hum, ready to succumb to slumber again. However, when you feel the withdrawal of her hand from your forehead, your fingers catch her wrist, emboldened by a feverish haze. You press it against your neck where the coolness of her flesh offers you sweet reprieve from your body’s heat. If you are not mistaken, you have felt the faintest sensation of a fingertip tracing the length of your nose before you drift.

She does, in fact, not wake you.

By the time you open your eyes, you are already under the comfort of a futon that smells distinctly of her.

════════ ∘◦ ✾ ◦∘ ════════

You do not know when it changes, but at one point, it does. Your marriage stops being an elaborate masquerade and starts becoming something more by the time you no longer need reminders to exercise intimacy. A kiss on her cheek, a palm on the small of her back, sweet-nothings dripping with honey; they come to you as easily as breathing, and she responds to you in kind as she always has. But then again, to be unreservedly honest, your actions, from the beginning until now, have never been absent of sincerity.

From sleeping entwined in each other’s arms to walking with your fingers intertwined, even in the absence of onlookers, in the privacy of your quarters, you behave as lovers do. Neither of you seem to notice the change, and if you do, neither of you bother to comment on it. It simply is the way it is.

“Oh, Hana, you’ve returned! Come here. Sit.”

“What is this?”

“I just thought that your feet could use some pampering after walking around all day.”

“My, you need not trouble yourself-”

“But that’s what married couples do. They look after each other.”

“Very well, then, if you insist.”

Adoration, ardour and nothing in between; that is how you sink to your knees before your deity. Raising her feet off the floor, you gingerly place them atop your thighs. When you slip the socks off her feet, you exercise both care and tenderness, barely suppressing the urge to press delicate kisses to her exquisitely dainty ankles. Once her feet are completely bare, you guide them into the bucket that is sitting in front of you. Under the warm water, you trace the little notches of her bone, run your fingertips along every dip and hill the way you want your lips to caress them.

Then, all too gently, you gather them once again into your lap where a towel awaits. You take your sweet time petting them dry, the desire to drench her porcelain skin in kisses now coming back with a vengeance. As if possessing a mind of their own, your hands slips beneath her uniform, fingers leaving playful caresses along the length of her shin.

Suddenly overwhelmingly thirsty, you wet your lips with the tip of your tongue before chancing a look at her. There is a silent question in your eyes, and she answers you with a nod of her head. As soon as the green light has been given, you carefully hike the skirt of her Shinigami uniform over her knee, allowing your fingers to knead the muscles in her calfs without interruptions.

It is true that when you have decided to give her feet a wash and a massage, you have no ulterior motives.

But now,

Now, it is entirely a different story.

The collision of your gazes sparks a flame in you.

Has the blue of her eyes always been this dark, you wonder.

*Knock*

*Knock*

*Knock*

“Captain Unohana, may I please come in?”

Hastily scrambling to your feet upon hearing Isane’s voice has you tripping over your own two feet. Your forthcoming fall is prevented by willowy fingers that latch onto your wrist. One thing leads to another, and before you know it, following a breathless “oomf”, you find yourself seated on the pillowy thighs of your wife.

Seemingly unfazed, she commands, an arm around your waist cradling you close to her chest.

“If it’s nothing important, Isane, I suggest you leave us be. My wife and I are currently in the middle of some important matters that urgently need attending to.”

“U-understood!”

It is beyond your control; your hands finding purchase on her shoulders, even more so the amicable slap that you deliver to her arm.

“Did you really have to phrase it like that?”

“Like what?”

Ah. There is no denying it. From the very first moment you behold this woman, you have fallen irrevocably in love with her.

“Hmm? Care to enlighten me?”

You do not. Care to enlighten her that is, for your lips have found hers, sampling her smile to see if it tastes as sweet as it looks. You have taken a bite out of the forbidden fruit, and there is no going back, although when you feel no reciprocation from her part, you pull back with a heavy heart.

The look on her face is indecipherable; she has always been difficult to read. Completely at a loss, you are tempted to blurt out that it has been a momentary lapse of judgement even though you know very well that it is anything but. The loudness of your rampaging thoughts is instantly lulled as soon as her lips seize yours, the fervent collision prompted by the hand that is holding you at the peak of your nape while wandering digits curl deliciously into your hair.

Likewise, greatly galvanised by the ravenous mouth that is feasting upon your lips, your fingers wander beneath her braid, and further still beneath the lapels of her uniform. It is as you are ghosting along the jut of her collarbones that your fingertips feel a patch of uneven skin just below the dip in her throat. As if electrocuted, she jolts, subsequently discarding you in the process of rising to her feet.

“You should leave.”

Leave? Leave where?

After all, this has become as much your home as it has been hers.

“Hana, I- did I do something wrong?”

“You should leave.”

Ah. Never have you thought that you will find yourself at the receiving end of the generous Captain’s genuine irritation.

As the last vestiges of warmth is entirely replaced by the chill of her stare, you decide that you will smile. You will smile for the both of you, as wide and as big as you can, a farewell to what could have been.

“I understand. I’m sorry.”

Delivering your utterances in the cheeriest voice that you can muster, you smile at her. You smile so broad that the uncomfortable stretch of your lips hurt your face.

But as soon as the door to her chamber closes with a thud behind your back, the first droplet of tear begins to fall.

════════ ∘◦ ✾ ◦∘ ════════

In a wicked twist of fate, you fall into the hands of malicious men who have all the intentions of maiming you beyond repair. It is drizzling, a night befitting your mood, as the cold droplets mingle with your warm tears.

There are hands, hands everywhere, tearing your clothes haphazardly off your body, hitting you when you struggle; your foot has caught one of your assailants in the crotch, and his payback comes in the form of kicks to your ribcage. Blood is leaking out of your nose from being brutally backhanded across your cheek. It forces you into a daze.

A whore. A wench. A witch.

Awful names have been called.

Four versus one; you are helpless against them. Your suffering is their satisfaction, but a rag doll in their heartless hands, as they manhandle you with a single minded purpose of ravishing you.

You feel hands on your thighs that are manipulating your body as they see fit.

You hear the rustles of fabric, frantic and foreboding.

In the face of danger, it is her face that you picture.

And then, you hear screams.

Alas, the raindrops are red, eerily reminiscent of blood.

Hands are retreating. Feet are scrambling.

And suddenly, you are alone.

With much difficulty, you sit up. When you bring your palm up to your face for examination, you find blood. Your eyes follow the scarlet trail on the ground only to be greeted by the lifeless eyes of the man who has kicked you with wild abandon. His body lies a few steps away from his head. Scattered messily across the ground are his companions, and mixed within them are parts of their bodies; a leg here, an arm there. In the middle of it all stands she, holding her blade with a head impaled on it like a grotesque skewer.

Ah. So, this. This is your Hana in her purest form, who has butchered them in cold blood as though they are mere cattle.

Such empty eyes. How merciless. How magnificent. You are not so much surprised as mesmerised. Such macabre display should scare you except that she has killed in order to save, and if nothing else, you feel cherished, you feel protected.

Sore all over as you are, you attempt to stand, immediately shaking on your legs like a newborn fawn.

“Hana.”

It is but a feeble croak that manages to bring her eyes to you all the same. In an instant, she is by your side.

Her hair is unusually undone, and it leaves the scar in the middle of her chest exposed. Surprise colours your features when her sword is unceremoniously dropped to the ground in order for her to slip free of her Captain Uniform. The white cloth is then gingerly draped over your frame which is as good as bare. Your clothes are in tatters, tears and bruises marring your features, and for once, she seems to be at a loss for words.

Although her mien betrays nothing, behind those unfeeling eyes, you can practically see the cogs turning in her head. While she appears to be in a dilemma, you take the initiative to approach her, fingers gripping the dark fabric of her Shinigami uniform white-knuckled tight.

Your forehead collapses onto her shoulder before you whisper against the hummingbird flutter of her pulse.

“Hold me, Hana. I need you to hold me, please.”

And hold you, she does. Oh, how she does, as you weep and weep and weep until with the drying of your tears, your consciousness, too, fades.

════════ ∘◦ ✾ ◦∘ ════════

“Whatever you do after the wedding is no concern of mine. Didn’t you say it so yourself?”

“Only because I thought she’ll be trea-”

“Whatever you do after the wedding is no concern of mine. Didn’t you say it so yourself?”

“Please. Please, spare me. I beg of you. Please.” The man before Unohana grovels at her feet. “I’ll give you whatever you want. Please.”

“Whatever I want?”

A series of frantic nods ensue. She cannot care less if he looks a crying mess. His state of dress: posh and pristine, his state of being: without a nick, only reminds her all the more of you, bloody and bruised, and her blood boils. Oh, how her blood boils!

“What I want is your head!”

“What I want is your heart!”

“What I want is you sliced in half!”

Looming over the cowering excuse of a man, she sinks her sword into his chest, inch after inch of blood-drenched blade penetrating his flesh.

“Well? Do you think you can give me what I want?”

“Please. I- I’m sorry. Have- have mercy.”

“Mercy, you say?” The moonless night echoes with a maniacal laughter, dark and haunting. “How laughable!”

“No matter, you will die at my hands. And you will die tonight. My bloodlust will not be sated unless you die. So, die you will whether you like it or not.”

════════ ∘◦ ✾ ◦∘ ════════

“I received a letter this morning.” You speak into her chest as you lie cocooned in her arms. “Father has passed.”

“Does it upset you?”

A fervent shake of your head should suffice for an answer. Still, you voice your reason.

“He may have been my mother’s devoted husband but he was never my father.”

Silence reigns. Her fingers trace patterns on the small of your back while your face nuzzles the little notch of her throat.

“Thank you, Hana, for being my sunshine after the rain.”

In a show of sincerity, you press a delicate kiss to the scar beneath your lips. When your face is brought out of its safe little cocoon, it is only so that she can take a bite out of the sweet, succulent fruit. She conquers your lips in the same way she has conquered your heart, and all too happily, you let her consume you. Body, mind and soul.

By these hands that are no stranger to bloodshed, you have been healed. In more ways than one.

In these arms that are capable of destruction, you have found solace.

A healer or a killer, Retsu or Yachiru, she is your beloved wife all the same, and you intend to cherish her for all that she is.

In sickness and in health.

In good time and in bad.

In perpetuity. In tandem.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

[astroa3h]

Past Life Heartbreak: Britney & Justin's Karmic Clash ✨

Alright, let's peel back the glittery layers of their synastry chart and get to the raw, unfiltered truth about Britney and Justin's astrological connection. We're talking about Britney’s South Node in the 4th House and Capricorn at 24 Degrees, a Pisces degree (screaming musical genius) conjunct Justin’s Venus in the 5th House and Capricorn at 25 Degrees, an Aries degree (indicating a life lived in the fast lane). This isn't just a love story; it's a tale of karmic debt and emotional turmoil, and yes, Justin's playing the role of the bad guy here.

Britney’s South Node in Capricorn signifies a past life soaked in responsibility, discipline, and emotional endurance. In the 4th House, she was likely the pillar of her family, the one who kept everything together. This placement screams "old soul," someone who’s been through the emotional wringer and has had to grow up fast. The 24th degree, with its Pisces influence, hints at a deep well of creativity and sensitivity. Britney’s soul has been sculpted by lifetimes of being the rock for others, all while nurturing a profound artistic spirit.

Now, let’s zero in on Justin’s Venus. Venus in Capricorn is ambitious, calculated, and craves status and control. Placed in the 5th House, Justin’s approach to love and pleasure is marked by a need for validation and excitement, living life with the gas pedal to the floor. The 25th degree, an Aries degree, adds a reckless, impulsive streak. Justin's love nature is all about him, his desires, and his need to be adored. It’s a recipe for emotional volatility when left unchecked.

When these energies collide, it’s explosive. Britney’s South Node conjunct Justin’s Venus brings past-life baggage crashing into their present. They’ve been here before, tangled in a web of karmic debt where Justin’s relentless pursuit of pleasure and validation clashed with Britney’s need for stability and emotional security. In their past life, I sense that Justin was the charming rogue who swept Britney off her feet, only to leave her shattered and disillusioned. He lived for the thrill, the excitement, and the validation from others, while Britney anchored herself in their emotional bond, hoping he’d change, hoping he’d see the depth of her love and loyalty.

Fast forward to this lifetime, and history has a nasty way of repeating itself. Justin’s Venus, driven by that Aries degree, was all about living fast and loose, craving the spotlight, and taking risks. Britney’s South Node craved the stability and emotional depth that Justin seemed to promise but never quite delivered. The tension here is palpable: Britney, drawn to Justin by an inexplicable karmic pull, hoped for a love that would provide the emotional sanctuary she needed. Justin, however, was too wrapped up in his own desires and ambitions to see the emotional wreckage he was leaving behind.

Let’s be blunt: Justin’s actions, under the influence of this conjunction, were emotionally destructive. He thrived on the excitement and the chase, but once he had Britney, the thrill faded, and he moved on, leaving her to pick up the pieces. Britney’s past-life wounds were ripped open, reliving the betrayal and abandonment she experienced before. Justin’s Venus in Capricorn, with its cold, ambitious edge, combined with the reckless Aries degree, made him the quintessential bad guy in this narrative.

Britney, with her Capricorn South Node, was the one left bearing the brunt of this karmic storm. Her past-life role as the emotional anchor made her susceptible to Justin’s charm, but it also meant she bore the emotional scars of his indifference and selfishness. Justin’s fast-lane lifestyle and inability to commit emotionally were like salt in those karmic wounds, deepening her sense of betrayal and heartbreak.

In the end, this synastry aspect reveals a story of emotional manipulation and karmic retribution. Justin, with his Venus in Capricorn and that impulsive Aries degree, played the role of the heartbreaker, the one who took without giving, leaving a trail of emotional destruction in his wake in this lifetime and the last. Britney, with her Capricorn South Node, was the one left to carry the emotional burden, to learn the hard lessons of resilience and self-worth.

xoxo Astro Ash Get your own reading: astroash.net 🤍✨

[essektheylyss]

I do theorize that Ludinus is intentionally obscuring the exactitude of his age and hearkening back to the images of the Calamity in order to bolster the importance of his cause, and here's why:

What Ludinus specifically said could be applied precisely to the Greying Wildlands, Molaesmyr, and the Veluthil Forest, from which he is said to have been from.

He talks about the world burning; he talks about the destruction left in the god's wake, and their self-preservation at the expense of all else. Per the EGTW, the Greying Wildlands burned for almost a century after the Divergence. The gods quite literally set the world ablaze and then abandoned it—because they would have continued until they destroyed Exandria entirely, sure, but also because they themselves had been threatened and nearly killed. Lolth, Ioun and Sehanine were all struck down almost to the point of destruction. It is easy to imagine the questions: that perhaps if they hadn't felt the threat of mortality, they would've continued indefinitely; that perhaps when they claimed they'd left for the good of Exandria, it was a manipulation, if not an outright lie.

The Veluthil Forest was a single sanctuary of untouched forest within the ashes, and that was the place where the wood elves of Wildemount rebuilt. The description given is this:

"This small patch of idyllic green endured, a sanctuary for the surviving wood elves that held fast and hoped for a miracle. Sensing that the blessings of Melora and Corellon had kept the heart of this forest alive until the fires burned out, the elves began to build a new home among the ancient trees and groves."

If Ludinus is old in 842 PD, he would very possibly have been born when those fires were still burning to elves who, evidently, were still putting their faith in the gods. Even in the vacuum left of divine power immediately after the Divergence, they "held fast." But a person growing up and knowing nothing but the destruction may not have maintained as much faith.

Still, Molaesmyr thrived for centuries, beyond the fires burning out. "Druidic forces and powerful fey enchantments" were used to protect the city, likely referring to the followers of Melora and Corellon respectively. Until one day those protections did nothing to stop another catastrophe—nearly instantaneously, an unknown corruption wiped out their protected home. Whether Ludinus knows what happened to it or not, this supposedly-divine sanctuary was wiped out without any riposte from the gods themselves. Mortals had been left to their devices, and were still relying upon divine blessings for their protection; what good were those blessings then?

When Ludinus says he's "old enough," sure, it's possible that he did see the Age of Arcanum. But I think it's far more likely that he is old enough to have witnessed the worst of the Calamity's ruin, before the rebuilding had even began—and to watch what they had built in its wake be wiped out without any gods to seek recourse from.

Whether he believed his elders' faith or not, whether he saw the Divergence or not, he also experienced what was left in their wake, with only glorious stories of the past to strive toward—and it's even possible that stories were enough for a while.

But when you live long enough to see the world around you and most of the survivors of the previous destruction fall to ruin yet again, it would be all too easy, even reasonable, to fall back on the bitterness of an abandoned child.

[ghost-n-butteredtoast]

Idk if you take requests (I think I've seen you respond to them before but if you're not currently taking them feel free to ignore!)

Can we get some dom!alci x sub!reader? Some smut and fluff/comfort? Maybe reader was acting out bc they felt insecure and Alcina "punishes" them but also simultaneously makes them feel better about themselves?

I sure do! I may not advertise it, and it may take me a while to get around to it and I maaaaaaaay veer off the path of your request a TAD bit, but I SHALL DELIVER.

Notice I started out this little request last year, as it takes place during Christmas. But you know life and all gets in the way...

This will also be posted on AO3.

But now, she is finished. I hope you enjoy!!

The Taste Of Punishment

Christmas at Castle Dimitrescu.

The snow swirled in the alcoves of the courtyard beneath the now-darkening sky above. The cold radiated off the glass of the window, its chill so intense it nearly made your burning skin ache.

You continued to scowl into the courtyard as the maids behind you straightened the stockings that hung from the mantle, dusting and sweeping, ensuring everything, even the darkened corners were perfect for the lady and her family’s Christmas celebration.

They quietly hummed Christmas carols and giggled amongst themselves as they whispered about the gifts they had received.

“I can't believe the lady gave you a gift!”

“What do you think it means?”

“How thoughtful and yet-”

They quieted when they heard your feather duster hit the floor. The rush of hot air from between your parted lips fogged the window, and you stormed out of the room and to your quarters.

It had been a known fact that you were Lady's favorite, and had been for quite some time. Her interest in others had ceased to exist and her focus remained solely on you. And though her fondness for you seemed to run deep, she kept you at a distance all while keeping you on a short chain, wrenching you back to her side when she thought you had strayed too far.

At first, the lady was aloof but possessive, which drove you wild. She took you when she wanted and laughed when you craved her attention, never giving in to your desires until she saw fit. She flirted with other maidens to get a rise out of you, both in your presence and in secret, knowing word would get back to you in time. She would find you seething in dark corners of the castle, claiming she could smell your anger and how it turned her on. You were jealous, and she thrived off the energy.

Over time her behavior changed. She warmed up to you and you began to trust her with your heart though she never truly gave you her own. She was always just out of reach, but you would take what you could get, and you would serve your heart to her on a silver platter.

You had thought she had changed her ways, but this gift another maiden had received…from the lady herself! How could she? You were absolutely furious! Your vision narrowed and your pulse rushed as you tore through the halls, slamming your door and throwing yourself back against the hard wood once alone in your sanctuary.

When you had left your room earlier you had left it dark, extinguishing the lamps before you left. Now, however, there was a single candle lit on your nightstand accompanied by a red envelope.

You tore through the red paper revealing its contents. It was a card and on its cover was a golden embossed Christmas tree. When you opened the card, your insides plummeted.

Season's Greetings!

A. Dimitrescu 

With nostrils flaring, your rage catapulted you back through the halls of the castle and into the main hall. You clutched the cardstock with its generic holiday message in your hand, crumpling the thick paper in your fist as you approached the roaring fireplace. Your chest heaved. You were so enraged, that tears dared not escape from your eyes, for they would dry instantly upon the heat of your cheeks. You stared into the flames, failing to notice the presence that watched you from the landing above, and in the blink of an eye, with all your might, you chucked the card into the fireplace.

How dare she! After all, she had put you through! From torment to tranquility, you thought you had sailed through the turbulent seas of Lady Dimitrescu, nearly drowning multiple times, but finally washing up onto the shore, into the safety of her arms.

…only to receive a shit Christmas card.

You looked up…

Stupid stockings. Four of them. Three for the daughters and one for the lady herself. Your hand twitched at your side, and before your brain could catch up, your fury took over. With a growl, you ripped your Lady's stocking from the mantle and threw it into the flames.

“Oh, temper, temper!” came an amused voice from the landing above. 

Wide-eyed, you spun around to see your Lady approach the stairs, each step painfully slow, her eyes never leaving you. Her gloved hand slid along the banister, the leather creaking with the occasional grip of the curved wood.

“My Lady, I-”

“Hush!”

And silent it was, except for the wind that whistled in the flue. Beads of sweat trailed down your back as the flames of the fireplace danced behind you. The sweat bled into your scratchy uniform, making your discomfort grow.

Your Lady's smile was trouble, her pearly white teeth glistened making them all the more menacing. “I've killed for less, drained maidens for accidentally destroying my property. But you,” she said closing the distance, “you chose to be destructive deliberately! Much like a mutt destroying its master’s shoes because it desperately wanted its master's attention and were-,” she paused and tilted her head, choosing her word carefully to make it bite, “rejected.”

Your lips quivered. Oh, how small she made you feel, but you loved her all the more. She was the master, and you were the mutt. She could kick you, causing your body to slide across the floor and into a wall and you'd still grovel back to lick her boots. How you hated her for that.

“Rejected, yes,” you huffed. “Your giving gifts to other maidens yet leaving  a rather simplistic greeting card for the maiden you prefer to bed and feed from would tend to make one feel rejected.” You tore your gaze from the floor, lifting your head proudly and accepting your fate. “So, if you are finished with me, do what you will. Drain me. Craft me into your next vintage,’ you said, your voice lowering to a murmur, “I grow tired of being humiliated.”

Lady Dimitrescu cocked a perfectly arched brow and snorted. “Me? Humiliating you? Darling. You needn't any help from me,” she said while tracing the length of your arm and then grabbing your wrist. “You're doing an exceptional job all on your own!”

You growled at her words, and she tugged your arm, pulling you towards the grand staircase.

“Wh-where are you taking me?” you demanded as you nearly ran to keep up with the towering woman.

“Upstairs,” she said, her tone flat.

You nearly lost your balance trying to keep up with your Lady's strides. “Upstairs? Don't you mean the cellar, my Lady?”

Her grip on your wrist tightened. “If you wish to behave like a brat, you shall receive a brat's punishment,” she responded as she pulled you along.

You dug your heels into the floor taking up a runner along with it. “No!” You howled, trying to wiggle from her grasp. “I demand you take me to the dungeon!”

Lady Dimitrescu’s maniacal laughter rang through the halls. “There’s the insolent brat I know and love!” 

Love?

You would have questioned her word choice had you not been throwing a tantrum, not that you would have had time to, as she hoisted you into the air and flung you over her shoulder, knocking her large hat off in the process.

“You absolute brat,” she snarled before delivering a slap to your ass.

“Aaaaaaah!” You wailed, “Put me down this instant!”

It was no use. Your Lady continued to march down the halls and into her chambers, flinging you onto her bed before she turned back to the door to lock it.

The click of the lock made you shudder. You had fully expected to be drained for your ill behavior and yet somehow you ended up in her room. Her back was still to you when she began to speak.

“What am I going to do with you?” She said thoughtfully. She was smiling. You could hear it. Oh, it made your blood boil.

“Why?” You finally demanded. “Why would you give…her…a gift?”

Your Lady looked over her shoulder. “Who I give gifts to and the reasons behind them are none of your business! But if you must know,” she said, finally turning to face you, “that wretched little doll of Lady Beneviento’s destroyed a particular maiden's book, and I replaced it. That is all.”

Your brows knit together. “And the card you left me?  Season's Greetings,” you sneered, “signed A. Dimitrescu? It…was so cold …IT WAS CRUEL!”

Lady Dimitrescu put a hand on her hip. “That card was not intended for you. Your card was an invitation to dine with me this evening!” she bellowed. “It must have gotten mixed up somehow…” she trailed off, scoffing when she realized she was being derailed from her argument, “point is, you need to reign in that temper of yours!”

So the gift to the maiden meant nothing. The card was a mistake. You acted a fool and now you were going to get it.

She stalked towards where you sat at the end of her bed, and you scrambled back up onto the mattress, not knowing what sinister plan she had concocted in her mind. She could be playful, she could be cruel. Interactions with your Lady were like a game of Russian Roulette; she gave you a rush and it was terrifying…take your chances, pull the trigger, no bullet, laugh it off - and she would laugh, too, her red lips curling into that sadistic smile. A laugh that both turned you on and struck fear into your soul.

She crawled on top of you but still gave you room to back up as she followed you. “Back against the headboard.”

You didn't have a choice as that is where she caged you in. Your back hit the headboard, knocking the wind out of your lungs, not that there was much wind to lose. You had spent it during your fit. 

She was nose to nose with you now, grinning, her eyes narrow slits as she approached your neck and inhaled your scent. “You smell divine. Even more so when you're worked up.” She chuckled before nipping at your neck.

“Arms up.”

You did as she asked. She sank back onto her heels and reached for the silk rope that hung from the post. Taking your wrists, she tied the red silk around your pulse point, snuggly; you were not going anywhere.

Your eyes followed her hands and then settled on her breasts as she purposely leaned into you to tie the other wrist. Your mouth watered as you desperately wanted to trace the veins with your tongue. She could feel your heaving breaths on her exposed skin and she chuckled darkly.

“Enjoying the view, are you pet?”

You giggled nervously. “I'd be lying if I said no, my lady.”

“Mmm, yes.” Lady Dimitrescu hummed as she knelt to your level once again. “And you know how I detest liars.”

She studied you briefly, her eyes raking up and down your body, making you feel small yet desired all at the same time. “I-I thought you were going to punish me, my lady.”

She chuckled as she pulled away, her eyes leaving you to look at her own hand. With a flick of her wrist, her claws came out. You swallowed hard, and though you were nowhere near the fireplace, you began to sweat bullets once again, and she noticed.

“Oh, darling, you look flushed! Perhaps we should remove this uniform.”

Before you could object, your lady cut through your dress and apron, her claws slicing through your garment with ease. All you could do was gasp as you were frozen to the spot; flinch and you might lose your life.

“Much better,” Lady Dimitrescu purred as she witnessed the wave of goosebumps wash over your bare flesh.

She removed herself from the bed and walked to her vanity. You watched with great anticipation as she undressed. If this was a punishment, you thought perhaps you should act out more often. 

She stepped out of her gown, leaving her in the lacy undergarments that clung to every soft and voluptuous curve so perfectly. Mirror, body, mirror body - your eyes could not choose a resting place. You wanted to see every angle of your lady. You wanted her to come to bed.

Your eyes traveled down the backs of her toned legs but shot back up to her reflection when you heard her moan. There, in the mirror, you saw your lady pleasuring herself. Slightly bent over, she held herself up with her left arm while her right hand had slid into her lacy underwear to stroke her wet folds. Her raven curls slid further down her back as she tilted her head back. Her crimson lips parted to release a pleased sigh, making your core throb with want.

All you could do was dig your feet into the mattress. She was driving you wild and all you had was the ability to squeeze your thighs together. You were wet, and surely you had soaked through your own underwear at this point.

Once again your eyes didn't know where to rest, but you had failed to notice her eyes were locked on you. Your eyes met, and she grinned, sinking a digit into her own core while moaning your name.

Your arms and wrists ached as you pulled at your restraints. “My Lady, please!” You whined.

Your Lady didn't have to work long to make herself come. Her expert fingers could unravel anyone within mere seconds if she pleased. She knew her body, but she was drawing this out to make you squirm.

She added her hips into the mix, thrusting herself into her own hand, the vanity shaking with each movement. 

Any second now, you expected her to stop, to make her way back over to the bed and put you out of your misery. Though you were nearly naked, you were sweating and wet with anticipation. 

But she didn't…

Golden eyes disappeared behind thick, black lashes when she came, her groan morphing to a sinister chuckle as she slumped over her vanity trying to regain her composure.

In the reflection, she peered at you through black curls that had fallen in her eyes. You were exhausted from your tantrum and unanswered pleas. Your fingers tingled from the lack of circulation and the sheets beneath you were damp with sweat. 

Your lady straightened her posture and made her way over to you, her fingers still glistening with her arousal. Pure excitement coursed through your veins as you watched her, longing for said fingers to touch you, to be inside you. A whine escaped your lips when her knee met the top of the mattress and she hovered over you, drinking in your pathetic state.

“Poor little darling,” she cooed. Her eyes made a path down your body, starting at your bound wrists down across your now heaving breast and finally landing on where you ached for her touch the most. Her lips curled with great satisfaction; your desire was apparent, even while still clothed, you were so incredibly wet.

“So riled up and desperate to be put out of your misery,” she said reaching for your underwear, but stopped when she saw your hopeful smile. Her smile dropped completely and so quickly it sent a shiver down your spine. Instead, the hand that she had been pleasuring herself with moments ago grabbed your chin. She inched towards you, her lips coming ever so close to your own. The smell of wine and tobacco taunting you; she was so close.

Instead of her lips meeting your own, she dragged her wet fingers over your lips, leaving what was left of her desire for you to taste.

You desperately wanted to lick your lips but you were so incredibly stunned by her departure from the bed. You tugged on your restraints and fought back the urge to beg. Surely she was coming back. Wasn’t she?

Lady Dimitrescu sauntered back over to where her dress lay on the floor and stepped back into it, letting you watch as she slowly covered the garters and lace that adorned her curvaceous body. Once back in her dress, you found the ability to speak.

“My Lady?”

“Hmm?” She sweetly responded while fixing her hair and smiling at her reflection.

“Are we to dine with one another still…tonight?”

She turned to you with a look of pity and amusement upon her face. “Oh, pet. Lick your lips,” she chuckled darkly. “That is your dinner!”

“What!” You blurted not caring how loud your voice was.

She walked back over to you and grabbed a blanket that had been draped across the end of the bed. “I absolutely adore you, brattiness and all, but a punishment is a punishment! You didn’t think I was going to let you off that easy, did you?” She smirked. “You see, while I am away, you can take some time to reflect,” she said as she graciously covered your shivering form. “And while I am enjoying my dinner, you may…savor the taste of your punishment.” She smiled wickedly at you before turning to take her exit, making sure to add a little sway in each step. 

“My lady?" You screamed after her. "MY LADY!”

If they were quiet enough, the people of the village might have heard your screams of anger ring out through the Romanian countryside as you yanked at your restraints and trashed about in your lady’s bed. And if you had been quiet enough, which you weren’t, you would have been able to hear your lady’s laugh echo through the castle halls as she made her way to the dining room.

Hope all of you savored the holidays 😉 Happy 2024, dear readers!

[royal-wren]

A continuation/part two to my favorite/lesser known Hermes epithets because I am a fool and forgot some or found more.

Hermes Psykhostasia - Weigher of souls (lives) or One who weighs souls (lives). In a mix of fulfilling his duty as a guide to all souls and being present before and after death while also being the messenger of Zeus, this aspect shines through. He carries out the will of both the Moirai and Zeus at times and in others he alone holds sway over the decision. Whichever ker (keres) was heavier (to the point of tipping the scales) was the one to die between the two individuals.

Hermes Panepóptēs - All-Observing. It's an epithet I can run with mainly found in the PGM

Hermes Kêryx - Herald of the Gods or Crier for a more rudimentary translation. It's a fairly interesting epithet in regards to naming Hermes as the son of Demeter (identified with Maia). In this specific incarnation, he has special control over the winged Keres in-flight into and out of Demeter Pandora, personified wine-storage jars blamed for all of the ills of humans, where only Hope lingered at the rim.

Hermes Hippios - Of the Horses. Hermes Hippokourios - Horse Tender. Though a rare aspect of his, he does connections with horses in a manner similar to Athene and Artemis. One of his famous sons was known for his skill when it came to handling horses, especially for races. He is also known for gifting the Dioskouroi with their horses and driving the chariot of Hades whenever Persephone enters or departs the underworld. Anyone that owned horses would pray to Hermes so they would thrive and for their increase.

Hermes Araoia / Hermes Araios - The Ram. One of the oldest attestations of the god is found in the Linear B inscriptions at Pylos and Mycenaean Knossos. With this epithet in mind, depictions of Hermes with sheep/ram horns would be fairly appropriate and a part of his appearance I see from time to time.

Hermes Kranaios - Of the Fountain? Of Springs. I know this one was on the last one but I really spaced on getting into why I love and appreciate it. It's a spring/nature sanctuary, one that ties him to water/rivers and what is heavily associated with deities that heal/can heal??? springs and pools of water!!!

Sources:

Weighing iconography of love in classical and early hellenistic art: considering allusions and metaphor in images of Aphrodite balancing Eros by Hannah Lisbeth Jones

L. D. Caskey, J. D. Beazley, Attic Vase Paintings in the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston

πανεπόψιος

Aischylos and the Trojan cycle: The lost tragedies by Ioanna Hadjicosti

Porphyry: On Abstinence from Killing Animals translated by Gillian Clark

Kerykes wikipedia entry

A Replica of the Hermes Propylaios by Alkamenes Found at Qasr Al-Hallabat by Ignacio Arce

Mycenaean Divinities

Where I pulled Hermes of the Fountain from as well as Hermes of the Springs

Kretan cult and customs, especially in the Classical and Hellenistic periods: a religious, social, and political study by Carolyn Schofield

Burning bulls, broken bones: sacrificial ritual in the context of palace period Minoan religion by Robert James Cromarty

Hermes Favor: Dioskouroi

“Dearest to be Man's Companion”: Hermes, Divine Aid, and Agency by David Chou

The link is down for now but has more information on Hermes and his connection to horses

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

I have a request for Daryl Dixon x Plus Size Shy!Reader (any gender). Daryl and Reader are on a multiple-day run, just the two of them.

They both have liked each other for a long time.

Both too afraid to act on it.

Then they are forced together for a while. (maybe someone is playing matchmaker? (wink, wink)

Angst/Fluff? (Please fluff)

First kisses + confession?

Smut if you want, but not necessary.

༉‧₊˚. 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 || 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐥 𝐝𝐢𝐱𝐨𝐧

― pairings: daryl dixon x plus size!reader

― era: early season 9

― summary: you loved daryl, it was as if he was perfectly handcrafted by whatever existed out there. you felt like a high school girl again, and your friend michonne has had enough of watching you shoot heart eyes at the man, so she takes it upon herself to take the next step for you.

― warnings: generally, none! some empty threats at most but they're used in a friendly context (if that makes any sense).

― wc: 3177

⋆ a/n: ohemgee, i am so sorry that i got to you so late, it's as if my life hadn't wanted to give me a break for the last couple of days, but i had recently found some time to finish it! so here this is, i really hoped this lived up to your expectations seeing as though you had to wait so long :]

masterlist | AO3

You felt like you were in high school all over again; always wondering if you were too obvious, or if they might like you back, looking into everything that the person said or did while they were around you, desperately wondering— and hoping — it meant anything. Daryl was an uncontrollable force, one that prevented you from being able to tell how he was feeling or what was going on through that head of his. It didn't help that you were too shy for your own good, constantly tripping over yourself and your words whenever you were around him, only speaking to him out of necessity.

You were partially grateful for the distraction that Negan had brought to your group, but now that it was over and everyone was slowly rebuilding their communities, you were left to face your feelings once again. Almost everyone's hands were needed, either that be for collecting wood, building, setting up blueprints, teaching the children, etc. So, that meant that you were forced to be around him more often than what you were comfortable with, almost exploding every time he needed your assistance.

“I just don't know what to do, Michonne.” You had practically whined. Daryl was away at the Sanctuary for the day, but he was due to show up soon to investigate a new location that may be stocked with some food. “It's like he's so close but so far. Like— he's in front of me, right living and breathing, but whenever I go to interact with him it's like he's out of my reach.” You groaned in embarrassment, hiding your face in your hands. “How am I supposed to help our communities and allies if I can't even function around one man, a man that I've known for literally years mind you.”

She smiled, continuing to brush through Judith's beautiful blonde hair. She was on babysitting duty, Rick out and about as he planned on expanding some of the walls of Alexandria to make more space for another greenhouse. The vegetables and other plants were thriving, the people taking care of them, and doing hell of a good job so far. You usually took times like these to rant about your life, laying on your back on the couple's shared bed, limbs extended out like a starfish as you talked.

“I may have never showed it, but I was shy around Rick sometimes as well.” You dramatically blew a raspberry in disbelief. “I'm not kidding!” She said with a smile. “Sometimes when he'd say my name, I would get all tingly.” You smiled as well, imagining the big bad Michonne that had first shown up at the fences of the prison holding baby food, now a mother that completely melted into a puddle for the ex-sheriff. Your smile quickly fell as you realized that duty called, ripping yourself from the sheets as you sat up.

“I've got a few things that Rick needs me to check on. Thanks again for listening.” You bid her and little Judith a farewell, placing a kiss on her head as well as giving Michonne a hug. “You know I'd be happy to help you with him.” You just rolled your eyes and snorted. “I know you are, ‘Chonne.”

As you left the room, the woman had a mischievous glint in her eye, a plan brewing in her mind as she decided she would have a little chat with Rick tonight, and the man was more than easy to persuade.

Hearing that it would just be you and Daryl going on this trip caused you to freeze in place, a feeling of panic twisting in your gut as you stared at Rick with wide eyes. “R- Rick, are you sure? We've got many other highly skilled people that would be happy to go out,” You desperately tried to convince him, “Don't you need someone to keep track of the trading routes, or- or training or something?” Rick just shook his head. “Don't worry, we've got those covered. You guys shouldn't be gone long, maybe for a few days, probably even shorter if you find something.” Oh, yeah, and did you fail to mention that it was miles away from home?

Gulping with a nod, you accepted your fate. Rick placed an encouraging hand on your shoulder, a knowing look on his face as he watched Daryl chatting with Michonne and Maggie, standing near his motorcycle. As you stood in place, you realized that were so royally fucked.

You were extremely hesitant to approach him, gripping onto your backpack straps for dear life as you made sure to keep yourself balanced. “One foot in front of the other” you repeatedly chanted in your head. Just breathe. You've known him for years, since the quarry, so it wasn't like you were strangers, you had almost gotten eaten by cannibals together, you can't get much closer than that. You winced at the idea, maybe that shouldn't have been your most encouraging thought.

As you approached the very dangerous, and suffocating vehicle, you greeted your best friend with a tight-lipped smile.

“I'll miss you.” Michonne said with a shit-eating grin on her face. As she pulled you into her arms you whispered, “When I get back, I'm going to fucking kill you.” Pulling back with that same look on your face. “Oh, I don't doubt it!” She said fakely. You could've sworn your eye twitched as you turned to Maggie.

“So, you guys know what we're looking for, right?” She asked. “Yeah. Food, baby shit, the usual.” Daryl grumbled. “Alright, well I shouldn't keep ya here then, you're losin’ daylight.” Maggie finished, tugging you into her embrace as well. “Be safe.” She said, giving you a sweet smile. “I will, Maggie. You too. And I mean, you two.” Gesturing to her stomach. She let out an airy laugh at your horrible play on words.

As they ventured away from the both of you, you were brought back to your reality. You and Daryl were going to be alone, together, on his bike, where your body would be to close to his. Was it hot out here, or was it just you? It shouldn't have been, it was almost breaching December, at least that's what the beat up calendar you found had said.

“So, uh—” You said awkwardly. “Jus’ get on.” He drawled, throwing his legs over the sides of the bike expertly as he waited for you to do the same. “Right, right. Just get on the death machine.” You said more to yourself than to him. You had tried your best to get on without having to hold onto him, but you quickly succumbed when your backpack almost dragged you down. As your hand touched his shoulder, his whole body tensed. Noticing the small change, you quickly let go, weirdly sitting yourself on the back as you gripped the seat.

“Ya might wanna hold onto me.” Before you could reject his offer, he reached around him, gripping your arms and tugging you forward so that you fell on his back. Face first. You could literally explode. No, you were going to explode.

Had his body always been this firm? You knew the man was strong, you've seen him bulk up as he had gotten older, but your imagination was nothing compared to this, compared to the warmth that he radiated. He smelled so good, like cigarettes, motor oil, and the forest with a hint of sweat. Your heart was beating a mile a minute as you got up, sheepishly wrapping your arms around his waist, your forearms brushing against his muscular stomach that had softened with age.

“Sorry.” You whispered, eyes trained on the wings of his vest. “'S fine.” He grumbled, revving up the engine as he took off.

You weren't going to lie and say your grip on him didn't tighten, or that you had buried your face in his back once again, which earned you tensed shoulders before they relaxed.

You felt the wind kiss certain parts of your body, caressing the skin under your shirt that had ridden up, the flesh of your neck that wasn't protected by the winter's coat you wore. As he drove, it had grew dark right before your very eyes, which meant that it was getting chillier. You couldn't help but cuddle yourself closer to the older man in front you, completely forgetting about your internal battle.

Unknowingly to you, Daryl was fighting off the blush that threatened to grow on his face, stomach twisting pleasantly as he listened to your small gasps whenever he would take a turn. You soon felt yourselves come to a stop.

“’S too dark to keep goin’.” He spoke, sitting up from his hunched over position. “Um, okay. We're kind of in the middle of no where.” You were desperate to make conversation with him, the urge to scream out that you'd go anywhere he'd take you clawing at the back of your throat. As he got off first, you hadn't realized how truly cold it was until you began to shiver, Daryl's body heat having been a blanket for the last couple of hours.

“C'mon.” He reached a hand out for you to take, which you did. “Damn, girl,” He murmured, “Yer fingers are gunna fall off.” His large, calloused and worked palm covered yours. “I guess there was only so much of your heat to go around I guess.” You attempted to joke, but quickly shut up as you looked at his face. “Sorry, not like you're like not warm enough or anything— you're actually super comfortable and—” Daryl stared at you incredulously as you rambled. “Okay I'll shut up now."

He hadn't let go of your hand, even as he was forced to fire his crossbow with one hand, he always had you tucked away behind him, shielding you with his body.

“There's a cabin up ahead.” He gestured, tugging you along behind him as a sign for you to pick up the pace. You did of course, even though your focus had been set on the fact that he was protecting you most of the time.

“You wait out ‘ere.” He whispered as you approached the shack. “Daryl, I wanna help.” He just shook his head. “Nah, I got it.” As much as you liked Daryl, sometimes his overprotectiveness was suffocating. “Daryl, listen, as much as I appreciate you wanting to put yourself in front of the danger, I'm feeling a bit useless back here.” You whispered back with a crooked smile. The last thing Daryl wanted to do was make you feel useless, no matter how hard you tried to play your feelings down.

That was one thing that Daryl hated but also admired about you; he admired that you were willing to put others before you, but he also wished that you wouldn't do that with the small things because, he feels like you tend to forget that how you feel matters too. He wanted to tell you this, but everytime he tried to, his throat closed up and he would just grumble something to you before walking away, mentally kicking himself. It was as though he had grown the balls to talk to everyone else but you, and sometimes he feared that you were afraid of him.

“Alrigh’ but if anything looks strange, you tell me.” You crossed your heart. “Scout's honor." Scout's honor? What are you, twelve? You cringed at yourself as you raised your knife cautiously, scanning the area as you shivered, the temperature seemingly dropping as soon as you stepped into the wood made home. Houses like these never had a/c or a heater, but one thing they did have was a fire place.

“Daryl, look!” You called to him quietly, “There's a fire place.” His eyes softened as you stared at the stone architecture with childlike wonder. “You think Santa will shove his ass down the chimney this year?” You asked with a smile. Daryl snorted, checking behind the bathroom door. “I don’ know. 'Don’ think I'm on his nice list.” It was your turn to laugh. “Who is now and days?” That was one thing that you were right about, it was hard to determine who was good and who was bad when it came to the apocalypse.

“Maybe I'll have Rick dress up as Santa and we'll go out to get the kids some gifts.” You spoke through the kitchen, your anxiety being relieved as you realized that there were no walkers inside the cabin. It looked as though it hadn't been touched, having been kept in pristine shape. You felt like you were watching a Hallmark movie, stuck inside of a cabin with the guy you're in love with, forced to keep your feelings at bay so you don't risk your friendship you have with them.

“Come’ta think of it, I think Rick might even like it.” You heard Daryl snicker from the living room. He had been prodding at the firewood that had been left in there, attempting to set a fire. After a few more tries, it successfully lit.

“There's some cans of beans in here!” You said triumphantly, walking out and holding the food over your head. “Is there a pot or sumthin’ in there? ‘Cause I can set it up over the fire, make us some dinner.” You were quick to check, and we're presented with yet another win. “Yep! Right here!”

The rest of the night was calm as you watched him seperate your portions into some old bowls that were carved out of wood. You didn't mention that you saw him put more food into yours than his, your body simply too tired to as you stared at the yellow and orange flames. The ambiance was peaceful, you body sinking into the old dusty cushions of the sofa, hands warmed by the bowl of food that you were given.

“Thank you.” You said with a smile, your voice faint as you began to dig into your beans. “Ain’ no problem.” He spoke, his ears turning a bright red at your praise. He dug into his food, which was a little more civilized this time as he ate with a spoon. Back at the quarry leading up to Alexandria, he had all but eaten with his hands.

“What're you starin’ at?” Your body flushed at the fact that you had gotten caught staring. “Oh! Um— I was just thinking about when I had first met you, that uh— utensils weren't even a word in your vocabulary.” The red bled onto his face as he looked everywhere but you, focusing on the fire. “I didn't mean it in a bad way, it's just— ugh!” You groaned, placing your bowl in your lap to cover your face.

You heard shuffling then the cushion on the right side of you dipping. “Aye, wha’s wrong?” He asked, placing his own on the coffee table next to him. “I just—” Was this it? “I just hate how I can't speak around you.” Oh fuck, this was it.

“Whaddya mean?” His own nerves were fluttering around in his body, proving so as he sat anxiously in his seat. He was turned towards you, one of his legs tucked under the other as it hung off the couch, his arm propped up on the back of it.

“What I mean is that I like you okay? I like you so much to the point where I can't even think straight! It's like you're in the back of my mind all the time, every single day. I can't help but think, “Does he think I'm weird?” Or “Does he think I'm pretty?” Or “Am I even his type?” It's like you make me feel so many things at once, and there's nothing I can do about it because I know you'd never like me back.” You brain vomited as you spoke, it was as if a dam had broken loose and almost every single thought in your mind came tumbling out.

He sat there in silence, his heart beating out his chest as he stared at you. You liked him? Since when? Since how? Since why? Did that even make any grammatical sense? He himself found it hard to believe as he processed your words, and then he had realized that he had left though there in silence.

“What do ya mean “I wouldn't like ya?” Have ya seen yourself?” He peeled your hands away from your face, forcing you to face him as well. “You don't know how crazy ya make me too. You're perfect. If anything, I wouldn't have thought ya would've liked me back.” You had this look of shock on your face, as if his words had burned you.

“Not like you? Daryl, you're everything I want and more! Ever since I had met you, ever since you were out there looking for Sophia almost every single day until the barn was opened— almost killing yourself in the process might I add— I knew that you were special, that you weren't just some dirty redneck that everyone thought you were,” You placed a hand on his cheek, stroking the stubble on his face with your thumb, “You're kind, selfless, self-sacrificial, and so goddamn heroic. If you thought I wouldn't like you then you're just fucking stupid.” You finished off with a giggle.

“Ya thought I was sum dirty ol’ redneck?” He asked with a smirk. “That's what you took away from that?” You asked with a grin. “Nah, not jus’ that.” His voice had gotten deeper, his gaze falling from your eyes, to your lips, then right back up to your eyes again.

“Are you gonna keep staring, or are you going to kiss me, Dixon?” He grabbed you by your waist, tugging you closer to him so now we're perched on your side as well. As his face lowered down to yours, he gave you a chance to pull away, insecurities and unsureness still actively plaguing his mind.

You took the initiative, pressing your lips against his as his scruff scratched at your chin. His large hand cupped your cheek, the other one tangling in your hair as you pressed yourself against him. He felt so nice, and he was a damn good kisser too. The kiss was sweet, Daryl saying more with the way his tongue had explored your mouth than what he had said earlier, even though him calling you perfect was more than enough.

As you sperated, you both rested your foreheads against the others.

“Who knew you were such a hopeless romantic?” You asked, a breathless chuckle following up close behind. “Shut it.” He murmured, pressing his lips against yours once more. He pushed you down onto the couch, crawling over your body.

“You look cold.” He teased. “Then I guess you'll need to warm me up.” You said as you twirled a piece of his hair around your finger before pulling him down to kiss him with a shit-eating grin on your face.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02

[prettyobsessed]

LDS boys x tomboyish reader

🦢𖥔 ۫Friendship & Unexpected Feelings ₊ ♪ ˚. 𐙚

this is my very first request, and i want to thank you so much for sending it in! out of respect, i didn't include any smut in your request because i wasn't sure if you're a minor, and there wasn't any indication that you wanted smut. but still, i hope you like this one!♡

✧. ┊/ pairings: (LDS boys) Rafayel, Xavier, Zayne x tomboyish f!reader ˚ ༘♡ ˚ / genre: slice-of-life friendship [sfw, safe for minors] ₊˚ / tags: comfort read, headcanons, fanfiction, gaming, personality appreciation, comedy, best friends, slow burn, romantic drama, contemporary fiction, self-discovery, slice-of-life, unexpected feelings, feelings for best friends, might have a continuation, comedy ✿ / word count: 2.7k words — Warning: Story contains swear words, please take note! ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ —

As someone who had experienced the sting of a failed relationship, I knew firsthand the ache of heartbreak. My lack of experience and my innate tendency to be a 'hopeless romantic' were often cited as the reasons for its demise—a painful reminder of love's complexities.

However, amidst the ruins of a failed romance, I found solace and genuine happiness in the unbreakable bond shared with my best friends: Rafayel, Xavier, and Zayne. Over the years, their infectious personalities and idiosyncratic habits had gradually rubbed off on me, molding me into a more laid-back and tomboyish version of myself.

Despite having the knowledge and ability to dress femininely and meticulously care for my appearance, I found solace and authenticity in dressing down. Jeans and flannels became my signature attire, offering a sense of comfort and familiarity in a world fraught with expectations. One cherished pastime that solidified our bond was our shared love for gaming, particularly the adrenaline-fueled battleground of CS:GO. Whether day or night, we would convene from the comfort of our respective homes, united by the glow of our screens and the thrill of virtual combat.

"Z, what the fuck are you doing?!" Rafayel's voice rang out, a mix of concern and frustration evident as Zayne struggled to perform well.

Amidst the chaos of enemy territory, I urgently signalled to my teammates, "On me, on me, on me," alerting them to the imminent threat nearby.

With Xavier's decisive shot, our team emerged triumphant, and a wave of celebration swept over us, filling the room with jubilant shouts and sounds of triumph.

Amidst the highs and lows of our gaming sessions, we discovered a sanctuary and reprieve from the complexities of the outside world, weaving memories that would linger far beyond the final kill.

At times, I mused over the intricate dynamics of our friendship. The presence of three close male companions brought both excitement and solace, each contributing their own quirks to our group dynamic.

Within our close-knit circle, trivial disputes and negativity held no sway, fostering an environment where genuine companionship thrived unencumbered. Encircled by my unwavering allies, I reveled in the simple joys of camaraderie and the enduring warmth of genuine friendship. ••• The following day, feeling the need for a wardrobe refresh, I enlisted Rafayel's assistance, grateful that he was available. We ventured into the bustling streets, the sunlight casting a warm glow on the storefronts. Stepping into the store, the scent of new fabrics greeted us, and racks of clothes beckoned from every corner.

For nearly two hours, we lost ourselves in the aisles, pulling out garments of all colours and styles. Rafayel, with his discerning eye, wrinkled his nose at most of my selections, insisting I try on the pieces he deemed worthy.

"This one's a definite no," he declared, holding up a bright floral dress that clashed with his taste.

I shot Rafayel a tired look and shook my head as I discarded the dress. "Okay? Fine, your turn to pick something for me then."

With a mischievous glint in his eye, Rafayel disappeared into the racks, emerging moments later with an armful of clothes he deemed suitable.

"Trust me, you'll thank me later," he teased, handing me the pile.

I rolled my eyes playfully, but curiosity got the best of me as I headed to the fitting room, ready to see what he had in store. ••• The fluorescent lights of the dressing room cast a soft glow over the array of clothes strewn about. After spending what felt like hours trying on various outfits, I finally settled on a few pieces that Rafayel had picked out. As I admired myself in the mirror, I realised that his taste wasn't so bad after all. Grabbing my phone, I snapped a few quick shots of the outfits I liked and sent them to our group chat, eager to get Xavier and Zayne's opinions too.

"Y'know, you actually look good in all of the outfits you picked. Even with jeans and t-shirts. I just like teasing you," Rafayel admitted with a sheepish grin, his eyes twinkling with mischief. I couldn't help but chuckle at his confession, relieved that my fashion sense hadn't completely failed me. With a playful swish of the fabric, I twirled in front of the mirror, admiring how the dress draped elegantly over my frame. He thinks I look good? The thought danced through my mind, a pleasant surprise amidst our playful banter.

"You're not getting off that easy," I teased back, shooting him a mock glare before breaking into a smile. Rafayel's grin softened into a gentle smile at my reaction, his eyes reflecting a genuine warmth as he observed my bashful response. "Seriously though, you've got great taste. You don't need my approval," he added, his tone reassuring. ••• On a crisp afternoon bathed in sunlight, I embarked on a journey to explore the hidden corners of the city by myself, my camera poised to capture the allure of undiscovered beauty. Lost in the enchanting scenery, I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder, and as I turned around, I was met with the captivating gaze of a stranger. With his tousled brown hair and piercing hazel eyes, he exuded an irresistible charm that instantly drew me in. "Are you new around here?" he inquired, his voice carrying a hint of curiosity. 

Affirming his assumption, I nodded, prompting him to respond with a compliment: "I thought so, I've never seen you before. You're really pretty." His words sent a flutter through my heart, and as he introduced himself as Alex, he graciously offered me his number before bidding farewell.

As I continued my solitary exploration of the city, the encounter with Alex lingered in my thoughts, his charismatic presence leaving an indelible impression. Despite the warmth of the sun overhead, a newfound excitement coursed through me, fuelled by the possibility of new connections in this unfamiliar terrain.  Our exchanges of messages had been ongoing since our serendipitous encounter, each conversation deepening the intrigue I felt toward the enigmatic stranger. ••• A typical Saturday saw my apartment bustling with the familiar energy of camaraderie as the boys gathered for our customary hangout session.

Xavier lounged comfortably on my lap, reading his book, while Rafayel and Zayne engaged in an intense round of Apex Legends. Glancing at my phone, I noticed a message from Alex inviting me out for coffee. Excitement bubbled within me at the prospect of a date, and in my haste, I jumped up, accidentally causing Xavier to topple over the couch. Ouch!" Xavier exclaimed, his sudden fall disrupting the otherwise tranquil atmosphere. With a startled yelp, he flailed his arms, desperately trying to regain his balance, but only managing to knock over a pile of magazines in the process. Pages fluttered through the air like confetti, adding a whimsical touch to the chaotic scene.

Rifling through my wardrobe, I deliberated over what to wear for the occasion. After much contemplation, I settled on a denim skirt paired with a white frilled sleeveless top. Taking extra care with my makeup and hair, I aimed to impress Alex, despite feeling a tad uneasy in the unfamiliar attire.

Just as I was about to step out, Rafayel's knock interrupted my preparations. Opening the door, I welcomed his scrutiny with a hint of apprehension. "Do I look okay? Be honest," I asked, hoping for reassurance. His puzzled expression quickly shifted to scrutiny as he eyed my outfit. "Where are you off to? We just got here? And what is that?" he questioned, pointing at my attire.

With a slight pout, I defended my choice of outfit, the fabric of my mini denim skirt swaying gently with my movements. Xavier, still half-asleep, his hair tousled and a little messy, chimed in with a mumbled observation about my seldom-seen skirt. "I've never seen you in that skirt before. Is it new?" he mumbled, his words laced with curiosity.

“Yeah, no shit. She never wears these kinds of outfits when she’s with us,” Rafayel replied, his tone tinged with skepticism.

The banter continued as Zayne joined in, his eyes scanning my attire with curiosity. “With whom are you going out?” he asked, his interest piqued. When I revealed my plans to go out with a guy I met at a cafe, Xavier's concern was palpable, prompting Rafayel to demand a wardrobe change.

“Okay, yep, nope. Sit your ass back down and change back into your regular clothes,” Rafayel demanded, his protective instincts kicking in.

“Bruh, let her go, she can dress however she wants. Besides, she looks… good,” Xavier interjected, coming to my defense.

“Oh, I’m sooooo sorry for wanting to look out for her?!” Rafayel retorted sarcastically, tension rising between them.

Now they’re both bickering, their voices escalating as Rafayel inches closer, attempting to deter me from going out. “Both of you—please shut up,” Zayne sighed, his finger massaging his temple.

“Fine. Whatever. Have fun! Be home by 8, sweetie! No later!” Rafayel's sarcastic tone echoed behind me as I headed out the door.

Unfazed, I playfully stuck out my tongue in defiance, determined to follow through with my plans. Excitement and nerves intertwined as I stepped out into the evening, eager to see where this unexpected encounter with Alex would lead. ••• As I approached the bustling coffee shop, my senses were bombarded with the sights and sounds of the crowded scene. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee lingered in the air, blending with the melodic hum of conversation and the rhythmic clinking of cups. Amidst the throng of people, I spotted a familiar figure with his back turned – it was Alex, engrossed in a phone call. Maintaining a discreet distance to avoid detection, I couldn't help but overhear snippets of his conversation amidst the bustling ambiance. With each word, a sinking feeling gnawed at my heart, and a sense of betrayal washed over me like a tidal wave. "Yeah, bro, I'm gonna make her sleep with me tonight," his voice carried over the din. "Yeah, she's probably easy. She's on her way here now. I'll play the lost wallet card and let her pick up the tab. Classic move, right? Haha. Catch you later."

As the weight of his words settled upon me, a mix of emotions swirled within – betrayal, anger, and disbelief intertwining like a tumultuous storm. The reality of his intentions struck me like a heavy blow, leaving me reeling in shock and dismay.

With a heavy heart, I quietly turned away from the scene, my mind racing with a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. The encounter had shattered any illusions I had about Alex, revealing his true colours in stark contrast to the charming facade I once admired. As I walked away, a bitter taste lingered in my mouth, tainting the once-promising prospect of our interaction with deception and manipulation. Hah. What a douchebag.

Anger simmered beneath the surface, but there was also a strange sense of relief—relief that I had uncovered Alex's true intentions before things went any further. With growing disillusionment, I found myself losing faith in men, specifically men like Alex. Why hadn't I listened to Rafayel's warnings? It was a question that echoed in my mind, taunting me with its hindsight wisdom.

Returning home, I was met with the unexpected sight of all three of them lounging on the couch, their faces a mix of surprise and curiosity as I entered. Rafayel, ever the joker, couldn't resist making a quip. “Oh, back so soon? Didn't know it was a speed dating," he joked, a mischievous grin playing on his lips. But Xavier's quick intervention halted his words in their tracks, recognising the storm in my eyes. Zayne, usually the silent observer, watched Rafayel with a sharp gaze, sensing the tension in the air.

"Don't talk to me," I managed to utter, my voice thick with emotion as I pushed past them and retreated to the sanctuary of my room.

Collapsing onto my bed, the weight of disappointment and hurt bore down on me, and the floodgates opened, releasing the tears I had been holding back. Rafayel, Xavier, and Zayne knocked on my door, their concern palpable through the wood. "Give me a minute," I managed to choke out, needing to gather myself before facing them. After what felt like an eternity, I emerged from my room to find them waiting outside, a protective barrier of support.

"Hey, uh, wanna grab some ramen nearby?" Rafayel suggested, his voice gentle yet reassuring, cutting through the heavy silence like a beacon of warmth. His eyes, usually filled with mischief, now held a softness that mirrored the concern etched on his face. Xavier nodded in agreement, his expression mirroring Rafayel's empathy. "Yeah, a warm bowl of ramen might be just what you need right now," he chimed in, his voice a comforting undertone amidst the turmoil of emotions swirling around us.

Zayne, typically the quietest of us all, offered a supportive nod, his eyes conveying a silent solidarity. "It's always comforting to have your company," he remarked, his gaze softening as he directed a reassuring smile my way. ••• As we sat slurping noodles at the ramen stall, the aroma of savoury broth filled the air, enveloping us in a comforting embrace amidst the bustling street. With each tale of my encounter with Alex, the steam from our bowls seemed to echo the rising tension within our group. "Do you want me to beat up that jerkface?" Rafayel offered, his tone a mix of jest and genuine concern, his eyes flickering mischievously. I chuckled softly at his offer. "Yeah, I can join in," Xavier added, leaning in with a playful glint in his eyes. He noticed a stray noodle nestled in the corner of my lips and instinctively brushed it away with his thumb, his smile warming my heart. But before I could react, Rafayel interjected with a mischievous grin. "Move over, (your name), it's my turn," he teased, his mischievous side shining through as he mimicked Xavier's gesture. Delicately placing a small noodle on the corner of his own mouth, he grinned mischievously.

With a chuckle and a playful eye roll from me, I opted to flick his nose instead, contributing to the lighthearted atmosphere of our gathering.

Turning my attention to Zayne, I noticed a quiet contemplation in his expression, a subtle tension beneath his calm exterior. His gaze shifted between me and his bowl of ramen, a silent dialogue unfolding within him.

“You okay, Z?" I inquired softly, sensing his internal struggle.

He hesitated for a moment before finally breaking the silence. Placing his bowl down, he gave me a gentle head pat.

“...You know, you’re perfectly fine just the way you are. Don't feel pressured to change your appearance for other people but yourself,” his words, though simple, resonated deeply within me, serving as a gentle reminder of the unwavering support and acceptance within our circle. With a smile, I expressed my gratitude, thanking him for his encouraging words.

“Okay, bro, you can stop patting her,” Rafayel interjected, breaking the moment.

Zayne cleared his throat, and resumed eating, seemingly to alleviate the awkward tension in the room. As his words settled in my heart, I felt a wave of gratitude wash over me, reaffirming my sense of self-worth and empowerment. ••• After our late dinner, we strolled back to my apartment, the city lights casting a gentle glow on the sidewalks. Along the way, Rafayel couldn't resist his usual teasing, his playful jabs punctuated by bursts of laughter. In a moment of clumsiness, I accidentally elbowed him too hard, causing him to yelp in pain. Xavier chuckled at Rafayel's misfortune, offering a playful "Serves you right," as he fist-bumped me in solidarity. 

Meanwhile, Zayne, ever the silent observer, couldn't suppress his amusement, quietly chuckling at the banter unfolding before him.

As their laughter filled the air, I found myself falling behind, enveloped in a profound sense of gratitude. Despite the playful banter, I couldn't shake the depth of connection we shared.

A sudden realisation began to dawn on me. My heartbeat quickened, a whirlwind of emotions stirring inside, my gaze shifting between the three of them. Panic seized me as I grappled with the truth, the weight of my feelings crashing over me like a tidal wave.

"No. No. No. This can't be happening. Why is my heart racing like this?" I murmured to myself, halting in my tracks. The revelation unleashed a maelstrom of conflicting feelings, engulfing me in a tempest of uncertainty.

Could it be? Am I starting to have feelings for my best friends? —by prettyobsessed⋆˚✿˖° Editor's notes: i hope you like it! i left it open-ended for your interpretation. feel free to request for more! ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡