#with water colour blossoms

[sylvianasart]

I been doing some painting. Nothing new finished yet, but progress!

First up, my wave serpent. Best side first, lots still to do, but it's presentable at least for my upcoming tournament on the weekend.

I don't remember if I've shown this one in it's in-progress state before.

This little guy is entombed inside. I painted him some 3 years ago when I first got the kit, and hadn't yet decided what I was doing with the canopy. After painting that opaque, I thought about magnetising it, till I gave up and glued it down. I never liked the lack of helmet or gauntlets anyway. Too much skin showing. XD

I've made a start on the underside, there won't be a lot here but some metallics, a couple of white panels. But most will be dark and unpainted, as there will be a stand here eventually.

Wraithlord progress. Shaded! That's it. I need to do the head, but I keep forgetting to get the tools I need for the marble effect I'd like to spray.

Finally... New toys :3

I have a super-original-never-before-seen plan to paint them with dark bark and pink cherry blossoms. Taking a quick look into sylvaneth lore, my main colour scheme would be fairly uniform across my "glade", but some units, like the kurnoth hunters, and the treelord if built as a spirit of Durthu, are more like representatives of the nature goddess, and may come from other glades originally? So may or may not match my own glade's colour scheme. An interesting idea, but I'll probably colour them similarly anyway.

I need to get myself a little turntable and light booth for taking nice turnaround gifs when they're done.

[uglyorchestracrafts]

Just a blossoming tree

[thevillainswhore]

Loverboy

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

Summary: Bucky, a lovesick, pining super soldier, vows to keep his feelings for you a secret — no matter how obvious his crush may seem. Those plans are ruined between a meddling Sam, an embarrassing fall, and a visit to the medbay with you.

Warnings: Avengers AU, Bucky’s POV, fluff, crack (my lame attempt at comedy), suggestive thoughts (no smut), just our boy being a lovesick little bean with a big ol’ crush.

Author’s Note: Dividers by @saradika. Proofread by @buckys-wintersoldier, thank you so much sweetie, I love you!! This was inspired by a wonderful request from @prettyboy56, thank you so much! Hope you enjoy x

“Hi, Bucky.” 

Instantly, he sputtered over his mouthful of cereal, eyes watering from his food going down the wrong way. 

Bucky knew that melodic voice before his gaze even reached its owner. You entered the kitchen, wiggling your fingers at him in greeting. 

Clearing his throat, he swiped his bowl to the side, his breakfast now forgotten about, and directed his attention solely onto you. “Hi—um h—hello, doll.” 

The muscles of your cheeks lifted up to your eyes in a smile that made Bucky swoon. Hard.

Your eyes fell to Sam then, who stood in the corner, fresh from a workout with a shit eating on his face. “Good morning, Samuel.” 

“Mornin’, beautiful. How did you sleep?” 

Bucky fought the growl rising in his throat, the unprecedented possessiveness caving its way through its internal barriers in your presence. 

You grabbed a bottle of water out of the refrigerator and closed the door, leaning your back against it to take a big gulp. 

“Not bad at all.” You licked your lips, ridding the dryness that came from a long slumber before your eyes lit up. “Oh, by the way! I drank some of that tea you recommended. It’s helped a bunch—”

Bucky zoned out while you continued to express your gratitude to Sam. He couldn’t help the way his eyes dilated as he rested his head in the palm of his vibranium hand, a lovesick sigh escaping his lips. You were just so gorgeous – a deity in human form right in front of his own very eyes. Bucky had never considered himself so lucky in all his time on earth to be within your vicinity. 

In his own world of oggling, Bucky didn’t notice how the conversation fell short between you and Sam. Neither did he realise how the two of you were staring at him; you with concern and Wilson smothering his laughter with his hand. 

“Bucky? Sweetheart?” He finally registered that you were speaking to him and almost choked, again, on his own spit.

“Mhm?” Bucky murmured, drunk off your attention. 

You smiled once again, so devastatingly beautiful that his left arm whirred in stupor. “Are you okay? You feeling alright?” Not waiting for a response, you walked over to him and Bucky almost let his eyes roll to the back of his head when you lifted your wrist to his forehead. “Jeez, you’re a little hot, Buck.” 

Sam keeled over in hysterics, unable to keep his composure any longer. Meanwhile, a bright red blossom of colour rose up from the skin of Bucky’s neck all the way up to his cheeks. 

Had Bucky not been embarrassingly infatuated by you, the throwaway comment wouldn’t have had any effect on him. But this was you. The woman who had the ability to make him melt on the spot. 

While logic and a basic level of common sense screamed at him that you were talking about his temperature, his mind could only conjure up the fact you had called him hot. 

Bucky saw your mouth moving, however he couldn’t concentrate on the sound of the words coming out of it. You were still touching him, patting his cheeks and sweeping the tendrils of hair that had fell out from behind his ears out of his face. The close proximity of your bodies threw him through a loop and without even realising, his thighs spread further, subconsciously begging you to forego all boundaries and smother yourself against him. 

Gently tapping his nose three times, you managed to gain his full attention again. “You seem out of it, sweetie. Maybe you should go down to the medbay. See if you’re coming down with a fever or something.” 

Sam blew out a breath of air. “Yeah, because that’s what’s wrong with him.” 

You threw a lighthearted glare his way before bringing your eyes back to Bucky. “Promise me you’ll get seen to?” 

How could he refuse when you asked so sweetly? “Anything you want.” He vowed sincerely. 

Scrunching your nose, you chucked his chin and whispered under your breath, “Good boy.”

Bucky almost whimpered when you withdrew your hands and stepped back. He so desperately wanted to follow you and nudge your arm until you paid attention to him once more. Your touch was fire and a cool breeze all at once. Electricity that created static across his stubbled cheek, yet also stoked a warmth through his entire body.  

Peace. He’d never felt anything like it. Never before felt drunk from just the delicate essence of a perfume or experienced the loosening of his limbs, relaxing until his legs felt like jelly whenever you so much as cast him a glance. 

You grabbed a piece of fruit from the table, ready to go down to the gym and train. “Catch you later, Sam,” you called over your shoulder. Meeting Bucky’s eyes a final time, you winked while you headed for the elevator. “Bye, sweetheart.”  

Bucky’s gaze was glued to you, following you out hopelessly until you were completely out of sight. 

He was fucked — well and truly out of his depth. 

Sam crossed his arms and smirked. “You are down bad, man.” 

Bucky swiped a hand over his face, sighing deeply. “Fuckin’ tell me about it.” 

“This is serious.” Sam sobered up, his lips softening into an honest smile. 

With an embarrassingly loud thud against the island countertop, Bucky let his head drop. “I have no idea what to do, Sam. I thought this crush would have passed by now but it’s been months.”

“Well,” Sam raised an eyebrow. “Have you even tried asking her out?” 

“And why would I do that?” Bucky asked, genuinely confused. 

Sam sputtered over his words. “What do you mean—Because that’s what people do when they like someone, you dumbass!” 

Bucky had lost enough braincells daydreaming about you constantly. He didn’t need to be told what he already knew. But the pressure of asking you out to then have a chance of being rejected? He would never come back from that. “Yeah, no thanks,” he mumbled.

“Come on, man. What’s the worst that could happen?” Sam asked. 

Bucky lifted his head up and huffed sarcastically. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe she could turn me down and rip my heart out into little pieces, so much that I would hide out in my room for the rest of eternity never to be seen again?” 

“Now you’re just being dramatic.”

Bucky sighed longingly. “Let me wallow in my misery alone, Sam.” 

“Why? So you can spend your days staring at her with your googly eyes and drooling over her.” 

“I have never drooled over her,” Bucky snarled. 

A twinkle shone in Sam’s eye, a mischievous grin donning his face. “Then what’s that on your chin?” 

Bucky’s eyes widened and he quickly brought his hand up to his face to check if he did in fact have any wetness coating his mouth. Finding none, he looked back to Sam with a scowl. “I hate you.”

Sam shook his head with laughter. “You shouldn’t make it so easy to tease you, loverboy.”  

With a growl, Bucky lifted from his seat and stormed out of the kitchen. 

The irritating voice followed him. “Don’t forget training tomorrow morning, loverboy!” 

The sun was shining over the compound the next morning and so came the bright idea from Steve that all exercise activities should be held outside. While the recruits in training buffed up on their sparring with the Captain, the rest of the avengers worked out as they saw fit. 

As usual, Sam took any opportunity possible to annoy Bucky, which brought them together, running laps around the outdoor track. 

“When are you gonna man up and ask her out then, Cyborg? Pretty girl ain’t gonna be available forever.” 

Bucky wasn’t entirely sure why he didn’t run ahead of Sam. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t. Maybe the pace he kept alongside Wilson allowed him to stare at you so clearly in your tight workout leggings and sports bra as sweat sensually rolled over your skin. Maybe. 

“I’m not asking her out, Sam. Drop it.” 

Sam huffed out an annoyed breath. “Listen, man. It’s not as if you’ve got nothing going for you. As much as you’re a grumpy shit, you’ve got them blue eyes the chicks love. Gets them all gooey when you give them intense eye contact, y’know?” He reluctantly added, “And they dig the brooding, bad boy, leather jacket vibe.”

Bucky let out a rare smile within the presence of Sam. “You tryna hit on me, Wilson?” 

“Look, all I’m saying is you have a chance.” Sam slyly glanced over the field. “And if you don’t quit fuckin’ around, that chance is gonna disappear.”  

The smile instantly dropped from Bucky’s face. “What do you mean by that?” 

Sam’s signature smirk came back with vengeance. “Your girls lookin’ kinda cute today. So I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but you ain’t the only one who’s got their eye on her.” 

Naturally, Bucky followed his instinct and let his eyes look over at you. You were a fucking wonder, of course he knew that. But heeding Sam’s ominous warning, Bucky allowed his gaze to venture out, only allowing you to blur into the background for a couple of seconds while he took stock of the other male, and female, recruits. 

Low and behold, plenty of other people wantonly stared at you while you completed your circuit, almost salivating over their barely concealed pining. As much as Bucky hated to admit it, the fucker was right. You were the pinnacle of everyone’s attention. 

With the way you were bending over, squatting and looking like an angel amidst the perspiration the sun brought on, Bucky wasn’t sure if he could actually blame anyone for it. 

That didn’t stop the ugly, green eyed beast within him that wanted to tear everyone’s eyes out for daring to glimpse at you. 

It was silly, he knew he had no right to feel any sort of possessive nature for you. Unfortunately, you didn’t belong to him. Still, he couldn’t control the deep rooted urges that whispered the kinds of fun he’d have gouging out eyeballs that looked where they weren't supposed to. 

Knowing he had stirred the pot enough, Sam figured it was time to try and hit the final nail in the coffin in order to make his friend move his ass. “Y’know what gives you an advantage though, man?” 

Bucky continued to death stare the surrounding agents, while keeping up with his steady jog. “What’s that?”

“Guess who’s making eyes at you right now.” 

At breakneck speed, Bucky snapped his head back around to you, only to indeed find you staring at him with a fire in your eyes and your bottom lip trapped between your teeth. 

A violent shudder ran down his spine and for a moment, the whole world stopped on its axis, allowing Bucky to revel in a daydream brought to life. 

That was until his mind snapped him back into the present. The super soldier was majestic on his feet in a fight, graceful yet utterly dangerous out on the field even with the pressure a mission came with. 

However to his utter bewilderment, you happened to be the most dangerous being he had ever come across, because in all of his years as a trained, professional assassin, Bucky had never, never, tripped over his own feet. 

And so, inevitably, Bucky’s face ungracefully met the asphalt of the outside track with an audible thunk. 

A collective of gasps, oo’s, and ah’s, rang around the large group. Bucky could physically feel the coating of red, hot embarrassment climbing up to his now scratched cheeks.  

Bucky couldn’t see the look of shame and pity on Sam’s face as he dropped his head into his hands. All he was capable of was fantasizing faking his own death and moving far, far away where no one who witnessed his fall could ever find him.  

With a painful, deep groan, Bucky managed to roll himself over. He couldn’t bear to open his eyes and allow himself to accept reality yet and so he kept them closed, waiting for the ground to swallow him up or for the beaming sun to slowly incinerate him, melt him into the ground with his shame and dignity. 

But instead of either of those, a shadow casted over him, the harsh brightness behind his eyelids dulling down. Slowly, he peeked an eye open, only for mortification to kick him in the gut when he found you standing over him. 

“You alright there, Soldier?” Your hands were set on your hips, those deliciously curved grooves of your body that he had shamelessly stared at one too many times during gym sessions. 

“Mhm,” he gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing roughly. “Just peachy.” 

Even though you’d just seen him eat dirt, in front of hundreds of learning recruits and the rest of the avengers, your smile was kind as you held out your hand. “Need some help?” 

Bucky took your offering, sliding his clammy palm into your dry one and hoisted himself up with your grip. He hadn’t needed your help, he was a super soldier with a metal arm; an agility and strength beyond normal human ability. But he wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to feel your soft skin against his. 

He couldn’t look you in the eye as he stood up, aware of your gaze glued to him. “Th-Thanks.” 

“It’s not a problem,” you said. “Although, you’ve got a few nasty looking cuts on your cheeks.” 

Bucky brought his left hand up to his face, hissing when the cool vibranium stung the open wounds. “Ah, it’s nothin’—don't worry about it. Nothing a few hours won’t fix.” 

You shook your head fondly. “Well, how about I walk you to the infirmary and we get some ointment on them? It wouldn’t hurt to be cautious.” 

Bucky choked on his own spit and snapped his eyes to yours. “W-We?” 

Your smile was blinding — so beautiful with an ability to stop time. At least for him anyway. “Yeah, why not? It looks like you could use a hand—y’know, since you’re a little clumsy on your feet today.” The cheeky smirk that followed your words almost sent him to an early grave.

His cheeks blazed. Bucky was sure he looked utterly stupid, with his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. But he couldn’t help the effect you had on him. “I um—I— ha, I guess.” 

Your eyes glinted mischievously. “I’ll take that as a yes?” 

Not trusting his voice to hold steady, Bucky simply nodded. 

“Great,” you approved. “Just one question though, are we going to keep holding hands on the way?”

Looking down to the space between you, Bucky felt his mouth dry when he saw that he hadn’t yet released his hand from yours. “I’m—oh fuck—I’m so sorry.” 

Still, he made no move to slacken his grip. 

You tightened your lips, and he knew you were willing yourself not to laugh for his sake. Sam would have a fucking field day with this. 

Though to his surprise, instead of pulling away like he expected you to, you began pulling him along, hands still interweaved. “Let’s go get you cleaned up, Bucky.”  

His name on your lips was akin to a siren singing her song; dragging helpless seamen to their deaths. A thought crossed his mind then, that he didn’t think he would mind so much if he sank to his reckoning, not if your voice was the last thing he ever heard. 

“Okay.” Bucky followed you blindly, eyes glued to your conjoined hands and disbelieving of his luck. 

You had led the way towards the medbay and found a cozy, private room that the doctors used for small injuries. Bucky sat impatiently on the side of the medical bed, twiddling his thumbs and fidgeting restlessly. Never had he been so close to you, alone. 

Bucky internally prayed with all his faith that you couldn’t hear the rapid staccato of his heartbeat. He was sure if he was hooked up to a monitor, the doctors would be thoroughly concerned about his health. 

Finally having gathered all the supplies you deemed necessary along with a first aid box, you walked back over to the bed and dumped everything next to him. 

“So,” you began, an uneasy conspiratorial tone to your voice that weirdly reminded him of Sam. “Wanna tell me what happened out there?”  

“I—,” Bucky sheepishly scratched the back of his neck while his cheeks bloomed crimson red. “I must’ve just tripped over my own feet.” 

He tried to shrug off his nonchalance, but he knew by your raised eyebrow you didn’t believe him. “Somehow, I have a hard time believing a big, strong super soldier such as yourself has any trouble finding his footing.”

Before Bucky could muster up any other excuse but the truth, you ripped open the packet of a medical wipe and warned him, “I’m sorry. This is gonna sting.”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” he said with bravado. 

Bucky wasn’t prepared for the twinkle in your eye as you mumbled under your breath, “I’m sure it isn’t, Sargeant.” 

The breath got knocked out of his lungs. Oh did that do things to him. 

Suddenly, vivid images of you spread out on his bed wearing nothing but his old army hat while you screamed out his rank ran wild in his mind. 

Luckily, you were too preoccupied with cleaning the dried blood of his wound to notice him discreetly palming the bulge in his athletic shorts, trying to hide the effect you had on him. 

“Are you certain there is absolutely no other reason as to why I’m playing nurse right now, then?” Your feline grin was sexy and scary. “No possible distractions that led you off path?” 

There was no way you could read minds, right? Bucky doubled down on his denial, shaking his head from side to side and letting the length of his hair hide the truth in his eyes. 

“I’ll take your word for it then.” You finished up and reached for the healing gel. “I know the serum enhances your ability to repair the cuts, but I’d still like to use this.” Looking into his eyes, you asked, “Only as long as you’re okay with that, of course.” 

Time stopped and the two of you were caught in the other’s gaze. It was such a small gesture, one you probably didn’t even realise meant the world to him. But you asked him for permission on something that would affect his autonomy and if Bucky didn’t already have a hundred ways he was falling for you, that would have been the cherry on top. 

“Yeah,” he breathed airily. “Yeah, I’m good with it, doll.” 

Unseen to him before, you ducked your head and sweeped your hair behind your ear and if Bucky didn’t know any better, he was sure you were shy. 

He couldn’t help the large grin he sported. He was always so enamored with you, quick to falter in your presence and become unsure of himself. Right now though, a small bout of bravery returned. “Ready when you are,” he cheekily murmured. 

You hastily rushed to compose yourself. Clearing your throat, you squeezed the tube of gel, allowing a small drop of the cool liquid on the tip of your finger and stepped between his legs to gently dab it onto his cuts. 

“Okay, you’re all fixed up now.” With a last swipe of his forehead, you smiled. “Don’t worry, Buck. You still look handsome.” 

He tugged his plump bottom lip between his teeth. “You think I’m handsome?”

You giggled. “I would be blind if I didn’t.” 

Bucky blinked at you slowly, still processing your words and trying to calm the excited bubble rising in his throat. 

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Oh, don’t act all coy, Bucky. You must have heard the whispers of the recruits. They stare at you all the time, whispering and giggling to each other.” 

With the most confidence he had ever mustered up, he responded, “Truthfully, I’m too busy staring at someone else to notice, doll.” 

The shock of his sudden boldness was glaringly obvious on your face — it was you this time who held your mouth open, lost for words. 

Bucky’s body screamed at him to tell you that he was in fact head over heels for you. That had he known falling over in front of the full compound would lead him within a hair’s breadth away from you, he’d do it all over again. 

But you seemed to recover after a couple of seconds, clearing your throat and making yourself busy to avoid his eyes. “So, I’ve got another question.” 

“Oh?” Bucky cocked his head. 

“Yeah.” You smiled while placing everything back into the first aid box as you found it. “I’ve been hearing a few rumours around the compound recently.” 

Bucky’s stomach dropped with dread. 

“You wouldn’t know anything about those, would you?” 

“I—” Bucky swallowed the lump in his throat. “I have no idea what you mean.” 

“Oh,” you hummed. “So it’s not true then? You don’t have a crush on me?” 

Fuck.

Panicking, Bucky scoffed, though it came off sounding too pathetic, too breezy. “Me? Have a crush on you? That’s—Ha! Nope. No way. Not at all.” 

He watched as you nodded to yourself. Internally, he was begging for the floor to swallow him while he cringed at his own stupidity. 

“Well,” you shrugged. “That’s a shame, I guess.”  

Bucky’s head shot up, eyes wide and shock written over his features. “E-Excuse me?” 

“Oh, it's nothing really.” There was a sparkle in your eye that screamed trouble. “You said you didn’t have a crush on me, so it doesn’t matter.” 

Within seconds, Bucky jumped off the bed and leapt towards you, not even noticing how he had grabbed your hands. “Doll, please. You can’t leave a guy hanging like that.” 

Playfully rolling your eyes, you dramatically exhaled and decided to put him out of his misery. “Leave you hanging? Damn, Buck. It’s not as if I’ve been waiting patiently for you to ask me out for months or anything like that.” 

The air became humid and stuffy and suddenly the clothes attached to Bucky’s body felt too tight and restricting. “You—What now?” 

You rolled your lips inwards, trying to smother your laughter. “Bucky, honey,” you gently murmured. “I’ve heard what the others have been gossiping about. I’ve definitely heard Sam telling the team about your crush on me.” 

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut and groaned. “That fuckin’ punk.” 

You squeezed his hands reassuringly and offered him a warm smile when he looked at you. “I’ve just been waiting to hear it from the horse's mouth himself.” 

Bucky’s eyes darted between yours, trying to find any hint of decievement. “You’re serious.”

“Mhm,” you whispered. “Deadly.” 

It took him a couple of seconds to let the new information sink in. Clearing his throat, Bucky untightened his fierce grip on your hands and hesitantly slid them down to latch onto your waist. “So,” he mumbled. “Say if I asked you out to dinner tonight… You wouldn’t tell me I’m a fool and break my heart into a million pieces?” 

Butterflies erupted in Bucky’s stomach at the sensation of your hands sliding over his chest to rest against his neck. “No, Bucky,” you chuckled. “I would tell you that I’m looking forward to our first date, tonight. Nowhere fancy, just casual. Six o’clock sharp.” 

Bucky smiled, all beaming and ecstatic. “I wouldn’t dream of being late.” 

“Good.” You leaned up onto your tip toes and ghosted your lips over his ear. “See you very soon then, Sargeant.” 

Tingles shot down Bucky’s spine and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. He fought tooth and nail to crush the moan that rose up his throat and in his internal struggle, he missed how you’d sneakily slipped out of his hold and started to saunter towards the door. 

He almost begged you to come back; the thought of having to wait for you until the evening was unbearable. But those pesky butterflies that invaded his stomach came back strong and fierce as his gaze became glued to the sway of your hips and the sweet perfume that lingered in your exit. 

“Oh,” you stopped suddenly at the doorway and looked over your shoulder. “One more thing. Don’t go tripping over again, you hear me?” You raised an eyebrow and grinned. “Can’t have you falling for me.”

Your damn smirk was intoxicating and Bucky thought himself the luckiest fella alive to be the one taking you out. He licked his lips and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m afraid I’m gonna have a little trouble with that request, Ma’am.” 

The clench of your thighs was unmissable. The way your eyes dilated called to him. Bucky had more game than he realised and he kept that new information tucked safely into the corner of his mind for a later date. 

You didn’t reply. You didn’t need to. Your actions told Bucky everything he needed to know and so he wiggled his fingers with a huge grin locked onto his face and watched you longingly as you left his sight. 

The minute he couldn’t hear your footsteps any longer, Bucky pumped his fist up into the air and began dancing on the spot. 

In his own bubble of happiness, he didn’t hear the footsteps of a new person entering the hallway. Only when an amused clearing of the throat echoed from the doorway did Bucky abruptly stop his dancing and slowly swivel to the intruder. 

Sam stood there, all cocky and mirthful with a shit eating grin on his face. “About time you bagged the girl, man. Dont’cha think?” 

Instantly, Bucky growled and grabbed the closest apparatus. With a pair of medical scissors, he charged towards Sam, who was quick to wipe the smirk off his face and skid out of the room with a scream. 

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hey um if it's cool could I request, Welt, Dan Heng, Jing Yuan, Gallager and Aventurine reacting to reader to questioning their interest in them?

An example: The confession

Them: I have feelings for you Reader: ... Um *shocked*.. I feel the same but.. *trails off* Them: but? Reader: *squints* you sure? About me? Please reconsider your choice. Them: ...

thank you if you decide to do this! No pressure though!

Jing yuan would raise a brow before vaguely asking you to come with him somewhere he had been meaning to show you for a while and thought that now was the perfect time.

The place where he takes you was just like any other flower garden you’ve been to before but from the way the light glinted off of the waters surface, to the way the flowers blossomed in a variety of unique colours, and other small things like that made the flower garden look ethereal.

Jing yuan chuckled at your expression.

‘You see why I brought you here?’ He asks.

‘…no, not really, why?’ You replied, looking at him in confusion.

‘I’m trying to show you that while you may not think yourself as anything special, much like this flower garden, there are a multitude of unique things tailored to you that make you shine in the eyes of the ones who views you highly.’ He responded as he lends his hand out for a bird to perch on and softly smiled as it moved up to his shoulder where it sat comfortably, trying its hardest not to fall asleep.

‘For every flower is a beauty to behold regardless of their shapes, their size or their colour that even a daffodil can be considered of equal beauty of a roses in someone’s eyes.’ Jing Yuan continues, looking at you from the corner of his eye to see whether his words were sinking in. ‘And my flower believes themself to be a withering daffodil but to me, they’re a rose unlike any other. Stubborn, strong willed, but.’

‘But?’ You echoed, nervousness creeping through your veins as Jing Yuan moved in front of you and leant forward so that he was right next to your ear.

‘But they refuse to accept words of their worth and beauty from someone who cares about them very much, but I hope to change that soon enough, if they let me.’ He whispers as he presses a kiss to your cheek and pulling away to plant a kiss to your forehead.

Dan heng

While he’s happy that you felt the same way towards him, but felt his heart sink when you told him to reconsider his feelings for you.

‘If you are not ready for a relationship, then I understand, but I wish that you wouldn’t look down upon yourself when you’re anything but what your mind is telling you that you are.’ He says as he holds your face, thumbs caressing your cheeks as his eyes shone with concern. ‘Just know that I’ll always be by your side to resolve any issue you may have, for I do not wish for you to be burdened by this alone when I can help lessen it’s impact on you.’ He adds.

Dan Heng would do anything and everything in his power to make you see just how much you meant to him, even if it meant asking March to pull up pictures where his infatuation with you was glaringly obvious.

He would bring you poetry books and read out verses that perfectly describe his innermost thoughts and feelings towards you and how he views you on a daily basis. Dan Heng feels as though he could never convey just how truly unique and magnificent you were on his own. He’s tried but compared to the works of acclaimed poets, it just lacked fluidity in terms of the flow of words.

Everything else fades away when you entered his peripheral vision, almost as though he was made to notice your presence no matter where you were, only to just stare at you with a look that could only be akin to someone who had just found their other half after so long.

Welt would sit you down somewhere and want to talk about it because he truly didn’t think that these were your own words coming from your mouth.

He believes they were someone else’s and he hated that you had started believing this person’s words as reality, when they were the furthest thing from the truth in his eyes.

He wants to help you unlearn what everybody else has thought of you in the past because it doesn’t matter, their words hold no weight until you allow it to. No one’s perception of you was in any way shape or form a reflection of the real you, for every person you’ve ever had a positive effect on posses a different perceptions of you.

The only person who knew the real you was you but it was obvious to Welt that you might’ve forgotten who that version of you was by worrying yourself to death about the thoughts and opinions of everyone else. So Welt was more then happy to help you see that you were so much more then what you think.

He doesn’t know who wronged you in the past but they’ve left everlasting damage on your tender soul, but he was going to do everything he could in his power to show you the you that he sees every time upon seeing you.

Gallagher

‘I’ve got nothing to reconsider when it comes to you sweetheart.’ Gallagher was quick to tell you as he grabbed one of your hands, squeezing it. ‘Nothing at all.’

‘But-‘ you started.

‘No ifs, ands or buts.’ He interrupts you. ‘You’re prefect the way you are and I won’t hear otherwise because I’ll always go out of my way to remind you as to why i care about you, okay?’ He says as he lifted your hand to press a kiss to the back of it. ‘Just let me take care of you and get rid of those pesky thoughts residing in your head by telling them to fuck off.’

You couldn’t help but chuckle at this as you allowed yourself to find comfort in Gallagher’s side as you were greeted by his bodily warmth that made you into melting further against him. ‘I just don’t want to be a bother to you that’s all.’ You murmured, insecurity making your throat tightened, rendering it hard to swallow.

Gallagher felt his heart break for you as he brought his arms to your waist to rub soothing patterns into your side as he presses his face to the side of your head, pressed reassuring kisses there as he whispered sweet nothings as to why you were perfect, beautiful, sweet and caring of all whom you come across, whether they were deserving of it or not.

Aventurine

He understands more then you knew because the moment you admitted to liking him in the same breath as berating yourself, he was about to ask what was it about him that you liked exactly.

You were both in the same boat that was about to capsize from your shared self hatred for yourselves, but Aventurine would be damned if he let you think of yourself in any negative light when you’ve been nothing but a beacon of pure, genuine light for him since first introductions.

He’d much rather be the one drowning in self doubt than you.

He’d have you stand in front of a mirror and asks what you see.

‘Someone who’s lost themselves along the way,’ you answered solemnly, ‘someone who’s lost sight of who they once were because they were too caught up in the opinions of others and waiting on them hand and foot, only to revive nothing but scraps.’ You added and Aventurine couldn’t help but feel himself becoming infuriated, not at you but at the people who have made you feel as though you were lesser than, who made you feel as though you should be outcasted because you didn’t fit into their narrative.

However the sound of your sniffling brought him out of his need to get back at these people for you and saw that you were beginning to tear up and was quick to wipe them away before they fell. ‘Don’t weep for people who don’t have a heart, for they’ll always think themselves superior by materialistic means that they will inevitably loose to time and bad decisions.’ He tells you as he rests his head on your shoulder, looking at you through the mirrors reflective surface. ‘You on the other hand have something that they could never hope to obtain via money.’ He adds.

‘And what’s that?’ You asked, looking into his eyes and noting that despite their dullness, they were still the most beautiful and expressive pair of eyes you have ever seen.

‘Empathy, humility, compassion, kindness and an appreciation for the simple things that many overlook and possess the ability to see the beauty in broken things.’ Aventurine replies, his voice becoming soft towards the end, clearly referring to himself, as he held onto you tighter as though you’d slip from his grasp much like everyone else had. ‘So don’t compare yourself to others who should be looking towards you as an example instead.’

You moved your head to properly look at him, not use to seeing this side of him, so serious and determined to make you see reason. ‘You really mean that?’

Aventurine smiles as he kisses you on the nose, chuckling. ‘Of course! You’re my good luck charm, I’d be hopeless and in a whole lot of trouble without you.’ He says as he presses another kiss to your nose, adoring your expression as you scrunched up your face, muttering under his breath. ‘Cute.’

[evilgwrl]

Arranged marriage! With ghost where she’s from a small island and ghost comes to collect taxes well the island is just a few hundred short they can make it up next year? Right?! Nah ghosts is like mmmmm I’ll take what yall call a princess mean while she’s struggling as much as the other fokes on the island so when Simon takes her way and finds out she’s never lived the simple life he makes it his mission to show her the good that can out of this arrangement smutty if you would 😭 I’m obsessed with the arranged marriage trope with ghost he’s a cutie patootie

Arranged Marriage w/ Simon Riley

Holy moly I love this…

Thank you for this idea @creepytoes88 I hope you don’t mind that I made him a king, I just wanted it to flow with giving her a better life and the tax collection <3

King!Simon Riley x Reader

Archipelago

CW: Being sold by your family to pay off debt, sharing a bath, oral sex (f receiving), orgasm bc simon knows what to do ;)

Word Count: 2,623

Twisted fingers hooked under the bark, knees scraped with stagnant flora, coiling limbs of bushy thorns blistering around the tropical plains. There was a subtle burn that sunk through your thighs, muscles gnawing at your bones before you finally settled on a thick branch, wind hissing in your ear, almost warning you. You paid no attention.

Pupil-blown eyes stared off to the view in front of you, lapping in the vicious strain of turquoise, untouched coral glistening an array of colours under the harsh sun. There was a trickle of sweat that ran down the back of your neck, your hair thrown into a rough bun as you shielded yourself with raggedy, overworked fingers.

You watched the skerries surrounding your island, a flurry of birds swooping low before nestling down on the warmth of the rocky floor. It was a peaceful sight. Nothing but the low crash of waves to be sound, the occasional calling of a fellow Islander working its way through the palms and out of the sand, before landing in your ear.

You felt the prickle of pain shoot through your feet as you landed on the ground, the grass covered in speckles of yellow dust sticking in between your toes as you hurried down to the village. Any bit of tranquillity soon disappeared as your eyes locked into the sight of the townspeople, the Island far too small to accommodate such needing families.

“Y/N! Where have you been? The King shall be here soon and you’re off running with the fairies.”

Your Mother’s tone was harsh and reprimanding, her eyes tight with wrinkles as she scowled, chucking a makeshift broom at you. You weren’t exactly sure what the difference of you sweeping would make, the life you live here, swept or not, is strikingly different to the one of a King. No matter how beautiful your Island is, your feet are permanently stained with grains of sand, skin is littered with dull scars and fresh scratches.

You understood her worry, offering her a gentle, apologetic smile as you followed her bustle of orders. Your Father was the village Chief, a wise man who led the people to survive without the worry of advanced civilisation.

You were seen as a headcase to the others. A woman whose head wasn’t fixed well enough to her shoulders. A dreamer. Your mind was amplified by the need to do more, to see more. Untouched beauty too turns mundane when you’re not allowed to experience it.

As night fell, the waves seemed to settle, burying themselves in the crops of sand that spanned around you, 10-legged creatures hiding away in the cocoon of a cracked shell. Palms slept with the safety of coconuts that would blossom into the town’s delicacy, the meat tender on the tongues of children, the water fuel for the fishermen. There was a large bonfire lit, the earthly crackle occasionally popping as a spark flew out, hissing against the cool air before dispersing into a drag of smoke.  

Girls chattered around you, smoothing down their appearances as they used crushed berries on their lips and the apples of their cheeks. You were never fussed about the King, hardly paying attention to him on his previous arrivals if he even bothered to show up. You took note of his lack of empathy, normally sending one of his men in his place, unbothered by the Island that’s supposed to fall under his command.

You heard the ship pull up, wood striking against the ground as it split between the beach, a carved woman tangled to the figurehead, flowing hair etched between wood and a man’s knife as she breached the island. They were a loud bunch, deep voices echoing across the Isle as your father walked down to greet them formally.

The air grew silent, thick smog suffocating the air as your father appeared, his figure shaking as he hobbled towards you. Toughened hands gripped your cheeks, stroking the sun-kissed skin to comfort you.

“Father, what’s wrong?”

“We- We’re short on our taxes,” he gulped, a hand planted in your matted hair as you scrunched your brows together.

“But how? We’re sensible, we work harder- How?”

“Things happen beyond our understanding sometimes, sweetheart, just know me and your mother love you very much.”

“I know? Why are you-” you stalled “- Why are you telling me this? What’s going on?”

“The King needs a wife,” he hiccupped as realisation set in, spine snapping into a cold flush as you attempted to wriggle free from your father’s grip.

“No-“

“I have to, Y/N, I don’t have a choice!”

“A choice? There’s always a choice! How could you do this to me?” The strain of a sob wracked through your chest, your heart beating eerily slow against your rib cage as you wailed out for your mother who only walked away, her face concealed by strands of hair. Hands coiled around your biceps, dragging you towards the ship as you carried on, cementing your heels into the dirtied sand to anchor yourself.

“Stop resisting,” A harsh voice spoke into your ear, nails breaking the surface of your tender skin as you nipped at the air, wriggling. Your limbs felt mangled as you were thrown over someone’s shoulder, your stomach caving in with a penetrative force as you choked on the air, saline tears streaming down your face.

Aching skin collided with the sand as you were thrown onto the floor, leather boots staring back at you as your head cocked up. His figure was tall, dressed in all black with a row of medals displayed on his breast pocket. His stare was dark, irises the colour of burnt whiskey, pale lashes flickering down at you before looking back up. The rest of his face was covered by a woven garment, handcrafted to perfection, painted with a white skull.

“Did you find it necessary to throw her at my feet like she’s some dog?”

“Your Majesty she was res-“

“It is a yes or no question.”

His voice was thick with malt, a hidden arrogance underlying his words as his eyes spoke for him. A veiny hand was offered to you, light scars tracing his knuckles before he lifted you, admiring you for a brief second.

“She’ll do. I’ll be back in 6 months,” The King spoke roughly.

The sea breeze was tranquil given the circumstances, the ocean rocking your tears to a halt as you huddled yourself away in the captain’s quarters. Your body was trailed with layers of silk, dirtied clothes moulded to your skin as you sniffled. There was a vast smell of salt, almost suffocating you as it burnt through your nose and hair. You scrunched your skin, rubbing at your nostrils before nestling yourself into a pillow.

You awoke to the sound of commotion. You took in the handful of women surrounding you, their hair tied back in a tight bun, protected by a frilly cap. They wore black and white dresses, aprons attached to their fronts and smiles on their faces.

“Good evening, your majesty. Shall we run you a bath?”

You sat up, hands creasing against the sheets below you as your eyes adjusted to the new scenery. You weren’t on the ship anymore.

“Where am I?” You choked out, huffing your chest out to look more intimidating. In reality, you look cowered, skin droopy with betrayal, burst blood vessels evident under your eyes.

“In your private quarters, the King requested we come to you, settle you in.”

You scowled, “I just want to be alone.” They left in a hurry, feet skidding against the floor in a squeak as they shut the large oak doors behind them.

The room was one for Royalty. The large bed was dressed in golden sheets, red swirls detailing the plush headpieces, solid gold baubles along the edges as tall stakes met the ceiling, lace hanging from them for privacy. Your feet hit the polished marble floors; calloused skin not used to such luxury that you almost yelped in unfamiliarity. Glass trickled from the overhead chandelier, an arrangement of crystals advocating flickers of light across the room, an occasional rainbow seeping through like a diamond in the rough.

Oil paintings hung from the walls, detailed gold wrapping around them as the figurines stared at you dauntingly. A plethora of books rested on shelves, a comforting sofa tucked away in the corner, highlights of red bursting through the stuffed pillows, plucked by the finest of feathers.

The room felt suffocating, the air a terminal sickness that wove into your lungs as you realised the severity of the situation. Your father – your parents, had sold you away to the King to pay for lost taxes. You were a miserable sight as you huddled over onto the floor, chest collapsing with cries as you attempted to grip the material beneath your knees, desperate for the sensation of sand.

Simon watched you intently from the door as he cracked it open, a deafening cough sounding from him as you looked up at him, bewildered.

“I understand the circumstances aren’t the best, but your people owed me, and they chose you as collateral.”

“I want to go home,” you hiccupped, facing away from him in humiliation. His leather shoes hit the floor, striding up to you in only a few steps.

“This is your home now, and in a few weeks, we shall be wedded. Whether or not you choose to invite your family is up to you, but I shall not tolerate disrespect. If you didn’t want the maids to tend to you, that’s fine, but I will.”

You watched his stalking figure disappear into another room attached to your quarters, the heavy pour of water indicating that he was running you a bath. You rose to your feet anxiously, popping your head around the corner as you took in the room. A large tub was carved with porcelain, wide in size with golden feet, bubbles guzzling under the powerful stream as the scent of lavender filled the air.

“Undress,” He spoke as you cocked a brow.

“In front of you?” You scoffed.

“You didn’t want the maids, now you have me. Undress.”

Your clothes itched as they were ridden from your skin, bare body flushed under the light as you attempted to conceal yourself from his bruising vision. The water scolded you as you sunk in, muscles relaxing instantly under the soothing oil. It was an irregular feeling.

You heard him shuffle behind you as you turned, eyes gawking wide as you took in his naked figure, cock resting low against his thigh. A squeak slipped through your lips as you turned around in a fluster.

His mask was off, his face a welcoming surprise. His brows were thick, bulging above slit frames, his nose slightly crooked with a masculine appeal to him.

“What are you doing?” you gasped, chest tight, eyes bulging.

“Bathing,” he practically snarled, “move over.”

Your belly felt hot, the unknowing feeling of arousal seeping through your pores as you adjusted in the water, the liquid rising as he stepped in before you were pulled back against him, bottom flushed against his thighs. You were tense.

“Relax, it’s just a bath. We will not do anything until you’re ready but after marriage, I will need heirs.”

“Heirs? I don’t even know your name!”

A hand coiled around your waist, tugging at the tender skin for a moment before it rested, settling at your upper thigh.

“It’s Simon, Y/N.”

“How do you- “

“What kind of King would I be if I didn’t even know the name of the woman I’m marrying?”

The air was hazy with steam, almost suffocating you as you felt yourself relax against his hard chest, delicate twirls of hair tickling against your spine. As your body settled, Simon washed you, entwined rag lubed with delicate soap as he massaged it into the crevices of your skin, any dirt seeping into the water. His fingers were long as they massaged against your scalp, digging any knots out with a gentle force before rinsing it.

You found yourself refreshed as you settled into the sheets once more, body fresh with a floral scent, skin drenched in almond oil, the glistening reflecting against the flame of the fireplace. The bed sunk in as Simon crawled in next to you, menacing frame wracking against yours. It was silent, the usual sound of waves and birds no longer hushing you to sleep.

Your fingers twitched as you played with the hem of your nightgown, letting out a low, exhausted breath.

“I shall not hurt you for as long as you are mine, Y/N. I hope you grow to trust me and understand that I am a man of my word. If you allow me, I would like to show you who I am and the life you can have here.”

You swallowed. There was an itch inside you that couldn’t be scratched, his words only adding fuel to an uncontrollable flame as you turned to face him, cocked up on one arm. Your gown hung low, strap dangerously low on your shoulder as he adjusted his vision back to your face, lips parted with a flushed manner.

“I’ve never experienced anything before.” Your voice was low, an evident streak of self-consciousness staining it as you averted your gaze.

“Let me help you.”

Rugged fingers lifted your gown up, silk resting against your stomach in a hunched manner as Simon gripped at your thighs, spreading them lewdly. He huffed out a hum of appreciation as you jolted in embarrassment. You were so open, so exposed to fresh eyes.

“No one’s ever touched you here?” He asked. You shook your head, gazing down at him with an unspoken innocence. You felt his lips curl against your thigh as he placed a gentle kiss to it, letting it rest against the warm skin before two fingers pulled apart your lips, glistening folds presented before him.

You felt pleasure tickle up your spine as the King placed a small kiss against your clit, a mewl escaping you as you instinctively attempted to press your thighs together. He let out a tsk as he looked up at you, amused by your reaction.

“Relax for me,” he said, arms flushed around your thighs before his tongue soaked up the middle, your juices drenching his lips as you squealed, your fingers wrapping into his dusty hair as he ravaged the taste of you.

The noises you made were wanton, slopping breaths soaking the air as he worked against you, slurping you into his mouth with an aggravated need for you. His teeth grazed against your sensitive clit, wrapping his lips around it before sucking, an obscene scream sounding from you as he continued the assault.

“Taste so fucking good,” he quipped, holding your belly down in place as your hips lifted, clit overstimulated by the amount of pleasure it only just began receiving.

“Sim-Simon, I feel strange- somethings happening,” you croaked, pulling at his hair in an attempt to stop him.

“Let it happen,” he growled, his tongue thrusting against your entrance as a finger pressed against your nub, rubbing it in circular motions as you began to hold your breath.

The pressure in your belly was turmoil like an unknown danger was approaching. Simon didn’t stop, the sound of your breath hicking stirring something primal inside of him as he held you down before the pressure inside you popped, a broken whine piercing the air as you came, hips rocking desperately against the King’s face as he growled against your heat.

He pulled away, spit slick against his chin, cocky smile on his face as you panted, chest rising and falling in a synchronised fashion. Your legs closed instinctively, wetness seeping between your bottom as you shivered, satisfied clit throbbing.

“I’m not done yet, sweetheart.”

[wha-archive]

An illustration of Richeh that Shirahama posted to her twitter today. Also, a doodle of Tetia which I had missed previously!

First Image [ID: A coloured illustration of Richeh. She is sat on a rock in water, holding out a stick and watching calmly as Brushbug (who is wrapped around the other end of the stick) reaches his tiny hands towards a small red fruit floating in the water, trying to grab it. END ID]

Second Image [ID: A photo of a simple line illustration on grey paper. The illustration is of Tetia, holding a larger-than life branch of blossoms in her arms. The illustration is finished with white ink highlights. Below the paper there are glass vessels and a dip pen, along with black ink used in the illustration. END ID]

[amourane]

blooming love

pairing: kim mingyu x fairy!reader

genre: fluff

w/c: 1.5k

summary: in which mingyu follows you around like a hopeless puppy in love, hoping that he'll work up the courage to talk to you one day.

warnings: reader does fall into a river

a/n: i'm in my magical era <3

Spring was Mingyu’s favourite time of the year. He adored the sweet aroma of flowers, the bright colours of the blossoms that would paint the landscape. There was something so magical about the season. Earth would awake from its peaceful slumber and burst into life. The lilac chrysanthemums and golden daffodils, blush pink tulips and violet bluebells. The playful chirping of birds, the buzzing of bees, and the rustling of leaves created a symphony of sounds. 

Mingyu loved to wander through the fields and gardens, breathing in the fresh, fragrant air and soaking up the vibrant colours. He loved to lay in the grass and stare up into the cotton like clouds as they floated by. The sun would beam down basking him in comforting warmth.

Yet the thing Mingyu loved most about Spring was you.

His beautiful fairy. 

Spring was the time that you shine your brightest. Your wings glittered in the sunlight, delicate and translucent, glittering with every colour of the rainbow. Sparkle and dust would be left with every magnificent beat as you flew and fluttered like a butterfly. Your skin glowed as if you had been blessed by moonlight and Mingyu could never forget the tinkling laugh that would grace his ears. It would echo through his mind constantly reminding him of you and your everlasting beauty.

Mingyu loved to watch as you chatted excitedly to the newborn animals and as you swept your hand through the small streams of water. He had always admired you from afar, staring as you eagerly helped others. He loved everything about you and though the two of you had never spoken he could feel himself falling more every day.

He just never knew that you felt the same.

// 

You had always known you were being followed by the human boy. You could always sense his presence near you, alway there quietly. There were a few times that he would step on a twig accidentally and you would hear the squeak of surprise from behind you as he hurriedly hid behind the tree. 

The two of you had never spoken before and though you knew of the human that trailed after you, you never made the move to call him out of his hiding spot. 

Over time you had caught glimpses of him. Dark wavy hair, big innocent eyes. He was cute, undeniably so. All your life you had been surrounded by beauty yet when your eyes lay on him you felt your world explode in new colour. The beauty you once knew was long forgotten and you found yourself away from the fairy realm more often than usual. Even if he didn’t speak, his mere presence was enough to light a fire in your heart.

Every week or so you would emerge and tend to nature, sing sweet melodies and engage in conversation with the animals and critters. All of this while you felt his eyes gazing at you. You could never work up the courage to ask the mysterious human for his name. Something stopped you every time you would try to approach him and you often found yourself too scared to confront him.

So you were content as it was. At least you tried to tell yourself so.

It was on one afternoon that you had simply been sitting on the grass near the river. You watched as the sunlight glimmered against the ripples of water as the fish swam past. The flowers against the banks of the water swayed gently to the breeze. You dipped your hand into the water feeling the coolness touch your skin. The fairy realm had always been beautiful but the mystery and intrigue of human’s had always tempted you. 

You sighed as you got ready to head back to your home. You dusted your hands against your dress, fluttering your wings at the motion. Suddenly, you felt a tug on your foot and everything tumbled into your view. You shrieked as you felt yourself fall and you tried desperately to react but it was no use. You felt your body plunge into the water and you squeezed your eyes shut, terrified of what was to come. Your wings felt heavy on your back and it was no use trying to use them when they were soaked. You reached out, arms desperately clawing at the surface of the water yet you found yourself sinking deeper and deeper.

Water invaded your senses and you felt your movements slow. A splash erupted through the river, and though your eyes were closed, you felt a strong arm circle around your waist. You felt yourself get pulled into someone’s grasp and you urged yourself to open your eyes. 

There he was. Your human.

He was even prettier up close. You gasped in shock at the sight. The man’s eyes widened in panic and you belatedly realised why as you felt the air leave your lungs at your stupid action. Before you can react his lips were on yours. You freeze. Even underwater his lips felt soft and plush. As lovely as the gesture was you couldn’t reciprocate as you felt your eyes flutter shut and the last breaths of air leave your body.

//

Mingyu was in absolute shambles. He hadn’t meant to just kiss you out of the blue, he really didn’t! It was just as soon as he saw the bubbles leave your mouth and he realised that you were lacking oxygen he thought of the only thing he could do. Give you some of his own. It wasn’t a very wise decision but then again Kim Mingyu wasn’t known for making many wise decisions.

He had heaved your limp body out of the river frantically trying to get you to wake up. You felt cold and your wings lay heavy on your back. Even unconscious you looked mesmerising. 

The second he had witnessed you tripping and falling into the river he had rushed out to help you, diving into the water with no hesitation. He saw the splashes as your fingertips grazed the surface of the water, a desperate cry for help. Saving you was the only thing on his mind at that moment in time.

“Stupid, stupid stupid.” Mingyu’s head was in his hands as he cursed himself yet again. “Why would you do that Kim Mingyu? You’ve really gone insane now. Oh no, what if she doesn’t wake up? Have I killed a fairy?”

“Mingyu. That’s a pretty name.” Your voice was croaky but nonetheless it caused the man’s head to whip around to your frail frame. His eyes widened as he watched as you lifted yourself off the ground he had laid you on. “I thought it was about time I learnt the name of the human who had been following me around.”

The smile you gave Mingyu made his heart swell and pound out of his chest. He felt his heartbeat pulse and each contraction made his blood spur with excitement. Your gaze felt like an enchantment and he couldn’t help but be enraptured at your stare. 

“I-I’m so sorry!” He felt himself turn red as the words left his mouth. “I swear I only wanted to provide you with some air, I would never kiss someone without consent!”

He held his hands up as if to surrender to you and you giggled at his action. Your wings were still wet yet they still had the iridescent glimmer that was simply just so magical.

“It’s okay, I understand. Thank you so much for saving me. There’s no need to apologise, I appreciate the thought, it was very sweet.” Mingyu watched as your cheeks flushed as well and you cleared your throat. “I quite enjoyed the kiss.”

“W-Wha…sorry - I’m sorry - did you just say that you…enjoyed it?”

“Yes.” You gripped your hands in your lap, nervousness suddenly overwhelming you. “I know you’ve been watching me for a while and I know I can’t complain because I didn’t approach you either but I was just waiting for you to come up to me. I’ve grown quite fond of you, you see, I guess that could be seen as weird because we’ve never actually ever spoken.”

“You’ve grown fond…of me?” Mingyu spluttered, unable to string a sentence when you nodded your head in agreement. The gorgeous fairy that he was so in love with was interested in him. Oh how lucky he was. 

“I hope that now we can actually meet each other and speak. I’ve been dying to get to know you.” 

Your smile felt as if heaven itself had opened its grand doors for Mingyu. He felt himself blush bright red at your words. He opened his mouth to respond but he was irrevocably tongue-tied in front of you. Your eyes twinkled and Mingyu felt his heart race as he tried to muster up the courage to say what he’s been wanting to say since the first day he met you.

“I’ve been dying to get to know you as well.”

[xxnghtclls]

Pond and Poetry

True Form Sukuna x Reader

Permission Universe ❤️

Rating: Mature

Wordcount: 1,358

Fluff! Flirt and a little bit of dirty talk… Soft Sukuna all the way tho.

Summary: Sukuna meets you in the garden, while you’re busy playing with Kois. And then you flirt. Just flirt. I got some Permission feels recently so I couldn’t resist to write this.

—

Warm sun on your skin and green grass beneath your figure, as you lay in front of the pond. Spring is here, the air is not cold and not warm, perfectly balanced by cold breezes and the warmth of the sun. Cherry blossoms start to bloom and small little wild flowers poke their head out of the ground.

Colourful Kois are swimming quietly in circles. Back and forth and left and right.

And you watch them with a thoughtful smile on your face, while you let the sun warm your figure. The sight reminds you of the time, when you and Ak-

When you were watching the Kois together.

The kimono you’re wearing is heating up with each minute, coating you comfortably. Supporting your head on your right hand, you reach with your left one into the cold water.

Your finger dips in, an attempt to touch one of those big fishes, that sometimes disappear beneath the reflection of the sun.

However, this reflection is interrupted, as suddenly your tall King steps onto the bridge next to the pond. Without greeting him and now having a better look at the Kois, you manage to brush your skin against the smooth surface of their scales. Your eyes light up and you smile.

“Got you.” you whisper quietly, as you see the outlines of familiar spiky hair and a huge figure imprint a shadow on the water.

You blink and finally look up to your right, seeing Sukuna’s gentle eyes looking down at you, his head being propped up on his right upper arm, just like yours. He’s wearing his Hakama pants and black cloak, while he leans against the balustrade of the bridge. He cocks his eyebrow at you.

“Childish brat.” he teases, flashing his teeth into a smirk. You huff, before you stick your tongue out at him.

“Let me.” you mutter, before you turn back to the Kois, as you keep twirling your finger in the water.

He huffs at your response, as he keeps watching you.

“Join me.” you continue almost inaudible, as you wiggle up your feet and swing them back and forth.

No response.

Except a pull on your heart. And you know what’s up.

You sigh, before you retrieve your hand from the water and tap with your palm on the spot next to you.

Two times.

Tap.Tap.

“Come.” you say softly, still not looking at him.

And you can feel his eyes boring into your figure and how his shit eating grin eats you up, before you hear him shift. Sukuna’s naked feet move over the wooden bridge, then through the fresh grass, until they come to a halt at the spot you pat on with your hand.

Don’t look at him.

One of his hand brushes against your moving left ankle, before you feel his foot gently push against your hip.

You ignore him.

He huffs again.

Unbothered, you dip your finger back into the water.

Another attempt of touching those colourful scales.

With a soft breeze, you finally feel him crouching down next to you.

More.

He takes a strand of your hair, fiddling it between his fingers. You quietly retrieve your finger from the water again and reach behind you.

“Closer, my Love.” you mumble softly, as you get a hold of his cloak and pull. One, two times.

And you can feel his grin again. You know he’s just watching you, waiting with what you’re coming up next.

It’s amusing to him. Actually... for the both of you.

To your surprise however, he leans down. His teeth find the shell of your ear for a moment, before he lays down to your left, on his stomach, just like you.

“They’re your gift for me after all.” you say with a satisfied grin on your face, still not looking at him.

As long as he’s this mute, giggling hunk of a man, you would rather admire the fish... And you know it’s a lie.

You have to force yourself to keep looking at those Kois, because you can’t get enough of him. Still.

After all this time.

Because you are his and he is yours. For now and all eternity.

“What now?” he whispers quietly in your ear, his pretty nose presses against the side of your head, taking in the scent of you and your hair.

“You’ll get a kiss if you can touch one of them.” you nudge your head to the pond, before turning your head to finally look at him.

His expression slackens and his lip rises into a mix of a sneer and pout, before he rolls over onto his back and closes his eyes. It makes you snort.

But, you catch yourself, trying to suppress a laughter.

Behave.

You lean over and with the index finger of your right hand, you give him a poke on his bottom lip.

“A kiss on your lips then.” you say cheekily, as if you just upgraded your offer significantly, while you watch how the shadows of the trees and the light of the sun dance with each other upon his facial features.

He blinks his crimson orbs open, still holding his unamused expression, as he grabs your right wrist.

Too much?

You inhale.

“A kiss on my lips then?” a new offer, using a mature voice this time.

A pause.

And a breeze, while he contemplates your new offer. You watch Sukuna’s hair move from the breeze, before his lip twitches. He pulls you closer. Close enough, to let his lips slightly brush over yours.

“A kiss on your lips it is.” he breathes. “And a kiss on your cheeks. And...”

“And?” you raise your eyebrows at him.

“...the sound of your thighs.” he concludes, brushing his nose against yours. “And how they mute my ears.”

Oh.

Heat rushes to the cheeks in your face and to the lips between your legs.

Heartache.

“Maybe you should write poetry.” you cock your head to the side, trying to act over your embarrassment and arousal.

“Maybe I should.” Sukuna smirks quietly in response, as his eyes pierce through you.

God.

You chew on your lip, as you lean back into your previous position and turn back to watch the fish in the water.

“There.” you dip your left finger back into the cold, as you watch him in the corner of your eyes, how he rolls back over on his stomach, leaving the black cloak laying in the grass.

Sukuna reaches for the water too, but his finger brushes over your hand first.

So gentle. So slow.

His touch feels electrifying, sending a feeling of home and love through your whole body.

Those fingers that killed many men and women and children. Those fingers that did such cruelty.

So soft against your skin. You focus and watch his hand closely.

And your heart starts racing.

His index finger follows the line of your hand, along your own finger and finally dips into the water as well. Sukuna’s hand stays resting upon yours, as you both slowly circle your fingers in the water.

It almost drives you insane.

The Kois keep dancing around your limbs, coming closer, swimming away again.

Sukuna quietly guides your hand closer to one of them. A gentle vibration flows through your hand and you notice how the fish grows slower in its movement.

Careful.

Your fingers brush against the scales. In unity. Along the whole length of the fish. “Got you.” he whispers against your hair, sending shivers through your whole body.

Sukuna then guides your whole hand underwater and turns it upside down, making it able for you to even hold the Koi for a few seconds, until it swims away again.

Your eyes light up again, as your heart is beating in your chest. And Sukuna pulls on it.

“Use me as your canvas.” you whisper, your voice almost trembling, wetness rising between your thighs, before you look back at him and his eyes falls to your lips.

“I will.” he stares and you stare back at his wrinkly eyes, before he leans closer. “Gonna write my poetry all over your body.”

—

lmk if you want to read how Sukuna’s poetry looks like ✌️

[chlerc]

back in barcelona ; joão félix

— summary; catching her in the stands while he’s playing for barcelona is certainly not the way he thought he’d ever see her again.

pairing — joao felix x old-friends-actress!f. reader ( third person story )

social media au + 1085.

content — old friends, she studied in joao’s school but moved back to barcelona and they were only mutuals on instagram but never talked. joao pinned over her.

NAVIGATION + author’s note: back in chicago trend but make it back in barcelona cause you can never take the man out of the barcelona girl!!!

song rec for this fic — end of beginning!!

Liked by hugofelix18, itsnicolewallace and 3,827,197 others

ynusername did you miss me, Viseu?

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itsnicolewallace I MISS YOU, regresa a mí!!! (come back to me)

evaruiz tan hermosa (so gorgeous)

maddisonarg love you

ynusername @maddisonarg love you too!!!

gabrieloxguevaraa eres tan bonitaaaaa (you’re so pretty)

ynusername @gabrielxoguevaraa halagándome guapo (flattering me, handsome)

ferrantorres 🔥

yn.officialupdates Drop dead gorgeous

hugofelix18 meu irmão sentiu sua falta (my brother missed you)

ynusername @hugofelix18 saia do aplicativo 🤦🏻‍♀️ (get off the app)

Liked by joaofelix79, louispatridge_ and 4,817,912 others

ynusername THE LAST TIME ON SET!!! Super excited for this to go out on @netflixes soon, catch Through My Window coming up. Really really love this one, please look forward to it 🤍

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juliopfernandez por favor espera #ATravésDeTuMirada!!! (please look forward to Through My Window)

carlitosalcarazz Le conté a mi mamá sobre nosotros 😉 (I told my mum about us)

ynusername @carlitosalcarazz sin habla 🤦🏻‍♀️ (speechless)

siramartinezc Eres tan bonita te quiero tan mala (you’re so pretty I want you so bad)

hugofelix18 legal, vou dizer ao meu irmão para assistir (Nice, will tell my brother to watch it)

ynusername @hugofelix18 HUGOOOO, ir para a cama 😠 (go to bed)

joaofelix79 @hugofelix18 você está cheio de merda, o que você está fazendo e dizendo aqui? (You’re full of shit, what are you doing and saying here?)

gqportugal 🤩🤩🤩

gqspain ¡nuestra princesa! (Our princess)

IT COULD HAVE BEEN the lack of sleep catching up on him from yesterday but he swore he wasn’t seeing things. Amidst the sea of faces in the crowd, his gaze kept drifting to a familiar figure seated near the team’s bench where he stood nearby taking a quick gulp of water.

There she was, with her eyes the colour of earth kissed by spring rains, the hue that promises to stir life from dormant seeds, the nascent plants guided upward by the light before blossoming into the vibrant colours of a new season. Her hair was the brown of aged mahogany, rich and deep, yet with the subtle hues only time brings. Those strands that he was too familiar with, staring at the back of her head back in the days whilst she sat in front of him in classes.

She was a constant presence in his thoughts, a captivating enigma he couldn't shake off. Her laughter echoed in his mind when the lights dimmed in his bedroom, her smile a beacon of warmth that drew him in. But here, in the midst of the pulsating stadium, João couldn't believe his eyes. Was it truly her?

Throughout the match, João’s mind oscillated between the thrill of the game and the enigmatic presence of her. His concentration wavered, his thoughts drifting to moments shared and conversations unspoken. With each passing minute, the field seemed to blur, his focus slipping away like sand through his fingers.

But duty called and he pushed aside the distractions, channeling his energy into the game, his every touch eliciting roars of approval from the crowd for those seventy three minutes he played. He thanked his lucky stars and the coach for subbing him off early today, finding himself a seat within her distance. João’s neck awkwardly craned and turned just to catch a glimpse of her, her eyes everywhere but on him.

And when he catches her eyes before he could realise he was staring, his breathing becomes harder, the pensive look on him melting into a smile as soft as the morning light. His body squirms just a little as his muscles relax but he just threw a thumbs up her way, acting as if everything was fine. There was something about that gaze of her he’ll never find in another woman.

As the final whistle blew and Barcelona emerged victorious, João’s heart raced with adrenaline and triumph. But amidst the celebrations, a lingering doubt gnawed at him. Should he have approached her? But it was probably her lookalike, the last he checked her Instagram, she was still on set and busy. At the end of the day, he knew deep in every nook and crevice of his heart that it was probably her and he was just lying to himself, no mistakes on recognising the girl he secretly pinned after in highschool.

There would be other matches, other moments. For now, João embraced the euphoria of victory, knowing that somewhere amidst the chaos of the stadium, she lingered, a silent specter in the tapestry of his dreams. He made a mental note of checking her Instagram later tonight and stop his brother from commenting outrageous comments about himself.

Liked by joaofelix79, judebellingham and 4,917,137 others

ynusername back in barcelona, i feel it 🤍

View all 4,927 comments

judebellingham wrong place bruv, thought we talked about this before?

ynusername @judebellingham literally born in barcelona before i went to UK and befriend you whilst on shoot??? the ego, jude…

judebellingham @ynusername YOU’RE SOOO MEAN, did you just call me egoistic? Not gonna talk to you ever 😞

rolemod3lyn @ynusername Y’ALL ARE FRIENDS???

claaragalle no podría extrañarte más (couldn’t miss you more)

drewstarkey you visiting home but I don’t see you? (I’m supposed to be your home) 😠

ksi #drinkprime!

ynusername @ksi this is not the football team you sponsored mate????

ksi @ynusername ohhh i thought…

Liked by fcbarcelona, joaofelix79 and 8,816,192 others

ynusername off season for me but always cheering my number 1 and childhood team on with Laila! ps ksi this is the team you sponsor.

View all 10,618 comments

ksi #DRINKPRIME

judebellingham how bout you come to madrid and visit your friend (me) too!

ynusername @judebellingham thought someone didn’t wanna talk to me 😒

judebellingham @ynusername we LITERALLY FACETIMED after my comment????

fcbarcelona Welcome Back Home ✨🏠

barca.4life SHE A CULER TOO???

davidrenzo she just got more perfect

forblaugrana One of our own, culer 💙❤️

ferrantorres Bienvenido de vuelta amiga, gracias por venir! (Welcome back home friend, thanks for coming by!)

ynusername @ferrantorres no hay problema chico tiburón 👉🦈 (no problem shark boy)

itsnicolewallace Dijiste que me llamarías cuando hayas vuelto a España, mentirosa (you said you'd call me when you're back in spain, liar)

ynusername @itsnicolewallace ¡Te iba a sorprender! (I was going to surprise you)

The last time he was playing in the stadium and on the pitch was when she was here. And she literally was here after her two recent posts on her social media platform accounts. And he was right, João would never recognise the wrong woman, not when he memorised every bit and parts of her before she left Viseu.

In the velvet night, the shining light of the stadium shone upon her, illuminating each and every feature of her. João legs unable to carry himself forward, entranced by her with his match jersey in one hand and a towel in the other. There she was looking right at him, dead in his eyes whilst a small grin plastered across her face.

“You’re staring at her like you love her.” Ferran nudges him by his shoulder, a small hint of banter evident in his voice. “She’s your friend though, isn’t she?” João questions, his once agape jaw now capable of finding words to speak, arms hanging around Ferran’s shoulders as they walk towards where she was.

“Yeah but we aren’t that close like you are with her.” Ferran shrugs nonchalantly, removing João’s arm around his shoulder before patting João on the back and pushing him towards her before running into the tunnel. “Good luck, I know you can do it.” He heard the whispers of Ferran before actually processing what happened.

“Long time no see and talk, great goal today Floki.” She rubbed his shoulders, calling him by his nickname she had for him in school. She was the whole entire point of naming his own dog Floki, just to have the simplest and smallest yet memorable thing of her by his side.

His palms turned sweaty at the moment, nibbling at the lower lip of his and he swore he could hear his heart palpitating against his chest, yearning to be freed from the tightness within him. “Thanks, it’s so good to see you after all these years. You still look gorgeous.”

Her eyes curved into crescents, his favourite thing about her. “Really, you think so?” Her fingers are linked together while she fiddles with them, swaying her body a little from side to side. “I don’t think so, I am sure. Anyways, what brings you here?”

“You, I heard you have been loaned to Barcelona for the season and I thought to just drop by some matches to watch you while cheering for the team.” She turns João around, pushing him to walk into the tunnel while she follows behind. He didn’t know how to reply, losing all capability of talking when he couldn’t find the right words without messing it up and showing his anxiousness.

“That’s good, I was hoping to catch you in Barcelona when I saw your Instagram post. I mean not that I follow up on it but nevermind, I’m not explaining myself clearly.” He waved his hand in the air, a sign for her to shrug the conversation and whatever he just said off.

“It’s okay I miss you too João, you can just admit it.”

Liked by joaofelix79, hugofelix18 and 7,821,427 others

ynusername Floki & Laila’s papa and mama reunion

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judebellingham uh, Floki as in João Félix’s sausage dog? 🤔

ynusername @judebellingham RUDE! You’re calling Laila a sausage too? You’re calling her fat? BLOCKED.

judebellingham @ynusername YOU’RE PUTTING WORDS INTO MY MOUTH. SAUSAGE DOGS ARE CUTE IS WHAT I MEANT.

bornaswaglife OMG??? THE CROSSOVER

joaofelix79 Laila and Floki’s mama 🤍

ynusername @joaofelix79 you too papa!

ferrantorres 😆😆😆

livenolaughnolife TWO DACHSHUND OMGGG EVEN MATCHING DOGS

barcawag.planet This is literally so unexpected and cute

Liked by ynusername, ferrantorres and 4,927,197 others

joaofelix79 Laila’s mama but myself and Floki’s new mama now 😉

View all 5,184 comments

pablogavi 👏👏

andr34daurent bros pulling 10s on and off pitches

marcguiu9 lindo hermano (nice one brother)

forblaugrana 10/10

ynusername my favourite dog papa 🤍

joaofelix79 @ynusername & my favourite mama

blaugranaplanet ustedes dos son muy lindos juntos, se complementan bien (you two are really cute together, complement each other well)

lamineyamal ¿Tienes dos perros salchicha, papá? (You got two sausage dogs papa?)

fcbarcelona Floki’s Star papa & Princess mama!

[hisui-dreamer]

where the light is dim

Pairing: Malleus Draconia x gn!reader

Synopsis: everyone's wandered off in the festival, and you can't even find a familiar face

Tags: poetic themes, fluff, diasomnia shenanigans

Word count: 436

Notes: happy chinese new year everyone🧧🏮🎆!! this was heavily inspired by a chinese poem that takes place on new years (which i attempted a translation of below hehe), and plus it's the year of the dragon, so now we have mal mal festival time (⁠ ⁠╹⁠▽⁠╹⁠ ⁠)

Masterlist

The east wind blows breezes a thousand blossoming trees,

The stars, like rain, descend like a gentle breeze.

Bejewelled carriages and fine horses leave a fragrant trail on the road,

Phoenix flutes resound in the wind, the jade lantern’s light flows,

All night, the fish and dragon lanterns dance.

Maidens adorned with gold, extravagant pins in their hair,

Smiling shyly, fragrance lingering in the air.

In the crowd, searching countless times,

Suddenly, turning my head,

There stands the one, where the light is dim.

―青玉案・元夕 辛棄疾

The street pulses with energy, vibrant and bustling beneath a canopy of scarlet lanterns that sway gently in the evening breeze. Each lantern, adorned with intricate designs and tassels, casts a warm, inviting glow that bathes the cobblestone pavement below in a rich crimson hue.

The air is alive with the hum of chatter and laughter, as locals and visitors alike meander through the thoroughfare, their footsteps echoing against the ancient brick walls that line the street. Vendors peddle their wares from colourful stalls, their voices competing with the lively strains of traditional music that drift from nearby taverns and teahouses.

'Where is he?' you thought to yourself, tired from the heavy ornaments painstakingly styled into your hair as you turned and turned your head to catch even a glimpse of him amidst the bustling crowd.

Malleus had invited you to a short trip to the Far East, prompted by Silver's longing to explore the lands of his childhood hero, and swiftly organized by Lilia's enthusiastic urging. You're not sure whether Lilia was aware of it or not, your travels happened to coincide with a grand local festival.

The street offers a multitude of intrigue, from mouth-watering scents from the food skewers to the delicate souvenirs hand-crafted by merchants, and it's not long before you find yourselves gradually becoming separated from the group amidst the bustling crowd. The allure of the vibrant surroundings pulls each person in a different direction, until eventually, you can no longer spot any familiar faces amidst the sea of glamorous outfits adorning the local ladies.

A whirring noise catches your attention, and you turn to the direction of the sound. Your gaze is met with the spectacle of fireworks illuminating the night sky, their explosions of brilliance painting the heavens with vibrant hues, scattering glittering sparks like diamonds. Brilliant reds, dazzling blues, and alluring golds intertwine and collide, creating a breathtaking tapestry of colour that captivates all who gaze upon it.

It's a view you want to share with him.

You weave through the crowd once again, deftly sidestepping opulent carriages and elegant ladies. Their alluring perfume mingles with the joyous melodies of the flutes, enveloping you in a whirlwind of sensation that leaves you momentarily dizzy.

A glance down a narrow alley catches your attention, and in the distance, a lone lantern flickers. Squinting to sharpen your focus, you realise you've found the very person you're looking for.

Malleus, tucked away in the shadowy corner, his focus fixed solely upon a weathered lion stone statue.

You can't help the exasperated smile that graces your lips.

Maybe you should've expected that.

Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

[edenesth]

The Painter's Muse

Pairing: painter!Wooyoung x princess!reader

Word Count: 1.2k

'Crazy Form' Comeback Special Series | Hongjoong | Seonghwa | Yunho | Yeosang | San | Mingi | Wooyoung | Jongho |

ATEEZ Masterlist

"Stay still, your highness."

You fidgeted in your chair, adjusting the satin dress to alleviate the stifling warmth within the famous painter's studio. The movement inadvertently exposed more of your skin, causing him to clear his throat and avert his gaze, a blush colouring his cheeks.

After enduring hours of posing, you finally voiced a plea, "Wooyoung, it's been ages. Can we please take a short break?" The subtle pout on your lips sent a rush of emotions through him, the desire to kiss you now more potent than ever.

Succumbing to your request, he nodded hastily, "Y-you're right, let's take a break. I apologise for losing track of time, princess."

In reality, both of you needed the pause to collect your thoughts and calm the rapid beating of your hearts. The artist grappled with the realisation that nurturing feelings for the princess was a forbidden path. Surely, you were destined for a match of higher societal standing, not with a mere painter. But your enchanting presence made it increasingly difficult for him to resist falling in love with you.

The intricacies of this predicament were not lost on him—the princess of Wonderland being his muse presented its own complications, especially when emotions became entangled in the delicate dance of artistry and affection.

Wrapping a robe around yourself, you opened a window to let in the fresh air while Wooyoung occupied himself with tidying up his paintbrushes and changing the water. Stealing a few glances at his familiar silhouette, you sighed, contemplating the possibility of a future with him.

Never did you anticipate that things would progress to this point. It started months ago during one of your occasional trips to the town, seeking respite from the burdens of your princess duties. The joy of blending in with the commoners, momentarily forgetting your responsibilities, was something you cherished.

As an avid art enthusiast, nothing brought you greater delight than your visits to the local art museum. Unaware of the lingering gaze fixated on your every move, you settled into your regular spot at the museum one day. Little did you know, the very artworks that captivated you were born from the inspiration drawn from you.

The painter had committed every nuance of your ethereal beauty and graceful gestures to memory from the moment you first graced the museum with your presence. While Wooyoung was no stranger to the allure of beautiful noblewomen, there was an indescribable quality about you that set you apart.

As he observed you engrossed in one of his favourite paintings—a celestial figure bearing a striking resemblance to you—he felt compelled to unravel the mystery of your identity. What had initially captivated him was your poised demeanour, but over time, his admiration had blossomed into something more profound.

You looked up, meeting his gaze as he gathered the courage to take a seat beside you, marking the first time he made his presence known. Returning his polite smile, you gestured toward the painting, "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

The artist nodded, a faint blush tinting his cheeks, "I agree. After all, it finds its full inspiration in you, my lady."

And that was how you met your favourite painter and how he discovered that his muse was none other than the sole princess of the nation. Despite the initial disbelief, he came to accept the truth, recognising the unique qualities that made you different—a true embodiment of royal elegance.

Since then, your visits to town have become more frequent, driven by the desire to spend more time with your new friend. As you grew closer, he gathered the courage to request the honour of painting you in person. Given your profound admiration for his work, you were more than happy to pose for his paintings.

Now, in one of your many sessions, there was tension lingering in the air. Both of you were acutely aware of each other in a different light as romantic feelings blossomed, leaving you both uncertain about how to address them.

Biting your lip, you shed the robe and settled back into your chair, frustration evident as Wooyoung deliberately avoided meeting your gaze. The awareness of mutual feelings lingered, yet the uncertainty weighed heavily. Both of you, usually playful and carefree, now trod cautiously, reluctant to overstep any boundaries.

It irked you—the palpable connection between you, the unspoken desire—yet the circumstances demanded a careful dance around your emotions.

Deep down, you pondered the unfairness of it all. If your brother, the crown prince, could marry a palace maid, why should there be obstacles for you and a talented painter like Wooyoung? Besides, he was no ordinary artist but a renowned one. Why should anyone else dictate who you could be with?

The resolve built within you. The opinions of others mattered little. No one can tell you what to do; you were the princess, and this is the man you love.

To hell with it. You're mine, Jung Wooyoung.

Opting to revive your playful side, you deliberately shifted around, purposefully trying to get on the artist's nerves. A smirk played on your lips when he emitted a tired sigh, "Princess, please, why are you being so difficult today?"

Your scoff echoed through the studio, "You're acting as if you don't already know what a brat I can be. Admit it, you secretly enjoy it."

He rolled his eyes, visibly uneasy as you continued your antics, causing your dress to ride up and reveal more skin, "Just sit still; we're almost done."

Crossing your legs, you shot him a defiant glare, "Well, what if I don't want it to be done?"

Frustrated, he set his brush down, reciprocating your glare, "I swear, princess, if you don't cooperate—"

With a challenging gaze, you interrupted, "And what exactly will you do about it?" Your taunt hung in the air as he shot up from his seat, advancing toward you, "Will you quit being a brat?" He growled.

You grinned mischievously, "Make me."

Unable to resist any longer, he muttered, "You asked for it, princess." Without a moment's hesitation, he leaned down, kissing you hard enough to leave both of your lips tingling and bruised. This was it; he was tired of feigning indifference, tired of concealing the depths of his love for you. The pretence was no longer sustainable; he craved to have you close to him every second of every day.

You smiled against his lips, reciprocating the fervour of his kiss. He pulled you close, orchestrating a swift turn until he was seated, and you straddled him on his lap.

Breaking the kiss, you both caught your breath as he rested his forehead against yours. Tenderly caressing his cheeks, you whispered, "I love you, Wooyoung."

His arms tightened around your waist, overwhelmed with emotion at finally hearing those words from you, "Are you sure, your highness? What would the people think?"

Cupping his jaw, you locked eyes with him, "It doesn't matter what they think; no one can stop me. Now, will you submit or stand beside me?"

Biting his lip, he responded, "I'll be on my knees, worshipping you for the rest of my life. I love you too, my princess."

By the end of the day, you found yourself subjected to endless teasing from your royal tutor. It seemed like a fitting revenge for your previous interference in his love life. Secretly, you relished the playful banter; it meant that what you and Wooyoung shared was real.

Holy crap, 400+ followers already?! Thank you all, my lovelies! <3

Also, this ended spicier than I planned HAHA only Mingi's part left to go and we're finished~

Tag list: @aurasblue @marievllr-abg @itsvxlentine @minghaoslatina @huachengsbestie01 @evidive

All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[pocketjoong]

❥𓂃𓏧WHAT IS A SOULMATE?

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (SYNOPSIS): You and Seonghwa go on a trip across Europe and you use this as an excuse to make a little birthday video for him. But on the day of his birthday, Seonghwa feels nothing but grief as he watches the video you made for him.

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (PAIRING) idol!Seonghwa x fem!reader

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (GENRE AND AU/TROPE): fluff. angst. meet-cute. nsfw.

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (WARNINGS) NSFW! MINORS DNI. oral. fingering. unprotected sex (it’s a big no guys, please use protection and stay safe). pet names (mc is called dove). mentions of food. allusions to and mentions of a serious accident. angst. fluff.

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (WORD COUNT) 4.3k

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (NOTES) @pyeonghongrie-main :) Here's the promised reupload hehehe

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

London

Outside the confines of your hotel room, silence blankets the city much like the fog that hangs overhead. The first light of dawn is yet to break through the ink-black sky as the metropolis cradles its inhabitants in the silence of the night. This part of the city is still asleep, each soul embraced by the arms of Morpheus, awaiting daybreak to rouse them from their slumber.

Your gaze fixates on the horizon from between the sheer curtains. A pang of anticipation stirs within you, for out of all the alluring sights of nature, sunrise has always been your favourite. After all, regardless of wherever you are in the world, the sunrise is the only constant in the transient nature of life.

Today, however, as the dark black of the night fades to inky blue and splashes of pinks and purples bloom in the east, the only sight you focus on are his eyes. Seonghwa’s eyes are brighter than any galaxy and softer than the cherry blossoms that have begun blossoming on the tree just beyond the terrace. In that moment, you are happy to forego the sight of the beautiful sunrise to watch the coffee and hazel in his eyes melt to form the most gorgeous shade of brown you’ve ever seen.

It won’t be an exaggeration to say that sometimes, you feel like all of your life—each second, each breath, and each step—amounts to Seonghwa. Every decision you have ever made has been a stepping stone in your journey to meet him that one day six years ago when he was only a trainee.

Close to dawn, you had been wandering through the streets of Seoul to find a spark of inspiration for your first-ever project as a photography major. You knew  you wanted to play with the idea of light and dark meeting together to form the most beautiful of sights, and what was a better time to do so than twilight?

So there you were, braving the winter chill for a decent grade while your friends were sleeping soundly, snuggled up in their warm beds.

But it seemed that fate had other plans for you that morning. You took a sip of the coffee you’d bought from the only cafe open at this ungodly hour, forgetting for a moment that it was piping hot. With a wince, you glared at the beige paper cup as if the liquid energy had personally done something to spite you.

A snicker caught your attention, and you turned around to narrow your eyes at the person, only to freeze in your tracks. Wearing a brown, fuzzy coat coupled with dark skinny jeans, the male looked like an angel sent from heaven. The thought that he was a hallucination of your sleep-deprived and cold body crossed your mind, but you discarded the thought when he realised that you’d heard him, and he scrambled to apologise for laughing.

You didn’t know then, but your life was for him. And, it won’t be an exaggeration to say that your life is all him. As winter melted into spring and spring made way for summer, you fell in love with the colour brown: the lush cocoa of Seonghwa’s eyes, sweeter than any hot chocolate you could find, and the tan of his skin, reminiscent of the buttery sweetness of roasted chestnuts. As the weather became humid and the days turned longer, you didn’t even register the beginnings of love taking root in your heart.

It began slowly, like the dripping of water from a tap. Drop by drop, your heart filled with adoration for him. Starting with an appreciation for the awe with which he experienced the world as if doing so for the first time. Then, it became more serious: you found yourself yearning to be around him, to listen to him talk about anything and everything, to be the only one he’d think of as being worthy of his heart.

And then, as if that wasn’t enough, you fell for his voice, a deep baritone with the consistency of honey that you couldn’t get enough of. And the best part? You got to hear it every day before sunrise, for that was his designated time for you in his busy schedule as a trainee and then later as an idol. Dawn was yours, had always been yours, and would always be yours as long as Seonghwa was beside you.

And so, without your knowledge, you fell in love with him bit by bit. You fell as if falling under a spell you couldn’t find a counter for. Not that you wanted to anyway, not when he was there to catch you.

A year later when spring arrived, love and hope sprouted in your heart when Seonghwa’s lips pressed against yours for the first time under the cherry blossoms. He etched himself into the deepest crevices of your soul and your heart. His touch was like that of the sun against your skin after a dark night, igniting your soul in a way that reminded you of fireworks. Under the light of dawn, as he kissed you, you learned a truth. Like the sunrise, Seonghwa is the only constant in your life.

“What are you thinking about?” His soft whisper pulls you out of your reminiscing, and you find yourself gazing into his wide eyes that are brimming with affection and curiosity.

Even after years of being with Seonghwa, the way he looks at you as if you are the one who hung the moon in the sky always floors you. Your skin tingles at the warmth and adoration in his gaze.

“You,” lost in way his thumb grazes against your waist, the word slips out of your lips without a second thought. You almost curse at yourself for being so taken with him when you see a devilish smirk pull at his lips.

“Is that so, my dove?” Chuckling, he lets himself get closer to you, if that’s even possible, considering how you’re basically pressed against him. His hands rise to cup your face, drawing you to his lips.

You lose yourself in the warmth of his mouth. His kisses are softer at first, but soon, his lips are moving insistently against yours. His teeth sink gently into your bottom lip, and he swallows the moan that leaves you almost hungrily. Seonghwa’s hand slides up the side of your body to slide your nightgown off you, exposing you to the chilly morning air.

He pulls back from you momentarily, the loss making you whine, but the protest dies in your throat when he gazes at you with nothing but love and adoration. In what little light filters through the sheer curtains, he looks ethereal with his glowing bronze skin. His dark hair is messy, and yet he manages to look as if he’d just stepped out of the pages of a manhwa. As if knowing what’s going through your head, a soft smile pulls at his lips.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he breathes, voice thick with sleep and desire.

“Like what?” You ask, your own hands finding purchase against his shoulders.

“Like I’m the damn sunrise.”

“You’re more breathtaking than any sunrise I’ve ever seen, Hwa,” you cradle his cheek in your palm, words ringing with sincerity as you gaze at your boyfriend.

Seonghwa ducks down at your words, hiding his face in your neck as you chuckle at the way he reacts to your compliment. Your amusement doesn’t last long, however, when he leans down further to lave his tongue against the marks his teeth had left against the column of your neck the night before. His teeth sink into your skin, cutting you off mid-laughter, while his palms come to cup your exposed breasts, and you find yourself arching into his touch. 

You watch Seonghwa descend the length of your body, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses wherever his lips can reach. His hands slither downwards, fingers digging into your thighs to spread your legs open for him. Bringing his mouth to your core, he smirks when you let out a broken moan, bucking into his mouth. Seoghwa keeps his eyes on you as he devours you.

“Hwa—” you choke back a moan, reaching for him with a trembling hand. You pull him to your lips, tasting yourself on his tongue. “Want you. Please.”

“My beautiful dove.” Seonghwa breathes reverently. His hands are gentle against your waist, cradling you close to him while his lips trace their way up your jaw to meet yours in a sloppy kiss. 

As the sun rises over the Thames River, he ravishes you with a gentleness that feels like the first touch of warmth of the morning light.

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

Madrid

“Are you recording me?” Seonghwa laughs, walking backwards on the sidewalk as you fumble with the camera—it’s heavier than what you’re used to—but you don’t mind because you’re more concerned about the quality of the video than anything else.

You can’t help but grin at the sight in front of you: Seonghwa in a beret and a long, dark coat that he has paired with jeans contrasts so well with the potted geraniums in front of the restaurant you had stopped to get breakfast at. The flowers herald the happiness blossoming in your chest at the sight of your lover glowing like the sun while surrounded by the the tell-tale signs of the approaching spring.

Seonghwa jokes that these flowers are blooming because it is his first time visiting Europe with you. You laugh off his silly comment, but in your heart of hearts, you can’t help but agree with him. It’s almost as if nature wants you to document the most beautiful sights while you record Seonghwa in the cities you are visiting.

Before you can answer him, something catches his eyes, and before you know it, he is dragging you to a toy store he has spotted on the other side of the road. His smile as he eagerly scours the store for something to buy reminds you of sunlight upon the tides, bright and blinding as the sun itself on the waves that lap gently at the shore.

Seonghwa makes his way to the sunglasses, trying on the goofiest ones, making you giggle. Encouraged by your laughter, he continues to make a fool of himself, pulling funny expressions for the camera and not caring if people are giving him funny looks. At one point, he tries the poison green alien sunglasses, and despite you laughing at how atrocious the design is, you can’t help but think how easily he can pull off even the most ridiculous of accessories with grace.

Behind him, you spot something that makes you gasp, and you rush to the shelves to grab one of the Toothless plushies. Turning around with purpose, you’re caught off guard by how close Seonghwa is, but you don’t let it faze you.

“Look, Hwa! I found you on the shelf,” you giggle at him, holding the plushie up so that it lines up with his face.

He rolls his eyes fondly, used to such jokes by the rest of ATEEZ and his fans. Despite that, he takes the plushie from your hands and puts it on his head, allowing you to capture him with ease. His touch is careful as he holds the plushie, similar to how he handles everything he lays his hands on. Delicate and light, he touches everything he comes across with care, and that’s one of the reasons you find him endearing—for he’s one of the few people who truly take the time to appreciate the beauty the world has to offer.

“If I’m Toothless, doesn’t that mean you’re my Light Fury?” You watch the way his eyes scan the shelves for something.

“I guess,” you shrug, chuckling as you help him in his search for a plushie of the said dragon.

“Do you think we should buy these?” Seonghwa asks, interrupting your search, and you turn to find him holding up the two plushies. He glances at the two stuffed toys—Toothless and the Light Fury—with his eyes furrowed as he weighs the pros and cons of buying both.

“You have multitudes of these back home, Hwa.” You remind him, in fact, he has so many plushies and figurines that he had to store some in your apartment because his manager had threatened that he would throw them out if he saw one more of the HTTYD-themed merch.

“But—”

“Hwa.”

“Fine, break my heart, why don’t you?” And with a pout, he places them back on the shelf reluctantly. You know he’s joking because when you gesture towards the plushies later on, he shakes his head with a smile.

Throughout the day, you explore the city with him, telling him everything you had learned about the places from the little tourist booklet you had snagged from the hotel that morning. He listens to you earnestly, watching you talk with a smile as admiration settles under his skin.

Later in the night, you find yourself in a cafe. Taking a deep breath, you inhale the scent of coffee that permeates your immediate surroundings. Since the cafe is basically empty at this time of the night, a sense of tranquillity surrounds you, much like the warm coat Seonghwa has draped over you. You watch late stragglers making their way home from their jobs through the window you’re seated against, hands curled against a warm cup of hazelnut latte.

“Dove,” Seonghwa’s quiet voice comes from next to you, causing you to snuggle into his shoulder, humming for him to continue. “Don’t fall asleep. We have to walk back to the hotel.”

“Shall we leave, then?” Stifling a yawn, you ask, causing him to nod.

He leads you out of the cafe, keeping his hand on your lower back as you walk through the sparsely populated streets. The very next moment, however, it begins to rain out of nowhere, and before you know it, you are being drenched in the downpour.

Seonghwa laughs in surprise but turns his face upwards to allow the raindrops to kiss his cheeks. Even though the world is blurred around you and your vision is warped by the drops in your eyes, you can still see him clearly. He basks in the rain, lets himself get drenched by the droplets cascading down his face, neck, and shoulders. The rain is so heavy that the raindrops make streams as they make their way down his body.

Watching him like this, you find yourself reaching out for him. As if on the same wavelength as you, Seonghwa takes your hand in his, lips curling up in a smile when you entangle your fingers with his. Reaching out, he cups your face gently, and it seems as if the world stops around you, your senses failing to register anything beyond his touch. Seonghwa trails his thumb along your lips, wiping the raindrops that have settled across your skin.

Drenched in the downpour with him, it’s easy to think of Seonghwa as the rain and yourself as the earth that craves rain after a dry spell.

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

Seoul

The wallpaper drips with grief, mimicking the gloom that has taken root in his heart and doesn’t seem to want to leave. The glow of the streetlights filters through the windows and is the only source of light in his dark room. In the centre of the whirlpool of dread and darkness lies Seonghwa, curled up against the messy sheets he can’t bother to straighten.

The silence is uncanny. He’s not used to it—for years, he has shared a room with Hongjoong, and even though, more often than not, the younger male wasn’t actually there because he preferred the studio or the living room couch to the bedroom, the mere idea of sharing a room with someone always made him feel at ease. Hongjoong has been Seonghwa’s anchor in the years he roomed with him, but now alone in his room, the walls seem to press in around him like waves trying to drown him, leaving him breathless.

If Hongjoong is his anchor, you are his beacon, his guiding light, his polestar. And tonight, as his ship is battered by the biggest storm he’s ever faced, you aren’t here either. Desperately, he searches for something to ground him, but too many days and nights filled with sorrow and false optimism have built up and around him, crushing him with a weight he can’t handle anymore. When love wasn’t enough to save you, how can it be enough to help him stay afloat in the rough seas?

Outside of his room, spring touches everything with its delicate hands. For Seonghwa, however, winter still lingers, and the beautiful weather outside just irks him further. He hasn’t been in love for the last week, and even nature cannot revive him this time around. Without love in his heart, the only thing he feels is despair.

Even now, he can’t forget the way red painted his hands as you lay in his arms. Sometimes, when he squeezes his eyes shut hard enough, he can see your smile. In the very same moment, his heart opens and breaks when the image of you in his arms dances across his vision, and he dies again and again, bleeds until there’s only a shell left behind.

The beeping of his digital clock startles him. The digits read 00:00, distorted from the tears that line his lashes but never seem to fall. For a long time, he had thought today would make the pain bearable, but it persists, lingering in his heart and his room like stubborn rain clouds that linger even after the storm has passed. It is possible that you may not return to him, but he tries to remain optimistic. If he doesn’t believe you to be strong enough to fight for him, for your love, then who will? 

His phone dings, and he looks at the device for a moment. Each beep of his phone has, till now, started him into a sitting position, and every time, it has not what he expected. But foolishly, he still hopes for a miracle.

His phone dinging again with the custom notification he had set for you has Seonghwa scrambling to check his phone. It’s a scheduled email, but your name lighting up the screen renders him breathless. At the sight of your name, the storm raging around him quietens down, leaving him in calm seas. There’s a video attached with the email, and he clicks it open.

[Exterior. Mid-morning. Shots of the streets of London from a car. In the foreground, the text reads Happy Birthday, Seonghwa! A female’s voice is heard speaking in the voiceover.]

Y/N: What’s a soulmate?

[The camera pans and focuses on Seonghwa as he looks out of the window, pointing at all the things he remembers from the few times he has been there with ATEEZ for concerts.]

SH: And that’s the cafe Jongho liked a lot. He said the coffee there was amazing. We should definitely visit it after we’ve settled in hotel room, you look like you could do with some caffeine in your system.

Y/N: [laughing] Not everyone is used to sleeping in aeroplanes.

SH: [shaking his head, he sniffs as if wounded by your comments] Well, if you toured with me, you’d be used to it. You’re the only one who keeps declining when I ask you to come with me! My poor self has to live without you for months just because you won’t agree.

Y/N: Your idea of bringing me along includes you stuffing me into your suitcase. Sorry if I don’t want to be thrown around with the other luggage.

SH: [snorting] It’s your fault for being so small.

Y/N: [sighing] Whatever, Hwa.

[Midday. The video cuts to a shot of Seonghwa walking along the Thames river. He has his arms wrapped around himself. The sky is covered with fluffy clouds, and one can tell that spring is fast approaching with the way little green buds are seen on the trees in the background.]

Y/N: It’s a… Well, it’s like a best friend, but more.

SH: It’s so cold!

Y/N: Should we go and get something to warm us up from the cafe you pointed out earlier? I think it’s close to where we are right now.

[The video cuts to the two of you inside the cafe. The camera is placed on one side, allowing it to capture both Seonghwa and you. You’re laughing at Seonghwa, who took a sip from your iced americano and immediately made a face at the taste. The video skips a bit and Seonghwa can be seen humming along to the music from the speakers while you watch him, enraptured by his vocals.]

Y/N: It’s the one person in the world who knows you better than anyone else.

[The video cuts again. This time, Seonghwa is in a hotel room, standing against the backdrop of the Eiffel Tower and posing goofily while you are laughing in the background. He waddles over to the camera, forcing you to put it on the table as he twirls you around, dancing to a song he’s humming.]

Y/N: It’s someone who makes you a better person.

[The video cuts to a closeup of Seonghwa’s head in your lap as you sit on the couch. He’s sleeping soundly while you run your fingers through his soft hair. His lips quirk upwards in a smile, causing you to halt your motions, but a whine from him has you resuming your actions.]

Y/N: [soft whisper] Did I wake you up?

SH: [hums and shakes his head] Not really… [yawns] I wasn’t fully asleep.

[There’s silence for a while as Seonghwa shifts around to get comfortable.]

SH: I love you.

Y/N: That was so random, Hwa.

SH: Hey! You’re supposed to say you love me too!

Y/N: [snorting] I love you, you overgrown child.

SH: I’ll have you know that’s Wooyoung.

Y/N: Don’t let him hear you say that. He’ll bite your arm off or something.

SH: [laughing hard]

Y/N: Actually, they don’t make you a better person, you do that yourself… because they inspire you.

[The video cuts to Seonghwa amidst the geraniums in Madrid before he drags you to the MINISO. His shenanigans from the store can be seen, with him wearing goofy sunglasses and playing with the Night Fury plushie.]

Y/N: A soulmate is someone who you can carry with you forever.

[Seonghwa can be seen busking with a guy playing the guitar. He sings Angel Baby by Troye Sivan, smiling wide when you start swaying one of your hands in beat with the music, causing people to follow your actions. When he’s done, people come up to him, telling him that he’s an amazing singer, and he thanks everyone with a bashful smile while watching you look at him with a look of pride on your face.]

Y/N: It’s the one person who knew you and accepted you… Believed in you before anyone else did or when no one else would. 

[Seonghwa excuses himself from the crowd and makes his way towards you, wrapping his arms around your frame and sways the two of you as the busker starts crooning a song in Danish.]

SH: Thank you for always believing in me, dove. Especially when I didn’t believe in myself.

Y/N: [smiling] I love you, and I’ll cheer you on, especially during the darkest days.

Y/N: And no matter what happens, you will always love them. 

[The camera pans to you in your editing studio, and you wave at the camera with a smile on your face.]

Y/N: It’s quite late [glancing at the clock on your desk], 3 a.m. to be precise, and I’m working on your birthday video. [Laughs] I hope you like this little video I put together with clips from our trip to Europe. Give me a call once you’re done watching this. I love you so much, Hwa! Happy Birthday, my star!

Y/N: Nothing can ever change that.

Seonghwa wipes his tears, sniffing as he gets up from the bed. With a meticulousness characteristic of him, he goes through the motions of dressing up to pay you a visit. That’s the only thing that seems to make sense, so with bleary eyes and heavy feet, he walks through the deserted streets of Seoul.

The staff members at the hospital allow him to see you, used to his untimely visits. The nurse watching over you gives him a sad smile and leaves him alone with you when he enters your room. He notes that the pallor that had settled beneath your skin is now fading, albeit slowly. 

Maybe you’re getting better? But you still haven’t woken up, and seeing your face, he finds himself falling, falling through the memories of the day of the accident. His eyes close of their own accord, and he sighs, trying to get those images out of his mind. Unable to stop his thoughts, he relives the day all over again.

Logically, he knows the accident isn’t his fault but of the person who was behind the wheel.

Or maybe it was, the voice in his mind tells him.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he can’t forgive himself for the events that led up to the accident. If he hadn’t called you to pick him up from the company that night when it was raining, you’d be safe in his arms, celebrating his birthday with him.

No, it wasn’t. Seonghwa desperately wants to believe his own words. But there’s still that small voice of doubt that rears its ugly head, and before he knows it, fresh tears are rolling down his cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. Seonghwa is too emotionally exhausted and too choked to speak any louder. “My dove, I’m so sorry for this whole mess. I’m sorry. Please wake up soon. I can’t do this alone—I can’t live without you. Please. I love you.”

[punk-in-docs]

A song of liars and beggars: part II

— Emperor Geta x Reader (Salacia)

— 5.3k words.

— Read all parts here: Part I — Part II — Part III — Part IV

Summary: You were raised outside of this Rome. Born into peace. To know of fathomless deep seas, and skies so big, they wrapped around your whole sight. The way that at night all you can smell are lemon trees kissed by salt. The jasmine plants wound around the white walls of the villa. Salacia. And now you are sent to Rome for your father in the Senate. There you will catch the attention of Geta; in all the wrong and darkest of ways— any reblog and comments are greatly appreciated 💙💙💙

TW: for this chapter; mainly violence and cruelty and mentions of death/imprisonment. also this has turned long winded im so sorry- i wish i could just bang out some gratuitous smut but noooo i need 7k of angst before penetration apparently --

The cell you are thrown into is poky small.

When the guards push you into it, you stumble and you fall. Stone breaks your landing. Collapsing in the dusty dirt. Soiling your pretty blue dress. The sea blue churned into mud. Into filth. Spoiled tide.

Bloody grit and sand sticking to your chin that still drips blood. Ichor dripped on your silk chest. Lip throbbing. Body bruised into the colour of nightshade petals.

You twist back, eyes blurred with tears, to see the dark expression under the Roman guards helmet.

Who spits at your feet and calls you a traitorous whore. He was the same one whose ring of fingertip bruises now circled your upper arm. Even though you were in chains.

Your surroundings are grim. There’s no window. No bearings. A bucket with filthy stagnant water sits in the corner.

The air is stale. Packed close and scorching. It reeks of piss and decay. Necrosis. Festering. Yellow bleached skulls. You hear the wailing shouts of men. The rattle of chains. You will be left down here until they come to take you. In whatever form that may be. Beheading. Or a stoning.

Maybe the Emperors really are gods. Those twin golden growling wolves. And now they’ve thrown you down to the underworld. Left you down here with the dying and the dirt and the vermin for company.

The walls are grimy stone, and strung with chains. Torches the only lick of civilised orange light in these otherwise miserable caverns. Rats creep along the floors - the scurry and click of claws. Not that they’ll find any scrap of food near here. There’s none to be had. Not even corpses. Death isn’t merciful enough to visit here.

Bile coats the back of your tongue. Sour and acetic. The men in the cells opposite you m, sneer and call filthy propositions in the dark. Dark so thick it was like wool. Ask to see under your pretty dress. Leering at you. Puckering kisses.

You are a rare drop of clean ocean in this savagery to them. Pure. A blue crocus blossoming in a crack in the barren dessert. Wash away the sin. Their rotten teeth shine in the dark like knives. Hungry and waiting.

You curl into a ball in the corner. Bring your knees to your chest. Cower in the shadows as the rats run past your feet. Clammy tails flicking over your toes.

You sob quietly. Arms folded. One smashed elbow drying to sticky blood, stuck with grit from your collapse.

Your father was torn away before you could see what happened or where they took him. You heard his shouts at Macrinus, his begging, but couldn’t see where he was taken. You couldn’t bear thinking about the alternative.

Your brothers body will be laying in a paupers grave somewhere you’ll never know. Never be able to go and lay orange gladiolus flowers before his headstone. Forgotten. Your mother will be told nothing of this- of you. Of the supposed treason-

Or maybe a garrison of soldiers were already marching on their way to deliver news. To slaughter the traitors family in that white villa by the sea. Smear crimson up the walls- droplets of red splashed on the jasmine petals. You think of the linen shifts your sisters ramble around in. You think how the perfect hues of soft blues and olives greens will be ruined with the garish red of blood-

You squeeze your eyes shut. Drops of salty ocean squeezing down your cheeks. And even that is of no use to you now. Landed sea nymph. Away from the oceans call. And now you’re bound for desolation. Gasping. Dying. Dragged to land by men who want to pick at your scales and leave you raw, bare.

You never should’ve left home. Not for a distant hollow man and his even emptier words.

Sleep doesn’t come to you. Nor are you awake. You slouch, curled on the cold dirty floor and envelop yourself into the grit and dirt. Abrasive on your soft milk-and-honey skin. The cornflower blue of your dress matted with mucky earth.

You enter a state between waking and sleep. A shallow one, spliced with sliced necks, pooling blood on biscuit coloured sand, and your brothers final cry.

Sounds start chipping at you. The slap of metal. Clicking and shuffling steps.

A jolt across your cell rouses you from your purgatory. Head snapping up on your shoulders. When you accustomed your eyes to the dim, the sight of the person unlocking your cell, makes your stomach plummet.

General Acacius.

There’s no mistaking him for another. That unmistakably noble profile. The firm set of his brow. His aquiline nose. The curl and bend of his greying hair. The way he looks at you - it might just be the kindest thing you’ve been awarded in this abrasive hell you find yourself in.

You raise to your wobbly feet. Heart felt like it had taken to thudding in your throat. Choking tempo as it beats there. Muscle thick and ticking on the back of your tongue.

One thought echoed around your mind; this was to be the path to your death.

You were being led by the General of the armies of Rome. It seemed a grand imposition for escorting a mere slip of a traitor to her death.

War has thickened his body. Muscular arms swing from a wide back and shoulders. Sun weathered skin which spoke of his time out in the elements, fighting for the glories and victories of Rome. Age lay in the silver threaded though his hair. The muted pain in his gait of past injuries catching up with him. Body littered with scars that probably ache and tug. Mars made flesh. Glory for Rome. Victory.

You swallowed. Throat dry. Easing your way to the door on uncertain feet. Hands clasped in chains still. They feel heavy as mountains to carry along. He’s come with guards. Four of them. Armed and marching to the beat of his strides. A valorous man indeed.

You step close to the heavily armoured man. Salty tears leaking down your cheeks that you don’t care to bat away. Atleast one spec of home will cling to your skin when life is gone. Even if it is only your silly scared tears.

He leans close to you when you come to the door

Suddenly a warm hand - calluses and hard furrows that only come from years of grasping a sword hilt - is around your forearm to steady. He unlocks the iron heavy chains and cuffs that surround your wrists. The chafing welts they left circling your wrists as the only impression of your imprisonment.

It’s the kindest touch you’ve felt in what seems like years.

You look at him with incredulity. He claims it all off you so easily. You were easy to devour. Every emotion worn open on your face.

Your lashes glued together with tears. Eyes so wide. Big and shining and they must reflect spring sun off beaded waves like a blanket of sapphires. A question lingers, tucked back shyly behind your teeth. Unable to wander off the curl of your tongue.

Why are you unlocking my hands?

He tilts his head at you. It’s almost chiding.

An unexpected warmth flows from his dark eyes. It’s too dark down here in this filthy stuffy pit to discern their colour. They swing somewhere between bronze and amber.

There is a mercy in them, a mercy to him, you’ve seldom seen anywhere else. Let alone a man as slaked in blood as he is.

Maybe it’s mercy- more likely that it’s pity.

He throws the shackles aside to the guard. Eyes for a long moment the way the iron has cut into your wrists. Raw skin. Damaging such a fine beautifully untouched creature.

He’s certain there’s worse damage to come to you.

His voice when he speaks is honey thick. Deep as it carved down all the rock walls around you. Louder than the clanking of chains and the wails from prisoners. Whom, you noticed, suddenly quieted down. They were whipped when they spoke up, you guess. So they go quiet. Like cowed dogs.

“I’ve slaughtered many a traitor in my time. You don’t seem a danger to me, or my men.” He observed. It’s both a warning and a comment.

It’s ridiculous really. The thought you could be a threat. All slippery, skin soft and coveted as a purely formed ocean pearl.

When you are in fact shivering in a silky thin dress the colour of harmless cornflowers. Huddled in your cell corner gently spilling tears. No hint of resistance or fiery hatred. No storm to be found here in your veins that houses entire oceans and their tempestuous wrath.

He knows innocence when he sees it. That rare, very rare, taste that clings to his tongue like sugary sweet ripe fruit. Something to cut and slice through all the ichor and viscera he all too well knows the flavour of. There’s a calmness to you. A damned sort of acceptance. Calm as still waters.

“Come.” He tilts his head. “The likes of you doesn’t belong down here.” You with your stock of noble blood, shouldn’t perish forgotten in these filthy caverns.

He walks to the pathway that you vaguely recall you were led down. The one that ascends steps and up into daylight. Out from the dust and the dirt and the still living bones of the trapped and the damned.

“General. Pray tell me. Is my father dead?” You ask. Whisper a pathetic imitation of your voice. Raw and weak. Choking on the unknown.

His face is stiff. He doesn’t seem inclined to reply.

“I cannot give you answers.” He chides. He turned his back to you. And his brute tone slaughtered any further enquiry you may have felt compelled to make.

You shrink down as you fell into step. Being led in your dirty dress, littered in cuts and scrapes.

Numerous guards form a metal lined wall around and behind you. Shields and swords and the metal clink of their steps. Trapping you. Armoured cage for a pretty captive. You wince when the new sunlight hits your eyes. Bright and acidic. Gulp for thick air that meets your lungs like ambrosia.

You walk and follow, silently. Waiting to come to the place you’d die.

Expecting to be led to gallows. Or an executioners block. Maybe even a court lined with people, one where you’d be trialed to death for a plot you’d no idea even existed. Maybe you’d be shoved into the coliseum on the next fight to be mauled to shreds by lions. Gouged by teeth and claw. Die screaming in the same dirt as your brother did.

It doesn’t come. None of that comes.

Your surroundings change again and you find yourself outside the grand walls of the coliseum. Looking up at the huge enormity of its powerful walls. The golden stone standing proud against the searing blue sky.

You’re marched across the dusty dirt of a yard, to yet another cage; this one held bars just like your previous one. A cage built on the back of a cart that has two horses ready to pull it along the capital roads. The general opens the barred door and gestures guards in around you.

One of the soldiers hit you forwards with a harsh shove. The back of his sword hilt. A hard enough shove for you to know it would purple to a bruise soon enough. Mulberry purple staining your skin at the back of your hip. You barely even yelp.

The general admonishes the soldier harshly for his rough treatment. You were to be brought - unmolested.

A word the Emperor had ordered with a growing wolfish grin.

“Where am I being taken?” You dare ask. Words crack out your throat. Unused. Thirsty. Timid. Ocean starved. All this dry land is making you dizzy and miserable.

He explained. Tone grave. Before you are pulled inside the bars. Caged once more.

“You’ve been summoned.”

“By whom?” You seek.

His eyes weight into you. Wrapped in pity and severity. His words clang around your head. Coffin nails. Just like bars he shut around you.

“You’ve been requested by the Emperor himself.”

~

You struggle to comprehend the enormity of the palace before you.

Palatine hill boasted of the richest and finest palaces in all of Rome. Including the imperial palace. The huge sprawling building. The importance and grandeur of these halls weighted on you like tonne heavy rocks.

You feel like a smear of dirt among these polished white walls and halls. Crawling with servants and guards. Stuffed with so much riches and finery. You’ve heard tale of how Emperors were hand picked by the gods. They were gods to the people they reigned over.

You are escorted once again out of a yard and into this place you’d heard only grand things about. Marched along corridors longer than you’d ever known. You saw fountains spitting streams of clear crystalline water and imperial gardens with huge tropical plants. Statues of marble and tiled mosaic floors that shine as if recently scrubbed.

Guards at every door. Servants clad in cloth finer than you’ve ever owned - or touched - they carry huge platters of bread or bowls spilling over with plump fruits. Large amphora jugs of wine held aloft in careful hands. This seemed like a luxurious heaven. You wondered if you’d see clouds, goddesses and sun beams even from your lowly mortal perch.

The guards keep you in step. Hauled along so fast you feel blisters aching at the balls of your feet. As you’re traipsed in. Bloodied and low. Beaten down. Your split lip has dried to a cut. You worry it with your tongue. The little whip cracks of pain a reminder of your mortality - one you’re certain you will be relieved of soon.

You are brought to a set of huge imperial doors by the general. Who is bid to enter right away.

Your eyes don’t know where to settle first; the room is one of the richest displays you’ve ever seen. Orange fabric the colour of vibrant mandarins, hangs in drapes over the open arches and doorways. Mosiac floors polished to a shine. There’s gold and marble statues and plinths. Paintings in dark deep colours of battle scenes. Swords and blood and male glory. As if it had come to life right before your eyes. This room is threaded with gold and devotion to male gods.

As is the man who sits leisurely awaiting you on a padded lectus. One spilling with tasseled silken cushions to soften his seat. Emperor Geta.

His robes were the same as when you last saw him. Dark jewel colours of black and blue. Gems cast in gold on each finger. Dark cloths with gold items of jewellery on his breast in the form of a broach. So much gold you don’t now where to test your eyes first.

Maybe he is a god. He certainly has all the riches of one. Stood before you as if he were Jupiter and all his delights. Thunderbolts seeping from his powerful fingers.

A golden crown of laurels ringing his light waved hair. His eyes was where true darkness laid; dark kohl ringing eyes the colour of the darkest Umbrian. Earth of shadow.

He was idly picking at food laid on a rose petal strewn table before him. You’ve never seen an offering of food so large and all for one. Cups of wine. Bread. Dried Fruit and a tiered stand flowing with fresh fruit. Some cheeses. Meats and fish. All laid on plates for him to pick over and discard, or saviour at his behest.

You wonder which category you’d fall into- the former appears the more likely.

Your stomach pangs for the smell of the freshly baked bread. The sweetness of the fruit. The tart wine. Tongue dry as sand and sluggish in your mouth.

“There you are. My little sea nymph.” He sneers over at you. One side of his lip curls upwards.

In panic, you bend the knee and bow your head, subservient, meek, and that makes him smile more.

He’s snapped his regal bejewelled fingers and had you bought to him. Bloodied and blinking dust out your eyes. Dirt stroked on your once fine dress. It now hangs in shredded tatters at the hem by your sandals. Blood spots dried like rusted petals. Brutal handling from guards lay in the bruises now scattering your lovely arms and the welts banding your wrists.

You want to cower behind the wall of guards. But you are rudely thrown forwards. Those shadowy eyes trace over your poorly clad form; you do feel like a minuscule scrap of dirt. A crack in a looking glass. A tarnish on something gleaming golden. The smear of imperfection allowed to exist in this heavenly palace.

He sees your hands are loose by your sides; unbound.

“Why is she not in chains, General? Have we stopped chaining our prisoners” He asks. Ire woven into his words. Eyes unflinching and hard and he scowls at Acacius. Who remained unmoved even in the face of his petulant wrath.

“I saw no need to chain her. Emperor. Such a woman in her position could surely not be a threat to you.” It’s a barb. A small sensible thorn, perhaps.

You flick your eyes across to the General.

“I didn’t even have to draw my sword or threaten her. She came willingly.” He tells his Emperor.

Like a sweetly led fool. A sacrificial creature led blindly to her own slaughter.

The guards stand to attention. Unwavering. Wall of armour and swords around your back as you cower. Eyes cast to the floor as you’re being discussed like a slab of meat. Something without autonomy or feeling.

You can feel Getas eyes on you still. Hard and weighty as warm metal. Searing into your skin. The way livestock are branded.

Those eyes are unrelenting. Violating. Scouring you up and down some more. Inspecting the span of your hips. The dip of your waist. The fall of your chest. Plump of your breasts and hips. The once pristine coil of your knotted hair.

Goddesses would envy you. The furies would want to tear down your beauty and goodness in wrath. Scratch out your eyes. Shear your hair. Anything to steal the golden thread of goodness from you.

Juno had blessed you and kept you indeed. Like you’re fresh out of her temple and sparkling with promise. He knew it the second he saw you. He made up his mind to have you then.

You had something. Something wrapped inside yourself like a shell protecting a pearl. Something good and virtuous. He wanted you all for himself.

If he was good as a god, then blessing himself with a wife who was a gift from the most beloved goddess was his right.

He can smell lemons and salt. And wondered if he inhaled the nubile skin of your neck and hair if then he’d find the source of it. Made him want to bite down on that supple neck and leave his mark-

“An unlikely source for a traitor do you not think so, General?” He asks.

General doesn’t answer but his expression is very telling. “My spies tell me she was not in the capital for two days before the suspected treason.” He offers.

Your stomach lurches, manages to tie itself into knots. Clammy sweat prickles your brow and your neck.

“Maybe she wasn’t aware of the plot. An unwilling participant dragged into the sordid scheme.” Geta speculates.

No answer comes from you still.

“Is she mute? I certainly heard her screams well enough at the coliseum.” He mocks. Impatient.

“Speak. Your Emperor demands it.” The General barks at you. You flinch at his sudden raised voice. Finally trailing your eyes from the mosaic tiles.

“I am not mute. Your majesty.” You explain. Feeling the tickle of humiliated tears at your eyes.

“I can offer no plea for innocence, except the truth that I had no knowledge as to my fathers schemes.”

Because no such schemes existed. Macrinus should be here in chains instead of you. The lying snake. He orchestrated the whole thing.

Geta savours your words. Drinks them in the way he’d taste wine. Rolls them around in his mouth.

He merely nods slightly. You hold your breath for his response.

“Come.” He sneers. “There’s something I want you to see.”

He guides you across to the huge marble pillars which guarded the open mouth of the balcony.

You walk behind him and come to the balustrade of white marble. Peering over the ledge. Out into the courtyard below where a cluster of soldiers and horses are gathered close.

“The soldiers will ride on my command.” He tells you. Sick delight in the power he wields.

When they pull away, and the sight below is exposed to you, your entire body wrenches forwards. Desperation grips you violently. A cry shattered out your throat.

They were going to quarter your father before your very eyes.

He stood, small and beaten, blood pouring from a gash to his head, in a filthy cloth tunic, because they’d humiliated him. Had him stripped of his noble senate robes.

His limbs each tied to separate riders on separate horses. When they galloped off in different directions, he would be torn to pieces. Barbaric.

Through a blackened eye and a swollen brow your father gazes up at you. Despair on his face. A once strong man brought so very low. It wounds you.

Geta is drinking in your every expression. The full horror and pain writ across your pretty face.

“No. No, mercy, please. Your majesty. I beg of you. Mercy.” You babble.

Eyes wide with desperation. Voice breaking as surely as your heart was. Cracking in two in your chest. Sharp as glass shards. Clinking to pieces sharp enough to make your insides bleed anew.

“Why should I spare a liar? Salacia?” He asks you. “Why should I not make an example of what happens to traitors in my court…” He demands. Eyes locked on you.

“He’s offered me things I don’t want or need to delay his death. Money. Information. I cannot help but feel it’s inevitably drawn him closer to it.”

He raises his hand, calmly. You sob. The riders bolt to attention. One more move and that would be it.

You flew for him. Unrestrained. Desperate. Willing to beg on your knees if needs be. You put yourself in front of him. Put your hands to him.

The General and his guards drew swords and came close. Geta turned and and ushered them back with a harsh wave of his fingers. He was enjoying this too much. The nature of despair- the clammy stench of desperation pouring off you like ocean waves.

You could only think of one instance that might appease his lust for blood-

Dying in the place of your elder for his crimes was all you had. All you clutched in your empty injured hands.

“Let me take his place. Put the bonds on me instead. Let me take his punishment. Make me the example.” You beg. Tears shiver and fall down your cheeks. Burning drips of salt spear at your lash-line.

In your desperation you cling to Getas chest. Your nails raking gold and the fine threads of the fabric coat he wore. He didn’t seem to mind. He seemed amused by it.

“Little Salacia.” The way he used your name with a brazenly satisfied smirk altered something in you.

An arm winds itself around your hip. Cups the back. Pressed a bruise that you want to hiss in pain at. But can’t.

His other hand rings your neck. Ghosts his thumb over the curve of your chin. Smearing tears with the gold and jewels on his fingers. You gasp. Air emptying out your lungs in one fell swoop.

“You have so much more to offer your Emperor than your death.” He says quietly. His meaning became intimate. Wrapped in insinuation.

Your mouth opened, no sound came. Your lower lip trembles. You glance down at your father who is crying. Straining, wrenching forwards at his bonds. Desperate to keep you from this.

Geta takes his hand and runs his hand through one knotted lock of it for a moment. Leaning in to savour the smell of you. He moans with it.

Definitely lemons. Mixed with something briny salt, the ocean. In odes to your name.

Your father sees this. The closeness. The insulation that this man would take you. He shouts from his bonds below. Begging.

“By the gods, spare her.” He cries.

“Not my daughter. It is my crime. Take me. I am here. Take me!”

With your father and oldest brother dead, your mothers and sisters would be destitute. They would be reduced to beggars. Brought low. With him alive they were respectable- reduced in honour perhaps, but at least they’d live.

Tears bite at your eyes. You let them. Blink them away.

“What’s say you? My patience is wearing thin…” Geta bullies. Hand dropping from your hair.

It pushes you to act.

“Servitude of my body. I will enslave myself to your every whim. Emperor.” You say through tears. Every sordid whim.

“Exile him.” Youoffer.

Geta’s eyes gleam to that. Intrigued. You would exile and dishonour your own father?

“Exile him from Rome and the Senate, and send him back to Corsica to be with my mother and sisters. Where he is needed.” You implore.

“And what of you, how will you serve me?” He drawls.

“I will stay here and act as your servant in whatever manner you wish.” You accept.

“I have servants. Little nymph. I don’t require any more servants. I don’t need whores or courtesans. What I do require, however, is a wife. One who will give me strong heirs.” He smiles. Clutching your hip in a strong, thick fingered hand.

Your throat constricts. Tears squeeze. As if he’s fisted a hand around your throat and squeezed and choked until you gave. Melted into his hands pliant.

Geta has you exactly where he wanted you. As he planned.

“I need your word you’ll spare him if I agree.” You counter. Eyes hard as diamond tips. Still watery and half logged in tears.

“My word is bond. He will leave this city unharmed.” He assures. Displeased at your doubt.

Clever little nymph, too. To bargain with a god.

Asking an Emperor like him to pledge his fealty. Were you any other commoner he’d have your tongue cut out for that insolence.

Then again, cornered creatures will snap and bite and claw for survival. They will do anything.

“Then I agree.” You cry. “I accept.”

His smirk grows. Wolfish. Unsticking a coil of hair from the blood on your cheek. And he’s close. Too close for your comfort.

“You will be my Empress.” He decides.

“My wife and my property. I will own you in every manner there is. You will give me healthy sons that will dethrone my brother.”

Those words make you shrivel inside.

What have you just agreed to. You may have delayed your fathers demise. But it appears you’ve just turned the sword aimed his way to your belly. Chalked a target on your own back instead- an eye for an eye-

He turns, keeping you in his hold, he lowers his hand.

“Exile that snake out of Rome. This instant-“ He orders sharply. “Take him to the city walls and tell him never to return or I will have his head on a platter for me and my wife.”

You watch with thinly veiled relief as the guards come in to cut his bonds and drag him by the collar.

You want to run to him. You want to embrace him and tell him to return to mother with kind words and love. He is dragged away out of sight.

Bleeding and battered. But safe.

You lock eyes. Same colour as yours, shaded ocean, surrounded by bloated skin and blood sheeting his face. Cut with paths of tears rolling down, before he is gruffly marched away. Dazed, bound, and bleeding. He is choking on his sobs too.

You didn’t even get to say goodbye. Nothing. No familial words. No kindness.

He was torn from you. Now your every whim is stolen away. Dictated by this man. This cruel stranger. One who would bed you and keep you cowed like a broodmare.

You stood there. Watching down on the scuffled marks in the dirt where he’d once been. Dust clouding. Now empty. It seemed like an illusion. Had it all just passed like air. Like a warm sea breeze. Your life altered in one brief moment of mercy and begging.

Geta turns to his General. “You are dismissed. Leave. Go win my wars.” He sneers curtly.

Acacius took his leave with a frown and a bow. Look directed to you as he did. “Emperor. Empress.”

The Emperor snapped his fingers. And within seconds, servants scurried silently from other rooms. A handful of maidens came. Long hair unbound. Robes of orange and blue. He snapped his orders at them. They folded their hands in front of themselves. Heads low as they obeyed.

“Escort my new bride to her chambers. Have her bathed and made presentable. Put her in something decent. We will marry at dusk.” He informs. Glancing you up and down with a leer.

“Then she will grace my bed. Doing her duty like a proper wife.”

He strides over to you where you stand on the balcony, the marble thing holding you up. All strength sapped. Your knees and arms and bones were water. Not marrow.

It was always foam whipped off the waves that made you up. And now you sagged with it. Plaint and drowning. A sad drowned maiden in her brook. A doomed saint of the sea.

“Leave her hair unbound. I like it down.” He orders. Wrenching his hand to the back of your neck. You wither under his touch. He senses this.

“Be grateful. I spared your filthy treasonous father. But I can still make your existence an unpleasant one if I choose.” He warns.

He leans close to claim your mouth in a kiss so sudden and brazen it makes you weak.

His lips are pillow soft and anything but delicate. His tongue seeks your mouth, licks the blood off the healing cut. Moans sordidly when he does. He kisses like a starving hound.

A trail of spit connects your mouths when he pulls away. He smears it to your chin with a finger. Rubs his essence into your skin to stay forever stained.

“I eagerly await to taste more of you later. Empress. Don’t disappoint me. It’s not a wrath you want to risk.”

“Yes, Emperor.” You sigh.

He leaves you so quick, you almost keel over. The servants wait patiently to escort you out in his absence.

In the faraway sky, over the capital, new clouds sag and bloat. Darkly stalking across the once clear blue. The sky turns to grey and churning clouds. It’s too bad you couldn’t see the sea. You had a feeling there would thrashing, heaving storms and waves double the size of these damned palace walls.

Thunder crashes in the distant gathering dark. The ocean wanted you back. Neptune’s rage for the loss of you. You picture home. Humble white walls. The wind so fierce it ripped petals clean off the climbing vines of jasmine. The lemon trees swaying and rocked violently. News of treason and abduction reaching your sisters’ horrified ears. Your mothers cries in situ with the storm.

You watch at the sky until rain pelts the marble walls like lashes. Rain dots your skin. Cold stroking your hair and shoulders. Marring dark blue arrows down your ruined dress. Maybe you’re grieving-

A servant girl has to hook a hand on your shoulder and kindly try to urge you inside. Your tears entwined with the howling rain. It feels like that’s all that’s left of you.

~

Tagging in the hopes this finds its way to the right people- thank you--

@ceriseheaven @lurkingprincess @ramona-thorns @joequinnswhore @iliveforotps @eddiesskittle @roosterisdaddy36 @rose-tinted @lluviamg06 @ravensfromvalhalla @fujiihime @youaremyfamiliar @captain-tch @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @svenyves @sammararaven @feralgoblinbabe @groupie-love-71 @andromeda-andromeda @gvtosbith @munsonswhoresposts2 @shenevertricks1831 @hazzaismyreligion @harrys-titties @anaisweird @cinnamoncunt @red-lipstick-bisexual @wheels-of-despair @tvserie-s-world @callmeloverr @ho-for-joequinn-fics @bettyfrommars @rip-quizilla @songforeddiemunson @usedtobecooler @peachesandfiends @littlelioncub43 @heyndrix @babybluebex @blueywrites @joejoequinnquinn @cool-nick-miller @sheneedsrocknroll92 @rehfan @pedgito @dracomaledicte @gamingaquarius @mypoisonedvine @sharp-and-swift @chaptersleftunwritten

[tadpolesonalgae]

Moon Cycle

Dark!Rhysand x reader

a/n: this goes along with desk pet and play-mate 🧡💛

warnings: menstruation, mentions of non-con, references to play-mate, fluff (kind of?), hurt/comfort?

word count: 2,501

——————————————————————————————————————————————

You wake to waves of heat rolling off your skin in wet waves, feeling damp and hyper-sensitive to temperature.

A single shift of your body, and you can feel the slickness between your thighs, far too spread out to be the results of his occasional midnight trips. You swallow thickly, heart thumping heavily as the first aches blossom through the right side of your abdomen, legs bending at the knees in attempts to relieve tension, but to little relief.

Gritting your teeth, trying to calm your pulse, you push back the blanket, keeping it as far from your legs as possible, hoping to keep the carnage to a minimum. Even in the dark the bloody patches are clear to see, eyes already well-adjusted to pick out the dry stains on the previously fluffy fur. Fear dilutes your scent, and as quietly as possible you attempt to roll from the floor bed, pulling the already-bloody blanket close should more begin to drip down your thighs.

Thankfully the blood hasn’t yet passed your knees, but now you’re upright you can feel things shifting, a wave of heat and nausea suctioning the strength from your muscles. On wobbly feet you tiptoe from the bed chambers, praying to the Mother you don’t wake him, fearing for your life as prey does near its hunter—a beast raised to kill.

You manage to make it to the large washroom, immediately dropping the blanket in favour of the roll beside the latrine, hastily tearing a sizeable few sheets away to fold up and place between your legs, temporarily buying you time to clean the murder scene on your inner thighs. Easing in a breath, you pull off the shorts, heading over to the basin, never having been more grateful for the instant water, turning on the cold tap as you attempt to rub the stains free.

Minutes later and you’re still scrubbing, aware of the blanket at your back that’s still caked in blood, so you push it into the empty bath, running cold water as silently as possible in the hopes of beginning to loosen the grip of the blood while you deal with the shorts. After a while you realise it’s the best it’s going to get, ringing the now off-white cotton over the side of the basin, refocusing to your thighs.

Fatigue weighs heavily on your body, eyes wishing to close but adrenaline keeps you awake and alert, moving through the familiar motions of removing more of the latrine roll and dampening it under cold water, dabbing at the dried stains, dislodging the grip it has on your skin. Aches become more prominent, a fresh wave of heat sweeping through you and you want to cry—but there’s no time for that. Instead you continue working on rubbing your skin clean, easing away the dark redness that’s blotchy and stubborn to move.

At last you’re free, and you turn to the blanket, having been left to soak for a while. You try layering roll over the stains in attempt to absorb the colour, but it seems firmly lodged in, and you don’t want to rub it which will result in pushing the stains deeper, only spreading them. You glance around the bathroom, finding twisted gratitude for Rhys’ luxurious taste. It’s not perfect, but it’s worth a try.

You reach for the powdered bath salts, drying your hands before tapping out some of the fine dust over the afflicted area, hoping it will do the trick. Your pulse kicks up, and you find yourself searching for something to do instead of anxiously waiting. You’ll have to find something to put on your lower half, but he rarely lets you know where clothing is kept—it’s rare enough you’re even allowed night robes since he sees no point in hiding your body.

Panic thrums beneath your skin, and you briefly consider a trip down to the kitchen where there must be vinegar, and if you’re lucky, something else acidic, like a lemon or two. But then you would risk waking him, and the thought of him finding out the mess you’ve made is—

“I knew you’d pretty in blood,” a sultry voice drawls from the doorway.

You spin around weakly, hands dropping between your thighs so he won’t be able to see the roll you’ve neatly folded up. His violet eyes flick about the bathroom with analytical care, cataloguing the displacement of various items. A fresh ache blooms in your thighs, and you find your back hunching, having to support yourself on the basin, fear making you sick.

His attention settles on you, and you feel like hot coals are being pressed to your bare flesh, trembling beneath his cold gaze. Soft, sensual lips part, about to speak, and the terror slices deeper, making you stumble, loosing your grip on the marble. The world spins, and you brace for the racket of pain that will undoubtedly burst through your spine and skull, yet the impact never comes.

He hisses, powerful arms wrapped around your body, holding you securely flush to his chest. Your muscles lock at the proximity, able to feel his gaze boring into your cheek, but your eyes are squeezed shut, lips parted as bubbles of pressure push up from your abdomen, glistening along your hip. Rhys stiffens, hearing the shallow breaths, aware of how little you’re resisting his touch, how greatly you’re struggling to even stand on your own.

You flutter in and out, lower stomach throbbing and it’s all you can do to keep your feet on the floor, unable to fully support yourself, remaining in his intrusive hold.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” He asks lowly, grip tight on your shoulder, able to scent your fear. Enjoying it a little more than usual.

“I didn’t know it was happening tonight or I would have prepared better,” you mumble snappily, legs trembling as you force yourself to stand, one palm settling over the pain, the other braced against the basin. Rhys chuckles lowly, pressing himself flush against your bare back, arms wrapping snuggly around your waist, fingers grazing the soft skin of your stomach. “Where do you think you’re going?” He muses, tracing feather-light patterns over your abdomen.

“I need…I need to clean the pallet,” you mutter, unable to raise your attention from the floor, palm still attempting to soothing the cramping.

Rhys hums nonchalantly, but you could hear the wicked grin on his lover’s mouth from the next room over, discomfort zipping across your skin, squirming beneath his touch, only a thin layer of cotton between you—likely the thinnest he could have made. “But you’ve woken me up now,” he reminds, hot lips brushing the shell of your ear, and you shiver with disgust.

You’re prepared to plead for disuse for the rest of the night, but he’s raising you into his arms, easily sweeping you off your feet and you struggle weakly. “Rhys, I can’t,” you whisper sharply, hands locked over the broad width of his shoulders, bare and hot beneath your fingertips. “You can’t— You’ll tear me apart,” you plead quietly, stiffening when violet flicks to you.

He carries you over to his bed, setting you down, pallet having vanished and he pulls away. “I don’t think I will,” he replies, smiling faintly in the now candle-lit room, and you’re thankful he hasn’t turned to the faelights. “You’re far too valuable to be wrecked in a single night,” he drawls, bringing your knuckles to his cruelly soft mouth. You hiss at him weakly, hardly able to pull away—as if that’s something you’re normally capable of.

But then he’s turning away, humming a deep, rich tune from his chest, turning to a chest of drawers and pulling something out: a new pair of shorts. Skimpier than the last, but you can’t be picky here. What it takes you a moment to notice is the linen lining the crotch, thick padding that will be suitable for your first night. His sensual lips stretch in a feline grin, “you didn’t think I was going to fuck you while you were bleeding did you, little lamb?”

Humiliation flushes your body, shame sitting thick at the back of your throat and you duck your head, unable to fight on two fronts with your body trying to tear you apart. He laughs lowly, dropping the shorts onto your stomach, watching as you try to wriggle into them with as much dignity as possible. “It wouldn’t be the first time you’d done something so immoral,” you manage to reply, though your voice lacks its usual venom, tender from embarrassment. He hums, the sound settling low in your stomach as he walks to the other side of the bed.

While his back is turned, you reach down to remove the latrine roll sheets you’d folded up. But they vanish from your fingers.

“And I can assure you it won’t be the last,” he muses silkily, settling close to your side, moving with that lethal silence again, cat-soft paws carrying him like a ghost. You flinch from his proximity, huddling deeper into your clothes in attempts to hide from his overwhelming presence. “I wasn’t doubting you,” you whisper hoarsely, causing his smile to widen by a fraction, eyes gleaming with hunger and you quickly look away, disinclined to tempt the beast before you.

“Finally starting to get a hang of it,” he murmurs, settling on his back, pulling the covers up over the two of you, and you initially stiffen from the touch of his sheets, imbued with his scent. So crisp and clean.

You turn on your side, anxious to be as far from him as possible, confused by the curve-ball he’s thrown tonight. A few moments later the candles extinguish, and you flinch as he rolls to his side, arms wrapping around your waist almost delicately, dragging you back to be tucked into his body. You don’t dare ask what he’s doing, fear already present in your bloodstream before he’s nosing at your throat.

Shock zaps through you when he drags the tip of his tongue across the skin, teeth nipping softly soon after, and you shudder. Despite him suggesting he wouldn’t touch you tonight, a deep sense of unease crawls below your flesh, wriggling and squirming like worms in mud. You flinch when his palm flattens over your stomach, the tremors becoming more pronounced, knowing the intensity of pain he could inflict at any second. Yet heat warms your abdomen, sinking into you with soothing grace, instantly easing the pressure contained beneath your skin.

“I can’t have my favourite thing suffering, now can I?” He muses quietly beside your ear, nipping lightly at the lobe. “What sort of High Lord would that make me if I didn’t take care of my subjects? Is there anything else you want?” You tremble in his arms, confused and afraid, unsure whether you can take him at face value tonight—he hadn’t seemed angry despite the blood staining the no-doubt expensive bedding. Maybe he just doesn’t care.

“What are you playing at?” You breathe weakly, aches slightly soothed from the heat of the water bottle, thighs pressing together, curling closer to your stomach, his palm keeping the heat pressed against your skin. “I’m capable of not playing with you, lamb,” he says, lips curving into a smirk as they brush the side of your throat, making your toes curl. “As much as I’m against it.”

“You’re disgusting,” you hiss, pathetically trying to wriggle from his hold, making him hum approvingly. “We both know you love it,” he croons, kissing up your neck. “Love being my perfect little toy.” Mortification burns across your skin, wild heat fluttering through your flesh at the reminder of the crude things he’d manipulated you into saying. “That was under duress,” you whisper, flushing intensely, “it means nothing.”

“It means nothing?” He hums, able to hear the mirth in his voice, free hand gliding up your sternum to brush his fingers over your collar bones. “Then why are you so embarrassed?”

“You’re being crass,” you hiss, shaky hands trying to push his away from your abdomen—you can hold the water bottle by yourself. “Am I?” He grins, and you flinch when his fingers interleaf with your own, trapped in his grip even as you try to pull away. “I could be much worse, if it would help distract you.”

“Stop it,” you say, wriggling uncomfortably. “I want you to leave me alone.”

“That’s cruel,” he remarks casually, teeth grazing sensitive skin. “I was hoping you’d ask for something nicer. No warm milk? Heated blanket?” You seethe, shifting enough to shoot him with a heated glare. “That’s vile.”

He pauses, blinking once as your eyes lock, before his features fill with barely suppressed laughter. Disgust squirms beneath your flesh at his lightheartedness. “You’re a fucking psycho,” you mutter, making to turn your back on him again, but his hand skates higher, forearm pressing between your breasts as he grips your jaw, forcing your to face him, fingers biting into your cheeks. “You’re the one whose mind was in the gutter. I was offering genuine help,” he drawls atop your mouth, able to feel as you suck in a sharp inhale at his sudden proximity. Embarrassment flushes your skin as you realise your mistake, eyes widening marginally.

“Of course,” he murmurs, sensuous lips curving in a suggestive tilt. “If you’d like that…” Violet seems to gleam with wicked delight at the shock on your features, quick to scrunch with forced disgust. “You’re an unloveable monster, Rhys.”

“I know,” he whispers, before pressing his mouth to your own, hot and wet. His admission is washed away as his tongue dips in, velvet soft as it strokes against your own.

You hiss as arousal blossoms unfairly in your abdomen, clashing with the glistening aches that are plucking across your thighs and stomach, pulling away from him forcefully, breathing heavily as you curl tighter, desperate to alleviate the pain.

“You know,” he murmurs close to your ear, “we could try something else.” You stiffen as his fingers tease the band of your shorts, lightly snapping it against your hip, careful to avoid the source of your pain. A strangled whimper breaks from your lungs, squeezing your eyes shut, hands clutching his crisp and clean sheets tight, preparing for him to inflict his cruelty.

Yet to your surprise he’s quiet, skin prickling as his attention brushes over your cheek. Then he hums softly, hand drawing away as he settles at your back, the bare heat of his chest warming you, body draped over your own, pulling you closer so you’re tucked against the powerful lines of him. Allowing you time to rest.

You remain tense, conditioned to expect violation, but his hands remain still, the only movement being his thumbs, oscillating in slow, smooth motions.

“Relax,” he murmurs, nosing at the crown of your head. “Rest for tonight.”

——————————————————————————————————————————————

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy @decomposing-writer @soph1644

rhys taglist: @azrielshadows1nger

[trancylovecraft]

can i have yandere kokushibo with a oiran fem reader who is very talented when it comes to singing dancing and arts i want like uh heian period hehe lets just jump back to heian era. sooo here oiran reader likes sakura blossom since kid because it always remind her of her dead mother and when kokushibo kidnapped her and locked her forever in the house he found the oiran reader will also tried to plant sakura blossom outside his house to keep her calm and know that she is still safe or whatever she's still fine

whenever she sees a beautiful sakura blusom (i know this is so random but this is my first time requesting T-T)

(KNY) YANDERE! KOKUSHIBO x READER: Renewal Season

Turn. Left foot. Right foot. Spin. Stray.

The movements of the girls body seemed to flow throughout the crowd like water. Her hips swayed along to the roaring music of the festival.

The people inside bustling crowd around her couldn't help but stop and stare as she danced past them, Only leaving a faint scent of Cherry blossom in her wake.

She gripped a branch of Sakura blossoms, Which in the dance she was doing would usually substitute for Wisteria instead. However the flush pink of the petals set her apart from the other dancers making their way around the festival.

Not to mention her soft voice singing along to the music, Of which one could only hear as she passed by.

The celebrations roared in honour of the announcement of the Heian period. Named after the city the festivities took place in, Heian-Kyo. The capital of Japan had been moved by the emperor Kammu.

So of course the party was in full swing. The courtesan houses that were hosted in the more scummy part of town of course had to take full advantage of this. They sent some of their workers to perform out in the streets to try and attract business.

This included [F/N], The respectable Oiran of the Haruka-House. Who was known for her particular finesse with a koto, Her enticing voice that resonated within your stomach and her particular adoration of Sakura.

She was beautiful, Both in looks, personality and movement. Her hair was decorated with bejewelled pins of all colour, All tied up into a beautiful style pinned up at the top. Her kimono was lined with gold twine and coloured a deep red which swayed about like a hypnotists watch as she moved.

The stares burned into her figure, Warm stares. The made her shift uncomfortably and tried to avert her own gaze away from theirs. She exhaled. You're an Oiran, You should be use to this by now, [F/N].

Push through it, [F/N]. You know exactly why you're doing this.

She swayed around again, Moving throughout the crowd swiftly. The stares only intensified as she went along.

She could pick out a particular stare from wherever it came from, She couldn't tell.

While the crowd's stare was warm, A light boil that made her squirm. The stare she could pick out was hot. Burning hot.

The kind of stare that made a shiver crawl up her back and make her shoulders tighten up in disgust.

She felt uncomfortable from the feeling. As soon as she took another turn she pulled the cherry branch up to her dolled up face and inhaled, Letting the subtle aroma invade and take over her senses as she closed her eyes. Letting the smell swallow her whole.

☆♡☆

The delicate breeze blew over the roseate coloured forest in the neigh afternoon. The light cold wind brushed over the woman's porcelain skin and ran through her hair, Making it sway lightly in the wind.

She examined a branch of the sakura tree's lining the forest and surrounded her families house, Which sat in a clearing on top of a valley overlooking the entire woodland. The house of a modest size, It's windows were open so the spring breeze could envelop the inside rooms and bring about an uplifting mood to the entire family living in it.

There was a rocky stone pathway leading up to the front steps of the house. The rocks that were lodged into the path were jagged and rough. Showing that they haven't been tended to in a good long while.

"Mum! Mum!" A young voice called out in the distance.

The woman looked up from the branch to see her daughter clamber down the porch steps and sprint over to her mothers position at the edge of the hill.

Her mother turned around just in time to see [F/N] jump onto her, Giving her mother a rather aggressive hug.

"Ah! [F/N]" Her mother exclaimed. She looked away from the sakura to look down at her daughter.

"Did I scare you? Did I scare you this time?!" [F/N] giggled. She shook her mother a little in excitement.

Her mother was graced with a small smile and she nodded. "Yes, You got me very good. Gave me the fright of my life, Sweetheart." Her mother laughed and [F/N]'s face lit up with achievement.

"Yay!" [F/N] cried and jumped down from hugging her mother who stumbled from the unexpected movement. The sakura branch she was holding was tugged along with her, Causing her mother to gasp.

"Careful! [F/N]. You almost made me break a branch off." Her mother tutted and went to examine the branch for any damage.

[F/N] pouted.

"I don't get it, Mum. Why do you like the big pink trees so much" She huffed, Stomping her foot.

Despite her mother's constant love and affection [F/N] couldn't help but feel a little envy towards the plants. Her mother adored them and was always the first one out of the house to look at the blooming roseate leaves. Not to mention her kimono was patterned with cherry blossom designs.

Her mother hummed.

"I don't really have a reason why, [F/N]. I don't really need one." She said. Not taking her eyes off the blooming leaves.

"Still! What do they even do?" [F/N] scoffed.

Her mother finally looked away from the leaves and gave her daughter a knowing smile, She sighed and crouched down onto one knee to look at her daughter straight in the eyes.

"Well… The reason they are here is to bring forth spring. As the sakura appear and go they will leave behind green leaves. That's a use, Without them you wouldn't be able to play in the fallen leaves which I know you love so much" Her mother explained. She booped [F/N]'s nose to which she giggled.

"I know, I know! But still. Is that really all?" [F/N] asked. Her mother shook her head.

"Well they also mean things too, [F/N]" She said. [F/N]'s face scrunched up in confusion, But decided to listen along.

"As the blossoms come and go they can symbolise life and the short time we have here." Her mother started, She turned back to the leaves.

"As the sakura tree's disappear in favour of the leaves they come back just as strong the next year meaning renewal." Her mother finished, Her voice filled with wonder.

[F/N] looked up at her mother. The same sense of wonder she felt seemed to rise in [F/N] as well.

"Just as strong?" [F/N] asked.

Her mother nodded and looked down at [F/N] as she smiled.

"Now come on you little rascal, Your father needs to head out to work soon and we better go prepare him breakfast." Her mother laughed and grabbed [F/N]'s little hand. Helping balance her on the heavy rocky pathway she set off.

She stumbled a little on the pathway, Lightly pulling [F/N] in her movements. She sighed.

"Better fix this pathway soon. I swear.. One day me, You or your father will have such a bad trip that our heads will be spinning for days" She complained softly to her daughter.

"Is that something we can do together?" [F/N] asked, Looking into her mothers eyes for the answer.

Her mother smiled.

"We'd be better off to wait until the summer. The petals from the cherry tree's will be an issue when they get onto the path." She explained. [F/N] tilted her head in confusion

"..That means yes, Sweetheart." She confirmed.

"Yay!" The young girl sqeaked.

[F/N] giggled. She followed her mother back to their house as sakura leaves fell from the tree's behind them.

☆♡☆

The festival had ended not so long ago.

While celebrations were still occurring their intensity wasn't as big as it was earlier. [F/N] felt so very tired from the performing, Her muscles ached and her only desire right now was to get an early nights sleep.

Her usual makeup and hair-do she wore was lightly ruffled from the events of the night.

With the calming down of the festivities [F/N] had long ago returned to the house of which she worked. As she entered she couldn't help but notice the rather large crowd at the entrance.

Her performance had done well, Really well. Both her flowing movements and her god-sent voice had attracted a large amount of men to her house, All more than willing to pay for their time with her.

[F/N] gripped the sakura branch tighter. The men had noticed her arrival and had rushed up to her. [F/N] stumbled back from the sudden intrusion as the men crowded around her and started yelling.

"Me first, I got here early and missed out on half the festival for this!"

"No way. I got here way earlier man, Back off"

"Liar!"

One of the men raised a fist and was about to swing it at the other. However a tutting sound rung loud from the far side of the room making the entire crowd drop silent.

Haruka-sama, The woman who owned and managed the house had quieted the crowd.

Haruka-sama was a small old lady who had a rather grouchy face and a greed stronger than any other. Her beady little eyes looked around at the crowd with an opportunistic glare, Similar to how a fox would glare at a defenceless rabbit.

"Step away from the girl now.. Step away!" Haruka said, Pushing her way easily through the crowd of men she grabbed [F/N] by the hand and pulled her out.

She dragged [F/N] to the front of the house and started positioning her body to be straight and proper. As she did [F/N] felt beads of sweat build up on her forehead and her jaw trembling.

Haruka-sama finished dolling [F/N] up. She seen the nervousness on [F/N]'s face before shooting her a warning look. One that [F/N] recognised well.

Pull yourself together, You're the Oiran of this house. Steady that jaw and wipe off the sweat and make me some money.

Despite [F/N]'s dear want to stand up to Haruka-sama, The want to deny all of these men and go to bed. She couldn't, Her contract could be revoked in a moment. She couldn't afford to lose it for a moment.

So instead of speaking up, She clenched her jaw and lightly wiped off the sweat from her brow. Her lips wrenched themselves into a lovely little smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. She clasped her hands low and stiffened up her body, Giving her a more mannequin look than human.

Haruka hobbled round to the front of the house and faced the crowd of customers with a wide smile.

"Alright, Alright! It may be closing hours but I'm sure our lovely Oiran here can spare another session, But to decide who gets the slot we'll start a bidding. How about we start at about… 20,776 yen. Any takers?" Haruka called out to the crowd which went wild on the announcement of the bidding.

"25,970!" One of the louder men called out.

"27,701!" Another yelled.

The crowd kept shouting out higher and higher numbers, [F/N] felt her body shake despite her constant effort of steadying herself.

Voices yelled even higher than the numbers as the crowd grew closer to the front of the house.

The customers eyes burned into her like hot coals and she was scrutinized by all in the room. Her clasped hands built up sweat, Her breath steady yet heavy. She tried to look away when the sound of the shoji doors to the house slid open.

"500,000 yen."

The room went silent.

Haruka-sama's beady little eyes widened in shock to the man who had suddenly appeared, The money waved in his hand. Haruka's jaw opened slack.

"Sold!" She screamed, Pointing her finger to man standing in the doorway with the most giddy joy she had felt in years.

[F/N]'s body went rigid. Her mind went wild at the number, 500,00?! Who is this man? Who would want to pay that much just to have a single session with her of all people.

The man was tall, Taller than anyone else in the room. He wore a loose purple nagagi kimono with a intricate hexagonal pattern woven into it, It looked expensive which [F/N] figured. He also wore a dark hakama and a white uwa-obi as a belt tied fit around his waist which also held a katana and sheathe.

His hair was tied up into a pony-tail with spiky tips that faded into red at the ends. She looked to his face, However she was unable to see it as he wore a rather large kama, The typical hat a samurai would wear, That covered his face entirely.

He stood there in the doorway waving the money. And despite his face being covered [F/N] could still feel his stare through the thing… It felt hot.

[F/N] shivered as she remembered it was the same hot feeling from earlier, The man must of been the one looking at her during the festival.

All of crowd from earlier was hushed out of the house by Haruka-sama, Muttering curses to the final bidder who didn't seem to react to any of their words.

Finally when the house was evacuated. All there was left was [F/N], The man and Haruka-sama.

They sat in total silence. [F/N] stared dead eyed at the man, Who seemed to look back at her with that inferno of a gaze. She squirmed under the weight of it.

Suddenly a hand clapped out of nowhere.

They both turned to Haruka. Whose usual grouchy, Scrunched up face was contorted into a wide grin.

"Well then.." She said.

Haruka hobbled over to the sliding shoji door and pulled it open, She bowed down in respect to the man.

"After you."

☆♡☆

The tension in the air was thick, So much so that you could feel it seep into your skin.

The room the pair sat on was located on the highest floor of the courtesan house that towered over the other buildings around it. The room was home to a balcony that looked out over the dark night in Heian-Kyo, Only lit up by the paper lanterns from the long gone festival and the stars looking over the bustling streets like eyes.

The room was home to a small centre table, A dresser with a polished mirror on top and filled to the very brim with Sakura themed decorations. From paintings, To bedsheets to the very plant itself potted on the furniture. It was everywhere. Even the light scent resonated in the air.

It however, Just wasn't enough to calm the girl down as [F/N] nervously tuned the delicate strings on her koto from across the table. A single bead of sweat rolled down her side brow. Her eyes stead set on the knobs to avoid the hot gaze from across the table. Hot. She recognised it, He must of been the source of the scorching stare from within the crowd somewhere. It didn't help her situation in the slightest as it just made [F/N]'s figure freeze up, Her body on guard.

Ever since Haruka had lead them to [F/N]'s room he hadn't said a word, Just went to sit down on the tatami mat, Unmoving. The Kama overshadowed his face, Making it impossible to see his expression.

Was he sad? Angry? Or was [F/N] just overthinking things, It had been a long night after all and she was prone to a little paranoia now and then.

The sweat bead dropped to the floor and hit her kimono sleeve. Her lips twitched as she managed to drag her gaze up to the man, Whose large hat still covered his eyes. Twisting her mouth into the usual smile you'd see on an Oiran, She spoke.

"..If I may ask sir, What is a man like you doing around here? Samurai don't often come around these parts, You know." Her voice was light in tone. A tone that was friendly and gentle in nature, Enticing him on.

The man didn't make a move to speak however. Just sat there. Staring.

Her face quirked, Only for a moment.

"What about your name, Sir?" She tried again, Her voice only lilting in tone to a slight.

Again. Nothing.

[F/N] felt her hands on her koto clench up, Her eyes following the movement. The feeling felt-

"Kokushibo."

[F/N] looked up. The surprise pulsating in her chest as she realised the man, Now Kokushibo, Had spoken to her. Her previously ridged form fizzled into a more relaxed posture, The awkward air in the room dissolving just a little bit.

"Kokushibo.. What an interesting name" She said, Letting the name roll on her tounge. She stopped tuning her koto and thought for a moment, Pondering over the spelling

"I believe the kanji for that can mean 'Black Death'. If I am correct." She asked. The reason why a mother would name their child such a macabre title eluded her.

Kokushibo simply nodded.

"And yours is.. [F/N]. Yes?" He spoke. His voice was gravelly and deep that held a commanding undertone that made a shiver run down [F/N]'s back.

Stilling her form she nodded.

"While I do not understand the kanji.. Of your first name. I do believe your last name can mean.. 'Poetic Voice'" He said.

[F/N]'s brows raised. Her last name, Kotone. Did in fact mean those exact words. However that wasn't the thing that surprised her so much.

"How did you know my last name" She asked, Tilting her head to the man. Who sat in silence for a second.

"Your chaperone woman.. Mentioned it on the walk here." He said. [F/N] internally groaned. Of course the old woman had told him on the walk up here. She was always so talkative to the high-paying customers, It was her strategy. She'd talk to them about anything and everything relating the courtesan the customer had bought out, All to try and make the customer feel attached so they'd come back for more.

But something else seemed to click. Even if Haruka had mentioned her last name how could he have known the exact kanji spelling of her name. Was it a good guess or something more? Sensing the look on [F/N]'s face, Kokushibo piped up.

"If I may be honest.. I have been.. Infatuated with you, Your voice, for a long while now.. I learned the spelling from asking around.. I apologise." He explained. His head tilted down, His kama following the movement. Was he shameful?

No. He was shy. [F/N] felt a cordial smile creep up on her face, It explained a lot. His silence earlier wasn't due to any negative emotion or disturbing pathology but instead just a bout of stage fright.

"I see. I suppose you've been told of my talents from asking, too." She decided go along in a playful voice, The one she'd usually harness to tend to customers. Despite how much she felt uneasy using it, It did bring about tips.

"Yes.. In fact, It is the entire reason.. I have decided to come here in the first place." Kokushibo remarked. His hands previously positioned on his knees moved up to the tea-set placed on the table separating the two and poured himself a cup.

"I want you to play.. A piece on your koto for me." He said, Bringing the tea up to his mouth still cloaked by his hat. And took a sip. [F/N] nodded.

"Anything specific you want me to play?" She asked. Moving the koto in front of her body she finished the tuning process and rested a hand on the strings.

"One where.. I can hear your voice. One where you can sing." His voice contained a low tone of wonder, Seemingly reminiscing on a thought.

"Alright then.. Let's see here." [F/N] trailed off, Her mind wandered to her catalogue of songs. Trying to pick out one that she thought the man would enjoy.

Neurons connected. She'd gotten it.

Her carefully manicured hand ran over the spindly strings of her koto, Sounding out the first few delicate notes of her symphony. The strings resonated against the neat and polished birch wood of the koto. A rhythm started to form.

Kokushibo's shoulders seemed to relax at the soft tune, While she could not see his face she could tell he was entranced.

Her lips opened to annunciate the first lyrics to her malady, As soon as she did Kokushibo's relaxed figure stiffened up. The grip on his teacup tightened, He took a shaky breath.

The lyrics flowed out of her like running water, The chords on her koto harmonised with her heavenly voice and the music ruminated throughout the room and echoed from the wooden walls. Drowning out the noise of the street below them and replacing it with concentrated vocal artistry as she sung out the words.

"Well hello world, Wouldn't you know. Your nails were yellow and mine a miracle blue.." The first lyric to the chorus was announced and Kokushibo seemed to melt. Her voice sounded like a morning cardinals call, Like Benzaiten's being had graced her vocal chords in that single moment.

She seemed lost in her music, Too. Her eyes were closed and her body focused on moving along to the beat of the strings. A small smile lit up on her face as she went along.

"If you knew what I knew, You would too.." The final note on her koto rung out through the room, The song ending. It was such a short song, But as both [F/N] and Kokushibo were in drawn into the iron grip of the rhythm it had felt like an eternity.

[F/N] inhaled deeply for air, Her shoulders retracting. She set down her koto beside her with care.

"A beautiful song.. It is one of my favourites. I hope it was up to your standards, sir?" She asked, A playful tone masking her genuine and sincere question.

Kokushibo in turn put down his half-drunken cup onto the table. "It was.. The most beautiful song I've ever heard .." He proclaimed, His voice was ripe with wonder and awe which made [F/N] take in a deep breath, Taking in all of his praise she smiled wider.

"I am glad you liked it sir. Please, Would you like me to do anything else for you?" [F/N] offered. She went to the tea-set in front of them both and picked up the kettle.

"No.. But. I would wish to ask a question. If that is alright with you." He responded.

[F/N] gestured for him to continue on.

"Completely alright with me." She confirmed. She poured herself her own blend: Sakurayu. She filled the cup up with steaming water and mixed the little flower petals around.

Just as she brought the sweet smelling liquid up to her mouth he answered her.

"How much exactly.. Does your marriage contract cost?"

[F/N] choked on her tea.

The question had came out of left field making the tea she had just made burn her throat. She coughed and covered her mouth, Preventing any loose drops spilling out from her lips.

Kokushibo passed over a tissue, To which she gratefully accepted.

Once [F/N] finally churned out the last bit of tea out of her system she wiped her mouth. Careful to reserve her lipstick.

"T-That was a rather blunt way of asking." [F/N] said, Her throat still hoarse.

"I apologise.." He said. However his voice remained monotone, Sending mixed signals back to her.

"No, No. It's fine. In fact, I feel flattered that you would ask about that." She started, A nervous smile appearing on her face.

"But unfortunately my contract was bought out by another samurai only a day ago. I do apologise, If you were intending to buy." She explained, Her voice apologetic as she bowed her head lightly.

Kokushibo froze up.

His previously relaxed shoulders and lain hands both seemed to stiffen up. The warm look he used to gaze at [F/N] seemed to return to that hot, Boiling stare. The one from the festival, The one from before. Noticing the glare she had regressed to how she'd been at the start as well: Awkward and uncomfortable.

"I'm so sorry sir." She blurted out.

Kokushibo's kama lowered down to follow the movement of his head. He was quiet, Silent.

"Would you like me to play another song for you?" She asked. Trying to destroy the buildup of uneasy air.

Kokushibo shook his head, Making [F/N] feel just a little nervous down by his response.

"No.. I do believe.. That I have heard enough." He said. For some reason the way he said it made [F/N]'s lip twitch, But shook it off when Kokushibo got up from sitting down.

She followed him up, Fixing her kimono and her hair-do she bowed down to him in respect. A polite gesture to thank him for his civilised behaviour.

She figured that his session with her had decidedly ended, That was good. While she did enjoy his company and the song she sung for him it didn't change that fact that she was exhausted.

"Alright then. Please, Let me get the door for you." [F/N] said. Passing by the man she moved over to the decorated shoji doors and grabbed the handle. Sliding it open she went to-

SMACK!

[F/N]'s body fell to the floor, Her knees hit the tatami mat followed by her head which got hit off the wooden doorframe.

The hilt of Kokushibo's sword moved so fast that [F/N] couldn't even sense it crashing into the back of her skull, Leaving her dazed and barely conscious on the wooden floorboards. She was confused, Dizzy and completely unaware of what was going on, All she knew was the feeling of her fight or flight instinct kicking in.

She whined in pain. Her arms weakly extending out to try and get up, To get away, To run from the opposing danger looming over her. To survive.

But it proved futile as Kokushibo leaned down to pick up her seemingly weightless body into his arms.

She tried to scream, To yell and call out for any other courtesan in the area. Anyone who might hear. But it only came out as babbles of incoherent language as her assailant flung her over his shoulder with an inhuman strength.

"Please, Sir.. Why… What are you.. What are you doing?!" She groaned, Her vision cloudy and her head the raging storm that throbbed painfully in the place of impact. Kokushibo only let out a low hiss through his teeth.

"Quiet!" He spat. His previously shy behaviour now broken and replaced with an aggressive demeanour. His presence now dangerous and coupled with the vicious tone in voice made [F/N] shake.

"Please.. I.." She whispered as he carried her over his shoulder and made his way to the open balcony doors. She pushed at his chest, Kicked, Flailed about in his grasp all to try and get him off of her. But it didn't work, He never budged or even moved in the slightest. Only squeeze her tighter and tighter as a warning.

He had made his way out onto the balcony porch. Looking out over the sea of buildings and crowded life flowing up from the city below he walked over and put a single, Sandal-clad foot onto the balcony railway.

[F/N]'s eyes expanded in horror in realisation of what he was doing. She wailed out into the cold night air as Kokushibo put his final foot on the railing, Effectively balancing on the thin wood.

His figure wobbled on the railings, They dangled over the street below which was filled with people making their way around, If she fell it would be at least 90ft drop. She wouldn't survive that height.

[F/N] at this point was sobbing, Kokushibo's grip may have been strong but as she was faced with the height of the tower she felt like she would slip any moment, Fall the entire distance and hit the street with a loud crack.

She cried out.

"P-Please! Somebody! Help me!" She screamed out into the crowd below, Her voice cracking as it went.

"Quiet. NOW!" Kokushibo growled like a feral animal, She cried out at his tone

The feet on the banister spread out and his knees crouched down. [F/N] realised what he was doing and tried harder and harder to push away from his grip.

She yelled louder and louder at the people below. Screaming for help but it was useless. They were too high up for anyone to hear them.

And then, He jumped.

Going through the air at unnatural speeds her hair lashed all over her face like whips. The wind ran through them both as they went. She realised this was it, She was going to die. She closed her eyes tight in anticipation of the fall but-

The wind died down. [F/N]'s hair fell over her face.

Kokushibo stood strong on the tiled roof of the building adjacent from the courtesan house, His ponytail waved in the light breeze that now accompanied the two. He was unfazed.

"Wha.. What?" [F/N] choked out. The height even from the courtesan house to here was enough to severely injure someone, Yet he came out without a single scratch. She looked back at him.

She yelled at the sight of him, Finally breaking out of her dizzy stupor. His face. His bloody face had six eyes. Six eyes, Six. They were all red and strained, His pupils were golden and glowing. He wasn't human, He was a demon, An oni. And he was kidnapping her.

"No.. No no no no!" She wailed out, Her eyes were fixed onto his. She couldn't look away, Looking into his eyes was like looking out into a terrible accident. Blood, Guts and broken bones, It was horrible yet she could never bring her eyes away.

Her previous yells for help amped up into a panic attack as she struggled in his grasp. Punching, Kicking doing anything to escape.

Kokushibo made a noise in his throat speaking agitation and anger.

Bringing a single, Clawed hand up to the back of her neck he lunged it forward. Pinching a nerve point [F/N]'s entire body stopped moving.. Then went limp on his shoulder.

Her eyelids failed to lift, They were too heavy. Everything seemed to stop in time and nothing mattered anymore.

She faded into the dark haze. Going unconscious on the shoulder of the demon kidnapping her.

☆♡☆

The pot bubbled hanging over the fire. It crackled every now and then, Spitting up drops of water that fell down around it.

Outside the moon hung over the lush roseate forest, Only clothed by the young build of clouds forming in the sky.

Moonlight illuminated the rustling branches of the trees, They danced in the wind letting a few petals stray from their grasp and fall onto the overgrown grasslands that surrounded the family home on the hill.

Despite the cold air of the night the house was warm and lit up with life. The house was filled with noise of cooking. The pot boiling, The sound of knife on cutting board and the spark of fire all mixed together to create a lively atmosphere. The kitchen especially.

Inside, A man was currently facing the kitchen counter chopping vegetables with precision. [F/N] sat beside him on the counter swinging her legs back in forth. She huffed.

"Papa I'm booooooored.." She whined, Puffing up her cheeks she looked at her father.

"I know, Sweetheart. But you've got to be patient. After you've had your dinner your mother can take you outside, Alright?" Her father said, A soft smile coming across his face, He shook his head at his daughters antics and focused his attention back to the vegetables.

"But papaaaaaa I wanna do something now.." [F/N] groaned folding her arms with a dramatic flair.

Her father chuckled lightly. He paused his movements for a moment and set down the knife he was holding. Picking up a couple of onions he held them out to her.

"Well if you really want to do something, Then how about you peel these onions for me?" He said.

"That's not what I meant, I don't want to peel onions!" [F/N] groaned. Her father only responded in kind, Setting down the pair of onions beside her.

"Alright then! If you don't want to then I won't force you." He smiled knowingly, Turning back to his knife and veg.

As he continued cutting [F/N] kept eyeing the onions beside her, She tried to drag her eyes away from the pair but eventually the boredom took over. With a dramatic sigh she picked up the pair of onions and got to work.

"I thought you didn't want to peel the onions, [F/N]." Her father teased, The smile on his face victorious.

[F/N] just hummed.

"Making cooking go faster so I can go outside quicker!" She explained, Her tone suggests that her father should of already known this, While he did. [F/N] didn't notice.

"Now who wants to go outside?"

[F/N]'s head snapped around to the source of the new voice, It was her mother.

Stepping out from another room in the house her mother appeared with a sweet smile on her face. She carried a basket full of laundry in her arms and balanced it as she walked out into the kitchen.

"Mum! Mum!" [F/N] giggled, Raising one hand to wave wildly at her mother as she came over to set down the laundry basket.

Picking [F/N] up she raised her daughter up high, To whom only laughed harder in her grasp.

"Now what are you doing on the countertop, Sweetheart?" Her mother teased.

"She's helping me make dinner, Aren't you [F/N]?" Her father said.

"Really? Are you helping your father to make dinner?" Her mother smiled.

[F/N] grinned back at her mother.

"Yeah! I'm peeling the onions, See!" [F/N] exclaimed, Pointing down at the half-peeled onions with a proud expression. Her mother gasped.

"Oh, Wow! You've done such a good job!" Her mother said back. She brought her daughter down back onto the countertop. Turning to her husband she gave him a quick peck on the lips.

"How's dinner going?" She asked, A short smile appearing on her face.

"Just about done with the vegetables. The pot seems ready so all I need to do is get the bay leaves." Her father responded. Copying his wife's smile.

"Bay leaves.. Are you sure we stocked up on those?" Her mother asked with an eyebrow raised.

"Erm.. Yeah, I went out to the village and bought some last week, Remember?" Her father said. Her mothers expression turned into a look of doubt.

"Really? I thought you went out for those vegetables and rice. No offense but you do know how bad your memory is right, Kyuusei?" Her mother answered.

"Yeah! It was the veg!" [F/N] confirmed, Swinging her legs on the counter.

Kyuusei finished chopping the vegetables and stood still, Trying to recollect his memories.

"I.. I'd need to go check to make sure." Kyuusei said. Setting down his knife on the counter he was about to go and check before being stopped by his wife putting a hand on his shoulder.

"No, No. It's fine. I'll go check up on the bay leaves and you just focus on boiling the veg, Okay?" She told him, A reassuring smile on her face.

Kyuusei nodded.

"Thanks, Seishi." Her father said.

"No problem. Just make sure not to overcook the veg this time." Seishi teased with a grin. Kyuusei rolled his eyes and promised not to, Concealing the copied grin on his face.

As his wife walked off towards the door she previously came out of. Kyuusei collected the chopping board in his hands and moved over the steaming pot.

Readying his knife he loomed over the pot, Scraping the freshly cut vegetables into the boiling water they hit the surface with a splash.

The ripple created little droplets of water that flew up from the impact with a rather big one going up and hitting Kyuusei's bare skin.

He yelped and dropped the chopping board in his hands, Letting the unscraped vegetables scatter onto the floor with him following quickly behind. [F/N] yelled out and jumped down from the counter, Running over to her father.

"Dad? Dad! Are you alright? What's wrong?" [F/N] cried, Latching onto his wrist.

"Argh..!" Her father seethed, Looking down at the place where the water burned. The space had already started to create colour contrast and it stung badly.

The shoji door slid open and out rushed Seishi, Alerted by her husbands yelp and tightly clutching a few clovers in her hands. She gasped, Ignoring the spilled vegetables she stepped on she and hurried over to her husbands side.

"Kyuusei! Dear, Are you alright?" She worried and grabbed his burnt hand to examine the damage. Kyuusei nodded

"I-I'm fine.. Ah. It's just-" Kyuusei gestured vaguely to the floor below him "Dinner is ruined, The stuff in the pot isn't enough for all of us and we don't have anything left in the house. What are we gonna do?" He sighed.

Seishi pondered, Her eyes wandering away as she tried to work up an idea. Out of nowhere she snapped her fingers brining both her husband and daughters attention to her.

"The rice! You bought rice last week, Right?" Seishi exclaimed.

Her father slowly nodded, Getting the idea.

"Yes! Right, I left the bag in the shed down the hill. I'll go get it, Do we have enough Bay leaves? We can use that in the rice." He asked.

"No, I'll go down to get the rice. I haven't counted the bay leaves so you can stay here and do that" Seishi replied.

"Really? I can go get the rice no problem, Are you sure?" Kyuusei asked.

"I'm sure. Plus, You should make sure that hand's okay." Her mother smiled, Rubbing circles into her husbands hand. Kyuusei smiled, His other hand going over to rest on his wife's.

"I wish I had your quick thinking, Seishi. I really do." He muttered.

"And I wish I had your rice cooking skills." Seishi responded. Her eyes glinted like the stars outside, Capturing her husbands gaze into them.

He cupped her cheek and pressed his lips up to hers. A short, sweet kiss that's warmth lingered on the lips when he pulled away to beam down at her.

"Thank you, Dear." He said. Their faces still rather close, So much so that their foreheads touched.

"It's no problem." She chuckled. And with that she moved away and over to the front door.

[F/N], Who spaced out the entirety of her parents interaction, Finally clocked back into reality when her mother started turning the doorknob.

"Mum! Where are you going?" [F/N] called out, Tugging on her mothers sakura-woven kimono.

Seishi looked down to her daughter, Her hand still on the doorknob she kneeled down to her daughters level and rested her other hand on her head.

"Just going out to get some more rice for dinner, Alright? I won't be too long." Seishi said, Lightly brushing back loose strings of [F/N]'s hair.

"Can I come with you..?" [F/N] pouted, Trying to produce the best puppy dog eyes she could muster.

"I think it would be better if you stayed here.. After all" Her mothers tone grew into a whisper between them

"Your dad will need a lot of help, His hand hurts a lot and I think your gonna need to take care of him." Her mother muttered, Raising her hand as a barrier so it was only between them.

"Really?" [F/N] said.

"Really. You better promise to take care of him alright?" She said. Raising a single pinky finger up to her daughter, Beckoning her to take it.

Slowly, [F/N] raised her own pinky finger up to her mothers and wrapped it around her mothers larger one.

"Alright.." [F/N] spoke, A hint of disappointment still lacing her voice as her mother got up from kneeling down.

"Be back soon!" Seishi called out to Kyuusei who shouted back a goodbye from another room. Opening the door she stepped out into the night.

"Bye mum!" [F/N] said. Just as the door closed tight.

☆♡☆

[F/N]'s body felt limp.

The room she lay in smelled old, Reminiscent of dust filled air and a strange pungent smell of iron. She couldn't hear much, Only the settling of wood and insects occasionally buzzing around her at times.

She couldn't move her body. Everything from her head to her toes felt like it was too relaxed to get up. This extended to her eyelids as well as they felt like weights were hanging from her eyelashes, Tugging them closed every time she tried to open them up.

Her mind felt dazed too, A dull and throbbing pain pulsating through the back of her skull. She could barely render anything around her as she could only fixate on her overrelaxed body.

She tried wiggling her fingers first. A few small twitches going into the fingertips, It was a start.

From her fingertips it went to into her hands, Then her feet then her lower legs. All until she could move freely with only a leftover feeling akin to a sleeping leg.

Finally wrenching her eyes open she blinked a few times to try rub the feeling off and stared up towards the ceiling, Though hard to see in the darkness.

Her previously weighted eyelids shot open, A shock ran through her body. Where was she?

She felt around with her hands, She seemed to be laying on top of a futon

Panic coursed through her system along with the events that occurred some amount of time ago. How long has she been out?

Despite her breaking out of her bodies numb state the hangover feeling was still present and in full affect.

Bringing her shoulder back she tried to swing her body round onto its side. Failing the first few tries she landed straight back to where she was.

She breathed in and out to try and calm herself. Turning to the other side of the futon facing the wall she built up momentum, And in one swift move her body swung over onto its side to face the rest of the room.

She smirked triumphantly and finally let her gaze survey her surroundings.

The room she was in a long rectangle shape. It was old, Definetly, The cobwebs and dust particles proved the fact. Despite not being able to see well in the very dim lighting in the room [F/N] could see It was rather empty as well.

Housing only a rickety closet with doors barely hanging on its hinges, A dresser covered in dust with a couple of the drawers missing. There was also a rather ancient rug stretching the entire length of the room that seemed to have patterns on it which faded over time. As well as the strange lump laying on the far end of the ru-

Oh god..

Oh good god..

She screamed

[F/N] felt bile rise in her throat. Rising so high that her high pitched scream turned into choking and gagging noises until she finally keeled over and belched out the vomit onto the wooden floorboards, Sputtering and spitting out the rest.

She let out a loud wail. She stared wide eyed at the scene, At the mass of which she previously thought was a lump.

A human corpse or what remained of it lay scattered on top of the blood-stained carpet. It was mangled, From the limbs to the torso to the spilled innards it was mangled.

Limbs lay tossed around the dismembered torso, Barely holding on by the stringy tendons keeping them hanging from the ligaments.

The bits of flesh still kept on the bone seemed to have chunks ripped out of them, Torn off roughly from their structure. The mans organs and intestines were lain out like a buffet platter, Neatly ordered from largest to smallest in front of him.

And the head, Good god, The head. It sat facing her, Eyes bulging out of their sockets and dark pupils staring right at her, Bloodshot and strained. She stared back, Eyes almost as wide as his.

The worst part? She recognised him. It was the man who bought out her marriage contract, She had only met him once but it was him.

His heart was lodged into his mouth, Stuffed right down his throat and stretching his jaw so wide it creating a permanent look of horror on his visage. Maggots and flies had already started to infest his remains, Attracted to the corpse like worms to rain.

[F/N] screamed, Yelled and cried with her throat still suffering from the burn the vomit made.

She burrowed herself into the corner of her futon, Desperately trying to get away from the unspeakable horror laying only a few feet away from her. She pushed herself further and further into the corner, She buried her hands into her face trying to get the sight out a she flailed around.

Her mind was already racing with questions: How did this happen? Why was she here? Why is this happening to her? The questions were the roadblock her train of thought crashed into and the mangled body was the wreck she couldn't look away from.

She was so preoccupied that she never noticed the overshadowing presence grab onto her wrist and pry her hands away from her face. She looked up, It was him. All six eyes glaring down at her.

She yelled, Tears shot out of her face and she tried to get away. She kicked and struggled in his iron tight hold as she tried her best to push him off of him.

"Stop.. Struggling!" He hissed, Trying to wrangle her into being still. It proved no use however, No matter how hard he tried to sheperd her into a docile state she was inconsolable. Her cries were broken only by hiccups and his presence just made her heartrate skyrocket.

"I SAID STOP!" He hollered. Baring his shark-like canines at her she didn't need to realise how the chunks got ripped off her never-to be husbands corpse. Her choked sobs dissolved down into coughs and quiet cries of agony.

"P-Please.. I.. I.. Don't kill me please! I-I don't wanna die.. Please just bring me back to the courtesan house.. I-I need to go back there.. You don't understand I need.. I need to go back.." She bawled.

Kokushibo's nose twitched at her words.

"Silly girl.. I have no intention of killing you." He growled like a feral animal, His previously commanding voice progressing into a primal sort of wild grumble resonating deep within his throat.

[F/N] shook her head in a rapid movement, Confusion mixing into her previous terror.

"T-Then why.. Why am I alive.. I-I don't.. I don't understand.." She babbled. Her fingers digging into her scalp harder she tugged on her hair.

"If you haven't.. Figured it out by now then.. Let me clear the fog for you.." He muttered. His face moved closer to [F/N]'s who tried backing away further into the corner, However she was stopped when his hand lunged to the back of her head and forced it closer to his. So close that their foreheads touched.

"From now on.. You are to be my bride.. My wife." He proclaimed in the faintest of whispers. All six of his eyes focused on hers of which spoke terrified confusion.

"Y-You want me to be your wife?!" She spoke with a tone wobbling in pitch. She didn't understand, She couldn't understand.

His nose twitched again, His expression unreadable.

"Yes.. My wife." Kokushibo confirmed with a slight nod of his head, Finally pulling away from her terrified visage.

"W-Why me.. Why me of all people?!" She whimpered. Her head lightly shaking back in forth, A futile effort to cope.

"Ever since that day I heard you.. All those months ago when I heard that voice.. That beautiful voice hum such a beautiful malady.. I couldn't get enough.." He seemed to stop in place, His vision seemed far off. Gazing into a far away memory to reminisce.

She couldn't believe what she was hearing, He was following her for months. She had no idea, How could she not know he was stalking her? She was terrified.

Her mind seemed to be scrambled and misplaced like an unsolved puzzle. She felt one of the pieces of the puzzle in her throat, Taking only a very small peek towards the cadaver, She tried to put it down.

"T-Then what about.. H-Him.." She pointed a shaky finger at the rotting corpse behind him.

"Y-You didn't need to.. Kill.. Him. You could of just took me.. Why..?" She asked.

He didn't even look back at him, As if the mangled body was absolutely nothing to fret over. Instead his face seemed to grow dark and angry.

"It is a great dishonour.. For man to steal another's wife.. It is only right what he got." He hissed, A great venom running throughout his voice when he spoke about him and it terrified her. [F/N]'s form shook at his towering form overlooking her. Despite it all a rush of hubris ran through her, Only a small bit.

"I.. I am not your wife." [F/N] whispered so very quietly, But it was enough.

His nose twitched for a third and final time.

"Repeat that..?" He uttered.

"I-I am not your wi-"

He grabbed her by the jaw and roughly pulled her up to his level, Effectively cutting off her speech and fizzling out what confidence she had before and turning it into absolute terror.

"If the corpse of that vile man lying by your bedside.. Isn't warning enough. Then I'll tell you one thing.." He slowly moved his clawed hand from her collarbone, Slowly up to her throat. Pressing it in only enough to draw a single drop of red onto his fingertips. [F/N]'s breath grew heavier as her eyes went fixed onto the clawed nail, Begging not for any further pressure.

"You watch your tongue around me.. Or I won't hesitate to cut it out" He whispered.

Letting go of [F/N]'s jaw she fell back onto the futon and let out the biggest breath she didn't know she was holding. She shook in place, The words looped inside her head and ingrained themselves deep within her.

He brought his hand up to his mouth, The one he threatened her with. He lolled his tongue out of his mouth and licked the blood off his finger. [F/N] gagged at the sight.

"It seems that you need.. To be told of how things will work around here.." He said so stoic, As if he didn't threaten his captive only moments ago. [F/N] frantically nodded, Grabbing her throat to try and examine the damage.

"As my wife I expect you to follow the rules.. I set for you, So listen well.." He said, Beginning to slowly pace to and fro from one end of the futon to the other. [F/N] watched in scared anticipation, Intently watching for his next action. He stopped pacing and held up a single finger up to her.

"Rule number one.. You will perform your duties as my housewife. Cleaning the house.. Doing the dishes.. Be there to greet me at the door.. Along with polishing my swords. And if you even think about trying to use them to escape then.." He relaxed his free hand on his sheathed sword hilt. She didn't even need to know what he would say next, She got the message.

"Rule number two.. Every night before I come back from my.. Job. You will cook the meat that is left for you in the kitchen. Do not add anything to it.. Spices, Salts, Herbs.. Nothing." He emphasised the last point, Raising a second finger. Confusion spiralled in with her terror. Put nothing in it? She had no time to dwell on it however as he raised a third and final finger.

"Rule number three.. You are not allowed to leave this house… Though at night I will permit you to enter the garden.. Only at night. Once the sun comes up you must return inside immediately.." He finished. Lowering his fingers his eyes started to roam over her form.

"Do you understand me?" He asked.

[F/N] tried to steady herself on the mattress and steel her face.

Wiping the sweat off her face she nodded.

"Y-Yes.. I do." She replied.

Kokushibo hummed with a deep reverberation in his throat. When it stopped they were left in silence, Staring back at one and other with a wide split of emotions. The quiet was deafening between them.

And with that, Kokushibo turned away.

He walked towards the closed old door at the far end of the room, Walking with near silence. [F/N] felt her heartrate pickup, She called out.

"W-WAIT!.." She cried out.

Kokushibo held the doorknob in his hands. Although he stopped at [F/N]'s plea he faced the doorway and didn't look back at her. She sniffled.

"What about… him..?" She breathed, Only a touch higher than a whisper. The body of her dead fiance lay rotting still on the floor.

Kokushibo finally turned his head around to her, Only so all she could barely see was his left set of eyes staring her dead on.

"Rule number one.. Start cleaning.."

☆♡☆

The meat sizzled on the pan. The bloody raw juices burnt along with it, Creating an earthy aroma that filled the small kitchen it cooked it.

[F/N] sat crouched in front of the fire the pan hung from,

Occasionally poking and prodding at the meat with a stick to make sure it came out tender enough.

The professionally done makeup she had adorned before had degraded into smudged lips, Pudgy foundation and poorly done eyeliner. Not to mention her hair which looked like a wild animal got into it, Went berserk and was proceeded to be tied back up into an Oiran's usual up do.

Her charming personality couldn't save her appearance either. Her eyes that use to hold an enticing sparkle had dimmed into a dull gaze, All weighed down by the deep bags under her them from crying late at night. Her beautiful smile that could stun anyone was long gone and replaced by a permanent frown.

Since she had been swept away to her prison, It had been about two.. three.. Maybe four weeks? She couldn't remember, She had lost track after the first and after that it all had blurred into one, Hellish nightmare.

Even then she couldn't remember much of the first week, Not the first half anyways. She remembered the rules of course, And the awful man charading as her husband but everything that came after seemed to be a blur, After that all she knew was the red stain on the bedroom carpet that seemed to appear all of a sudden, How it got there was a mystery to her.

The second half of the first week was much more clear to her. It consisted entirely of a "Settlement Period" as that monster had put it. Do the dishes.. Greet him when he comes home, God save her if she didn't greet him.

One night she had completely forgotten to do so. She was so tired that night from all the cooking and cleaning that she didn't even notice him come home. He became unbelievably furious at her and had locked her in the bedroom closet for a good amount of hours. He didn't let her out no matter how loud her wails and screams became.

Before the settlement period ended he was much more distant, Per se. He kept away from her, Didn't speak much. As long as she did the rules set out for her he didn't interact with her at all. But he did stare.

Anywhere she went when he was home she could feel his eyes on her, That hot glare could melt ice with its intensity. It only served her to be more scared of him, To fear his next move, To flinch whenever he did.

After the period had ended however is when he started to get closer. He'd force her to lay with him at night in the same bed, Nothing came of it but the absolute inconsolable fear that resonated from within her every time he dragged her to their shared futon every time the sun came up was absolutely nauseating.

That was another thing, He goes out at the first show of the moon and comes home just before the wake of dawn. You figured it was a demon thing, It probably was. But this small little fact changed her sleep schedule to make her nocturnal, Which annoyed her greatly.

He'd start to try make light conversation if you could call it that, It was more of him asking questions such as 'What did you do today'. To which she had no answer, She was kidnapped. She had spent the entire day doing what he had forced her to do. However the only thing she could say to appease him was "Nothing much honey? What about you" while they sat over the meat she slaved away at.

The meat, She didn't want to think about the meat. She had no idea where it came from, Just that it restocked when she fell asleep.

When they ate together, When he forced her to she couldn't quite place the taste of it. It wasn't like anything she had tasted before and the closest thing she could place it to was pork, However seemed to be more sweeter and a just a little more stronger than any pork she's had before.

She didn't want to know what kind of meat it was, She didn't want to ask. It was probably better that way.

All she focused on was cooking it, Making sure that it turned the golden brown it was suppose to be.

To cook it she was given a simple pan and a few pieces of wood to make friction with. She wasn't allowed anything sharp so she had resorted to bamboo sticks and her bare hands to cut and prepare it.

The kitchen wasn't much help either. When she finally brought up the courage to venture into rooms other than the bedroom she discovered the absolute abandonment the rest of the house was in.

Like the bedroom which was bad enough the kitchen was horrendous. The wooden floorboards and structure were rotting. Cobwebs were infesting every little crook and cranny of the kitchen, So much so that it looked like clumps of yarn had been stuffed into them. Not to mention the tiny web landlords she found in them that she had to chase away with rocks.

She had to slave away day and night to even make it somewhat hygienic to cook in.

Apart from the kitchen she hadn't dared to go into any other room in the house. She didn't want to think about what was in there if the kitchen was this bad. The only rooms she went in and out of was the bedroom, Kitchen and bathroom.

Apart from that she hadn't explored any other room, Luckily enough it seemed like her captor didn't care if she didn't clean the other rooms. As long as the kitchen, Bedroom and bathroom were clean he didn't say a word about it.

But there was another area she loved to explore.

Outside of the house, When she was permitted she would enter the garden. While it was unkempt like the rest of the house with flowers and rye grass growing wild, [F/N] thought that gave it charm.

There were a good few amount of large tree's casting shade around the small field the garden covered with lush green leaves covering them. Unfortunately she couldn't escape as the gardens were fenced off by large walls covered head to toe in a rather severe form of poison ivy, If she tried to climb them she'd be writhing on the ground in seconds.

The flowers were vividly coloured and bloomed in a wide spectrum. They radiated such a beautiful fragrance, With her favourites being the pink ones as they reminded her of her beloved sakura blossom.

But despite the beautiful aroma coming from them it just didn't have the same smell of her cherry blossoms, Leaving the lovely smell bittersweet instead. Besides, The tree's in the garden just weren't the type to produce the blooms.

She'd find a way to escape. When she does she'll find her way back home, Back to him.

A loud sizzle of the meat on the pan snapped [F/N] out of her reflection.

The meat had turned into a rich brown, Signalling it's medium rare condition. [F/N] groaned and wiped the sweat off her brow that built up while she daydreamed.

Slowly poking the meat over the side of the pan she pushed it over onto a plate to collect it. Scraping the last bits of the slabs off onto the plate she got up from her perched position on the floor while stretching her aching legs.

Wobbling in place she moved over to the old kitchen countertop and set the meat down to cool off. She sighed and leaned back onto the counter beside it.

She realised she'd started cooking the meat too early as the moon outside usually rung of the time her captor got home. This gave her time to herself.

For a normal person this would be a good thing, However to [F/N] it just meant more time for her and her thoughts. She didn't want to think anymore about her situation as it would just make her overthink more. She needed something to do.

Looking around the small main room for an opportunity she came up barren. She recalled all the books Kokushibo had occasionally brought back for her, She had read them all at least fifty times over and had basically memorised every word so she supposed that was a no go.

Clean the house again? Both the kitchen and the house were both as spotless as an abandoned house could get, There would be nothing to clean. Though, The other rooms in the house were abandoned and unexplored, Bound to have some dust in there.

She didn't even like cleaning, Not in the slightest. Though she figured her situation had brought on new hobbies despite how depressing of a hobby cleaning is.

Though as she looked at the door she recalled back to all of the disturbing traits of her imprisonment: The mystery meat, The carpet stain, The infestations. Who know if these are the only the things she found in three rooms then the rest of the house must host only the Gods knows.

She eyed the door as if she was a rabbit to a wolf. Slowly, She shuffled over to the shoji door. The inside birch handle seemed to resemble a open maw to her. The scolded herself in her mind.

It was just a door, It was just a room. Why are you afraid of entering a dusty old room? You shouldn't be feeling like this, It's totally irrational [F/N]. Pull yourself together.

She exhaled, She knew she was right. It was just a room. She never had this problem before, Maybe her kidnapping has shook her up more than she realised. Go in, You might even find something that could help you escape. Just rip the bandage off.

Steeling herself with the hope of escape she grabbed the open maw handle she roughly pushed it open. Instantly she was met with a dust cloud that made her cough and cover her mouth with her kimono sleeve as she desperately tried to waft the air away with her hand.

When the cloud finally settled she lifted her head up to peek inside the room.

Peering around the corner she looked inside to see a storage room of sorts, Or at least that's what it looked like.

The inside dimensions was of a rectangular shape with a high ceiling. Like the rest of the rooms it was completely covered in dust and cobwebs, [F/N] could also see the scuttling of tiny bugs running around the floor to which she squirmed.

There was a large table in the middle of the room, On top of it sat pots and pots of dead old plants of a wide variety, [F/N] wasn't surprised, With the large biodiversity of the garden outside she should of known the previous owner of this place had a green thumb.

On the far side of the wall was three storage cabinets, They were built with 'Swing open doors' and luckily had no locks on them. Noticing this [F/N]'s curiosity was piqued, The possibility of escape tools was tantalizing.

She took a few steps into the room, Deeming it not to be of any danger. Looking left and right to confirm this she tiptoed over to the storage cabinets and reached the first one.

She ran her fingers over one of the hinged doors, Collecting a layer of dust while she searched for the handle. Finding the rise on the surface she gripped onto it and turned. Swinging the door open she peered inside to see the contents.

Inside there were several glass jars, All of them were of different sizes and shapes but in the end they all contained lots of kinds of herbs and spices, All of which were strangely still fresh.

Grabbing a few of the jars she examined them. The bottle's necks had a thin tag attached to them.

Paprika, Bay leaves, Cinnamon, Oregano, Brahmi, Tumeric, Nutmeg, Pepper.

All of which she recognised. While none of the contents appeared to be of any use to her escape plot they did give her something to use with the meat, Though Kokushibo didn't want any in his it didn't mean she couldn't season hers at all.

She slid the containers back into their cabinet and closed the door. Feeling somewhat satisfied with her finds she moved onto the next one.

Opening it up she looked inside to find.. Little colourful pouches. The pouches were scattered within the cabinet. They were a wide range of colours from blue to pink, They were there. All of them had little floral patterns sowed into them with care.

[F/N] raised an eyebrow. The pouches were just laying there without any holder like the spices, No nametag either. She also doubted they would actually have anything in there that would assist in her get away.

But she couldn't be lazy, She needed to check.

Collecting the pouches she scooped them up into her palms and brought them to her chest. Surveying their condition and rubbing a few of their contents through her fingers she found they all contained different textures. Finally deciding to check them she pried open the mouth of them and examined the contents.

And there were.. Seeds.

The outside colour of pouch she had opened was yellow and the insides were sunflower seeds.

[F/N] hummed, Only mildly surprised. She continued on to the other ones.

Blue? Ocean lilies. Red? Roses. Black? Dahlia's. Each of the small pouches had a colour corresponding to their contents. She put the opened ones back inside the cabinet and sieved through the rest.

Putting away orchids and tiger lilies she finally reached the final pouch.

It was a baby pink with silver threads adorning it. Testing its weight, She tossed it up into the air and it landed back with a light thud into her hand. It wasn't unlike the others, Not at all.

Pulling open the string around its neck she opened up.

Inside of the little pink pouch were seeds. Big and round, Resembling something like a walnut. There were a total of four in there.

Her eyes expanded to that of saucers. Her jaw went slack open. She recognised them, How could she not? They were cherry blossom seeds, Yoshino to be exact.

She felt her heartrate rise up in her chest, A pounding sensation filling her entire body. She felt as if an exfoliating light was rising up from her palms, A glimmering hope in the darkest days of her life, All radiating from inside the sack in her palms.

[F/N] squealed at the sight and couldn't help but rapidly stomp her foot being unable to contain her excitement.

She swiftly clawed out one of the little nut-like seeds and felt in around in her hands. A burst of giggles erupted from her and she spun around in place at the sight of it. Without any thought she knew what she had to do.

She stuffed the pouch in her her obi and rushed out the room with a new found speed. She needed to plant the seeds, She needed to grasp onto the cherry blossoms, She needed to smell them.

Completely forgetting her previous escape plan and ignoring the amount of time it would take to grow the tree she took no time when she ran out into the main room towards the main door.

And stopped dead in her tracks.

Standing in front of the wide open door stood Kokushibo. He glared straight at her, All six of his eyes scrutinizing her entire form.

[F/N] froze up, Her previous excitement dying in her throat. Her fault hit her like brick and made her head spin round and round. She forgot to greet him.. She forgot..

Her knee's almost buckled under the weight of her mistake. She tried to speak, But no words came out.

Kokushibo looked at her, Then around the room. He moved his clawed hand and she flinched.

"The meat has gone cold.." He commented, Pointing at the left out meat.

[F/N]'s lip trembled. Suddenly building up the courage to speak she let it spill out.

"I.. I'm so sorry I.. I.. Lost track of time.. Forgive me, Please.." She spoke fast and stuttered as she went. Her eyes started to water at the prospect of being locked back in that small, closed off space.

Kokushibo was unfazed. Looking straight through her.

"Its.. Fine.." He said and with that, He turned away and trod off down the hallway.

[F/N] felt herself instantly relax as soon as he left the room. While the meat wasn't hot anymore and she'd need to heat it up, She wasn't punished or yelled at for failing to both greet him at the door and making the meat how he liked. She thanked whatever kami was looking over her.

However she noticed from the small crack of the closed door that the sun was rising. She wouldn't be able to go outside into the garden to plant the seeds.

At least, Not while Kokushibo is aware.

☆♡☆

It was the early hours of the morning, Only a few hours after [F/N] got a hold on the cherry blossom seeds.

Like every night before then her captor had dragged [F/N] back to their shared bedroom and had forced her onto the futon. As usual nothing came of it. It was just him facing away from her towards the wall while she looked the other way.

Normally this would end with her eventually falling into a dreamless slumber, But today she had a plan.

She decided to wait for Kokushibo to fall asleep, A task which she assumed would be boring but easy. But had turned out to be the complete opposite.

She herself had stilled her breath and relaxed her movements, Trying to make it seem that she herself was deep into REM. But this seemed to work a bit too well as Kokushibo bought into it.

She felt him run his claws through her hair, She had to steel her nerves just so she wouldn't squirm away from him. He kept moving around in bed, Too. Repeatedly repositioning himself to include her in his sleeping position: Wrapping his arms around her waist, Resting her head on his shoulder, Spooning. All of which made her want to vomit.

I should of just waited until night time to plant it. She thought. She was right as well. It would be much more convenient if she did wait, But her mind tossed it like a used cigarette immediately. She needed to plant the seeds, She needed her cherry blossoms.

In the end however he couldn't find a comfortable position, So he just reverted back to the original stare-at-the-wall form.

She had waited another two hours after that, Just to make sure he was asleep. Once she finally felt sure she had put her next step into motion.

Literally, She had to be extremely cautious in her steps as the floorboards had a tendency to creak. One single move could ruin everything.

Getting up, Slowly, Carefully. She swung her legs over onto the floorboards and pressed her feet down softly.

She waited.

No sound came. She was in the clear.

Fully getting up from the bed she creeped ever so sluggishly towards the main door, Carefully making sure not to touch any of the floorboards that were particularly old.

Reaching the door, The hardest part had came around.

The doorknob, The accursed doorknob. Every time [F/N] would turn it around to leave the mechanisms inside would create such a churn of noise so loud that you could hear it from the kitchen.

As gently as she could she relaxed her hand over the doorknob. Gripping it she began to gradually turn it, So slow you could barely see it move. The mechanisms from behind the door started to sound out too, Lowered and muffled by [F/N]'s sluggish pace but still enough to make a low scraping noise on the wood.

She winced at the sound, Her pace going even slower until she turned it around the entire way.

She pulled it open gently, Her hand still on the doorknob. The threat of the mechanisms reversing hung over her head like a guillotine, The sharp blade seeming to lower every time the noise jolted in volume.

She let the knob go. Glancing back at the slumbering demon, She found him still dead asleep on the futon.

She grinned, Wild and toothy. She was free to go.

She walked off down the hallway towards the front door. Pulling out the small baby pink pouch from her obi she confirmed it was still there. The adrenaline of the situation ran through her and the raw excitement of her find elated her so much so that she felt she was floating.

Reaching the door she swung it open and rushed out into the garden. It was early morning. Though you couldn't tell due to the thick blanketing clouds, So thick that it didn't even let a single crack of sunlight dawn through. As she ran barefoot, Stomping on the wild overgrowths of grass she noted that the soil seemed dry today.

[F/N] frowned, These weren't good agriculture conditions. But that didn't waver her stride nor did it shake her determination in the slightest, She was confident in her goal.

Running past the wild bursts of flower growth and foliage she reached the heart of the garden: A little rocky hill with a clearing at the top, The perfect position for a Yoshino blossom tree to be perched.

She swatted away hair strands blowing in her face from the light breeze, Tripping only once or twice on the way up she reached the top.

Falling to her knees, Dirtying her old kimono in the process she brushed away the grass to find the perfect spot.

Finding a small little dip located in the exact middle point she deemed it good enough to dig in.

[F/N] started to claw and scratch at the dirt with her bare nails, Pushing away soil left and right not caring about the mess she made. She knew she needed a hole at least a few feet deep.

She tossed the pouch to the side of the hole, Seeds rattling around inside it.

She dug further and further down, Soil was building up beside the dip that soon turned into a crevice. Soon enough though her nails hit a harder part of the soil and began to be proven useless.

[F/N] near-growled at the impasse. Thinking quickly, She extracted one of the sharp-tipped hairpins from her messed hair. Ignoring the hair flopping over from the removed support she raised the pin high up above her head.

Bringing it back to gather momentum she quickly brought it back down-

She froze. Goosebumps rose on the back of her neck.

She didn't need to turn around to know about the katana only inches away from her neck, Ready to pierce her skin at any moment.

"What exactly.. Do you think you're doing?" Kokushibo hissed. He was angry, He was so angry. His entire being shook with it. The blade he pointed directly at the back of her neck shook along with him.

[F/N]'s heart seemed to stop beating and her jaw lay open. His kimono wove in tandem to the wind and was brought apart from his rage. The hairpin she held dropped to the ground with a clang!

"I.. I.." She sputtered. She didn't dare turn around. She didn't dare turn around to see his bared teeth, His wide eyes scrutinising every atom of her, His free hand twitching around itching to dig into her skin.

A sound similar to what a feral animal would make rose from within his throat. The blade inched closer.

"An answer.. Now." He spat, Taking a step closer.

Despite his words he didn't wait for one. Alternating his blade to his other hand he reached down beside her he grabbed the pouch. [F/N] gasped.

"W-Wait!" She exclaimed. He brought the pouch up to his face to examine it. [F/N] tried to grasp and grab at the pouch but was nonchalantly shook off by Kokushibo, Who paid her no mind.

He wretched the mouth of the sack open and brought out one of the walnut-like seeds, Holding it with two claws up to his middle eyes. He ignored [F/N]'s protests, She felt her entire being break. Her one chance of comfort destroyed before her.

She broke down into quiet tears, Her retaliation growing weaker and weaker until she just slumped over on her knees.

"What.. What is this?" He asked, Not taking his eyes off the nut. "It's a cherry blossom seed.." [F/N] muttered through her soft cries. Kokushibo looked down at her, His face cooling off only a singe. He lowered the seed down to instead clutch it in his hand.

"You came out here.. To do gardening?" His voice sounded off, Like he was deep in thought. [F/N] nodded.

"Why?" He asked. The question seemed to elude [F/N]'s response. A war waged on in her mind, One side fighting to stay silent the other to just tell the truth. She shook it off, Going for the third party.

"Does it matter to you?" She said, Her voice a tone of defeat. In her somewhat right mind she would of never spoke to him with that level of audacity, But now it just seemed futile.

Kokushibo sucked in air through his teeth and huffed as if it was a stupid question.

"You are my wife.. I expect there to be no secrets hiding from me." He answered so casually.

"I am not your wife.. I've told you this before. There was no marriage, You kidnapped me." She sighed. Every inch of fear she had seemed pushed to the side now.

Kokushibo lowered his sword, He took a step forward closer to her. "..Why do you like them so much?" He asked, Ignoring her previous remark which would get her reprimanded. Her eyes narrowed, This brought on a sense of confusion to [F/N].

"Why do you want to know.." She repeated her previous question through her sniffles, Still looking down at the grass.

"Back at that courtesan house.. Your room was filled to the brim with those flowers. I had assumed it was a theme… That wretched old woman gave you to make you stand out.. From the other Oiran's in the area.." He explained.

"But I was proven otherwise when instead of escaping.. You came out to plant one of the tree's." His voice was filled with puzzlement.

[F/N] had nothing to say at his words, Nothing at all.

"Let me make you a deal." He proclaimed, His voice finally making [F/N]'s head rise up from the ground to look up at his looming figure. A deal? Her face scrunched up in confusion while she awaited his response.

"If you explain to me.. The reason for your love of sakura blossoms.. And start refering to me by my proper title.. I will let you plant this seed here.. As well as bringing you back whatever you desire when I leave the house. " He laid the bargain out in front of her. It wasn't the deal that puzzled her to no end, But instead his unyielding determination to know why she adored the blossoms.

"Why do you even want to know about it? It doesn't matter to you at all." Her final question escaped her lips. He stood quiet for only a moment as he pondered her words. Kokushibo's expression seemed to grow light as he looked at her.

"Because despite your silly beliefs.. I care about you. And I wish to know about you, To be a good husband for you" He said.

This pierced through [F/N] harder than anything his katana could of done. Her shoulders loosened up and she nodded.

"Alright then. I accept the deal."

☆♡☆

[F/N] layed by the boiling pot hanging over the fire, Swinging her legs around and fidgeting with her hands.

The clouds that had barely obscured the sky earlier had grown into a raging storm, One that neither she or her father predicted. The rain was heavy and came down like bullets along with the wind which was harsh and unforgiving. Outside the cherry tree branches hit each other back and forth creating loud rustling noises.

Along with the semi-boiled water she could smell the rain mixing with the wildlife from the halfway opened window. She kept glancing out it to see if she could catch a glimpse of her mother returning with the rice.

Her dad had commanded her to keep an eye on the water, And for the first ten minutes she did. However eventually her young mind grew bored and wandered off to other things.

[F/N] groaned and flopped her arms to her side.

"Dad, When's mum gonna be back?" [F/N] exclaimed with a lilt of annoyance.

Her dad stood over by the kitchen counter clutching a good few clovers of bay leaves in his hands.

"Don't know, Sweetheart. You know how your mother is with taking her time." Kyuusei replied. He shifted through the bay leaves and got to the very last one, Staring at them blankly for a moment he sighed. He turned back to his daughter.

"Be right back, [F/N]." He called out to her before turning away and walking towards the shoji door. [F/N] watched him slide it open and walk through.

Once he shut it closed, She perked up from lying down on the floorboards and got up.

Ignoring the boiling pot of water she rushed over to the open window. Gripping onto the frame she tried hauling her small self up onto the ledge, Failing twice before finally being able to pull her little body up onto the frame.

She looked out into the wild weather of the night and took it as nothing big. Jumping down onto the other side she pranced out into the rife atmosphere in search of her mother.

She ran off onto the rough stone path, Tripping both from the heavy winds and the jagged rocks. She had to pause just to regain her balance, However when she did she took off further down the path.

[F/N] ignored her soaked kimono and the hair whipping around her as she carefully maneuvered the stones. Lightning echoed out in the distance, But the noise didn't rock her from her path.

The warm light of her house grew farther and farther away, The cold chill of the night grew stronger the more she went.

Eventually reaching the peak of the ledge they sat on she looked out over the forest below. Her hair blowing around in her face made it hard to see below. When she finally gathered it all together she finally got a look below.

She saw the small shed there, Lightly rocking back and forth on its structure. The candles weren't lit inside implying her mother wasn't there.

[F/N] groaned, But suddenly she spotted her mother through the rain and wind.

She lay unconscious at the bottom of the hill, Her arms and legs spread out on her stomach. The bag of rice was spilt out a little way beside her. [F/N]'s eyes widened, Panic rising up into her chest. She heard her father yell out from behind her, But she ignored him and his calls.

"Mum! Mum!" She yelled out over the storm noise. Carefully, She made her way down the hill to get a better look at her. Climbing down onto a lower rock she narrowed her eyes to-

She wasn't unconscious

She wasn't unconscious.

Seishi's neck was twisted 180, Her broken neckbone dug out from her flesh making her head look barely attached. She lay in a thick puddle of blood diluted only by the rainwater. She had fallen on the path.

[F/N] screamed.

"MUM! MUM!" She wailed. Running down the path not caring about her stumbles and wobbles as she went.

She reached her mothers corpse, Her head was facing up while her body faced down. Her visage excreted fear, A final terrifying sculpture. [F/N] gripped onto her body and sobbed, Pulling at her kimono and burying her face into her mothers shoulder.

"[F/N]!" Her father had finally reached the scene and stood still at the top of the hill. He looked down on the rest of his family and he yelled, A loud guttural yell.

He rushed down the pathway and quickly enveloped his daughter in a hug, Shielding her away from the corpse of her mother. [F/N] latched onto her father and sobbed inconsolably.

"S-Seishi.. Seishi, My love.. It should of been me.. It should of been me.. I'm so, so sorry." Kyuusei cried, Looking upon the cold dead look of his wife. [F/N] cried along with him, Crying out for her mother to come back.

She shut her eyes tight, Hoping that when she opened them she'd awaken in her mothers arms. Wanting to be lightly scolded for staying up too late.

But when she opened them that never happened, Just the cold rainwater and the shaking arms of her father hugging her tight.

She cried. The last thing she remembered was the faint scent of her mothers cherry blossom perfume, Fading out into the iron smell of her mangled corpse.

☆♡☆

It was a sleepless night.

The morning after, The storm clouds dispersed away. Bringing in the warm sun shining over the revitalised forest.

The irony stung the both of them, As today was the day they'd need to carry her mother's cadaver to its burial site.

Her father had held [F/N] the entire night, Trying to find the words to console her when he knew none could comfort either of them. So instead they sat like that until the first eye of dawn.

After that they made their way back down to the death site. Picking up Seishi's cold body he pulled her close to him, He tried his best to put on a strong face for his daughter but he couldn't help the silent tears and hiccups erupting from his throat as he carried his wife's body through the forest.

[F/N] tailed behind him, Repeatedly calling out for her mother in small sobs. She repeatedly wiped away her tears with her sleeve yet they kept flooding out anyways.

They decided on the massive weeping sakura sat in the core of the woods as Seishi's final resting place, It was her most prized tree as it towered over all the other ones around it.

The digging of the grave took a good few hours for her father to complete, During that time he never said a single word and never for a second took his eyes off of his task.

Once the grave was finally done he had looked into his wife's eyes for a final time and kissed her tenderly on the forehead. He softly apologised to her, Professing his guilt over her death and how he loved her so.

He lowered her body into the grave and shut her eyes. Once both [F/N] and him said their final goodbyes, He got to filling the grave with a sombre expression.

After that her father had grown sad and bitter, The previous light and warmth that his presence radiated had grown cold. Most days he wouldn't leave his bed. He never said anything either, Not much anyways.

Unlike the cherry tree's symbolising life and renewal, Her mother had not come back to them in the spring.

This went on for years, It never ended. His depression had grown so severe that he had lost his job, Both for his horrible attendance and his sombre attitude. This had left the sole provider to be [F/N]

Her mothers death hit her terribly, She had broken down crying for weeks on end afterwards. She'd lay by her grave for hours on end, Only straying to go to sleep. Even then there were some days she'd fall asleep by her grave.

When the money ran out however, Is when [F/N] was forced to pick herself up and start providing for the both of them. She had to, For both her survival and her fathers.

To make money she had came up with a custom kind of tea blend made out of the sakura leaves surrounding her house. A sweet yet earthy blend that a lot of the younger and elder women seemed to love. It brought in money, Not a lot but enough to get by.

Everyday she'd travel out from the forest down to the village, Go door to door trying to advertise her blend of Sakurayu to the villagers. Then come home to make dinner for her and her father.

This cycle went on for years until she was a young woman. If it wasn't pity, She knew some of the villagers criticized her for being the one to take care of her parents. It didn't matter though.

She needed to take care of her father, Cause if she didn't, Nobody else would.

However one day, Years later. The village nearby had made merchant deals with hers. Trading food, Clothing the exact same sakura tea blend that [F/N] worked hard to make.

Unfortunately the villagers loved the imported tea more than [F/N]'s homemade blend, This had absolutely destroyed [F/N]'s income and instantly threw her into a panic.

The money she had made before had suddenly disappeared. So when she heard gossip from some of the younger girls at the village about the courtesan houses in the big city, She knew what she needed to do.

The next morning she kissed her father on the forehead, Leaving a letter and the last savings of money to keep him going while she was gone.

With that, She stowed away on a carriage ride going all the way to Heian-Kyo. In search of a better life.

All while she rubbed the soft pink petals, The same ones that always told her she was safe. Safe in the arms of her mother.

☆♡☆

[F/N] was crying now, Tears rolled down her face as she spilt out her past for her captor to hear.

"After that I just.. I found a house with vacancy and they took me in.. Then I just.. Worked my way up until I was Oiran." She choked out, Her face dug deep into her own palms.

Kokushibo held her close in his arms, He had started doing so once she had broke down at the explanation of her mothers death. He showed no emotion on his face, But his actions seemed to speak loudly enough for him.

"I-I sent money to my father when I could.. I haven't seen him in years.." She cried, Nuzzling closer into his chest. They were so close that she was basically sitting on his lap. She didn't care anymore, She needed the comfort and if it meant ignoring the morality of the situation to get it then she would never think another thought about it.

"Please.. I don't know how long it has been but I need to go back to the Oiran house.. I need to get the money for him.." She looked up at him, Tears in her eyes.

Kokushibo hummed, Moving an arm up to her shoulder he rubbed circles trying to provide comfort.

"I am unable to bring you back.." He said. [F/N] looked away from him, Sniffling. She knew it wasn't a matter of him being unable, It was a matter of he didn't want to.

"But I will be able to provide the money you seek." He finished. She looked back, Her eyes wide and full of life.

"What..?" She asked, Seeking confirmation of his words. He only nodded.

"If money is.. what you need then I can provide it.. It is no hassle for me" He proclaimed, Looking back into her own eyes.

[F/N] smiled, A wide, Genuine smile graced her face. A light blossoming within her like the leaves of her sacred tree.

"You.. You mean it?" She whispered, Looking deep into his eyes which only held the truth.

"Of course.. I do. As part of our deal.. Whatever you want." He replied, His voice contained such obsession care that she just couldn't see before. She melted in his hold.

"Also as a part of our deal.. I do believe its time for you to plant that seed." He said, Bringing up the seed he had in his hand he presented it to her like a wedding ring.

She smiled wider and took it from his palms.

Turning around, Still in his hold she looked down at the half dug hole. Picking up her hairpin to start digging again she was stopped by a gentle grasp on her wrist.

"Use this instead.." Kokushibo said, Handing over a small dagger. "It would be better than a hairpin.."

She thanked him and got to work. Using the wide surface area of the dagger she dug at a much better pace, Kokushibo watched her every movement the entire time.

Once she had dug a big enough hole she examined the knife. Kokushibo presented his hand, Signalling her to give back the knife. She held the hilt tight. Looking once at his hand then to the knife.

She sighed and dropped the knife into his hands. He nodded and tucked the knife away somewhere she couldn't see.

"Alright then.." She muttered, Holding the seed up to both of their eyes she reached the final step.

"Just let it go.." He replied, The same quiet tone echoing back at her. She looked at the seed and remembered her situation. The kidnapping, The living conditions, The punishment. All of it came back to her.

It was an awful feeling, Something she wanted to push away, Something she didn't want to feel ever again.

Knowing she was too wrapped up in her own mind to make the last move he guided her hands down to the crevice. He rested his head on her own, Her back up against his chest from where they sat.

He nudged the seed from her grasp and it fell into the hole. She snapped out of it and looked down to see the seed had been planted. "That was not so hard.. Was it?" He asked, Though he did not expect an answer.

She shook her head, The frown on her face was barely visible. Slowly, She began to refill the dug out hole covering the seed so it could grow in the right conditions.

She felt Kokushibo wrap his arms around her midsection, A sensation she had jolted at. It was an action she did not expect, Leaving her stiff.

Once the hole was fully covered and the seed was set to grow she was left to her own thoughts as she was embraced by her captor now husband.

This was fine, It wasn't okay. Gods, it was not okay by any means or context that could be given. She had been kidnapped and tortured for an amount of time she couldn't even remember, But it was fine. Just fine.

If the only thing she needed to do to provide for her father was become this man's wife, Then she would do as she had promised.

Though as her mind wandered off to her now gone plan of escape, The torture she had endured during her stay here she felt that same, Horrid feeling bubble up inside her.

She hated it, She hated it so much.

She tried to recall the aroma of the cherry blossoms, Imagining the sweet subtle smell invade her senses and take over her entire being head to toe.

And suddenly, Everything was fine.

[neteyamslovrr]

Luvv your writing, i hope u can do a aonung x fem reader wherein theres part where she almost died (I guess like neteyam) like maybe in later parts and aonung was super worried and thought she actually died which she did but somehow came back and became absolutely clingy and like guardian or overprotective if ever she get hurt the slightest. Idk how will u write but hopefully u can consider thiss❤️❤️

I'm Right Here

summary:  ao’nung witnessing your near death made him feel hopeless, and he promised to never let anything hurt you again.

1.2k words

──── ⑅*❀*⑅ ────

It all happened so quickly, guns were blazing and the screams of all kinds of life rung through the night sky. You were there to follow Lo’ak as he went to warn Payakan, you didn’t realise this would be the start of a massacre.

You, Tsireya, and Tuk all had begun to creep onto the ship. “Tuk this is a terrible idea!” You whispered as she continued to make her way through the boat.

The boats alarms were flaring as you split away from Tuk and Tsireya. Finding another direction to make sure you could find Kiri. A scream filled your ears as you turned to see Tuk restraining to be tied again.

It was all blur when it happened. You ran so fast you brain couldn’t think. Jumping onto the back of Quaritch strangling him in hopes to get him off Tuk. But it failed miserably.

As he tied Tuk he simultaneously flung you off his back with a hard crash to the ground.

“Y/N!” you heard beside yourself, a worried shriek to keep your consciousness before hissing at the demon in front of you.

Tackling him to the ground he threw you again. “Oh you just don’t stop do you?” He chuckled pulling a gun out of his utility belt.

“Y/N run! Run!” Kiri shrieked. Your legs took off but still not fast enough. Not fast enough to miss the shot he fired.

Pain filtered through your body. If you weren’t so determined to not drown you would have let the pain paralyze you. Floating on the top of the water you quietly called out for someone to help you. The pain was unbearable. A bullet gliding across the top of your ribs was enough to have you scream.

“Y/N! Shit Y/N. Tsireya come over here!” Ao’nung found you barely able to keep afloat. The water surrounding you a red colour inciting worry in everyone.

Ao’nung couldn’t breathe seeing you in so much pain he couldn’t take it. You couldn’t leave him. You weren’t allowed to.

Tsireya came over quickly wearing a horrified look. “She need’s to go back to the village, Mother will help her.” Ao’nung carefully picked you up onto an ilu to ride back to his village.

You started to cough little bits of blood splattering to litter your face. “Fuck Y/N, it’s okay mother will help, I promise.” You cradled into him, your tears staining his chest.

“It hurts Ao’nung, it hurts so much.” Your voice was barely audible, you didn’t want to die, not here, not now.

“It’s okay Y/N its all going to be okay. See we’re here back at the village. Hold on for me okay?” Ao’nung’s comforting words were desperate, almost like he was comforting himself. He screamed for help running to his mother.

Ronal’s face was the same as Tsireya’s when she first saw you. Horrified. The red blossomed throughout your chest decorating your cyan skin.

Ao’nung sat beside you the whole time, he held onto your hand. Begging, praying, pleading with Eywa. He couldn’t lose you, not today, not ever. Ronal did every trick she knew, to bring you back to health. But she could only do so much.

Hour’s pass, and the hours turn into days. The war finished, the Sullys were back but you were still in a coma. Your body was weak, and your skin was pale. The wound had been threaded together by Ronal and your chest rose slowly and shakily.

Everyone tried to convince Ao’nung to leave your side, to get out of the darkness of where you rested. But no one was persuasive enough to convince him to leave you.

He thought if he left you, that you would leave him. Maybe his pleading worked because as he cried into your hair, begging for you to wake.

Your eyelids began to flutter open. The little light filtering through the pod still made you hiss. Ao’nung’s breath hitched. “Y/N? Y/N? are you awake?” He asked immediately holding onto your cheeks. His tears turned into sobs as he saw your scrunched up face and green eyes glowing at him.

“Rough nap I had.” You joked before Ao’nung littered kisses all across your face. Ao’nung swore to himself that he’d never let you get hurt again. He would never ever lose you again.

Months pass and you were fully healed. You could swim, run, walk and laugh just as well as everyone else. But what the shot affected the most was the relationship between you and Ao’nung.

You were promised to each other even before the war. But now that he had almost lost you and he was connected to you by the hip.

Every morning he’d wake next to you and tell you how grateful he was to wake up next to you. He’d constantly come up behind you, hugging you, kissing your neck and whispering sweet nothings. After the shot, any piece of his tough guy exterior was disintegrated by you.

You knew he was overprotective of you before, but now more than ever. He’d guide you down steps, he’d always walk in front of you and when you were hunting he always tagged along. He couldn’t handle the thought of you being injured again.

You were out hunting, Ao’nung lagged behind chatting with Roxto, it was nice to see him relax with his friends. You had the tool in your right hand aimed at a medium sized fish. Pressing the trigger, you let out a pained shout. The device malfunctioned slightly cutting the bottom of your palm deeply.

Your shout immediately got Ao’nung’s attention. The sound of your pained voice brought back deep memories of your body bleeding out and he immediately rushed to were you had risen above the water.

“Y/N, Are you hurt, what’s wrong?, Do you need help?” His eyes frantically looked for an injury, his gaze always wondering down to your scar.

“I’m fine, I just cut my hand.”

“Let me see.” He grabbed your hand and saw the blood gushing out of your hand. For some reason seeing it made him start to tear up. His emotions were a wreck and staring at you hurt, it was a reflection of his worst fear.

Seeing the cut, it made him feel like he couldn’t protect you, just like he couldn’t protect you that day. The feelings of grief and fear hit him like a strong wave as the tears rolled down his face.

“Ao’nung why are you crying?”

“Let’s get you a bandage.” He ignored your queries about his tears until you both reached the shore.

Dragging you back to his tent he still wiping his face. Trying to rid of the evidence that he ever cried.

“Ao’nung stop.” You sat him down, and you sat in his lap. “Why are you crying my love?”

Ao’nung looked into your green eyes, those same eyes he saw almost lose their light that day. With a bandage in hand he slowly wrapped your hand to then rest it in on his heart.

“When you bleed… it reminds me of that day.” Frowning it clicked to why he panicked so much to your blood. “It reminds me of how helpless I was to help you, how I couldn’t do anything but watch you die.”

“But Ao’nung, I’m right here. I’m right here, you haven’t lost me, not yet.”

He let out a sad chuckle mixed into a sniffle. “Yeah.. you are right here.”

Softly you kissed his cheeks were his tears stained his skin. Ao’nung indulged in your presence, calming himself down as he felt your touch.

“I’ll never leave you Ao’nung, I promise.”

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authors note: hope you enjoyed! this one was rlly angsty. (also that photo of ao'nung is feral)