#ghastly elegance

[raymadrigal]

Ghastly Elegance

2023

Documentation by Lillian Heredia

[yentling]

Tbh I think what offends me the most about vaping is how stupid it looks. Lacks the elegance of the cigarette.

[itstheghostofmypast]

His Honeybee

Draco Malfoy x (f)Reader

Summary: She was as sweet as honey, as warm as the sun, and as bright as the colour yellow, that would always have his legs turn to jello. Her love for him was as vast as the sea, she was his honeybee.

Genre: Fluff (a tinge of angst)

Warnings: None

A/N: I swear I'm still try na catch up with my requests but please bear with me, I need to get this stuff out of my system from time to time to relax. Please remember to show some love by ❤️ and reblogs.

With a small huff, he dropped his bag, eyes as clear as the lake before him, watching it glimmer under the rising sun. The mist around them had settled to a low veil, only adding to the chilly sensation, nipping at the tip of his ears.

Slowly, he settled down beside a warmer body, moving closer to welcome the furnace-like warmth, earning a small chuckle from the person beside him, his hand reaching to grab onto its counterpart, another half, to complete the puzzle, her hand.

"Didn't I tell you to wear a cap?"

Her voice was barely above a whisper, eyes never leaving the book, colouring book? It was at this point that his gaze moved from her alluring side profile to her lap, noticing the coloured pencils and markers on the other side in an unzipped pouch, then the book in her lap, watching her colour an abnormally large, unrealistic, geometric flower.

"Didn't I tell you it'll mess up my hair." his words came out a bit colder than he had intended to, the irritation in his tone was evident, but it was not because of her, never because of her. It was just the cold and the lack of attention he was being provided, but he didn't want her to think it was her fault, he had always tried to be gentle with her, and a tender undertone would resurface from within him around her.

"Even the one I knitted for you?" she pouted turning to look at him properly, a small gasp escaping her lips as she noticed the little kisses and nips left by Lady Winter herself, all across his face, the pink tips of his ears to the way his cheeks were splattered with pink and the tip his nose of a cute little rosy colour. "You look like you're freezing." she huffed letting go of his hand, much to his disapproval, turning to fish for something in her bag.

"You didn't knit me any....thing" his words slowly died off when she pulled out a woollen cap, with two strings on each side, it was by far the ugliest thing he had ever seen. It was by no means extraordinary, it was in no way a fashion statement or elegant, it was a simple, peasant-like - border line muggle-like- woollen cap.

"Tada! I did, " she gleamed before showing him another one, "For both of us." it was only then that he noticed the finer details about the caps, each had a customised trait. One of the caps was completely green, and in the centre was a woollen heart in yellow, while the other had a yellow base and a green heart in the centre- same design, inverted colours.

"Oh" his insult stopped before it could pour out, luckily the gears in his head had worked fast enough for it to click, their house colours and if he knew her like the back of his hand, which he did, she was going to give him the ghastly yellow one with the green heart and keep the green one with the yellow heart for herself.

"This one" Turning her upper body towards him, her hand reached up to his hair, fingers running through his hair, his eyes instinctively closing at the tender action, letting her touch and mess about his neatly styled hair, anyone else would've been burnt to death, but she wasn't just anyone. He hummed at her little comment about liking his new haircut, his bangs adding a nice flair to his aura, whatever that meant. A few minutes in and he had forgotten why she had begun to gently comb through his hair, basking in the oh-so-needed attention he had woken up early in the morning in the first place for, the need of attention that had him trudging through the damp, cold forest all the way to her, in their little corner, their little lake, just to be with her. An affectionate sensation faded away when he felt something warm sit atop his head, covering his ears, though the slightly itchy sensation forced him to snap his eyes open.

"There." tying up the two strings attached to each end of the earpiece, into a pretty bow she moved back to admire her work. His face had turned warmer, not because of the itchy woollen cap, but her little gesture, her look of admiration as if he were the prettiest thing in the world.

"Why...is it...yellow?" looking at anything but her face he mumbled out a question, he knew which one was his before she had even worded it out, but he couldn't figure out the ideology.

"Well" putting on her cap, leaving the strings undone, she smiled at him, "Because my heart is surrounded by you, everywhere I look, I see things that remind me of you like take this place, it's quiet and peaceful, and it's ours, I found this place because it reminded me of you, how you like quiet places, places where you are free from prying eyes, everywhere I go, I see you, like this lake, it's like I'm looking into your eyes, the way it sparkles under the sun reminds me of how your eyes twinkle in potions class when we learn something new, or how when we go to the library, the section way at the back, with the books no one touches, reminds me of the ample knowledge you have on topics I couldn't even think of, how you're so much smarter than everyone, yet, no one approaches you for help out of hesitance, just how no one goes at the back old isle." her eyes caught how a small smile had made its way on his face, how he was now holding onto her hand again, "That's why my heart is surrounded by you. I hope...yours is surrounded by me." peaking up at him, as he turned his face around, hiding his expressions from her, a part of her wanted to tease him for being shy, but perhaps that was for another time. Instead, she settled back down after hearing a faint whisper, "Of course, mine too, is surrounded by you, silly girl."

"Good." with that she let go of his hand and went back to colouring, letting a comfortable silence settle between the two.

It took him a good ten minutes to calm down, her little confession had his chest hammering against the walls of his chest, demanding to be set free so it could nestle in the warm, tender palm of hers, all pretty and all hers. He knew his palm was sweaty against hers, and he prayed to God that she wouldn't continue with her teasing, knowing fully well he'd either snap in retaliation or just run away to cry in joy somewhere in a corner. The noise of his pesky, beating heart rang in his ears, constantly reminding him of his undying love for her. After the ringing dyed out his attention turned towards the scratching sound, noticing the bold choice of colours she was using to colour the unrealistic flower, his curiosity no longer being confined by his sense of logic as it slipped out,

"Why are you colouring?"

"It's therapeutic."

"Colouring like a child ?"

"Hmm, it's designed for an older audience."

"So colouring is a nice way to relax?"

"Mhmmm..." Pulling out another colour she glanced at him, "What do you do to relax?"

What did he do to relax? Most of the time he'd be too frustrated with his father and grades to even care to relax. If he did ever get a moment of peace, it was with her. As she had mentioned before, he was surrounded by her, his senses were flooded with her presence, he'd be thinking about her more often these days, perhaps because winter break was upon them. Winterbreak meant that the two would have to part, he'd go back home to his cold mansion and she'd go back to her loving parents. Parents who knew he existed, unlike his own, who had no idea who she was or if she existed, perhaps if he could build the courage this time, he might tell them, he was after all in his 6th year.

"Draco?"

"I sketch." the words left him sooner than he expected, it wasn't his fault though, he was too distracted by her curious eyes, her inviting scent, her warm and tender aura, his brain would often short-circuit around her, and this was one of those times.

"Ah...that's nice, I've never seen any of your sketches before." she giggled, once again letting go of his hand to turn to her bag, missing the way he shrugged with a "Burn them afterwards."

"Well" turning to him she handed him her sketchbook and pencils, "Don't burn this one, I wanna keep it safe and close to me." she smiled at his surprised eyes, adding in a little "Please" Much to his pleasure, for she knew that would make him all putty and it did.

A few beats of silence later, all that could be heard was the gentle sounds of nature waking up around them, the sun ever so slowly waltzing up higher into the sky, trying to own the cold floor with its glow and warmth within the winter sky. The birds would often change the tune around them, from a soft melody to a high-pitched orchestra of chirps, much to their pleasure, this was what he loved most about spending time with her, everything would be so pleasant, so calming and so warm, caressing his soul with such a tender delicate touch, allowing him to bask in her presence, a feeling he wanted to lounge in for almost all of eternity if it were possible.

Ever so often she'd notice him glance at her, then look ahead, unsure of whether he wanted to ask her something, or tell her. Truth be told, she had been meaning to ask him something, something about them, but perhaps she was too afraid to do so, afraid that it would scare him away. It took so long for him to open up to her, even after they had become an official couple, at least official enough for their close friends to know, but she knew his parents were not aware of her presence. She never brought it up, even after she had introduced him to hers, admiring how he was able to hold up a conversation with her father, gushing over the way he was being forced to eat more by her mother after he had complimented her cooking. She thanked him with her whole being when he had told her how he felt about her home that night, when he lay next to her, snuggled under the covers with her on her cramped single bed in matching pyjamas, "It isn't special, but I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world...it's warm...and nice...mine is...cold. I like it here, I like being here with you."

A part of her wanted to ask him if he'd ever want to be with her outside of school, or what would happen to them after their school years came to an end. Would their relationship cease to exist? Would their love turn into a bundle of memories they'd turn to in their darkest times? Would she just be his secret lover he was destined to leave? Perhaps she felt this way due to the upcoming winter break, all these questions finally bottling up to the max, ready to spill over. But she couldn't, she had to be careful, for she knew no matter how cold or tough he would act, he was but a fragile soul, always yearning for the approval of his parents, for their love and admiration, especially his father's, one he barely received. So, she had to be careful and phrase it properly, because even if he feared his father, she was terrified of the man, she had seen him only a handful of times at school and if there was one thing she was sure about was that other than muggles, he hated Hufflepuffs as well. Maybe their love was short-lived, maybe she should prepare herself for the day he'd let her go, because in this situation it was not the "It's not you it's me", since it wasn't him, he was perfect in all and every sense, but it was her if she wasn't sorted in Hufflepuff, she was from a more prominent family if she was...perfect like him, maybe, then just maybe, their fates could have intertwined till eternity, if only the stars had, for once, listened to her and not decided for her, it only.

"Oh" his gasp broke her train of thought, "I'm late for practice!" he shot up, looking down at her, who was staring up at him like a deer caught in headlights, face flushed, her cap now covering her forehead, as she blinked up at him. Letting out a chuckle he bent down to brush his slightly chapped lips against hers, fingers gently gripping her chin, tilting her head to look up at him, "I've made up my mind, my honeybee, come with me this winter break, I...I don't know what to expect, but I know for sure I want you in my life, whether anyone likes it or not." With that, he knelt one last time to give her a proper kiss, "Finish your colouring, you've been on the same petal for an hour."

"Draco! Wait!" she called out, only for him to turn his head and give her that heart-stopping smile, winking at her before running off to the schoolyards, not waiting for her to speak.

"You're still wearing the....cap." she sighed before letting out a nervous chuckle, well then, at least one thing was clear, his parents may not need to wait till winter break to find out about their boy's heart belonging to a Hufflepuff, especially when his entire Quidditch team would see him in his woollen cap. Shaking her head, she turned to grab the sketchbook flipping it over to look at what he had been sketching, a soft gasp leaving her lips, as her fingers dug into the paper, eyes turning glossy at the sight. For more than an hour, he had sat there, sketching her, from every dimple to strand of hair, the details added in just made her wonder who he had sketched, for this ethereal being could not have been her. That is until she read the little sign off underneath, "My precious honeybee."

[m1ckeyb3rry]

── THE GLASS PRINCESS // SEVEN

Series Synopsis: You wake up in a strange room with no memories, broken glass at your bedside, and a prince named Zuko as your only chance at figuring out who you really are.

Chapter Synopsis: You get your first taste of freedom from the constricting walls of the Earth Palace.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Zuko x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 5.2k

Content Warnings: complicated relationships (strangers to friends to lovers to enemies to strangers to lovers to enemies to lovers), amnesia, alternate universe, lots of secrets and lying and mystery

A/N: hello everyone and welcome to part two of the glass princess!! in the next few chapters we will be learning more about princess y/n and how she met zuko/the fall of ba sing se :) thank you all for reading!! and yes i did make up an entire spirit for the #plot 😭🙏🏻 i promise she will have significance to the story later on though!!

Although it was uncharitable, you could not help yourself from thinking that the only reason Long Feng was allowing your brother to keep that ridiculous creature around was because of its apparent resemblance to Quynh. In a way, it could be considered to have been made in her image, and Kuei knew that as well as you did, which was why he was currently leaping about joyfully, shaking you by the shoulders as if he were a child instead of a man.

“I’ve found him!” Kuei shrieked at you for the thousandth time. “I’ve found Quynh’s son! She hasn’t abandoned us after all, Y/N! She sent her son to me!”

“That ghastly, muddy creature is no child of Quynh’s,” you said, wrinkling your nose at the tufts of fur all over the fine carpet. “And Quynh never abandoned us in the first place. I do not know why you think that that is the case.”

“No one has seen her in nearly a century, and it’s been even longer since anyone found Quynh’s Door. If ever she was real, she left the palace long ago,” Kuei said. “Maybe she was never a spirit in the first place — just one of Bosco’s ancestors.”

“That is blasphemy!” you rebuked him. “Quynh is no Agni — she is a concrete spirit, not an abstract deity. If anything, she is far more similar to Tui and La, from the Northern Water Tribe.”

“Who?” Kuei said.

“The ocean and moon spirits,” you said with a heavy sigh, once again finding yourself unimpressed by Kuei and his ignorance. “They live in the Northern Water Tribe and allow Waterbenders to bend.”

“Quynh doesn’t allow anyone to bend. She’s a different legend entirely. You should know that,” he said. You gritted your teeth.

“I wish you would pick up a book for once! It was an analogy, you fool,” you said.

“It matters not,” Kuei said after a second. “I don’t know why you’re so set on this fairytale, but the sooner you give up on it, the sooner you can find the wonder in the real world.”

“By the real world, do you mean my chambers?” you said. “Or yours? Because that is the extent of the world I know.”

“I mean the bear sitting before you at this very moment!” he said, ignoring your pointed response and gesturing towards his new pet with a flourish. “You are more taken with a made up story than an actual natural phenomenon. That’s a problem, dear sister.”

Bosco the bear grumbled at you in agreement, blinking his large, wet eyes at you. And perhaps you might’ve been impressed by his sturdy build and elegant snout, but all you could see when you gazed upon him was a cheap copy, a faded replica that could never hope to capture even half of the original’s glory.

“Well, dear brother, it can’t be helped. Your pet will never be Quynh,” you said.

“Always bringing down the mood, aren’t you?” he said, rolling his eyes at you. “I wasn’t saying he was Quynh, I was saying he resembled her greatly. Anyways, you know stories always inflate their characters; for all we know, Quynh really did once look like this.”

You wanted to argue with him, but of course it would not be productive. Like the element he ruled, your brother was set in his ways — the only qualities he had in equal measure to stubbornness were cowardice and naïveté, both of which he was perhaps better known for. It was true, though, that when he gained a sense of conviction for something, he’d stand by it with a fervor that he rarely displayed otherwise. It was one of the few attributes you could genuinely admire him for, even if it was inconvenient at times.

“As you say,” you said. “I see no purpose in further discussions on the matter. You do not believe in Quynh, and I do. Neither of us can change the other’s mind, so we ought to just move on.”

“Compliment Bosco first,” Kuei said. “On my authority as the Earth King, I demand it.”

“You demand a lot of things on that tenuous authority,” you muttered. Then, you smiled at the piteous looking bear. “You truly deserve to be my brother’s companion. I am certain you are possessed with the same commanding spirit that he is so fortunate to claim.”

Kuei beamed at you. “Thank you. You can return to your room.”

You snickered at him. “It is appreciated.”

Only when you were halfway down the hallway did he shout in protest, realizing your thinly veiled insult. You sped up your pace, running towards your room before he could come and question you or make another demand — you did not put it past him to insist that you compliment his bear properly.

It was one of those ways you had to get back at him. You were ever searching for more, trying your best to needle the brother who was, whether directly or indirectly, the cause of your imprisonment.

Your chambers. His chambers. The hallway in between. These were the confines of your world, according to Kuei and Long Feng, who was his most trusted advisor. It would be dangerous, after all, for a girl with no bending and royal blood flowing through her veins to be wandering the streets without protection, even in a city as safe as Ba Sing Se. So although you had begged to at least see the kingdom which was your own, you had been promptly refused every time, the locks changed periodically and the guards rotated hourly to ensure they stayed alert to your movements.

Escape was impossible, but even in such a life, you could find solace: in your dressing room, a door would sometimes appear, a door which led to the heart of the palace — not the throne room, but the true heart upon which the entire structure was constructed. Quynh’s Den, the entrance to which was constantly shifting between the spirit world and the mortal one, was the only place you had for yourself, though of course you shared it with its other inhabitant: the great mother bear spirit Quynh.

It was there today. Ensuring that the entrance to your own chambers was sufficiently blocked, you did not even hesitate to pull the door open, ducking into the stone passageway behind it eagerly. The only light came from the glowing crystals overhead, but you knew the way so well that you could’ve tread it even with your eyes closed, so the dimness did not trouble you any.

It did not make sense for such a long, winding hall made entirely of stone to be behind your dressing room, but that was because the hallway was not truly there. The door was only a gateway to the realm in which Quynh’s Den resided, but that realm was somewhere else, in some intangible other dimension that did not quite obey the same rules as yours.

Time, too, felt strange in this place. You did not know for how long you walked; you never did. You could only keep going until the narrow passage opened into a large cavern, the walls of which were studded with the same glowing green crystals that the entire hall had been encrusted with. The majority of the space was taken up by a massive black form curled up on a bed of ghostly white moss, her head resting on paws that were several times your own size. You knew from past experience that if you were to stand right beside her when she was in such a position, you would barely even be able to peek over her nose.

“Quynh,” you said. Twin jewels blinked open — her enormous eyes were the same luminous shade as the crystals surrounding her, and they, too, shone with a mysterious, intrinsic power.

“Y/N,” she said, the cavern rumbling with the depth of her voice. “I was wondering when you would come again.”

“I come whenever you allow me to,” you said, moving so that you could sit in front of her. She huffed, tilting her head so that you could clamber onto her paw and lean against the plush fur of her cheek, which would be several times warmer than the cold stone floor.

“It’s not under my control,” she said. “You know my limitations.”

“Yes, of course I do,” you said. “That’s how it’s always been. I was just reminding you, so that you are not angry.”

“I do not blame you,” she said. “For not visiting. I know that you cannot unless the circumstances align. Rather, it is that I am bereaved when you are gone. It has been many years since I could say this with certainty, but the truth is that I miss your company.”

“And I, yours,” you said. “Though you should not feel too complimented by that. It is you or Kuei, and I am, as ever, irritated by him at the moment.”

“You should not quarrel with him,” Quynh chided you. “He is the only family you have. It does you no good to fight with him so frequently. You will be sad if something happens and those are the only memories you have of him.”

“I wish that you were not inclined to defend him!” you said.

“Whether you like it or not, he is of the same line as you. I love him as well, for that fact. I am bound to,” she said. You pouted.

“You ought to love me more. He doesn’t even think you are real,” you said. “I’m the only one who’s believed in you in decades.”

“A mother cannot declare favorites,” Quynh said diplomatically. “And so, neither can I. You ought to know this by now.”

“He’s found a bear,” you muttered obstinately. “It’s a disgusting creature. Rolls in mud whenever given the opportunity and barely knows to shut its jowls when it’s eating.”

“A bear?” Quynh said, one of her ears flicking with interest. “I did not know of any which existed.”

“I suppose there is this one,” you said. “He is a true bear; I have ascertained as much. He does resemble you, though it is in the way that quartz resembles diamond.”

Bear was not quite enough to encapsulate what Quynh was. Certainly, her form was as such, but she was in a sense phantasmic, and so ascribing a physical species to her was disingenuous. That was why you found it so grating that Kuei was frolicking about and proclaiming that he had found her equal — she had no equal. Quynh stood alone.

“It is unfair,” she said, “for you to hold that against him. If you were possessed with an uneducated eye, you, too, would mistake the quartz for the diamond. He cannot be blamed.”

“I would know,” you said. “Even if I were blind, I would know. The diamond possesses something which the quartz never can.”

“And what might that be?” Quynh said.

“I don’t know,” you said. “But there is some such quality.”

“Perhaps,” she said. “Or perhaps you are upset about something entirely different and are taking out your frustration on an animal that cannot help its ancestry and a brother who is known to be a fool.”

“On that much, we can agree,” you said with a self-satisfied smile. “Kuei is a fool.”

“Y/N,” Quynh warned you. You hung your head in defeat.

“I asked Long Feng if I could leave again,” you said. “I thought he was in a generous mood, considering he raised no complaint about Bosco being moved to the royal chambers, but he refused! I told him I would not stray from my guards’ side, that I only wished to go for a matter of minutes, but still he said no.”

“Did he give his reasons?” Quynh said.

“The same as ever,” you said. “Until Kuei marries and has children, I am next in line for the throne. As the heir, I must be kept with the utmost of caution, and the only place I can be safe for certain is the palace.”

“He’s not entirely wrong,” she said. “The world is dangerous. More than you might think.”

“I don’t think anything,” you said, though you immediately felt poorly for snapping at her. “I cannot even form an opinion on the city I might one day rule. What sort of a princess does not even know her subjects? To say nothing of my brother the king, who himself has not left the palace walls in years and is entirely comfortable with that! I cannot understand it. I cannot understand why he has no desire to know his people, the very people who love him so dearly as to accept him as their ruler.”

“Not everyone is like you,” Quynh said, nudging you as gently as she could. “And your brother’s past shaped who he is now. You cannot blame him for desiring safety when he was there when it all happened.”

She spoke of your father. You had never met the man, for he had died days before you had been born, so you felt no grief at the reminder, but you knew it was not the same for Kuei. After all, your father’s death was the only reason your brother had taken the throne in the first place; a throne which, at his young age, he had been ill-suited for.

Due to Kuei’s fondness for animals, which he had had since he was very young, your father had taken him to the zoo for his birthday. There, a wayward assassin of the Earthbending variety had sent spikes of stone into your father’s heart, killing him before the guards could even react. It was all they could do to save Kuei and run — the assassin, as far as you knew, still walked free today, for they had been too concerned with your brother’s protection to chase after the killer.

The zoo was shut down. The child Kuei was crowned king, though your mother was deemed his regent. Days later, she fell gravely ill. Giving birth to you was the last thing she did — she never left the childbearing bed, using the final remains of her strength to push you out and hold you tightly against her chest until she stopped breathing entirely.

One child there for your father’s last moments. The other, for your mother’s. Quynh was not exaggerating in saying that Kuei was the only family you had left, but your lives had been so dissimilar as to be entire opposites. He had his ministers and advisors to replace the gap your father had left in his life. You had Quynh to serve as your mother, in whatever way she could.

“The guards will be vigilant,” you said. “And anyways, even if I am Kuei’s heir, I doubt that anyone would have cause to assassinate me. I am not important enough to the kingdom. If I were killed, Kuei would simply marry earlier, and have more children, so it would be a net loss for any assailants.”

“You know that I am not opposed to it,” Quynh said. “It is your brother and his advisors who forbid you; I am only reminding you to respect their wishes, for they, in some manner, have your best interests at heart.”

“But I am dying of it,” you said. “Every day I languish in the palace, I can feel my spirit being crushed by the ever-encroaching walls. My only respite is visiting you, Quynh, but even that is not enough. I am still captive.”

Quynh sighed. It was a great sound, whistling and low, teeming with disappointment and worry and affection, all in equal measure. You rubbed your hand against her fur, waiting for her response, though you doubted it would be any different than every other time you had asked.

“You want me to open a door to the kingdom,” she said.

“Yes,” you said. “If I go alone, in the garb of a commoner, then I should escape notice entirely.”

“Alright,” she said. You opened your mouth to argue before closing it.

“Alright?” you repeated. “You’re saying yes? What about the usual rebuttals? It’s too much of a risk, Y/N, you won’t even be able to find Quynh’s Door.”

“It’s true,” she said. “You won’t have that guarantee, but of course, I can manually open doors back to the palace. The danger in this is that you will have to wait until I can open a door to allow your return, even if you want it earlier. As you well know, time is different here. I could open a door for you mere seconds after you’ve left, but that still might mean you must spend hours in the city.”

“I do not mind,” you said. “I will make good use of that time. But what has changed your mind? Why have you never offered before?”

“Something has come to the city,” she said. “I can feel it. There is a presence, or perhaps multiple presences, that can change the course of Ba Sing Se’s destiny — and, more importantly, of your family’s destiny. I am not sure, but I feel as if it is imperative that you leave, or else I will be depriving you of that destiny. And that unto itself is a fate, but not the one which you are meant to find.”

“Who are they?” you said. “These presences. How will I know that I’ve met them?”

“You won’t,” she said. “There is no way for any of us to know. Even they, themselves, may not yet be aware of it. It is just like that. You needn’t endeavor to find them; if you are meant to, you will.”

“I see,” you said, and then you leapt off of her paw, beaming up at her. “Then the only thing I will

“I hope you do,” Quynh said. “Furthermore, I hope you do not regret your decision.”

“I won’t,” you said firmly. “Thank you, Quynh.”

“It is my duty,” she said. “I am obligated to. To be sure, it is difficult, for there is always some difficulty when a mother must let her child go, but it is necessary. It is a story older than even I.”

“And this story is just as old,” you said. “That even when you let me go, I will return to you. Of my own volition, I shall return.”

“So you shall,” she said. “Go, then, Y/N. And return with as much haste as you leave, so that I may not miss you for too long.”

A new hallway formed in the walls of the cave, and without a backward glance, you walked towards it. Striding down the passage, you kept your eyes forward, knowing that if you turned around, you would see the stone closing behind you. You could not go back; it was not the nature of Quynh’s power. There was only one way to go, now that the decision had been made: forward.

All of the passages made by Quynh were the same length — barring the one behind the famed Quynh’s Door, naturally — so it was a trick of your mind that made the trek to Ba Sing Se seem longer than when you returned to your room from her den. Still, eventually, you came to another door, and your entire body shuddered in anticipation as you placed your hand on the knob, because this was the moment that you waited your entire life for.

Unable to delay for a second more, you swung the door open, taking your first step into the city of Ba Sing Se, your silk-slippered foot toeing delicately onto the cobblestones. Shutting the door behind you, you glanced over your shoulder to ascertain that it had disappeared. As you had expected, the wall was smooth and bare, giving no indication that there had ever been an exit in the first place.

There were people everywhere. You had never witnessed such a large crowd before; people milled about by the fading light of the setting sun, jostling one another as they rushed to and fro. At the fringes of the throng, two men with long torches went about lighting the street lamps, though they took their own time doing so, talking and laughing with whichever passersby that they recognized.

Another person might find the chaos to be ugly, hideous in its disorder, but you found a kind of mystical appeal to the hustle of the street. These were people who were living their lives as they were meant to, with no awareness of the simple freedoms and small joys they possessed. They gave no care to the idea that their daily lives were so remarkable to you, that their going-ons were the most wonderful thing you had ever seen.

You were too afraid to step into the sea of people, so you stayed along the sides of the road, admiring them, watching them, wanting more than anything to be one of them. But of course you were not. You would never be.

The door had spit you out near a small tea shop. It was not run down, exactly, but it was lived in, homey, the wood polished and the chairs worn. You opened the door to the establishment, but found it to be devoid of any patrons. There was only an old man behind the counter, sorting the change with toughened hands, though he looked up when he heard the bell chime announce your entrance.

“Hello, miss,” he said. “I’m afraid we are about to close for the night.”

“Oh, it’s not a problem,” you said. “I wasn’t wanting tea, anyways. I was just admiring your shop.”

“Why, thank you,” he said, grinning at you. “Though it’s not my shop, so I can’t claim to have any hand in the decor.”

“It smells so lovely,” you said. “It reminds me of a very beautiful thing, though I can’t name which.”

“Flowers?” he guessed. “Maybe a garden full of jasmine blossoms, their petals facing the moon, with a few drops of rain scattered about on their surfaces?”

“Actually, yes,” you said, amazed at his accuracy. “How did you know? That was exactly correct.”

“It’s the new blend of jasmine tea we’re brewing for tomorrow. My nephew picks the flowers himself, so that we can be sure of the condition of the jasmine before we make the tea. It’s the best way to allow the flavors to come through!” the man said.

“Wow,” you said. “I never knew there was so much thought put behind tea. I just drink it.”

“Most people don’t care enough,” the man said with a nod. “That’s what sets our tea apart. It’s only when you pay attention to the most minute details that you can ensure your final product is as close to perfection as can be found in a teacup. It’s a grave sin to think that tea begins and ends with the boiling of water; in truth, it starts when you plant seeds in the soil.”

“That makes a lot of sense,” you said. “Though I hadn’t it until now. Thank you for telling me. I shall pay more attention the next time I have tea; perhaps then I, too, will be able to understand its origins from a mere sip.”

“It takes practice,” the man said. “But no harm ever befell the man who paid attention. Or woman, in this case.”

“Of course,” you said. “But I should leave you to close. I apologize for bothering you in the first place.”

“Don’t apologize,” the man said, waving you off. “It’s always a delight to have a conversation with a willing partner.”

“The delight was mine,” you said.

“Do come again!” the man said. “Perhaps earlier in the day, though. I can serve you tea — or, better, I can make my nephew do it. I think he’s about your age, and he is wanting for friends. But don’t tell him I said that! He’s not aware of it quite yet.”

Your eyes widened at the thought. You had never met someone your own age, nor had you ever had a friend — Quynh and Kuei were your family, for better or for worse, and the servants never dared speak to you beyond the barest of formalities. So, in a way, you were alsowanting for a friend, but you could not tell the man this. Instead, you smiled slightly at him, bowing your head in gratitude.

“I should like that,” you said. “If ever I am nearby again, I will surely come.”

As the night stretched on, the streets began to empty — or was it that you were wandering further and further away from the main crossroads? Regardless, there was certainly a shift in the air, and it was only when you entered a deserted neighborhood that you realized there had been footsteps following you for quite some time now.

Turning around, you saw no one. The streets were devoid of life. The footsteps had stopped, but you could not help the nagging feeling that something was wrong.

Where was the door? It had been long enough — you should’ve been able to find it by now. You should’ve been able to go home by now. But there was no door. You were alone, and you suddenly understood why you had been forbidden from leaving the palace.

“Who goes there?” you said. “I — I am armed, so show yourself, but proceed with caution!”

“Armed?” a voice said. “Don’t fool yourself, your royal highness. Everyone knows you aren’t armed.”

“Your royal — how do you know who I am?” you called out. “Coward! You dare to hide in the shadows and hurl such insults at me?”

Your response was an enormous boulder shooting towards you. You squealed and dropped to the ground, covering your head with your hands as the boulder smashed into the wall behind you, bits of rubble raining down. There was a stinging pain on your knee, and you frowned as you realized that you had scraped it when you had initially dodged.

“What are you doing?” you said. “You will kill me! Stop it! You craven hound, I command you to stop what you are doing and face me like a man! If you cease your actions and explain yourself at once, I shan’t have you put to death. I will even pardon you of your every crime!”

Again, no response, and your heart dropped as you realized that might be his goal. What other reason would the man, who apparently knew your identity, have for attacking you? It was unfathomable, but you were reminded that it had not been so long since your father had been assassinated. Whatever sentiments had driven that attack…what if you had been wrong? What if you were, for whatever reason, the target for the next assassination?

It reminded you of a story, one you had read on the tenth anniversary of your father’s death. You thought it might comfort you, or more specifically your brother, to read the tale of another king who had been assassinated but whose reign had continued on regardless; in truth, though, only one quote had stuck with you, and this quote was neither comforting nor kind.

Sometimes, these things just happen, it had said. Kings are murdered. There isn’t always an explanation. Sometimes, the only reason is the action itself. Sometimes, people just kill for the spectacle of killing.

Maybe that was the case. Maybe you were just going to be killed for the spectacle. The show. The king’s beloved sister, murdered in his own city, the safest city in the entire world.

Right when the second boulder was about to hit you, there was a metallic sound, and then something sliced through the boulder, cutting it in half before it could reach you. When you looked up, there was a man in black standing in front of you, twin blades held in each hand, his posture confident but wary.

“Who are you?” you said. The man did not respond, scanning the area. He must’ve determined it to be safe, as abruptly, he relaxed his stance, sheathing the swords and then shifting to face you.

You could not stop yourself from yelping. Instead of a face, there was a blue mask regarding you, frozen in a grotesque grin, though when you got over your initial surprise, you realized you recognized the guise.

“The Blue Spirit?” you said. He nodded. “I’ve read the play, but I didn’t realize that you were — that you were a real being!”

The Blue Spirit was motionless in the wake of your words. Or, no, that was not correct. It was not that he was motionless, but that every part of his body was constantly shifting and changing, on high alert, so that the sum total was a man that was both ever at rest yet ever moving.

You pulled yourself to your feet, careful not to hurt yourself on the scattered stones surrounding you both, and just then, right behind you, a door appeared. You laughed ruefully at the ironic timing.

“What were you doing here, anyways?” you said. He mimed opening his hand; you did so, your palm facing the sky, though you had no idea what he planned to do with it. But he had saved you, so you thought that there was no harm in trusting him for a moment longer.

He did not do anything as dramatic as grabbing it or carving his name into it. He just dropped something into it, something soft and light and white.

Jasmine flowers. The delicate cups of the blooms were opened, seeking out the moon, and twinkling in the starlight against the silky fibers of the petals were a few drops of water — holdovers, you assumed, from the day’s rainfall.

You closed your fingers over the flowers, careful not to crush them in your fist. You did not know what they meant — an offering? A price? Something else entirely? Regardless, you knew that they were important, and you vowed to reread the story of the Blue Spirit once you returned home, so that you could understand their significance.

“Thank you,” you said. “For the flowers, and also for rescuing me. If we should ever meet again, then I will thank you in a better way, but for now, I have to go. The longer I linger here, the more danger the two of us are put in.”

Opening the door, you took a step in, but before you closed it, you looked over your shoulder, back at where the Blue Spirit had stood. That strange person…you owed him your life. The least you could do was look back at him, afford him a final glance before you sealed yourself away entirely.

When you turned, though, he was already gone. The only proof that he had ever been there in the first place was the flowers in your hand, the pluming dust in the air, and the heart which steadily beat in your chest — that beat which meant you were still alive, at least for now.

You did not stand there and mourn his absence. Allowing the door to swing shut and the passageway to close behind you, you began to walk home.

taglist (comment/send an ask/dm to be added): @rinisfruity14 @c4ttheart

[jariktig]

Preview of a joint effort for @tf-bigbang with the brilliant @dazzlemma and in response to @candychameleon's totally gorgeous art. The whole thing has been a joyful experience, and we really hope you'll enjoy the results too.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Lamborghinis realize too late that their quarry has vanished, and with brakes squealing, they collide in a pile of shrieking metal and curling smoke.

That had to hurt; Astrotrain could almost smell the energon. Almost.  It was worse than not knowing anything at all, seeing it and not being in the thick of it.

 He let the next couple of comms pass him by – Reflector was tracking organic filth into his cockpit and had to be threatened into cleaning up their mess properly.  Then he got bored again and let another comm unpack.

::ping::

“Is that what you call ‘aiming,’ Starscream? I thought science was about precision!” Megatron fires his fusion canon at a large boulder. It crumbles and Arcee rolls out from behind, taking a knee and firing off several shots in quick succession.

“Oh, yes, because it’s so easy destroying everything in sight with that ghastly, oversized tool! You have no refinement, no elegance-”

Autobot helms start turning. Shots slow down. Wheeljack whispers something and Jazz snickers.

[thatbloodymuggle]

READY TO RUN (viii)

EIGHT - AFFETTUOSO

SUMMARY: in a world where everyone has a predetermined match, JJ Maybank and Y/N Montgomery want nothing to do with theirs. it has to be a cruel joke; the universe forcing two people to love each other when they don’t know how.

PAIRING: jj maybank x reader / soulmate au

WORD COUNT: 8.4k

SERIES MASTERLIST

WARNINGS: none this time :)

✰✰✰

According to Urban Dictionary, Sunday Scaries are the phenomenon by which you question your entire existence after a Saturday full of binge drinking. In your 18 years of existence, you had experienced a number of Sunday Scaries. But none could rival the torrent of dread, regret, and everything else in between that swept over you when you stirred awake on Kate’s couch the morning after your unfortunate blunder in the ocean.

You usually woke up foggy-minded after drinking. But today, the vivid memories flooded you before you even opened your eyes. You could see the vein protruding from Topper’s neck as he yelled at the Pogues. You could smell the stale beer spilled down your chest. You could feel the water dripping from JJ’s hair onto your face as he carried your limp body to shore. 

Suddenly, and all at once, you forced your eyes open, letting the harsh light of Kate’s living room drown out the onslaught of memories.

Your head lulled to the side as you assessed your surroundings. Topper’s zip-up was discarded on the chair across from you, but there was no sign of either of your friends. You lazily glanced at the ticking grandfather clock. 8:03 A.M.

You sucked in a deep breath as you reached for your phone, preparing yourself for the missing calls and texts from your family. Your brows cinched as you were instead met with an empty home screen. Much to your displeasure, your gut twisted when you didn’t find a certain blond-haired Pogue’s name flash across the screen. Against your better judgment, you sunk your nails into your thigh, just hard enough to wince. You waited a beat, and couldn’t help but feel disappointed when the action wasn’t returned.

You sighed and tossed your phone aside. You stared up at the ornate chandelier dangling above you. You gnawed your bottom lip as you mulled over your options. You could wait for Kate and Topper to wake up. But then you’d inevitably be badgered with questions you didn’t have the energy to answer yet. Alternatively, you could walk home, back to the place and people who had sent you spiraling yesterday. 

Both options sounded equally treacherous. Maybe you could sneak into your house, just long enough to freshen up. You could figure out the rest from there, you decided. You shut out any anxiety-inducing thoughts, and instead focused on your footsteps as you gathered your belongings and crept out of Kate’s house.

The beating sun was a welcome distraction as you stepped out into the Carolina heat. You moved mechanically along the side of the road, counting your steps in twos. You focused on the crunching gravel beneath your feet, the beading sweat kissing your forehead. Anything to keep the whirlwind of thoughts at bay.

Your calculated steps faltered as the Montgomery Mansion came into view. Still, you proceeded toward the ghastly Antebellum home, your head held high by a facade of confidence. You fought to keep your breathing steady as you approached the entrance. Your eyes flicked towards the side of the house, and you frowned upon noticing that your bike was missing from the rack. Strange, you thought to yourself.

You sucked in a deep breath before pushing the front door open as quietly as possible. Your shoulders slumped as you found no one in the entranceway.

However, your stint of relief was short-lived. A dreadful sinking feeling gripped you as you passed by the ballroom. The center of the marbled floor once occupied by an elegant Steinway grand piano was notably empty. Your knees buckled at the sight. Still, you propelled yourself towards the kitchen where you heard the unmistakable sound of your father’s bellowing cough. 

You could almost feel your cortisol levels spike as you turned into the entryway of the kitchen. Clyde and Margaret sat at the table, unbothered by your presence, as they indulged in their morning coffees and newspapers. 

"Where's my bike?"

Margaret paused momentarily before continuing to sip on her coffee.

"I sold it."

Her icy tone made your heart plummet to the pit of your stomach.

"And the piano?" your voice trembled as you spoke.

Margaret cleared her throat before taking another sip, "Sold that too."

You clenched your fists as you stood with your mouth agape. A cascade of anger and despair simultaneously engulfed you.

"You're fucking kidding me," you seethed. 

"Don't speak to your mother like that," Clyde snapped. You jumped as he slammed his mug down on the table, black coffee sloshing over the edges. "Seeing as empty threats mean nothing to you, your mother and I decided to take direct action."

You spoke through gritted teeth, "And how exactly do you expect me to practice for the showcase?"

"Not my problem," Clyde muttered as he mindlessly flipped through the newspaper on the counter.

"You can't," you blubbered, "You can't do this to me. This isn't fair!"

Margaret laughed dryly, "You want to talk about fair? Your father and I work tirelessly everyday to provide for you, and you have the nerve to drag us through the mud," she spoke sharply, "So long as you embarrass the Montgomery family name, you will not reap its benefits. If you're so determined to be independent of us, then have at it, Y/N. Be independent."

You fought back the tears welling up in your eyes, but couldn't stop your jaw from falling slack as Clyde shoved the pieces of your cut up credit card on the counter towards you.

You swallowed down the lump in your throat. You fumbled for your phone, and nearly dropped the device at your father's next words.

"Your removal from the Verizon plan will be effective at midnight."

Your hands trembled and your knuckles turned white with rage. 

"Fine," you spit, "Have it your way. See if I care."

They did not, in fact, care. Neither Margaret nor Clyde so much as twitched an eyebrow when you stomped out of the room and slammed the door shut behind you, shaking its hinges on the wall. Your previous plan of getting in and out as quietly as possible was long forgotten.

You sprinted up the spiral staircase and your chest heaved as you swung open the door to your bedroom. The smaller piano in your room was gone as well. Your heart dropped at the sight of the empty wall and carpet littered with pieces of sheet music. You fought back tears as you sank to your knees and gathered the discarded music pieces into a neat pile. You hastily shoved the pile of sheet music into your piano bag, and hauled a large suitcase from underneath your bed. You were frantic as you yanked clothes from your closet and threw them inside the open bag. Hangers clattered against the wooden floor, but you couldn’t care less.

The sheer shock of the situation allowed you to move on autopilot as you headed towards your bathroom. You shoved your bare necessities into another bag and tossed it inside the suitcase. You haphazardly zipped the bag shut and clambered out of the suffocating room. You didn’t care how much noise you made as you dragged the large suitcase down the staircase. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Dixie’s disgruntled voice sounded from the top of the staircase.

You didn’t spare your older sister a glance and instead opted to blindly flip her off.

You ignored the profanities spilling from Dixie’s mouth. You sucked in a deep breath as you finally exited the house. The wet heat was a welcome escape from the prison you were unfortunate enough to call ‘home’. 

You could feel your heartbeat in your ears as you fumbled for your phone. You quickly found Kate’s contact card and pressed the call button. You waited with bated breath as the phone rang, and your shoulders slumped with relief when Kate’s disgruntled voice finally replaced the tone.

“Y/N, what–”

“Can you come pick me up from my house?”

You gnawed on your bottom lip as you heard Kate shuffling around.

“When did you even leave? I didn’t hear you,” Kate spoke through a yawn, her raspy voice indicating that she had just woken up.

“I didn’t wanna wake you,” you spoke hastily, “Can you please just come get me? I promise I’ll explain everything.”

You released a breath you didn’t realize you were holding as Kate finally responded, “Yeah, yeah. I can be there in 10.”

“Thank you,” you sighed, “I love you.”

“Love you too,” Kate swiftly replied before ending the call.

You sighed as you put your phone away and began hauling your luggage down the driveway. This wasn’t the first time you’d packed a bag and left the Montgomery mansion; but the last time you ‘ran away’ was when you were eight years old, and you lasted a whole 10 minutes on the curb before begrudgingly returning. This time was different. This time, there was a sense of cruel finality to it all.

You paused as your phone buzzed. You halted abruptly and dug it out of your pocket. Your lips turned downward slightly at the picture of Sarah Cameron on your screen. With your mind elsewhere, you swiftly rejected the call and continued your walk down the driveway. But before you could take another step, it rang again. Your thumb hovered over the ‘decline’ button, but your guilty conscience was too strong. With a sigh, you accepted the call before you could talk yourself out of it.

“Y/N?” Sarah’s voice rang through the device.

“Yeah, what’s up?” you spoke coolly.

“Thank God you picked up. I was so worried about you and I’m so so fucking sorry about last night, I never should have left you out there like that. It was so dumb and I–”

“It’s okay, Sarah,” you cut off her rambling, “Seriously, you don’t need to apologize.”

Sarah let out a sigh of relief, “Of course I do. But the most important thing is that you feel okay.”

You hesitated before replying, as you were reminded of the throbbing pain in your head the previous night, “Yeah, I’m feeling better. I’ve just got other things on my mind right now.”

“Oh, um, yeah. You know if you need anyone to talk to–”

“Not that,” you were quick to cut Sarah off. 

You knew the metaphorical cat was out of the bag, but the last thing you wanted to talk about in that moment was JJ. You had a feeling that if you even let yourself think about him, you’d spiral all over again.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, “It’s just, um, I might not be reachable for the next few days.”

“What do you mean ‘not reachable’?” Sarah replied.

You sighed and sat on top of her suitcase, “My phone plan’s getting cut off at midnight.”

“Okay,” Sarah dragged out the word, “Well I can just swing by your place until you get it fixed.”

“No, don’t,” you quickly interjected. 

“You know, if you don’t wanna see me you can just say that,” the hurt in Sarah’s tone was evident, and it made your stomach twist. 

“It’s not that, Sarah, I promise,” you sighed before continuing, “I just got into a fight with my parents and they’re cutting me off for the time being.”

You pulled your phone away from your ear with a grimace as Sarah’s shriek sounded through.

“The fuck do you mean ‘cutting you off’? They can’t do that! And I can’t possibly imagine anything you could’ve done or said to warrant that. This is insane, Y/N, you’ve gotta–”

“Gotta what, Sarah? What the fuck am I supposed to do?” your voice wavered as you shut your eyes to force back the tears threatening to escape, “I brought this onto myself, and now I have to face the consequences.”

Sarah spoke with a pained sigh, “Y/N…”

“Kate’s picking me up. I’ll be at her house for the time being, in case you need me,” you paused as you watched an unmistakable Range Rover pull into the driveway, “I’ve gotta go.”

“Wait–” Sarah’s voice abruptly cut out as you ended the call. 

The disgustingly large vehicle halted in front of you, and you didn’t hesitate to lug your belongings over to the trunk. A very messy-haired Topper was quick to jump from the driver’s seat, wordlessly helping you load the bags into the car. You all but ran into the car, swiftly shutting the backseat door behind you. You avoided Kate’s worried eyes in the rearview mirror, and instead opted to fiddle with your seatbelt. Topper coughed awkwardly as he returned to his seat behind the wheel and drove the car from the driveway back onto the street.

The car ride was filled with a suffocating silence that left you gasping for breath when you finally arrived back at Kate’s home. The crisp air gave you little reprieve as you swung open the car door. Kate and Topper silently helped you gather your things and bring them inside. You could feel their burning gaze, but you ignored them. As soon as they’d set down your bags in the living room, Kate softly grabbed your hand. You let her lead you down the hallway, up the stairs, and into the safety of her bedroom. Topper trailed behind, but upon Kate’s warning glance, he opted to occupy himself elsewhere in the house, leaving the two of you alone.

You crawled into Kate’s unmade bed, ignoring the lingering smell of Topper as you wrapped yourself underneath the covers. You waited until you heard the click of Kate’s door shutting behind her before finally breaking the awkward silence.

“I know you have a lot of questions. Just ask them,” you spoke slowly in an attempt to keep your voice steady.

Kate sighed as she crawled under the covers beside you, “I honestly don’t even know where to start, Y/N. I’m so worried about you.”

You swallowed down the lump in your throat as you turned your body to face Kate’s and met her wide-eyed gaze.

“I don’t know where to start either. I just feel so…so–” you paused as the quiver in your voice betrayed you, “Lost.”

The soft touch of Kate’s hand brushing back your hair was the straw that broke the camel’s back. You shut your eyes tight as you felt the first tear trail down your face, quickly followed by another. You allowed yourself to be engulfed in Kate’s soothing touch as you buried your face into your friend’s shoulder. The two of you remained entangled in one another as you silently sobbed, your tears soaking right through Kate’s sweatshirt.

She rubbed soothing circles into your back until your breathing steadied, and your tear ducts had emptied.

“You can start wherever you want,” Kate whispered once she’d sensed you had calmed down.

You gulped in an attempt to moisten your dry throat.

“I guess I’ll start from the beginning,” you rasped.

Kate listened intently as you detailed the events from the past few weeks, from the first night at the Kegger to your fight with Anna. Once you started speaking, you couldn’t stop. All of your pent up frustrations, your unwelcome thoughts, came tumbling out, all at once. By the time you had detailed the interaction with your parents that morning, you felt the weight of the world lift off your shoulders. For the first time in weeks, you could breathe a bit easier, see a bit clearer.

“I’m so sorry for keeping you in the dark through all this, Kate,” you whispered.

You studied the cinch between Kate’s brows and tried to decipher the emotion swimming in her big, brown eyes.

“Please, don’t apologize. You told me when you were ready and that’s what counts,” Kate paused before continuing, “You know you can stay with me for as long as you need. Betsy is in Europe for the summer so you can even have the whole guest house to yourself, if you want.”

You nodded appreciatively. You pulled Kate into a tight hug which was instantly returned. You allowed the scent of her lavender shampoo to flood your senses, providing you with some semblance of comfort.

“As for JJ…”

Kate paused as she felt you tense in her arms.

“I know. I know it’s not right. We’ll never work together and we’re no good for each other. I just need some time to navigate the soulmate bond, find a way for us to go on with our separate lives without–”

“Y/N, shut up.”

Your lips parted in shock as Kate shoved you away and held you firmly by your shoulders. You felt like shrinking under her resolute stare.

“That’s not how soulmate bonds work. You can’t ignore it or fight it until it goes away. It’ll only become stronger and more painful if you keep going like this–if you keep going like this, it’ll tear you apart,” Kate spoke with conviction.

You gnawed your bottom lip in thought, “So, what then? I just give myself completely to the biggest douchebag on the island? If I run off with a Pogue, I might as well kiss my family, my life here, everything I’ve worked so hard for goodbye.”

Kate sighed and ran a manicured hand over her face, “I can’t tell you what to do, Y/N. But I can tell you that what you’re doing now is not a solution.”

You groaned in frustration. You ran your hands through your hair, tugging harshly at the roots as if doing so would pull the right answer from your mind. 

“It has to be a mistake,” you cried, “Aren’t soulmates supposed to be the ‘perfect fit’? We’re anything but. We live different lifestyles, we have different values, we like different things–we have absolutely nothing in common.”

“Maybe you haven’t found anything in common with him because you haven’t allowed yourself to try,” Kate’s words crashed over you like the wave from the night before.

You opened your mouth to protest, but nothing came out. 

“You know, I couldn’t imagine resisting my bond with Topper. I know it’s different, but still. I can’t even begin to picture the agony that would cause,” Kate’s harsh tone had shifted into something softer, gentler, “I can’t tell you what to do, Y/N. You’ve gone through life for so long with other people making your decisions for you. And as agonizing as this whole situation has been, it’s something that you, and only you, have complete control over. This is one decision that no one else can make for you.”

You flinched as Kate’s words struck a chord deep within you. As much as you hated to admit it, Kate was right.

“I know you know I’m right,” Kate cracked a small smile at your awe-struck face, “You don’t have to say anything–just think about it.”

You simply nodded in response. Your shoulders slumped in exhaustion as you leaned back against the headboard of Kate’s bed.

You jumped slightly at the sound of a sharp knock on the bedroom door.

“Kate? You in there?” Mrs. Moore’s muffled voice sounded through the door.

“Yeah,” Kate called as she scrambled from her bed.

“You have some visitors.”

You subconsciously shrunk under the covers as Kate opened the door to follow after her mom. You chewed on the inside of your cheek as you mulled over Kate’s words, which seemed to echo ceaselessly in the chasms of your mind.

“Mind if we crash the party?”

The lilted tone of Sarah Cameron’s voice shook you from your thoughts.

Your eyes widened slightly at the sight of Sarah and Kie at the doorway, with a visibly tense Kate lingering behind them.

“We come bearing gifts,” Kie’s soft tone eased some of the tension in Kate’s shoulders.

You cracked a small smile at the basket of chocolate and Cheez-Itz in Kie’s arms.

“How’d you know Cheez-Itz are my kryptonite?” you teased.

Sarah and Kie grinned, taking your smile as an invitation to stay. You gratefully took the basket from Kie and gestured for the two girls to join you on the bed. Kate hesitated before joining as well so the four girls sat in a circle.

“Well you were practically on your knees begging for them last night so I took a gander,” Sarah giggled as you ripped open the box and greedily scooped out a handful of the orange pieces.

“We just wanted to check in, see how you’re doing,” Kie added. She shifted slightly under Kate’s warning gaze. You gathered that Kate must have told the two girls not to ask about JJ before entering.

You forced a tight lipped smile through your mouthful of Cheez Itz, “I’m doing okay.”

Sarah nodded and ran her hands nervously over her thighs. You could tell she was itching to say something.

“Spit it out, Sarah,” you rolled your eyes.

“I really hope you don’t mind, but I filled Kie in on your, um, situation with your parents,” Sarah spoke quickly, “And she had a really great idea to help you out.”

You frowned, “I don’t need charity, guys. Seriously. I appreciate the snacks and all, but I’m not taking anything from–”

“No, no, nothing like that,” Kie interrupted you, “When Sarah told me your parents sold your piano,” you shifted uncomfortably and Kate inched closer in a protective manner, “I thought about the piano we have at my dad’s restaurant. I asked him about it since no one really uses it, and although he said we can’t just give it away, he did say that he’s been trying to get a live music gig going at The Wreck for some time now. I told him how good you are at piano and that you’re looking for a place to practice. He said he’d love to have you play there a few nights a week, and in exchange you can use it whenever you want after hours to practice. And you’ll be paid, of course.”

Your eyes widened and your mouth fell agape. 

“I know it’s not perfect, but I thought maybe–”

“It is perfect,” you cut her off. You let out a breathy laugh, “It’s totally perfect! When can I start?”

Kie grinned and clapped her hands together in excitement, “Whenever you want. We have all the equipment set up, but if you need to take a few days to sort out what you’ll play–”

“Can I start tonight?” you cut her off again with an eager grin.

Sarah laughed, and Kate couldn’t help but crack a smile at the drastic improvement in your mood.

“Well, yeah, I just figured you might want some time to prepare.”

“She’s our little musical virtuoso. She doesn’t need time to prepare,” Kate chimed in with a soft smile.

You rolled your eyes, “Virtuoso is a stretch. But I’ve definitely got some tricks up my sleeve.”

“Don’t be modest. We all know you’re a shoe in for Julliard, and in five years time you’ll be performing in Carnegie Hall,” Sarah scoffed.

You flushed and shook your head with a laugh, “Only if you’re there watching.”

“Are you kidding? We’ll be sitting in the front row!” Sarah nudged you as she stole a handful of Cheez Itz from the box in your lap.

The group of girls continued chattering until their stomachs hurt from the combination of non-stop laughter and influx of chocolate and crackers. You were grateful for their company. Your heart fluttered as you watched Kate slowly, but surely, warm up to the two Kooks dressed in Pogue’s clothing. For a few hours, you were able to take your mind off your soulmate, your family, and your academic future. For a few hours, you were shielded from the dark cloud that seemed to follow you everywhere you went. 

And you embraced the fleeting escape with open arms.

✰✰✰

“So this is the musical protegé you two have been singing praises of?” Mike Carrera’s booming voice enveloped you like a warm blanket.

Sarah and Kie nodded enthusiastically behind you as you smoothed the front of your dress. You sent him a nervous smile and extended your hand, “Yes, Sir. Y/N Montgomery.”

The older man gripped your smaller hand in a firm shake and sent you a dazzling smile, “Mike Carrera. I’ve heard so much about you–it’s a pleasure to finally put a face to the name.”

You grinned, your nerves slowly settling at his welcome.

“Follow me, I’ll show you the set up,” he gestured a hand towards the opposite end of the restaurant where a lone, upright piano stood proudly in the center of a small stage. 

You trailed behind him. You had to stifle a giggle as you caught Sarah and Kie helping themselves to the tap beer at the bar while Mike’s back was turned.

“Got it tuned just last week, so should be in tip-top shape,” Mike rested an arm over the top of the Yamaha.

You nodded and ran your right hand lightly across the keys. You couldn’t fight the grin tugging at your lips as you played a few chords in succession. 

“Dinner opens at 5 and we start closing up at 9. 10 on Saturdays and Fridays,” Mike drummed his fingers along the oak wood, “We’d love to have you come in on Fridays since they’re the busiest, and two other days of your choosing.”

You nodded as you set your tote bag full of sheet music to the side, “That sounds perfect.”

“I was thinking $200 per night,” Mike added.

Your eyes bulged and your lips parted in surprise. 200? You had been expecting $20 per hour, at best. 

Mike’s brows furrowed, “If 200 seems too little, we could discuss–”

“No, no, 200 is perfect. Amazing,” you rushed out, “I can’t thank you enough for this.”

Mike flashed a toothy grin, “Thank you. We’ve been looking to get some live music back up in the joint for a while now. You’re just what we need to get this place really running again.”

You flushed and shook your head as you felt a rush of warmth creeping up your neck, “Well I sure hope I can help with that.”

Mike pushed off the piano, “Kie also mentioned that you need a place to practice. You’re welcome to come in anytime in between lunch and dinner hours, or before and after closing. Whatever floats your boat–the Wreck is your oyster.”

You giggled at his fatherly mannerisms, “Thank you so much, Mr. Carrera. Do you mind if I practice for a bit now before you open up for dinner?”

He raised his arms in surrender and took a dramatic step back from the instrument, “Don’t let me stop you. Have at it.”

You sat on the bench and fiddled with the knob on the side, adjusting the height so your arms fell at a precise 90 degree angle on the keys. You glanced over your shoulder and giggled at the sight of Sarah and Kie leaning across the bar with their heads in their hands, eagerly awaiting the sound of your playing.

You turned back towards the piano and dug out a few pieces of music from your bag, arranging them in the order you’d need. You took a deep breath to steady yourself before letting your fingers fall gracefully over the white keys. You breezed through a few warm up exercises to get accustomed to the unfamiliar instrument. The keys were a bit stickier than the ones you’d grown accustomed to on your Steinway at home, and the pedal a bit more finicky than the one at Madame’s house. Still, this instrument was marvelous in its own way.

You ran through a few pieces you planned on playing before pulling out the dreaded piece you’d neglected to practice the past few days. Your whole body trembled at the mere sight of Chopin’s Fantaisie Impromptu Op. 66. There was no chance in hell you’d be playing the piece that night. But as the events of the past 48 hours had kept you distracted from your duties, you knew you had to get at least a good 30 minutes of practice in.

You twisted your neck, rolled your ankles, and shook out your hands in a poor attempt to keep your Chopin-induced anxiety at bay. 

Unsure where to start with the monstrous piece of music, you decided a quick run through would help identify the problem areas that needed the most attention.

The issue? The whole damn thing was a problem area.

You drilled each measure, each line, over and over. You flicked on a metronome to help keep you on beat. You ignored the growing ache in your hands and kept on.

Minutes away from giving up, you flipped back to the first page of the music. You craned your neck behind you and called out, “Hey, Sarah?”

The Cameron girl nearly fell out of her stool in surprise, and you suppressed a laugh at the sight.

“What’s up?”

“Do you think you could come help me out for a minute?”

Sarah hopped from the barstool and skipped over to the piano with a grin, “I know I’m good at a lot of things, but music is not one of them.”

You rolled your eyes with a laugh, “I just need you to turn the pages for me. You don’t need to read the music or anything–I’ll nod at you when I want you to turn the page.”

Sarah shrugged, “Sounds easy enough.”

She set her beer down on the top of the piano, but quickly removed it at your razor sharp glare. Instead, Sarah opted to set it down beside her feet.

You inhaled deeply through your nose, and exhaled through your parted lips. 

You rested your fingers on the keyboard and counted off in your head before playing the opening set of notes.

Sarah watched you intently, careful not to miss your subtle cues to turn the page. 

Six torturous minutes later, you finally played the last chord. Sarah immediately erupted into manic applause and cheering.

“That was fucking incredible!”

Simultaneously, you released a guttural groan and slammed your hands down on the keyboard in frustration.

Sarah’s cheering halted abruptly and her brows cinched together in confusion, “What’s wrong? That was perfect!”

You shook your head and snatched the music book from the stand, snapping it closed.

“Far from it.”

“What do you mean? That was the first time you made it all the way through! I mean, I don’t know music but I didn’t hear you make any mistakes or–”

“I didn’t make any mistakes,” you sighed, “But it’s all wrong.”

Sarah cocked her head in confusion.

Your tired eyes met hers. You chewed on your bottom lip as you tried to find a way to explain your frustration, “It’s choppy–all cold and mechanical. Everything is right, but there’s no feeling. I have the technique down, but it’s just not flowing through me like I need it to.”

Sarah’s doe eyes swam with bewilderment. She nodded, although you knew she hadn’t understood. 

“Opening in 5!” Mike’s booming voice sliced through the air.

You sighed as you stood from the bench and cracked your back. 

“Don’t worry about it,” you smiled softly at Sarah, “I’m not planning on playing that one tonight anyways.”

Sarah smiled back and returned to her seat at the bar which she and Kie were soon to be booted from as customers came in.

You took a sip of water from the bottle you’d set beside the bench as you prepared yourself for a lengthy performance. Your gut churned as the minutes ticked by. You rarely experienced stage fright, as 16 years of playing had almost entirely numbed you to it. But you’d never been on stage for more than 30 minutes at a time, and 4 hours was a far cry from it.

As the clock struck 5, you settled yourself back onto the bench and prepared your first piece of the night: Chopin’s Waltz No. 7 in C-Sharp Minor, Op. 64 No. 2

The clinking of glasses and cutlery, and soft chatter of customers provided an ambiance you had never experienced while playing before–but one you enjoyed, nonetheless. 

As the closing chords sounded through the restaurant, you were met with a bit of scattered applause. You smiled and couldn't help but sneak a glance behind you. The restaurant was slowly, but surely, starting to fill up. A young boy, no older than eight, sheepishly approached you with a dollar bill in hand. He stood on his tiptoes and dropped the bill inside the tip jar Kie had placed atop the piano while you weren’t looking.

You grinned down at the boy and mouthed a ‘thank you’. A pink blush swept over his chubby cheeks, and he scampered back to his parents.

You returned your attention to the instrument before you. You moved on autopilot as you breezed through the first few pieces in your set for the night. You had carefully picked out a selection of classical, jazz, and contemporary pieces to ensure a variety of genres. You had even thrown in some modern classics everyone would know, from A Thousand Miles to Bohemian Rhapsody. You fought to contain your laughter as Sarah and Kie obnoxiously sang along to the famous Queen anthem.

Completely immersed in the music, you hadn’t even noticed the arrival of a familiar band of Pogues.

“So this is the surprise you two were going on about?” Pope grinned as he and John B approached Sarah and Kie’s table. 

“Isn’t she incredible?” Kie beamed.

Kie’s smile dropped as she noticed JJ lingering behind the two boys. His face was white as a sheet as he stared in shock at the stage.

“What’s wrong with him?” she asked Pope and John B.

A cloud of tension brewed over them as JJ’s eyes snapped to Kie’s.

“You didn’t think to mention she was gonna be here?” he snapped.

Sarah frowned as her eyes set into a menacing glare, “We know if we said something you’d pussy out. Can you get over yourself, just for one night? There’s no point denying it, it’s so obvious you two are soul–”

Sarah yelped as John B elbowed her sharply, effectively cutting her off.

She narrowed her eyes further as a snarl accompanied JJ’s fury-filled glare, “Fuck this. I’m out of here.”

He swiveled on his heels, but Kie grabbed his elbow and yanked him back towards the table.

“Cool it, dude. We’re just gonna grab some dinner. You don’t need to talk to her.”

JJ opened his mouth to protest, but Kie cut him off, “And John B’s your ride, so you’re stuck with him.”

JJ glared at his group of friends. Pope and John B studied the menu as if they had never seen it before to avoid his menacing stare.

“Fine,” he spit. JJ made sure to take the seat furthest from the stage. “But you’re buying me a beer.”

Kie’s shoulders slumped with relief as she’d effectively deterred his impending explosion, “Deal.”

The Pogues immediately began chatting in an effort to brush past the awkwardness. But JJ couldn’t bring himself to focus on Sarah’s complaining about her brother, or Pope’s in-depth review of the most recent season of Survivor. Despite his best efforts to ignore the display behind him, the only thing he could hear was the ethereal melody of Liszt’s Liebestraume No.3. Although he couldn’t see you, his mind was flooded with pictures of you; memories of you at the piano in your room. He could see the curvature of your elbows, the grace of your fingers gliding across the keys, the crinkles of concentration between your brows, the–

“What the fuck is this?” JJ spluttered at the acrid taste of beer he had subconsciously sipped.

Kie stifled a laugh, “It’s a new IPA my dad’s testing out. This local brewery has been pushing to get on the menu.”

JJ fought back a gag and pushed the pint far away from him, “Well you should tell Mike this shit fucking sucks.”

“Ay, don’t be soft now, J. I thought you could handle your alcohol better than that,” John B teased his childhood friend with a grin.

“Piss off,” JJ grumbled.

He pushed himself out of his seat, and wandered over to the bar to replace the disgusting beer Kie had served him. JJ caught the attention of one of the bartenders he knew well, and waited patiently as the worker subtly slipped him his favorite Pale Ale. As he sipped on the pint, JJ couldn’t help but sneak a glance towards the stage. His lips pursed as he watched Pope approach the piano with a dollar bill in his hand.

“You take song requests?”

Pope’s deep voice made you jump in your seat as you rearranged the sheet music before you. You grinned widely at the Pogue towering above you.

“Sorry to disappoint, but I’m not playing the Star Wars intro for you,” you teased with a subtle smirk.

He clutched a hand against his heart and stumbled back dramatically, “You wound me, Montgomery.” Pope dropped the crumpled up dollar bill inside your now nearly full tip jar, “How about Piano Man?

You laughed, “Didn’t take you for a Billy Joel fan, Pope.”

He shrugged with a smug grin, “What can I say? I’m a fan of the classics.”

Your joyful gaze lingered as he sauntered back over to his table. However, your gut wrenched as you noticed the absence of ruffled blond hair at his table. Still, you shot the rest of the Pogues a timid smile before turning your attention back to the instrument in front of you.

Piano Man. You weren't sure when the last time you’d played the Billy Joel classic was–it must have been years ago. Nevertheless, you straightened your slumped posture, shut your eyes, and let your hands fall along the keys. You could feel the crowd behind you perk up as you played the familiar opening melody. You were forced to stifle your laughter as you heard the Pogues singing along behind you. The onlookers in the busy restaurant broke into applause as the song ended. No one cheered louder than Pope, who had recruited the bartenders into a kick line by the end of the song.

“That’s my little virtuoso!” Sarah shrieked.

You turned back with a toothy grin to wink at your friend. But the curve of your lips faltered as you caught sight of the tousled blond hair you’d been searching for all night. You sucked in a breath as his head turned and his eyes met yours.

Something deep within you churned at the sight of his ocean blues–a sweltering desire only he could pull out of you. Although his eyes were trained directly on you, his gaze was elsewhere; somewhere far beyond the confines of the restaurant, or the island for that matter. Your brows furrowed as you surveyed him, trying to decipher the emotion hidden behind his glassy eyes. But the mask of indifference he’d adorned for the night was impenetrable.

Before you could locate any cracks in his hard exterior, JJ swiveled back towards the table. 

Your hands trembled with a swirl of anxiety, frustration, and longing. It had only been 24 hours since you’d last seen him. But his absence had felt striking. For years, you’d prayed to all things good and holy to be rid of his bond. You’d wished for just one day void of his every feeling. For the first time in your life, you realized, you hadn’t felt him all day. No punches, no stubbing toes, not not even the swift slap against your thigh when you cracked your knuckles. You’d finally gotten your wish. 

But you’d take the sickening crunch of bones underneath your knuckles a hundred times over not feeling anything at all.

A switch flipped within you. You forced your eyes away from the back of JJ’s head, and instead looked at Sarah. You cocked your head, gesturing for the Kook princess to come over. Sarah swiftly set down the beer she’d been sipping on and approached you.

“What’s up? Are you okay? I can tell him to leave–”

“No, don’t,” you cut her off, “You mind turning the pages for me again?”

Sarah’s eyes widened as you pulled out the piece you’d been pouring over earlier before the restaurant opened.

“I thought you said you weren’t ready to play that one yet?”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever feel ready,” you mumbled as you placed the book on the stand, “But now’s as good a time as any to try.”

Sarah nodded and positioned herself to the side, staring intently at you to ensure she didn’t miss your head nodding cues.

Your eyes fluttered shut. But this time, you didn’t count down in your head. You didn’t visualize the opening phrase, or the notes on the page. Instead, you let yourself think back to the night before. The feeling of JJ’s strong arms wrapped around your sobbing body. The fear in his eyes as he carried you to shore. The snarl on his lips as he yelled at you in the country club bathroom. You lowered the carefully constructed levee in your mind, and let all your memories of him come flooding in. 

Your eyes flicked open, and you began without a second thought.

This time, the notes symbolized each word you’d exchanged with JJ. Your right hand played your biting tone, and your left played his gruff voice. They spoke to each other. They fought, and they cried. But they sang together in perfect unison. 

Sarah watched in awe as you moved with a fervor she had never seen before. She swiftly flipped the page at each subtle nod. Sarah wasn’t the only one captivated by your performance–the previously uninterested customers had diverted their attention to the piano player on stage, and every conversation seemed to hush. 

As you played the ending phrase of the piece, you released a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in. Your eyes remained shut as you let the final notes ring through the restaurant until they naturally concluded.

You were brought back to reality when the remaining customers erupted into applause. 

“That was perfect,” Sarah gleamed down at you.

You let out a breathy laugh, “Yeah. It was.”

You craned her neck back towards the table of Pogues. While the smiling faces of Kie, John B, and Pope warmed your heart, JJ’s empty seat chilled your veins.

“What’s the time?” you asked Sarah.

The Kook fumbled for her phone, “8:40. You’re here ‘till 9?”

You nodded and put away the book of Chopin pieces, “You guys can head out, if you want. There’s no need to wait for me.”

Sarah shook her head, “No way we’re leaving early on your opening night! Besides, John B can give you a ride home in the Twinkie.”

“Don’t worry about me, Kate and Top are coming to get me at 9:15,” you smiled appreciatively.

Sarah conceded and walked backwards to her table, “As you wish. But we’re here for the whole show!”

You let out a half-hearted giggle and sighed as you turned back to the piano. Exhaustion seemed to finally set in as you became acutely aware of the ache in your lower back and the cramping of your fingers. But you still had a job to do. So, you relied on muscle memory to get through the last few pieces of your set. You deliberately chose songs you knew like the back of your hand, as you had a feeling you’d be drained of energy by this point. As you continued playing, the crowd slowly filtered out until just the Pogues remained.

“That was pretty incredible, Miss Montgomery,” Mike Carrera gleamed as he approached you. 

You sent him a tired smile as you gathered your sheet music back into your bag, “Thanks, Mr. Carrera.”

“You’ve outdone yourself. Why don’t you head home and get some rest?” he handed you a white envelope as he spoke.

You nodded and stuffed the payment at the bottom of your bag.

As soon as he’d retreated, you were instantly bombarded by the chattering group of Pogues. You weakly returned their hugs and tried your best to match their high energy, but to no avail. You were completely and utterly drained. Instead, you found yourself looking around the restaurant, hoping to catch a glimpse of blue eyes and blond hair.

“He went out back,” John B mumbled into your ear.

You jumped, startled by his voice. You fought the blush creeping up your neck as you’d just been caught red-handed looking for JJ. Still, you sent John B a soft smile, and slipped away from the group while they were distracted by something Pope said.

Your heart thumped in your chest as you snuck towards the door leading to the back porch. The salty breeze engulfed you instantly as you pushed it open, and you greedily breathed in the soothing sensation.

You spotted JJ leaning on the railing, staring out at the rolling waves of the ocean. His untamed hair billowed in the breeze, and the full moon above seemed to kiss his nose. You wiped your sweaty palms on your dress as you approached him quietly. You mimicked his stance leaning against the railing, making sure to keep a comfortable distance between you two.

“Avoiding me now?” you spoke gently, as if approaching a wild animal.

He simply grunted, his eyes unmoving from the ocean before him.

You sighed, and diverted your gaze to the crashing waves as well. Your mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. But nothing came out. There were so many things you wanted to say–but your brain seemed to be short circuiting.

You snuck a glance at him. You observed the bump on the top of his nose, and the strain of his biceps against his white t-shirt.

“I like that shirt on you,” you lamely stated.

You cringed, and kicked yourself internally.

JJ snorted, but the frown etched on his lips remained.

“Please, don’t try to make nice with me,” his scratchy voice tickled something in your brain.

You huffed, “What? You’d rather I curse you out?”

His silence made your blood boil, but you forced yourself to remain level-headed.

You sighed before making another effort to engage him, “Look, I think we should at least talk about last night. I’m sorry for–”

“Talk about what?” he snapped, turning to face you. You shrunk underneath his menacing glare. “I sent you spiraling, you tried to drown yourself in the ocean. I saved you, and then you tried to drown yourself in alcohol instead. You see the running theme?”

You flinched at his razor sharp tone, “That’s not–”

“The truth? It is. Don’t be fucking dumb, Montgomery. Don’t delude yourself into thinking anything good has come from me coming into your life.”

Your stomach lurched. You opened your mouth to respond, but JJ cut you off again.

“You were right. We’re no good for each other. And I don’t wanna be the one responsible for ruining your life, crushing your hopes and dreams. So let’s just leave it at that.”

For the first time that night, his facade slipped. And the glint of agony in his troubled eyes was unmistakable.

“What about what I want?” your voice trembled.

JJ’s eyes narrowed as he tried to maintain his mask of indifference, “What do you want?”

“I…” you paused. That was the question you’d been trying, and failing, to find an answer for all day. 

“I don’t know,” you whispered.

JJ scoffed. He pushed himself off the railing, and turned to go back inside.

Panic seized you as you watched him walk away. 

Maybe you haven’t found anything in common with him because you haven’t allowed yourself to try, Kate’s words from earlier rang through you.

With a sudden surge of courage, you lurched forward and wrapped your fingers around JJ’s wrist.

The feeling of his skin against yours was as electrifying as your first touch.

“Take me out,” you blurted before you could talk yourself out of it.

JJ’s hard glare softened slightly, and his brows furrowed. Anxiety gripped you as you watched his chapped lips part in surprise.

“We can’t possibly decide this won’t work when we don’t really know anything about each other,” you spoke with conviction despite the fear twisting your insides, “If by the end of it we still feel the same way, then at least we have the peace of mind that we tried.”

You could practically see the gears turning in JJ’s head as he mulled over your words.

“So let’s start over. Take me out on a proper date,” you concluded your long-winded speech.

You were certain he could feel the heavy thump of your heart in his own chest. His silence made your knees buckle, and you wanted nothing more than to bury yourself in the fine sand below. Just as you let your fingers slip from his wrist, his hand shot out to catch yours.

“Okay,” JJ whispered.

Your shoulders slumped with relief. Okay. He said ‘okay’.

“Okay,” you breathed out, “Tuesday?”

“Can’t. I have work,” he replied.

“Wednesday?” you countered.

“6:00?”

“I have piano until 7:00.”

“Then 7:00.”

“Okay.”

The blaring sound of a car horn cut the awkward exchange short. You whipped around to the source of the sound, and caught sight of Topper’s unmistakable Range Rover waiting in the parking lot. Reluctantly, you released your hand from JJ’s.

“That’s my ride,” you whispered.

JJ nodded and took an awkward step back. You hiked your bag on your shoulder and turned to leave.

“You were incredible tonight, by the way,” JJ rasped as you walked away.

You paused as your heart skipped a beat. You craned your neck and sent your soulmate a sincere smile over your shoulder. You wanted nothing more than to turn back and give yourself completely to the bond. But you let the rational part of your brain take over, and beat on towards the waiting car. 

And as you strolled towards the black SUV, the ethereal melody of Fantaisie Impromptu played in your mind. It echoed through you like never before. Affettuoso. With feeling. 

What was once created by Chopin was now yours, forever branded by JJ Maybank.

[ravenelyx]

Cobwebs - Sebastian Sallow

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x Fem!Reader

Words: 2k

Chapter Warnings: jealousy, light angst/angst if you squint, fluff, Sebastian's comfort food is corn apparently idk, suggestive (barely)

Summary: When a festival in your hometown causes you to dress up with medieval clothes, dance and act, Sebastian couldn't be happier and more proud - until he realises you will have a partner through all of it. And the partner is not him.

A/N: for the Sallow Sunday challenge !! I'm late in my country but it's still Sunday somewhere - inspired by a festival I went to today (literally came back at 1 am and wrote this: it's currently 5 am)

Masterlist

You can find the whole fanfiction also here on ao3

Sebastian had woken up with the biggest grin on his face. A rare occurrence, really, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't wipe it off his mouth.

Because today, apparently, was special.

He had been waiting for two weeks since his girlfriend had told him the news: at first Sebastian didn't really understand her ardour, but the delighted expression on her face was enough to propel the boy to match the enthusiasm completely.

There was a festival in her hometown: a celebration that, for one reason or another, had been impossible to arrange for about ten years. It was her favourite, she had said, because of its theme — a living re-enactment of old times, with dances and traditional clothing from her home — even more so now that she was chosen to be one of the people who was supposed to parade as an extra.

She was to wear a beautiful medieval tunic, and had to attend rehearsals everyday. As much as Sebastian wished to follow her there to see her hard work, she insisted that she wanted to keep it a surprise for when he finally saw her at the fest.

He had sulked a bit at that moment, but had been since then looking forward to seeing his beautiful girlfriend in an amazing dress.

He stood in the front row, having arrived early just to earn a perfect spot to bask in her splendid beauty ringside as soon as she came, and patiently waited for her to appear, nodding his head to the folklore music in the meantime. When the parade started, his body shook all over in anticipation, standing on his toes, eyes darting everywhere to catch a glimpse of his beloved.

And she was perfect.

Hair cascading in little twirls locked in a beautiful braid on her shoulder, adorned with a headband on the crown of her head, she smiled brightly, her lips shining with clear gloss. Her face was still natural-looking, with makeup that matched her features and made her look even more ethereal, and her green bliaut hugged her figure in ways that left little to Sebastian's imagination as his jaw fell open. It was tight at the waist, her corset even harsher around her flank under the kirtle, and adorned with a brown cincture knotted around her abdomen. Her only exposed parts were her cleavage, from which Sebastian could see a peak of her chemise, and her wrists, where the gown widened slightly. She moved with elegance and poise, careful to mind each graceful motion of her arm as she walked, and Sebastian felt his cheeks hurt with how wide his smile was,  almost tearing at the corners of his mouth.

A smile that fell as soon as his eyes darted away from her gorgeous figure.

The parade consisted of couples dressed in different ways, only interrupted here and there by close groups of musicians who accompanied them, and as such, she was on another's arm as she moved.

And, Sebastian noticed, he was very handsome — much more handsome than he was, with his chiseled jawline and elegant walk. He held her arm carefully as they walked together, chin up and perfectly in line, straight posture and measured walk. It was clear he had rehearsed for a long time.

And he had rehearsed with her.

Sebastian felt something sour and ghastly bubble in his stomach when they finally stopped. She turned to the man next to her, and he bowed gallantly at the waist before taking her hand in his.

The dance started. The musicians moved to the side, while the couples took their place in the midst of the plaza, moving from side to side at the fast paced rhythm of folklore music. When she went forward, he did the same, arms bending to meet. And then they stepped away together, extending their arms all the same, hands never separating. The steps of their frolic echoing in Sebastian's ears, thundering in his brain at the ease and preparation with which the couple moved together. She twirled in the man's arms, taking a step back and then twirled again on the opposite side, and Sebastian’s hands began to shake. Their manoeuvres were so measured, so controlled they must have rehearsed a lot. They must have spent a lot of time together to perfect it. Hours and hours, days of days of his beloved dancing with another man.

Panic seeped its way into his core: What if those days of rehearsal had awoken something in her? Something that made her realise that the man dancing with her was better than Sebastian in every way?

He didn't dare go further with his thoughts… but what if…

The crowd cheered, pulling Sebastian from his reverie, and he looked at her. And she was looking at him, too, wearing a bright smile, eyes shining as she silently asked him what he thought. Her forehead glistened a bit with sweat, a sign of her hard work, and Sebastian forced a smile on his face, nodding at her. She nodded back and turned to the man again.

A new dance began.

-

She had been on that man's arm most of the night, entertaining kids and adults all the same, dancing with him once a new folklore song started, and even re-enacting some play scenes along with the other extras.

Sebastian was left watching, embittered by the sight so much that, at some point, he had to completely avoid said sight.

Whenever he saw a glimpse of her beautiful figure, he would turn around and go into another alley, hoping to find some solace in the street food he had been shamelessly indulging in since the fest started.

"Sickle for your thoughts?" The man in front of him asked Sebastian at some point, after the brunet had visited his corn stand at least three times. "I can't give you another cob."

Sebastian scowled, but he had to admit the man was right. His stomach couldn't take it anymore.

"My girlfriend… she…" Sebastian began, kicking the dirt while the man stirred a huge cauldron of maize porridge. "She looks absolutely gorgeous today…"

"I hardly see how that's something to be concerned about," the man lifted an eyebrow. "Has the corn gone to your head? Why isn't your mesmerising girlfriend on your arm?"

"Because she's on another's arm," Sebastian blurted out, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "And I can't do anything about it!"

A beat of silence followed. Sebastian bit his lip harshly, while the man seemed to understand the situation. He handed the brunet another cob. "Maybe you do need another."

Sebastian's shoulders slumped and he took up the offer, defeated, biting on the warm kernels. "It's just…" he spoke, voice muffled by his full mouth as he moved the cob around frustratingly. "Today was supposed to be a celebration, and instead I'm here with you and those damn cobs!"

He took another bite and the man sighed. "Just go find her is my advice. You're a handsome lad, and the dress up time has been over for a while I reckon, so she can be yours for the rest of the night."

"What if she doesn't want to be?" The words left Sebastian's lips without hesitation. "He's much more handsome than I am! Maybe she's even… they're even…"

He didn't want to think about it, the idea making the back of his eyes sting a little.

"If she was, why would she invite you?" The man shrugged. "And don't finish that corn, you hear me? Give it to her before your stomach gives up on your body more than you've given up on your dignity."

Sebastian grimaced at the man's harsh words, but he could feel his stomach grumble in protest and he knew he was right. He reluctantly let his now-comfort food lay at his side in his hand, and he made his way through the decorated alleys, dragging his feet like some chained torture was pulling at him.

Maybe it was good if he found her — just to give her his corn, that was. It would have been a shame to waste it.

"Seb! Where were you?" She asked in concern once his legs came to a stop in the plaza. "You weren't at the plays. I just… did you not like them?" She asked, voice feeble and unsure, and Sebastian felt his stomach twist as he realised he'd failed her once again.

"I… got you corn," he retorted weakly, handing her the half-eaten cob.

She took it with a frown, and then she met his eyes with disbelief. "You ate corn all this time?"

Sebastian blushed deeply, before his chest turned cold again at the sight of the man standing behind her.

"You were with him all this time?" He asked caustically, shifting his weight on his leg and crossing his arms defensively.

She was at a loss for words. "What— are you serious right now?"

"Very much."

"He's my partner!" She claimed, raising her voice, the cob in her hands swinging dangerously.

"No!" He snapped, unwinding his arms and taking a step closer. "I am your partner!"

She gasped a few times, unable to retort as she saw the look on his face. He wasn't angry, despite his deep frown and lips pressed together. He was hurt.

"Sebastian," she sighed, stepping closer. "It's just a festival…"

"You danced with him," he responded, the heat radiating from her body making his resolve crumble. "You must have rehearsed a lot."

"Yes, for the festival." The hand that wasn't holding the cob of corn came to lay on his cheek, and he melted in her touch.

"Still, I didn't like the way he looked at you!" He hissed, gesticulating sharply, trying to restrain himself from pacing back and forth as he usually did. "You look gorgeous and…"

"Sebastian… he's married," she sighed, her thumb rubbing soothing circles on his cheekbone, "and he's like… five years older than me."

Sebastian was quiet at that, a small blush coming to rest on his ears when he realised. "So… well married men can… I mean…"

"Not him… trust me," she chuckled, now so close she could bump her nose to his. "Besides," she smiled, amused. "It's a small town, and he's my cousin."

Sebastian gasped, mouth falling open at the revelation. How stupid could he be? He had been sulking the entire evening, missing her plays and hard work just because… because…

"Were you jealous?" She asked, nuzzling his cheek.

Because he was jealous.

"I… I…" he stuttered. "I might have been… eating more corn than necessary."

She laughed against his skin, and he smiled fondly at the sound.

"Yes, I imagined that," she said, handing the cob to her cousin and taking Sebastian's hand in hers, guiding him through the alleys. "But no more corn now."

Sebastian frowned, confusion evident on his features, and she smiled at his face as she got a bundle of keys from the aumoniere hanging from her belt.

"It's my family home," she explained, "and it's empty."

She pulled him inside once she opened the door, immediately wrapping her arms around his neck once he was close enough.

"I'm just…" he began, feeling like it wouldn't be right to do anything without apologising for his behaviour. "I'm sorry I missed your plays," he whispered, feeling guiltier than ever as her lips pressed on his skin tenderly. "I should have valued you more…"

"You've seen the first two ones," she smiled and pressed another kiss on his jaw. "Last two were boring anyway."

"Still, I should have enjoyed them," he protested, returning her kisses. "And your dress, too… you look so beautiful… so…"

"Well… dress up time is over," she whispered, mouth hovering his. "Care to help me with that?"

Sebastian let out a low chuckle at that, smirking against her lips. "Oh, I'm so going to enjoy that."

He pushed his arm back and pressed his palm on the door, closing it loudly behind him.

[silverbladexyz]

Tears to Shed

It's a coincidence how this is posted on Chuuya's birthday. I hope you guys enjoy! This is a Corpse Bride!AU, and I highly recommend that you watch this to get the gist of what is happening.

TW: Mentions of death, implied cheating (?), female reader. It all makes sense once you read the fic and watch the video. Massive thanks to @justcallmesakira, @saelique and @my-amaz-fanfics for proofreading this :)

“Oh my! I’ve spent so long in the dark… I’d almost forgotten how beautiful the moonlight is.”

The cool night air went unnoticed as you stood on the snow. A small perk of being dead was that the cold wasn’t an annoyance anymore. 

A breeze blew through the trees, sending a ghastly shiver up their wooden trunks. Their ancient roots dug into the ground that was blanketed with a soft layer of snow. Gnarled branches twisted into the sky, much like the claws of a cat. The entire forest seemed eerie- but to you, it was like home.

Your bony hand tightly grasped around a warm palm. The exact same hand that slid the wedding ring onto your finger with so much love and passion that you immediately burst forth from the grave with a ‘yes’. There were a few murmurs of disapproval in the Underworld, but nobody could deny the fact that you two truly loved each other. Afterall, why would your husband choose to marry you if he disliked you in the first place?

A butterfly fluttered past, catching your attention. You admired the beautiful, complex patterns that swirled on it’s wings, prompting an involuntary chuckle from you. The land of the living sure was a breath of fresh air sometimes. Thanks to the gracious Elder of the underworld, you were able to go back up and meet your lover’s parents. 

You let go of your husband’s hand, and started to do an elegant dance on the snow. Despite being dead, the dancing lessons you took were not for nothing. Why, you could probably even surpass the best dancer of the 1800s! Excitement filled you as you imagined yourself waltzing with your lover, showing him everything that you were capable of. Many men loved a talented woman, and you weren’t about to let yours down.

Perhaps you were a bit too immersed in your daydream, because your foot got caught under a tree branch and snapped your entire lower leg off.

“Ah!”

You let out a small yelp, tumbling onto the soft, thick snow. Horrified, you looked up towards your husband still standing on the snow- you couldn’t let him freak out over a small accident!

But he didn’t seem to realise what had happened; instead, his back was faced towards you.

Embarrassed, you quickly reconnected your leg, and resumed your graceful twirl around him. The wedding dress that you always donned flowed behind you, adding extra elegance to your dance. You felt his eyes on you- he was definitely intrigued by your charm.

The next moment, warmth landed on your shoulders, and your husband gently sat you down on a fallen log in the snow. 

If you had a heart, it definitely would’ve skipped a beat. His gorgeous blue eyes and stunning ginger hair must have been a gift from the gods themselves. Chuuya Nakahara sure was a man admired by many, and he chose you. Life finally seemed to favour you this time.

“... I think I should prepare my parents for the big news of our marriage. I’ll go ahead, and you can wait here.”

His azure eyes stared into yours, patiently waiting for your response. His hands had lifted off from your shoulders, but you didn’t pay it any mind. Just simply being with your spouse was enough for you.

“Perfect! I’ll stay right here.” You smiled at Chuuya with the innocence of a child. He looked taken aback for a moment, but it was gone as quickly as it came. 

Seizing this opportunity, the male quickly stalked off through the forest, running towards the only person that he knew would help him. You giggled a little at his rush; you weren’t going anywhere, afterall. The thought that the male wanted to introduce you to his parents as quickly as possible brought a smile to your face.

The minutes slowly dragged by. What once was gleeful anticipation soon turned into bored waiting, with nothing changing in your surroundings. With your cheek propped in your hand, you let out a small sigh, wondering what on earth was taking Chuuya so long.

“This is the voice of your conscience. Listen to what I say. I have a bad feeling about that boy.”

Your pupils widened a little at the sudden voice, but you quickly rolled your eyes once you realised who it was. Lifting your hand towards your head, you knocked a fist against it several times. It didn’t take long for the culprit to tumble out.

“You know he is a little- AGH!”

The culprit being a small green string-like thing that shot out of your ear and into the snow. 

It was your close friend, Maggot, who lived inside your head ever since you died. And quite literally, too. You couldn’t recall a day in the Land of the Dead without him interjecting with sarcastic remarks that only you could hear.

“Go chew someone else’s ear for a while. Chuuya’s got to see his parents, just like he said.” 

You were a tad bit irritated at what Maggot implied. How could he think that your dear husband was a liar? Chuuya was anything but that. Your friend, however, clearly thought otherwise.

“If I hadn’t just been sitting in it, I’d think that you’ve lost your mind-”

“I’m sure that Chuuya has a pretty good reason… for taking so long.” 

You sighed a little, and that didn’t go unnoticed by Maggot. You’d never admit it, but you were starting to wonder if the worm was right in some regard. What if Chuuya got attacked or ran into trouble?

You brushed that thought off. Your husband was obviously stronger than most men around; why, he probably could defeat an opponent twice his size without breaking a sweat. But that still didn’t stop the slight bit of panic that settled within you.

“Well, why don’t you go ask him?”

Maggot’s voice broke you out of your thoughts, and you gazed back at him indignantly. 

“Alright, I will.”

If he was so desperately insisting that Chuuya was a liar, then you’d have to prove him wrong.

Oh, how naive you were to not believe a word of what he said.

~~~

The fire crackled in the hearth, casting it’s pleasant heat into the room. Coldness could not come near it, for the flame merely devoured the frost before continuing to burn as brightly as before.

Not a word was said between the individuals that sat in front of the fireplace. Countless thoughts were running in Chuuya’s mind, mashing together in one confused heap. It didn’t help that butterflies fluttered in his stomach at what he was planning to say next.

“Yasuko… I must confess that I was terrified of marriage this morning.”

The female blinked. Sensing her confusion, the male continued speaking.

“But upon meeting you… I felt that I should be with you always. And that our wedding couldn’t come sooner enough.”

It was the truth, afterall. Even when they had just met each other, the spark of attraction between them could not be denied. She was surely the yin to his yang, the key to his heart, and his complete other half that he had been searching for his whole life.

“Chuuya… I feel the same.”

The girl whom he was properly betrothed to smiled at him. A real smile, one that was full of life and not death. Despite being born to snobby aristocratic parents, she was a true diamond amongst the rubble. Kind, polite, and courteous- whoever married her would strike gold.

“Yasuko…” He murmured, his gaze not leaving hers.

Slowly, she started to lean in, closing her eyes. 

Chuuya’s heartbeat quickened as he unconsciously drew her in. They were so close… their breath upon each other’s lips. Just a second away from getting lost in the bliss of love and forgetting everything that stood in their path. 

Suddenly, Chuuya stiffened, turning his face towards the window. 

Yasuko’s lips met his jaw instead, and her eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. Opening her eyes, she noticed that her lover’s gaze was focused on something behind her. But before she could turn her head around, Chuuya’s warm hands cradled her face. 

Cerulean blue eyes met lovely brown ones, each having their own questions to ask.

“Yasuko, you must understand that this is all rather unexpected-”

He was cut off by the booming sound of lightning. Both individuals turned toward the window, which was forced open by none other than… you. Stepping into the room, you lifted the wedding veil from your face, hope evident in your demeanour.

“Darling, I just wanted to meet-”

Two pairs of eyes stared back at you in horror. Like you were a monster- an unwanted being who was the object of disgust.

You noticed the girl standing behind Chuuya, and your eyes widened to the same size as hers. No doubt shocked at how accurate Maggot was about the male.

“... Darling, who’s this?”

Barely containing your anger, you sauntered over to your husband, clinging onto his arm. If you had blood, it would definitely be boiling by now- but you weren’t going to embarrass yourself in front of Chuuya today. No, you absolutely had to stay calm and show the woman who she was messing with!

“Who is she?!”

Looks like she didn’t have an inkling about you either. Well, no matter. Letting go of Chuuya’s elbow, you presented your bony arm in front of you with a proud smirk.

“I’m his wife.”

Your gold ring shone brightly on your fourth finger, a signet of the vow that bound you with Chuuya forever.

The girl looked towards him in disbelief.

“Chuuya?-”

“Yasuko, hold on, you don’t understand. As you can see, she’s dead. It was clearly a misunderstanding-”

A misunderstanding?

He was cut off as you yanked him towards you, eyes narrowing in ire at this ‘Yasuko’ girl. Your husband wasn’t off the hook, but for now, you couldn’t risk Yasuko stealing your love away from you. Heartbreak was not an option this time.

A shadow loomed over your face, lightning striking the sky as if in response to your fury. 

You uttered the word that could bring this madness to an end.

“Hopscotch.”

A murder of crows immediately surrounded the two of you, magic already working upon the utterance of the order. Amidst the chaos, you didn’t fail to notice how Chuuya called out to Yasuko, his arm outstretched towards her. 

Your feet touched the solid ground of the Elder’s office, the last of the crows flying away after their duty was finished.

With all your might, you pushed Chuuya away from you, hands curling into fists at your sides.

“You lied to me! Just to get back to that other woman!”

The male merely lifted his hands up, gesturing towards you.

“... Don’t you understand? You’re the other woman.”

“!” 

It was as if a sudden jolt of electricity had zapped you, only leaving behind your stunned self. Eyes widened in stupefaction stared at the one you once thought loved you.

In your incredulity, you desperately attempted to convince him otherwise.

“No! You’re married to me; she’s the other woman!”

Clear, salty liquid brimmed in your eyes, blurring your vision to be a mixture of jarring colours. You turned away from him, unable to hold it in any longer.

“A-and I thought… I thought that this was all going so well!”

Your sobs filled the air- great convulsing gasps that masked the sound of teardrops hitting the ground. Nobody said or did anything, and quite frankly, you didn’t care. The last thing that you wanted was pity from the one who betrayed your trust.

“Look, I’m sorry, but this just can’t work.” Chuuya approached you cautiously, not wanting to provoke you any further.

“Why not?” You spun around to face him, stifling your tears.

“Under different circumstances, then probably it can work out. But we’re just too different. I mean, you’re dead.”

“... You should’ve thought about that before you asked me to marry you!”

Shaking his head, Chuuya throwed his hands up with exasperation.

“Why can’t you understand that it was a mistake? I would never marry you.”

Silence filled the air. Time seemed to stand still, as if preparing the moment for a camera to photograph. And how you wished that everything could just freeze in place- to suspend those feelings that tore you inside out.

Chuuya himself seemed dumbfounded at what he just said. He knew that he should apologise, offer you a better explanation than that; but he found that he couldn’t form any words. No amount of lies could ever cover up the truth once it was exposed.

He readied himself for your shouting, your tears, your unbridled anger at the nerve of him daring to go back to the one he truly loved. And he deserved it, because nothing could excuse the fact that he hurt you. Even when it was all just one big misunderstanding.

But instead of reacting in the way he expected you to, you merely sighed in defeat and walked off. Not noticing the way Chuuya gazed at your disappearing self.

It didn’t take long for you to find a place to be alone. The dead may be many, but the underworld was vast. You could always sit down on an empty coffin with nobody in a ten metre radius from you. Perfect for a broken-hearted lonely soul.

Bringing the bouquet of flowers beside you up to your face, you gazed at the blossoms with disdain. Their beautiful patterns only seemed to mock your ugly fate, cursed with never being loved as someone’s bride. Life, which was mostly cruel, decided to trample you under its feet. Always waiting for the perfect opportunity to crush your dreams and hopes in a single second.

With a scoff, you lifted your other hand, and started to pluck away at the florets one by one. The petals fell freely through your fingers, landing onto the ground without a care in the world. Becoming nothing but a nuisance in someone else’s path.

“Roses, for eternal love. Lilies, for sweetness. Baby’s breath…” You inhaled shakily, fighting back the lump in your throat. 

With a sigh, you tossed the bouquet away, head lowered down in melancholy.

“Maybe Chuuya’s right. Maybe we are too different.” You muttered sorrowfully, looking at your palms. One of old flesh, and one of bone.

“Maybe he should have his head examined. I could do it.”

Maggot crawled onto your shoulder, looking earnestly into your eyes. You didn’t even have the heart to roll your eyes at his statement.

“Oh, but he does belong with her. That little miss living, with her beautiful cheeks… and her beating heart.” Propping your head in your hands, you gave a bitter chuckle.

Hope. Something that was desired by all- both alive and dead.

Most people hoped for a happy and stable life. Some aspired to be wealthy and successful. Others wished to keep what they had as of present.

You had simply hoped for a husband who truly loved you.

That dream made you scoff now. Every last bit of hope you harboured had vanished alongside your ‘husband’s’ love and concern. He was no better than your previous lover, who had promised you a lifetime of joy and fondness if you’d run away with him.

How foolish and naive you were to believe that he was genuine. It was only after he had left you for dead did you realise that you’d played right into his trap. A bride whose dreams were stolen from her, and who never got the chance for proper justice to be delivered.

You’d have thought that Chuuya would be different- that he was finally the one to fulfil your hopes of being married. Being loved and cherished by him for eternity as you shared wonderful experiences together as husband and wife. Modelled as the perfect couple whom the souls in the Realm of the Dead smiled at, commenting on how cute the two of you were. Were things as common as those too much to ask for?

You wanted to be the girl that Chuuya looked at with genuine love in his eyes. Just like that ‘Yasuko’ girl you met earlier- whose stupidly beautiful eyes and sickly sweet face had captivated your lover in the first place. Just what did she have that you didn’t have double? Good looks? A lovely personality? Simply being alive? She probably couldn’t dance half as well as you did. 

Yasuko wasn’t even wearing his ring. The very same ring that you now held in your palm, begging to be placed back on the hand of its rightful owner. Did it matter that you were the one who Chuuya said his vows to? Not anymore, because he clearly adored his other woman more than you.

You slowly laid down in the coffin, your vision going blurry once again. Although you didn’t have a physical heart, you could certainly feel it breaking. Even when you were dead, it seemed that you still had some tears to shed.

Maggot watched you worriedly, but he didn’t know how exactly to comfort you or cheer you up. Nothing he said or did could deny the obvious truth. The truth that sat on the tip of your tongue, just waiting to be let out.

You loved Chuuya, but he wasn’t yours. Because…

“I’m always the bridesmaid, never the bride.”

Would really appreciate feedback on this ❤️ Not too proud on how I wrote this tbh

@circinuus @little-miss-chaoss @sariel626 @rusmii @atlasnessie @luvfy0dor-main (sorry if I forgot to tag you ;w;)

[olivialau]

Shadow's Embrace Ch.20

Sukuna x Reader

Disclaimer:

This is a work of fanfiction based on the universe of "Jujutsu Kaisen," created by Gege Akutami. The original manga, anime, and characters belong to their respective owners and creators.

Notes:

This story unfolds in the Jujutsu Kaisen world, set in a slightly altered universe where Sukuna inhabits his own vessel distinct from Itadori Yuji's body, making him a separate entity.

Summary:

Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses, becomes fascinated with a female sorcerer rich in potential but lacking control. Initially seizing her for his destructive plans, Sukuna aims to bind her abilities through a contract. Yet, as he tries to dominate her, he finds himself intrigued by her strength and determination. Over time, his interest evolves from strategic advantage to a deeper, personal connection.

---------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 20 - Balancing Act

Sukuna's hands moved with strange elegance as he continued to trace every single intricate carving on the wooden frame. They depicted battles, massacres, and relentless slaughter—each stroke of the artisan’s blade had carefully immortalized the horrors he once wrought.

And Sukuna recounted it all as if it were a fond memory—his grin widening with each ghastly detail, each torment vividly brought to life.

You should have been horrified, and to some degree, you were. But there was something about the way he spoke, the way his eyes lit up with a strange, excited glee, that kept you rooted to the spot. It made your stomach twist in knots—half from fear, half from something you couldn’t, or perhaps didn’t want to, name.

For an entire hour, Sukuna reveled in his bloody past, dragging you through the carnage with him. You barely absorbed half of what he said, too distracted by the way his face moved, the subtle shifts in his expression.

When he finally seemed to have exhausted his tales, you found a moment to breathe and compose yourself. Seizing that brief clarity, you murmured an excuse and managed to pry yourself from the room, unable to endure the conflicting feelings any longer.

Your legs felt shaky as you walked back to the couch, and the second you were alone, you buried your face in a pillow and screamed into it, careful to ensure the sound was muffled.

Your cheeks burned with a mix of embarrassment and shame, both from your response to Sukuna's stories and the unsettling flutter in your chest that stubbornly lingered. You cursed yourself for feeling anything but disgust towards him—an evil being who had done nothing but manipulate, torment, and destroy. He was dangerous, vile, and you knew better than to lower your guard.

Desperate to rid yourself of the unwanted emotions, you mentally replayed every cruel thing Sukuna had put you through.

He’d slammed you into walls, floors, and pillars of concrete, forcing you to battle curses just for his amusement. But the worst, the most excruciating, was how he had turned Ayumi’s death into a weapon against you. That memory was a raw, festering wound—his most sadistic, cruel, manipulation yet.

It was the only thing capable of reigniting the fury and disgust you needed to extinguish any lingering feelings toward him.

As your thoughts drifted to Ayumi, a pang of sorrow pierced through the haze of frustration. Without thinking, you reached for your phone and checked the date.

September 27th.

This weekend would mark two years since her death.

The weight of it settled over you like a suffocating blanket. You’d have to return to your hometown for the memorial service. Your parents would be there, as well as Ayumi’s mother and all your old high school friends. It wasn’t just an obligation; it was something you couldn’t afford to miss, no matter how much it tore at you.

You clutched the pillow closer, as if it could somehow anchor you amidst the whirlwind of feelings, until finally, exhaustion claimed you, dragging you into an uneasy sleep.

---------------------------------------------------------

The next morning, the alarm on your phone woke you. It was eight, and you blinked in surprise. You'd half expected to be torn from your sleep hours earlier for another grueling training session.

But as you slowly regained your bearings, you realized there was no sign of the King of Curses. For the first time in what felt like ages, you had the luxury of a normal morning routine—showering, brushing your teeth, and preparing for the day ahead.

It was a rare, quiet morning—one where you could almost pretend that your life was normal. Yet, the lingering memory of the previous day's events was undoubtedly present, a persistent shadow over that glimpse of normalcy.

The morning air was crisp, and the streets bustled with energy as you made your way to Jujutsu High. You grabbed a quick breakfast from the convenience store, but it became little more than an afterthought—just something to occupy your hands and distract you from the unease churning in your stomach.

You dreaded facing Gojo again. Those piercing blue eyes seemed to see through your every lie, and over the past week, his suspicions had only grown. His questions became more probing, more persistent. It felt inevitable—just a matter of time before he pieced together your connection to Sukuna.

Would Gojo kill you on the spot if he discovered the truth? The thought gnawed at you, and to be fair, you couldn't really blame him if he did. Despite the fact that you had been coerced into this arrangement, you were still a pawn in Sukuna's game—an enemy to the very people you had come to care about.

Itadori, Megumi, Kugisaki, even the second years—you’d been, essentially, betraying them all this time.

The screech of the metro pulling into the station jolted you from your thoughts for a moment. You stepped off and made your way toward Jujutsu High. The brief walk was a blur as your mind picked up right where it left off, and continued to race with a thousand what-ifs.

That was until a familiar voice cut through your reverie.

“Yo! Good morning!”

You looked up, startled, to see Itadori jogging up to you, his bright smile lighting up his face and the air around him. His presence was like a splash of warmth in the chill morning breeze.

“Onigiri and chocolate milk?” he said, tilting his head as he eyed your breakfast. “That’s a weird combo.”

You glanced down at the rice ball in your hand, feeling a bit self-conscious. “I wasn’t really thinking when I grabbed it,” you admitted with a sheepish smile. “Just picked up whatever was closest.”

Itadori chuckled, “Hey, I’ve had weirder breakfasts. There was this one time I ate leftover pizza with iced coffee. Trust me, it was way worse than your combo.”

His confession drew a genuine laugh from you, and the tension in your shoulders eased ever so slightly. “Pizza and iced coffee? That sounds like a disaster waiting to happen.”

“Oh, it was,” he grinned, scratching the back of his head. “But I survived! Though... I wouldn’t recommend it.”

The rest of the way, the two of you walked together, falling into an easy rhythm. Itadori rambled on about the latest movies he'd seen, and you were content to simply listen, nodding occasionally as you finally savored your breakfast.

As you both reached the entrance, your conversation was abruptly cut short by Gojo striding toward you, his long steps making him appear to glide effortlessly across the courtyard. Without so much as a greeting, he grabbed your shoulder—firm but not rough.

“Morning! I need to borrow you for a couple of hours,” Gojo said cheerfully, as though he hadn’t just pulled you away mid-conversation.

Itadori's confusion mirrored your own, his brows knitting together as he protested, “Huh? But we have classes now.”

Gojo brushed aside Itadori's concern with a casual wave of his hand. “Classes can wait. What could be more valuable than a private session with the greatest sorcerer alive, huh?” He flashed a mischievous grin, his eyes glinting with the promise of an intriguing, if not unsettling, opportunity.

Oh, so that’s what this was about. Gojo had already mentioned the idea of one-on-one training, but you knew it was just a cover. He had his suspicions about you and the kidnapping, and now you were cornered, unable to avoid what seemed like an inevitable confrontation.

With little choice but to comply, your best bet was to keep playing along, hoping you could stall his suspicions a little longer. So you forced an excited smile and nodded.

“Sure! I’ll go.”

Gojo led you away from the school grounds, taking you to a secluded dojo building on the far side of the campus. The further you walked, the more tense you grew. The path was unusually quiet, devoid of the usual student chatter. The dojo itself was tucked away behind trees and dense foliage, almost too secluded.

A chill ran down your spine. Was he really planning on killing you? You tried to keep your expression neutral, but by the time you entered the building, your heart was hammering in your chest.

The dojo was almost entirely empty, the vast wooden floor bare, with no training equipment or mats in sight. At the center of the room, two pillows faced each other, arranged as if for a formal meeting.

You moved toward one of the pillows, intending to sit, but Gojo lifted a hand to stop you. “Ah, ah, ah,” he said playfully, “we’ll talk after the training.”

More waiting. Wonderful.

If a confrontation was his aim, why drag it out? The anticipation was unbearable, each second of uncertainty gnawing relentlessly at your nerves.

Gojo, in contrast, seemed perfectly relaxed. He stood across from you, his expression still lighthearted, though his aura had shifted—a subtle seriousness to it. “Now that you’ve gotten a taste of your cursed technique," he said, "I want you to try something. Touch me and show me what happens.”

Touch him? Reluctantly, you nodded. It felt awkward and uncomfortable to touch someone so powerful—and your teacher at that. You hesitated for a moment before stepping closer and extending your hand.

Gojo was exceptionally tall, requiring you to stretch to reach his shoulder. As your hand made contact, you braced yourself for the usual surge of energy or the faintness that accompanied touching someone with such high levels of cursed energy.

But nothing happened.

You blinked in confusion. No surge, no draw of energy. It was like touching any ordinary person.

Gojo tilted his head, just as perplexed. Then, a realization dawned on his face. “Oh! Wait a second—I didn’t turn off my Infinity.” He chuckled at his own mistake.

"My bad.”

He deactivated his Infinity, and the moment he did, everything changed.

The cursed energy between you both began to fluctuate wildly, his powerful aura suddenly overwhelming yours. You felt it immediately—his energy surged while yours tried to absorb it, swelling as if trying to keep up.

It felt like your cursed technique was pulling at the vast reservoir of his power, and for a moment, it worked. Your own energy grew, but only slightly, while his immense reserves seemed to shrink, just a fraction.

But the drawback hit hard. After about two minutes, your knees began to wobble under the strain.

Realizing things were about to spiral, you quickly pulled your hand away. The abrupt halt in energy flow left you gasping for breath, a rush of lightheadedness sweeping over you as you fought to stay on your feet.

Gojo looked at you, fascinated. His usual playful smile returned. “Haha, interesting. So it works exactly how I expected.”

He began to pace the room, thoughtfully tapping his chin. “I had a theory about your cursed technique,” he began,

“ever since I watched you train with the cursed corpse. Remember how you had to keep pouring a stable amount of energy into it to prevent it from attacking you?”

You nodded, still trying to steady your breathing.

“Well,” Gojo continued, “I think the problem wasn’t with the amount of energy you were putting in. You were probably pouring in the right amount, but your cursed technique was absorbing the energy right after you poured it in. That disbalance caused the instability.”

You made a conscious effort to play the part of someone still figuring out their technique. Despite Sukuna having already taught you the fundamentals, it was crucial to come across as a little... ignorant.

“So… my technique absorbs energy even when I’m not aware of it?” you asked.

“Exactly!” Gojo’s grin widened. “And with someone like me, who has massive amounts of cursed energy, the effect is more noticeable. You’re not just absorbing a little—you’re taking in as much as your body can handle. But here’s the catch; your body’s not quite ready for that much, not yet anyway.”

Gojo paused, seemingly considering something, as he studied you. “Before we dive into expanding your cursed energy capacity, it might be wiser to focus on controlling how much you absorb first. If you can manage that, you won’t wear yourself out as quickly.”

The idea made sense. If you couldn’t regulate your intake, trying to increase your reserves would be like adding more weight to a fragile scale—it would just break under the pressure.

Despite their contrasting philosophies, Sukuna and Gojo revealed a surprising similarity in their approach to teaching you. Mastering energy control was exactly what Sukuna had planned for your next session.

To your own annoyance, you felt a surprising thrill at the thought that Gojo's training might help you impress Sukuna. The idea of earning recognition from the King of Curses was unexpectedly appealing. Yet, the rational part of your mind recoiled. Why should impressing him stir any kind of excitement? You really needed to get your shit together.

You took a deep breath, pushing the disturbing feelings aside for the moment, and looked up at Gojo. “Please,”  you said earnestly. “Teach me how to control it.”

Gojo raised an eyebrow beneath his blindfold, clearly amused by your sudden enthusiasm. “Well, that’s the spirit,” he said with a chuckle.

“Though, I’m not sure I’m the best person for you to practice on. I’ve got a bit too much cursed energy, and if you keep absorbing from me, you’ll end up overloading yourself and doing more harm than good.”

He tilted his head, as if deep in thought, before his face suddenly brightened with a spark of inspiration. "Wait here," he said, turning on his heel and exiting the dojo, leaving you in a state of puzzled anticipation

The space fell into an eerie silence, and your nerves began to fray as you worried over the 'talk' Gojo had promised after the training session. It felt like an eternity—though it was probably only ten minutes—before the door slid open once more.

Gojo re-entered the dojo, dragging a visibly disgruntled Megumi by the collar.

Megumi squirmed against Gojo’s grip, his face a picture of irritation. “Seriously, Gojo-sensei? I was right in the middle of a lesson. What’s so urgent that you had to pull me out like this?”

Gojo dismissed his complaints with a casual wave. “Oh, come on, Megumi. Don’t be such a grouch. It’s important! You’ll thank me later.”

Megumi shot Gojo a sharp, daring glare before noticing you standing awkwardly in the center of the room. His expression softened slightly as he gave you a brief nod. You responded with a tentative wave, unsure of how to proceed.

Gojo’s hands came together with a sharp clap, shattering the tension in the room.

“Alright, Megumi, here’s the deal,” Gojo said, adopting an exaggeratedly businesslike tone. “I need you to help our friend here practice controlling her cursed technique.”

Megumi’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Wait...what? Why me?” he asked.

Gojo wagged a playful finger at him. “Because you’re my favorite student, of course! And besides, you’re already here. No sense in making a fuss,” he replied with a grin.

Megumi let out a resigned sigh, clearly recognizing the futility of arguing further. He turned to you, his expression softening once more. “Alright, fine,” he said, in a way that was begrudging but not unkind. “What exactly do you need me to do?”

Gojo stepped back, giving you and Megumi some space. “Simple,” he explained.

“You’re going to let her touch you, and she needs to try and control how much of your cursed energy she absorb. Her cursed technique is Cursed Energy Assimilation, quite impressive, isn't it?” he added with a note of awe in his voice, disclosing the nature of your ability.

Megumi's initial surprise at the revelation of your technique was apparent, but it was quickly overtaken by a hint of embarrassment as he extended his hand toward you. The faint color on his cheeks betrayed that the gesture felt intimate to him, despite its innocence.

You reached out, your fingers just above Megumi's arm, as Gojo continued. 

"Here's what we're going to do. Megumi here has a more stable flow of cursed energy. You're going to place your hand on his arm and try to absorb it, but this time, instead of taking it all at once, I want you to slow it down, and only take in what you can handle. I'll guide you through it."

Megumi gave you a final, almost imperceptible nod—a gesture that conveyed both his trust and his approval for you to touch him.

As you made contact, you felt the familiar surge—the steady hum of cursed energy—as it flowed through you. Unlike Gojo’s, Megumi’s energy was more contained; it wasn’t as overwhelming, but it was still incredibly strong in its own right.

“Good,” Gojo said. “Now, focus. Take a deep breath and feel the flow of energy. Don’t think about absorbing it yet—just pay attention to the way it moves, like a current in a river.”

You closed your eyes and did as instructed. It flowed rhythmically in time with Megumi’s breathing. You hadn’t noticed that before, the way his cursed energy seemed to be synced with his body’s natural rhythm. For a moment, you simply let yourself sense it without trying to suppress the intake.

“Alright,” Gojo said, calm and guiding. “Now, I want you to imagine turning a faucet. Let the cursed energy trickle in—just a small amount at a time. Don’t force it, and don’t rush. If you feel yourself losing control, stop and breathe.”

You took another deep breath and slowly began to absorb Megumi’s cursed energy.

This time, you followed Gojo’s advice, picturing a faucet slowly being turned, the flow of energy coming in small, controlled amounts. It was still difficult, but with Gojo’s guidance, you managed to lower the intake.

“Good, good,” Gojo praised, stepping closer to observe. “That’s it. Keep it at that level. Feel how your body is reacting—if it’s too much, slow down even more.”

You practiced this way for another hour, steadily improving as you adjusted the intake to a sustainable level. When you finally mastered the delicate balancing act, Gojo’s voice broke your concentration, announcing the end of this session.

“Let’s stop here for today,” he instructed.

Following his words, you slowly withdrew your hand from Megumi’s arm. The stability you felt was surprising; though your legs wobbled slightly, you were nowhere near the point of collapse. It was a small victory, but one that filled you with a deep sense of accomplishment.

Even Megumi offered you a rare sign of acknowledgment with a small nod. “Not bad,” he said, which was high praise coming from him.

Gojo, more generous with his approval, clapped his hands together, the sound echoing through the dojo. “Great job! You’re really making strides. Keep at it—control will only get easier with practice. Eventually, it’ll become second nature.”

It was satisfying to receive recognition for your efforts, a welcome change from the sessions with Sukuna, where progress was driven by harsh taunts and relentless pressure rather than positive encouragement.

By now, Megumi, who was visibly exhausted despite his efforts to mask it, was heading toward the door. Before he could leave, you felt a strong urge to express your gratitude. "Thank you, Megumi. I really appreciate your help," you said with sincerity.

He responded with a low grumble, "It’s nothing," though the slight flush on his cheeks suggested otherwise. With a wave, he slid the door shut behind him, and the atmosphere in the room shifted dramatically.

The knot in your stomach, which had briefly loosened during the training, tightened once more. You knew what was coming—the dreaded conversation with Gojo.

Gojo walked over to one of the floor pillows, settling himself down comfortably. He patted the space across from him, signaling for you to join him. Though the gesture was casual, the tension beneath it was unmistakable.

You hesitated, weighed down by the anticipation of what was to come, before finally taking a seat on the opposite pillow.

The silence between you was thick and stifling, stretching on as both of you opened your mouths simultaneously, only to stop short.

"You go first," you blurted out, with a tight voice that undoubtedly betrayed your anxiety to the perceptive Gojo.

Gojo's blindfold obscured his eyes but not the probing intensity of his posture as he leaned forward slightly. He gave a faint, reassuring smile that softened his presence without diminishing its impact.

"Alright then," he said in a steady voice.

"Let’s talk about Sukuna."

---------------------------------------------------------

Thank you for reading!! Really appreciate the support, likes and comments <3

If you want to be added to the taglist, so you don't miss any updates, please let me know in the comments or with a private message. Thankyou!

Taglist: @sukunasthightattoos , @tomiokasecretlover , @6demonize6me6 , @blindbabycadder , @domainofmarie , @marcoschuitmaker , @geniejunn , @chanaaaannel

[raymadrigal]

Lengua con Grasa as seen in Ghastly Elegance at Probe Chicago

Photos by Lillian Heredia

[lemongrace]

Mine, all mine

Content Warning: vague corpse description, grave-robbing (whoops!) The ancient stone cracked like ice as the spell that had sealed the tomb came undone, snapping along the lines her fingers had traced over its surface. The destruction brought her no pleasure - hands of a skilled artisan of a bygone era had chiselled an intricate bas-relief into its walls, vines of coiling ivy that choked out the crescent moons they seized; the Venomleaf family’s chosen sigil. The lid shaped into a silhouette of a sleeping elven woman rested on top, her features vague and unidentifiable; subtle enough for tweaks to be applied at the hour of the passing. Now she lay split in half where the stone had ruptured, her solemn visage marred forevermore.

But the dead didn’t so much as stir, and no voice rose to stop her– not even when Eluein pushed the lid aside, the whisper of death and decay not nearly harrowing enough to prevent the Highborne from desecrating the grave. Skeletal fingers still held onto dry blooms woven betwixt them, colour long gone from their petals. An elegant gown of once vivid crimson gently wrapped the remains of the elf laid to rest inside, wisps of dark hair sparsely clinging to the skull. The late Lady Venimeux, reduced to naught but bones and dust.                                                                                                             Canting her head, Eluein regarded the corpse– what was left of it. Though the marble was millennia old, the ward placed upon the sarcophagus sealed it for no longer than a few weeks - yet the body decomposed unnaturally quickly despite its protection, leaving only a skeleton to be found inside. She’d never seen bones so beautiful.

By all means, she deserved to be damned for the mere thought of it - hadn't she caused Idyssa enough grief already? Even in death, the Nightborne had known no peace. But the notion of what they would call her upon her return vanished the moment Eluein slipped the glove off of her hand, exposed digits grasping at the stone. Insults stopped cutting so deeply when the mere utterance of her name fell like a curse from their mouth. Like a graceless feline, starved, Eluein scaled the tomb of her late lover. The damaged lid groaned beneath her weight, threatening to break at any moment, but she cared not for its protestations. The gauntlet-encased arm propped her up while the other, bare and yearning, reached out for the bones within. Following the length of the spine with her fingers, she found it - the misaligned vertebra she had broken out of place, a part of it still stubbornly clinging to the skull. A firm snap of her hand was all it took to free the latter.  The surface of her felt familiar despite the deathly chill that had embraced the remains - the outline of her jaw, the curvature of her cheeks; elegant and timeless, more akin to an art form carved in ivory than just a simple piece of bone. Eluein’s fingertips traced the intricacies of the cranium with a gentle caress, sweeping away the ghastly remains of the Nightborne’s hair. Death wasn’t fit to lay claim to one such as her. Slipping the hand beneath the skull, Eluein carefully removed it from within the tomb, not once breaking away her gaze from the empty sockets. Unbeknownst to the Highborne, her own features relaxed as she beheld it - frown that seemed permanently seared to her brow softened, thumb brushing against the skeletal cheek to wipe away a non-existent tear. If the ghost of her was watching, it had remained silent. Quiet even when Eluein leaned in, pressing her pallid forehead against the equally bleached skull. Death wasn’t fit to lay claim to one such as her - not while the other yet lived.

[rosyfingered-moon]

Sejak episode 8

Never did I expect this to become a gay panic episode. In every crossdressing sageuk I've seen (excluding the peerless Sungkyunkwan Scandal) the surrounding cast never seem to suspect the ML of being gay. He's just, like, bromancing really hard (and maybe he feels taken aback by the intensity of his feelings but doesn't really fall in love until her true identity has been revealed, or maybe he secretly knew all along, etc.) But here they're just making a plotline of it?

The way Yi In's eyelids flutter in excitement whenever Mong-woo beats him with yet another cutthroat move...

*the russian voice* through the elegant yelling, of this compelling dispute.... comes the ghastly suspicion.... my opposition's..... a fruit

I like that we get to see how everyone reacts to the rumor because it reveals so much about their characters. Like this asshole, he could just have taunted Myung-ha with the insinuation that he's awfully close with that Kang Mong-woo. But instead he says, "Though the rumor is unsavory, it matters not. He is His Majesty's favorite, after all. I would have done the same." With this deeply unpleasant smile on his face??? LIKE???

Then we have Dong sanggung, immediately wary of the threat of replacement. (The bleakness of it all. The only power she can aspire to is being the king's favorite toy.) But their dynamic is really interesting to me and I hope to learn more about her as we go along.

And the queen, who is relieved. Because of course she would be! If Dong sanggung sinks, she can rise; if the king is blamed for their lack of intimacy, even if it's only a portion of the blame, even if it's only in whispers and stares, then the heaviest burden of her life becomes a little less heavy.

This exchange made me tear up :( That he alone, a child of no near relation, has the decency to come check on her. The way she almost breaks down crying at such a small act of kindness. Poor baby.

This scene was also very lovely! And like, honestly kinda good advice? We've all had the friend who is asking for your opinion on her garbage situationship and you just know that there's nothing you could say that would truly convince her to leave, not yet at least, because she's not going to give up hope until she's broken herself trying.

But I can't help but wonder what Hongjang would say, if she were still here.

Well, fool was I for saying there would be no bodice-ripping in this show.

THE SHRIEK I SHROOK.

What the fuck. WHAT THE FUCK. Even taking these screenshots without audio is making me blush anew. What a godtier kiss. His fury and bewilderment, the way he alternates between closing his eyes to relish it and staring at her in desperate disbelief, the tears clinging to his eyelashes as all the implications hit him, one after the other. She loves him, he killed her, he loves her, he still killed her.

Also can we talk about the insane choice of setting for this scene? WHO APPROVED THIS.

And she just collapses, like her strings have been cut.

[ghostedgrim]

Chapter 1

Awoken

Warning-death of child, heart gets ripped out, acid poured in eyes, abusive father, talk of murdering, child marriage. Story currently takes place over a thousand years before present-day jujutsu kaisen

When I was 10 years old, I started to see vague figures, transparent and of a faint blue color. They always made these muffled sounds that I could never understand. It was like they were underwater. For three years, I tried to focus more on these...things to learn what they are. Even at 13 years old, I never figured it out. They had a mind of their own, and sometimes it felt like they were watching me. I told my father, hoping he could help me, but he locked me in a room. The next day, I was taken to the town square and burned alive.

   I'm 7 years old, and these ghastly figures have existed for as long as I can remember. One chased me through the woods yesterday. I slipped on some mud and slammed my head onto a rock.

   I'm 5 years old, and these ghastly figures can't touch me, but they talk, and they can see me. My family is rich, and despite me being a girl, they teach me to read. By the age of 10, I still haven't learned anything about these creatures. I never told my parents. There's a feeling inside me, warning me that such a confession would lead them to killing me. At 12, I can see the creatures more clearly, and I've come to realize they are the spirits of long dead humans trapped in purgatory. I learned of a boy who also saw creatures nobody else could. In the short time I knew him, I learned that the creatures I saw weren't all the same that he claimed to see. A week later, I was sitting in my family's garden when I heard screams. Looking up from my book, I saw smoke stain the sky. My village was burnt to the ground by creatures nobody except me, and the boy could see. It didn't matter. He died, and now I lay on the ground, looking at the strange creature who ripped my heart out of my chest.

  Not all the creatures I see are spirits. Most are, but the others are curses. I'm only 14, but I've learned how to communicate with the spirits, and I can see them clearly. As for the curses, they don't speak, just make sounds, and I've learned to ignore them. The people in my village question my sanity, I've heard whispers about Jujitsu and curse users, but I hardly listen. Sometimes, there is this film that I see, and I never understand it. The film looks almost like a curtain where light is somewhat distorted, and when I touch it, all I feel is sharp cold air. I never speak around men, I dress pretty, I move with practiced elegance, I help my mother take care of my father and brothers. I was supposed to be married when I was 13, but due to the rumors of my sanity, I'm yet to find a suitor.

   My family is visiting a village that burnt down 15 years ago. According to my father, he had a little sister who was amongst the victims who died. As much as I tried to act appropriately, walk calm and quiet, I couldn't. This Damm spirit would not stop following me around and referring to me as her daughter.

   "Father, may I know the his -"

   "Why are you talking, Fuyuko? I told you to be silent," my father continued mumbling something before continuing our walk. My mother sent me a warning glare, and my three brothers smiled at me as if they had won a game. This is stupid, this is so fucking stupid.

   "Fuyuko? That is the name they gave you? Sakura was far more beautiful, my flower." The spirit circles around me trying to fix my hair, but her hands just phase through me. I try to swat her away but, of course, it does nothing. "Sakura darling, these poor people don't appreciate you, they don't even allow you a proper education. All they're doing is turning you into a useless bride to sell off for money."

"Will you shut up, and my name is Fuyuko, not Sa-."

   "Fuyuko! I should not have to remind you to stay silent," My father hisses out, and grips my wrist, "Who are you even speaking to." I had no idea how to explain myself. How would I even tell him I'm speaking to a ghost that claims to be my mother, that this entire town is familiar?

"Speak!" Spit flies from his mouth.

  "I... I see creatures that other people don't." My father slams my mother into the wall, my brothers start laughing saying mom fucked up now. I honestly want to vomit. Even the ghost looks appalled.

   "We'll marry her off for free at this fucking rate. Now get out of my sight," My mother and I stand frozen, "GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!"

  A week later, we return home. I helped mom make dinner. We eat at the table in silence. My father announces he's found me a husband. Whoever bought me from him must've been desperate for a wife or concubine. Good riddance, I'm ready to be free of this shit hole. Perhaps I'll sneak poison into mom's tea so she doesn't have to suffer once I'm gone, father has already accused her of cheating. Poison is certainly better than rocks. After dinner my mother bathes me and I'm sent to bed.

  "Sakura! Fuyuko, wake up! My child, you must wake up!"

   "Hold her down, boys. Make sure she can't move or fight back."

  "Sakura!"

   My eyes are forced open by rough hands. My arms are tied, my legs held down. My father stands above me holding a vial. The ghost is utterly losing her shit.

  "Father -" a slap to my face silences me.

  "Just one more precaution to ensure that boy keeps you, I never want to see you again. You're a witch, a freak! You are not my daughter." He tilts the vial, one drop per eye. It burns, and I can feel my eyes dissolving. The ghost enters my youngest brother, and he drops dead, she does the same to my oldest brother. My vision is gone, I'm screaming in pain. I can't see, but I can still see the ghost as she kills my third brother. I can see their ghosts decend. My father ties me down and runs out of the room.

   My vision is gone, but I can see spirits, not just humans, but also the spirits within the plants, the trees, and the river near by, I can see the souls of animals. I can see a curse, sitting on the ceiling above my bed. I wait for it to kill me, but instead it runs.

~~~~

Thank you for reading, I intend for this story to be dark. There is death, torture, implied SA, cannibalism, abuse. Jujutsu is a dark universe, and that will be shown in this story. Also it's Sukuna x Oc, so the cannibalism is to be expected.

   I am currently writing another fic, and making a discord server and preparing for my high school graduation, so updates will be slow.

[taradiddled]

"Okay," Polly says, stirring her cup of tea. "Stop me if you've heard this one before." She sets her spoon aside on the saucer, then, with all the gravitas of a great orator, she begins:

"A beautiful, proper Goetian lady walks into her first class of the day on her very first official day at university. The class is Fundamentals of Neuroscience by Hell Standards, so this Goetian lady is shouldering the expensive leather strap of a very elegant bag, full of what must have been the HEAVIEST books you can imagine. She has a cup home-brewed tea in a thermos in hand, and is the most formally dressed of all the students in the classroom. Right away, she has the innate sense that will not have the easiest of interactions with her fellow classmates, who see her immediately as an oddity.

"The Goetian lady goes to take a seat up front, as she has been advised by her elders, who are not quite pleased that their daughter has shirked her birthright to delve into the messy business of medicine, but are still paying for the lady's tuition. The lady sees a spot open at the front row, and goes to take a seat, right beside an imp classmate, who scorns the Goetian lady right off, before vacating her seat to sit elsewhere.

"Flustered, the Goetian lady tries focus on preparing her notebook for class, whilst ignoring the stares she's receiving from several of her classmates. She's arrived ten minutes before class will begin, so she finds herself spending those ten minutes staring at her notebook, unable to completely tune out the whispers in the air, most of which concern the lady herself.

"Class begins, and, mercifully, the whispers cease, as the instructor takes to the little podium at the front of the classroom, and begins introductions. Five minutes after class has officially started, the classroom door bangs open, and a banshee comes storming into the room, hefting a rather large, weathered book-bag under her arm. The strap had snapped during the banshee's mad dash to class, as she'd accidentally overslept her alarm, and she was wearing these ghastly camouflage scrubs that she wore to her part-time job as an orderly in the local hospital.

"This banshee was frazzled, clearly, and upon making her entrance to the classroom, all eyes turn on the banshee, and the instructor, a very toadish demon with a gut like an eight-score bachelor...tuts at the banshee! Reprimands her for her tardiness, to which the banshees profusely apologizes, explaining that her bag strap had broken while she had been trying to cross the street to university, and she'd had to bumble through traffic to collect her things.

"The instructor scoffs at the banshee's explanation, and orders her to take a seat so that class can commence. Now, the Fundamentals of Neuroscience by Hell Standards is one of the core classes required in the curriculum, and this particular class is the first scheduled of the day, so the room is PACKED. Seats are full everywhere you look, save, of course, for that one seat open beside the Goetian lady. Ordinarily, the thought of sitting beside a Goetian would fill any ordinary banshee with trepidation, as they would know the history of bad blood between the species. However, this banshee does not care for the tribulations between the two, and takes that very seat beside the Goetian lady.

"The Goetian lady is understandably stunned as this banshee sits down, drops her mangled bookbag on the table in front of her, and begins pulling out her books and pens, as quickly as possible. Class commences, and the Goetian lady is surprised, thirty minutes into the class now, when she realizes that she has been completely IGNORED by the banshee! Not even a glance the Goetian lady's way, or a vocal acknowledgement. This perturbs the Goetian lady, and she waits until the class's brief ten-minute break to address the banshee directly.

"The Goetian lady is about to introduce herself, when the banshees cuts her off! Imagine that! She makes a zipping sound with her mouth, holding up a hand to the Goetian lady -- how rude! -- before saying, 'I have no interest in sharing small talk with a pampered brat, thanks.' The Goetian lady is incensed! How dare this banshee! Flustered, she reprimands the banshee for such rude behavior, and that is when the banshee turns full towards the Goetian lady...and the Goetian lady realizes the banshee is one of the most beautiful creatures the lady has ever seen.

Beside her wife, Moira snorted in derision. "I still think you're just flattering me, Polly," she took a sip from her mug of coffee. "My hair was a fucking mess because I'd forgotten to brush it, and there was a pizza stain on my shirt from the night before, where I'd wiped my fingers after finishing off the leftovers in my fridge."

Polly shook her head, disagreeing firmly. "No," she said, beak clicking. "You were GORGEOUS. And I stand by my recollection of that very special day I met the banshee who would become the love of my life!"

Moira's cheeks flushed pink. "Do you really need to pull out the bard-speak in front of company, Pol?" She gestured to Lucifer and Adam seated across from them on the opposite couch. Lucifer was quite enraptured with Polly's tale, while Adam was polishing off the cucumber sandwich Polly had prepared just for Adam to enjoy.

[anxious-art-block]

LU Headcanons Part 5: THE TWIDDIES ARE BACK

Warriors’s Hylian is based on Old Norse

Four’s Hylian is based on Slavic!

Rich City Boy Wars ✨

“Boys have attitude, men have class.” “Many have an idea of me, but few seldom get the picture.” “Elegance is a beauty that never fades~!" “Oh? Why for?” “Hmph, cheeky!” “If you’re going to talk nonsense, I have better things to do.” “So he slipped the hook?” “What a ghastly prospect!” “Such good luck!”

Wheelchair user Four!

I know it’s like magic and all, but I refuse to believe that given the amount of stretching and compressing he did in Minish Cap, there’s no permanent effect on his muscular or nervous system

Like c’mon! He was literally squishing and stretching out his spinal cord basically on the regular

That’s gotta have SOME side effects

So I like to imagine that it led to nerve damage in his spinal cord! He can stand and walk a little bit (ex: standing to grab something off a shelf), but can often only do so for short periods of time and it can leave him really out of breath or overheated with his lower back and neck hurting afterward. On good days, however, when he feels he doesn’t need the wheelchair, he has a pair of wooden forearm crutches or a wooden cane he can use

All of these are painted and designed with rainbows in mind for the colors

And all of which he designed himself!

He will in fact spin around and gut-punch someone who moves his chair or pushes him without permission

Good for him

Given and Family names in their Hylians!! PLEASE CORRECT ME IF ANY MEANINGS OR SPELLINGS BEHIND THE NAMES ARE INCORRECT!! GOOGLE IS ONLY SO HELPFUL

Sky: Do Joo-Won (Meaning ‘Path’ and ‘First’ or ‘Origin’) Four: Nikolai Antonavič Kovalenko (Meaning ‘People of Victory’ and ‘Blacksmith’) Time: Darragh Ó Cearbhaill (Meaning ‘Of Oak’ and ‘Valorous in Battle’) Twilight: Xǔ lián jié (Meaning ‘Brilliant, Rising Sun’ and ‘To Link or Bind) Legend: Neil O'Tuathaigh (Meaning ‘Hero’ and ‘Descendant of the Chief) Hyrule: Boriboon “Link” [No family name given] (Meaning ‘Complete’ or ‘Whole’) Wind: Olioli (Meaning ‘Joyful’) Warriors: Einarr Björnsson (Meaning ‘Army’ or ‘Warrior’ and ‘Son of Bear’) Wild: Moriyama Yua (Meaning 'Forest Mountain' or 'Protecting Mountain' and ‘To Connect or Tie’)

I tried to find names that directly translate to 'Link' in English, but Twi was really the only one I could find, so I went with names in relation to their character or the games! (ex: Hyrule's means whole for the fact that he has the whole triforce)

Skinship and physical affection are very common amongst the Chain, it may not be common with the Links in their own Hyrule’s, but there’s a very special type of bond amongst these nine, and it feels almost natural for them to express that in physical touch. There will be a lot of arm-around-shoulder, sometimes hand-holding, leaning on someone, general cuddling, and when needed can go as far as forehead, temple, or cheek kisses and hugs are a big thing <3

When they get to Skyloft for the first time, it's revealed that Sky has been planning on proposing to Sun for months now, but never got to finish planning as that's when the journey with the chain started. When the gang finds out they endlessly tease him about it and how he has no idea how he's going to until at one point he runs towards them, hair a mess and breathing like he ran a mile, with nothing but a desperate look on his face and a "Help me!"

Warriors, ever the romantic, jumps at the chance to help and thinks up millions of ways to propose 

He, Sky, Legend, and Time spent probably about 2 days planning different ways to propose to Sun ranging from a picnic, to doing it in writing, to in front of the goddess statue, etc. and they eventually came up with the plan that Sky was going to take her on a long ride on his loft wing, then bring her to the Isle of Song and propose 

Well

It would’ve gone as planned if Sky had actually gone through with it

On the ride around Skyloft, just as sunset was hitting, he turned around to look at her and was in awe at how she looked

Her golden hair nearly glowing when the orange and pink hues of the sky hit the crown of her head, a bright toothy smile on her face while the wind blew towards her, her hands tightening around his waist just a bit. He stars for a moment, then blurts out

“Marry Me.”

He turns her around and stalls his loftwing, and just holds her hands and tells her how much he loves her and eventually pulls out the ring he asked Four to make, and then they smooch <3

They get back to Skyloft and they both go running to the Chain and the other Knights while squealing (With some knights handing money to each other)

That’s all I got lol so moving on!

Legend considers himself a bit of a linguist, he speaks a total of 5 languages (Labrynnan, Holoese, Subrosian, Lolian, and a professional level of Ancient Hylian) after he got the Book of Mudora he took an interest in studying linguistics for not only the places he’s been but then also just other countries and areas he’s never been too or have heard stories of

Most of the Chain speak a bit of other languages (Twilight speaking some Twili, Four with Minish, etc.) he simply holds a record for the amount of languages spoken and the knowledge he holds on foreign languages altogether

He uses the Hytopian spelling for a lot of Hylian words (ala British English to American English)

He speaks a lot of Lolian with Ravio since that’s his mother tongue and while he’s fluent in Hylian, Legend knows he prefers speaking in Lolian and they use that at home more than anything

Oh yeah

Lolian is based on French

Until we meet again *goblin noises*

[anime-is-godlike]

Twisted wonderland dorms x esmeralda reader

One day the dorm leaders (jamil instead of kalim for this one) finds a magical stone with the power to show parts of the past of someone close to them they choose not to use it to respect there privacy of that person but shenanigans ensue and the stone is used and there shown there dear SO’s past

This is the Disney version of the hunchback of notre dame

Heartslabyul-savanaclaw-octavinelle-scarabia - pomefiore-ignihyde-diasomnia

pomefiore

Vil heels was clipping on the floor as he was walking through the halls of his dorm being the elegant man he was when he Heard the sound of his heel kicking something he didn’t think much of it and decided find rook he needed some advice

“Where is he?” Vil stroked his cheek he turned around and again he kicked something he finally looked down and saw a stone it looked like a very ordinary stone but something seemed to interest him like a hides beauty

He saw sure if he said that out loud he would hear his hunter friend spouting poetry and cheesy romantic line he thought back on the time rook tried his poetry with you and the look of confusion and disgust on your face nearly made him laugh

“This stone looks familiar roi du poison” a voice said next to rook in his ear he blinked only one person was so bold to do this to thee vil shoenheit

“Rook I have been calling for you” he turned to look at the hunter with a frown

“Oui I heard but I was to busy looking for monsieur cherry apple” vil nod his head and noticed a purple hair boy coming towards them along with a flee bag which vil turned his head at

“Epel why is grim here?” Vil asked but before epel could answer grim yelled out

“Myaaaaaa vil I smelt something here!!” Vil tilted his head at the cat

“What ever do you mean?” Vil asked to which grim got into even more of a huff

“It smells like the black rock I wanna eat it!!!” Grim yelled out flying around like a angry child

“Monsieur fuzzball please be calm like summers day” sadly vil was cut of by grim lunging at vil

“I can smell it in your hand!!” Grim said all vil could do was sigh he had half a mind to just give grim the stone so he’d leave him alone

“Wait grim stop!!” Epel said grabbing onto grim and rook grabs epel giving him a helping hand vil slightly opens his palm and is met with a blinding light and darkness

……………

Vil rubbed his eyes and got of the floor quickly the floor felt dirty and he had no clue how long he was on the floor a noise was next to him

“God dang dab it where in the hells are we?” Epel said with his ghastly accent well at least in vils eyes he tried to think back trying to wonder how they got into this situation

Around then where stone walls and candles lit the room with many stone pillars holding up the roof it was weird the candles didn’t flicker and the wind was stagnant almost like time was frozen then a flicker of light illuminated the dark place a small orb floats down

“Good evening” it said in a high pitched voice

“Hello” vil said with a cross of his arms

“Ahhh finally I polite one!” It said flying up and down almost like it was bouncing

“Could you please explain what is going on?” Epel asked in a somewhat shaky voice

“Ahhh I see …usually the headmaster tells them it they know immediately this is weird……” the last part was a whisper that the others couldn’t catch

“Hehehe anyway this is what you call a memory stone and it shows you memory’s of the person closest to your heart but you can’t refuse to see these memories before you deny” it said with a nod the others look at each other

“Nyaaaaa we gotta see memories that’s boring!!!” Grim yelled

“Ahhh still the same every time I see you fur ball?” Vil and rook and epel tilted there head the same have grim and the orb met before?

“Ahhhhhh anyway since vil activated it you’ll be seeing yuu’s memories” it said floating around proud vil thought on it the most he knew of your past was that you where a gypsy and that you have a goat named jolly who he despises as does jolly with him

“Okay now let’s get down to business usually I’d show 3 items which hold special memories of yuu but I’m kinda getting bored of repeating the same stuff so this time around” a crown like object floats down from the darkness in the ceiling

“Since you’ve been kind to me…unlike that lion…I’ll let you see her passion” it whispers again in the middle of the sentence

“Also since you’ve been extra nice I’ll let you hear her sing ahhhh what a wonderful singer she is” it said in a dreamy voice and vil has a think back when has he ever heard you sing during the song competition you didn’t audition you just helped out with managing the team

“Have fun~” it said the crown floats down and the scene before then starts there in the same building but now everything was moving the candles flickering but now something was added yuu was in front of them leaning against the piller

“Wow so this is dame corbeau home” rook said eyeing the place like a hawk

“Be quiet” epel whisper yelled

Your leaning against the piller and yuu sighs out with jolly by her feet it she looks over to a couple people on there knees preying

“I don’t know if you can hear me” she sang in a soft voice looking at a statue of a women holding a child

“Of if your even there” she walked closer to the statue hands in front looking up at it

“I don’t know if you would listen to a gypsy’s prey” she looked down

“Yes I know I’m just a outcast” she looks away

“I shouldn’t speak to you” she looks at the statue again

“Still I see you face and wander…where you once a outcast too” vil rook epel and grim where floored they’ve never heard such a beautiful voice before

“Wow but the word seem sad?” Epel said and vil nods he’ll ask once he’s back home about your past you turn around and start walking through the hall of lit candles

“God help the outcast” you sand taking each step

“Hungry from birth show then the mercy they don’t find on earth” your face was illuminated by the candles which made you even more enchanting in vils eyes

“God help my people we look to you still god help the outcasts… or nobody will” yuu is walking behind some pillers walking further into the church and the other people there are walking out the church suddenly there voices ring out

“I ask for wealth” some sang

“I ask for fame” another sang

“I ask for glory to shine on my name” there lines struck something in vil those lines reminded him of his wishes back when he was younger

“I ask for love I can possess” everyone was now singing in front of a stain glass window

“I ask for God and his angels to bless me” they raised there hands in the air vil and the others looked to yuu wondering what her wish was yuu leaned into a wall

“I ask for nothing” yuu said sliding down a bit vil’s eyes widen nothing?

“I can get by” she walked off

“But I know so many less lucky than I” yuu continued to walk around

“Please help my people the poor and downtrod” she walked to a stain glass window and very large round one

“I thought we all were the children of God” she froze looking still

“God help the outcast…children of God~” yuu leans down and hugs jolly she was bathed in the light of the sun and colours of the glass and the scene fades away and there now back vil eyes where wide her voice was so mesmerising and beautiful rook looked at him with a smile so did epel and grim was silent for once vil turned on his heel his hair flipped dramatically and he strode of towards you

He got to your dorm to see you humming away underneath the light of the sun with jolly at your feet you sensed a person there and looked up to be met with the eyes of your one and only partner vil

“Hey…you okay” he smiled at you and without another word scoops you into his arms and kisses your cheek then places his head in the crook of your neck your eyes were wide he’s never done anything like this before jolly looked at you two then with a huff walked out the dorm you giggled and wrap your arms around him

“So where’s the matter?”

—————

Hope you liked this part only 2 left to go

Not proofread