#Fragrant Flower Path

[closet-of-nikki]

Fragrant Flower Path

This is Fragrant Flower Path! Originally released in November 2022 as part of a 2v2 event, it is paired with Phantasmic Butterfly, and is the first of the two. It cost 1608 diamonds the first time around, and went up to 2448 diamonds without free tries. Costs assume a 100% win rate, so it might end up costing a little more if you rack up some losses. This event will likely return in the same format.

It comes with a posed hair, two posed dresses, and posed earrings. It includes three moveables as well as makeup. There IS a tilt to this outfit, but it's very minor.

It's one of the first suits I got with an extra posed dress, as October 2022 is when Love Nikki started making two sets of posed items, one without extra accessories. In my opinion, this particular extra posed dress is very underwhelming, as it's only missing the very small handheld by her face.

Individual items below the cut!

I decided to use the Spring in Day background from the Glazed World event because it's just so cute! I don't normally use this background because it has foreground items that partially obscure your Nikki, so it's a little more work for me.

Here's the posed hair and earrings, followed by the unposed earrings so you can see the difference.

The posed dresses!

The moveable items:

And finally, here's two photos demonstrating the tilt.

[mazojo]

They are so based actually

[dark-moonlust]

Paying Tribute to the Satyrs Part 1

Pairing: 3 Satyrs x nymph reader

Summary: you are a nymph who gets lost in the Satyr forest. You meet its guardians, three Satyrs who demand your body as a tribute for safe passage.

Warnings: MDNI, 18+, multiple partners, oral (male and female receiving), satyrs have double 🍆, belly bulge, p in v sex, anal fingering and penetration, double penetration, lots of 💦.

Part 2 available here.

The forest was unlike any you had ever seen before, a maze of ancient trees that were so thick they hid the sky. The air was sweetly fragrant with the aroma of moss, wildflowers and magic. As a nymph, you were used to several kinds of woodlands and magic but this forest felt different.

A little too late, you realized that you’d gone too far, and lost your way among the twisted roots and deep fog. This was no ordinary forest; it was the Satyrs’ territory and you had strayed straight into it. You’d heard Satyrs were impatient drunkards, yet powerful enough to roam the forest and harvest power from it.

Panic crept into your chest as you tried to find the way back. Every time you took the path home, the route vanished as if devoured by the living forest. The air had also changed, a cool unsettling breeze flowing and the trees talked in a language you couldn't understand, their leaves rustling with warnings.

And then, you felt it—a presence. No, not one. Three.

They came from the shadows— three Satyrs, emanating carnal and primal power. They were taller than you imagined and fairly muscular, too. Their forms were half-man, half-goat, with chiseled bodies wrapped in fur from the waist down and large hooves pounding against the ground. Their eyes shone amber in the dark light, elegant horns curving from their heads.

The leader, whose horns were longer took a step forward, his raw, earthy scent filling your senses. “Well, what have we here? A little nymph, in our forest.”

“I… I didn’t mean to intrude. I got lost,” you said, your voice clear even if something warm curled in the pit of your stomach.

The other satyr closed in on you, a small grin on his face. “Oh, little nymph, you’re far from home and now you’re ours.”

You raised a brow. “Says who?”

The last one let his gaze sweep over you, lingering on the curves of your body. “Says us. I am Fyrian, the protector.”

The second one said, “I am Kynias, the healer.”

And the leader joined in, “I am Teofos, the all-powerful. You’ve crossed into Satyr territory and now must pay for safe passage.”

“What’s the price?” you asked, though you already knew what they wanted. You could see it in their eyes, the way they looked over your body, possessive and greedy. You had heard stories of the Satyrs, of their power and insatiable appetites for pleasure, but to be at their mercy, their tribute? It sounded deliciously wicked and not at all a bad deal: pay tribute by experiencing the best fucking of your life.

“Your body,” Teofos growled. “That’s the tribute we demand.”

Kynias reached out, his rough fingers brushing against your cheek. “Will you give us what we desire, little nymph?”

The third satyr grinned, his thumb tracing the line of your neck. “You smell of pure flowers,” Fyrian whispered. “Sweet, fresh, untouched.”

“I’ve had sex before,” you said incredulously.

“But not with a satyr. Not with us,” Fyrian corrected, his hand sliding down your arm, his fingers curling possessively around your wrist.

“We want everything,” the Kynias purred, hands fondling your clothed breasts. “Your body. Your pleasure. All of it, given to us freely.”

“And if I refuse?” you taunted even though you burned for them.

Teofos’s eyes darkened as he leaned in, his lips grazing your ear. “You won’t refuse,” he whispered, his hand dropping between your legs, cupping your mound firmly.

You gasped, goosebumps awakening in your skin.

He smiled. “You want this, nymph. I can feel it in the way your body trembles. In the way your little pussy is soaked for us.”

Heat flooded through you, causing your breath to catch as his words struck deep inside you. Teofos was right. Your body longed for their touch. Your breasts were tender as they played with them and the fire between your thighs begged for relief.

“I want you.” You licked your lips. “I’ll pay the price but you’d better make it worth it.”

“Oh, trust us,” Teofos growled, his hands sliding up your inner thighs, lifting your skirt. “We always make good on our word.”

Kynias slipped down the ties of your top. “You’re ours now. And we will claim you, here, under the eyes of the forest.”

Fyrian’s hands were slipping down your panties, his lips pressing hot kisses against your shoulder. “Mmm, yes. Let’s see how wet you are for us, little nymph.”

In a few seconds, they had you naked and shivering between them. You let out a soft, trembling breath when they circled you, their cocks magically protruding from a slit between their hairy thighs. Yes— cocks Each of them sported two shafts; inhumanly long and thicker than any cock you’d ever seen. Teofos pumped his cocks in one palm then bent to bury his face in the swell of your breasts. You whined when he latched his mouth at your nipple while Kynias did the same for the other bud.

The third one, Fyrian pressed against you from behind, hands cupping your pert ass and massaging your globes, his tongue tracing abstract patterns at your neck. You felt his dicks rub against the crack of your ass, supremely hot and naturally lubricated.

“Pretty sensitive nipples,” Teofos drawled while lapping at one nipple.

“And so tender,” Kynias muttered, his tongue flicking the other bud mercilessly.

Fyrian let his fingers slide between your legs, finding your slick pussy. “So ready for us. Come feel how wet she is.”

Just as he said that Fyrian grabbed you from under the knees and lifted you up against his chest. You clutched his shoulders, your legs opening like butterfly wings, your pussy bared in all its glory. The other two kneeled before your cunt and smiled as their hands moved down your waist, fingertips tracing the line of your hips.

"Dear gods, look at her," Teofos said, his fingers drawing apart the folds of your pussy. "Feels so soft and delicate."

At his words, the fire between your thighs built, more juices trickling from you.

"I want to feel, too," Kynias muttered, his fingers brushing against the dampness between your legs. "Oh fuckk, so good!"

“Hhmmm, look at that pretty pouting bud,” Teofos drawled, gathering your juices and rubbing his finger over your asshole. “Our little nymph has two pretty holes.”

“This—this is my ass,” you panted. “You can’t—”

“Why not?” Kynias demanded as he toyed with your glistening pussy. “You accepted to pay the price.”

“But… but that—“ you moaned when Teofos carefully thrust a finger inside your ass. You lost all thought as that thick finger drove up, curling inside you.

“That feels so damn good,” Teofos growled, adding a second finger that stretched your rim deliciously.

Your breath came in shallow gasps as their hands moved over your cunt, exploring and claiming. They seemed fascinated with your cunt and played with your asshole too, slipping three fingers inside you. You whined, helpless, suspended in the air, your holes open for them and captive to the overwhelming sensation of their touch and heat.

“Do you like it, little nymph?” Fyrian rasped in between kissing you. “Getting your naughty little holes fingered and stroked?”

“Hmmm… a-bout to…hnnn,” you whimpered, your voice trembling with need. “Cum. P-please!”

They licked you up, two satyrs at the apex of your thighs, one licking your clit and fingering your pussy while the other pushed a digit up your ass and licked all around it. The other satyr who was holding you in the air claimed your mouth, swallowing your groans and moans that were thick with desire. You came in no time, the stimulation was too much, the sensations driving you to a toe-curling orgasm.

Then they were repositioning you, settling you on your back, your legs wide open and held apart by Kynias and Teofos. Fyrian bent between your legs, taking his turn with your pussy and ass. He lapped up your dripping cunt, played with your juices and fingered you in both holes, letting deliciously husky moans and grunts. The other two, sat at your sides, their double cocks protruding in your face, pulsing with life.

“Good girl. Now I want you to open that pretty mouth,” Teofos said, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw as he tilted your head back.

“Take turns, little nymph,” Kynias growled, his eyes dark with command. “Lick, kiss, and worship our cocks.”

You opened your mouth, and let your tongue trace Teofos’s cocks. The cockheads twitched at your touch, and he growled, cupping your face and urging you to take them both deep into your warm mouth. You groaned and did so, lips stretching wide to receive him. Kynias grasped your hand and curled it around his shafts, pumping back and forth while watching you swallow his leader’s cock.

“Such a pretty sight,” Fyrian drawled, his tongue eating up your pussy, nose pressed against your clit, three fingers in your ass. “Handling all three of us.”

“Hmmm, she’s sucking me nice and deep Teofos growled, his shafts kissing the back of your throat causing you to gag.

“The sounds she makes,” Fyrian rasped, pinching your tender nipples, causing you to groan and choke around the cock in your mouth. “I want to hear more…”

You granted his wish as you came undone in a fiery explosion, crying out and thrashing violently at the overstimulation. They held you in a steel grip, marveling at your climax before re-arranging themselves. This time they rolled you on all fours, Teofos slipping behind you, his cocks aligned to your holes. You opened your mouth to suckle Fyrian’s cocks, your tongue tracing the length of his shafts. You also raised your hand to pump Kynias’s shafts, caressing them both in bold strokes.

“Hmpfff—” you whined when Teofos thrust inside, both thick shafts pushing past the resistance of your holes and driving inside. He filled you up to bursting, your belly full with the shape of his dicks. Then they settled on a relentless rhythm, all three of them using your body in ways that turned you into a moaning, blubbering mess.

“Are you ready, little nymph?” Fyrian growled, his hands running through your hair. “Gonna cover your pretty lips and hair with my seed.”

Kynias grumbled, his voice low and possessive. “And I’m gonna stain your pretty tits and belly.”

You could only nod and whimper softly, hands and mouth filled with their cocks. Teofos was also fucking you from behind, playing with your clit while owning your holes. It was too much, yet you craved more, you craved release and their warm cum. The heat in your belly was unbearable and they could tell, their hands guiding your movements, sending shockwaves of bliss through your system.

You came in muffled cries, eyes shutting tightly. They paused for a few seconds, long enough for them to feel every delicious quiver of your body then spurted their seed, doing as promised and bathing you in their seed. Your face dribbled with cum, your tits and belly, too. Not to mention the torrent of jizz flowing from your cunt and ass.

Then they were rearranging themselves so the next satyr could fuck your sloppy holes. They continued to pound you, taking turns until all three of them had claimed you, filling you up with their loads. Their hands, lips, and heat engulfed you. Your body shivered uncontrollably, your breath coming in ragged gasps from all the moans and sucking.

“That’s it. Looks so pretty now, drenched in our seed,” Teofos growled as he thrust one of his cocks deep into your mouth while rubbing the other over your messy face.

“Who knew nymphs could take satyr cocks so beautifully?” Fyrian rasped in your ear, both his cocks driving deep in your ass. “Fuuuck, she’s so wet and sloppy.”

“Hmm, she’s a carnal little offering,” Kyrian muttered, thrusting both cocks in your cunt. “With holes tight and eager. I think she can go all night.”

And so, they claimed you completely, their bodies crushing yours, their cocks claiming every inch of you, leaving nothing untouched or untainted. Groans and wet thrusting sounds filled the air. Your consciousness was lost in the overpowering pleasure, in the heat that consumed you.

You were at their mercy, their tribute.

And it was well worth it. Fucking Satyrs was much better than you’d ever imagined.

[s4kura-tr3]

Meet once more

W: angst, character death, depression, happy ending, cursing. (Tell me if I missed any)

Summary: where a garden can change his good heart

Wc: 5.5k

The Heian era was a time of beauty and blood, where curses and sorcerers danced in an endless battle for dominance. Above the plains, high on an isolated mountain, lay the dark kingdom of Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses. His name was etched into history with fear and hatred, his four arms wielding death and destruction wherever he went. For all his strength and glory, Sukuna lived in solitude, his vast estate echoing with the silence of the dead.

His palace, a masterpiece of architecture, was shadowed by towering stone walls and intricate wooden beams. Yet, despite its magnificence, it was a tomb. No laughter, no warmth—only the howling wind and the occasional groan of old wood filled its halls. His servants were few and silent, bound to him by fear rather than loyalty.

But there was one place in his domain that thrived: his garden. It was a stark contrast to the desolation surrounding him, a lush, vibrant sanctuary filled with rare and beautiful flowers. Sukuna himself had overseen its creation, though he never allowed anyone to enter it. The garden was his alone, a quiet reminder of beauty in a world he despised.

It was this sacred space that she stumbled into one warm spring morning.

Sukuna was making his usual rounds, his steps slow and deliberate as he moved through the winding paths of his garden. The wisteria trees were in full bloom, their purple petals cascading like waterfalls. The air was fragrant and still. But as he turned a corner, he stopped.

There she was—a woman crouched among the flowers, her hands busy weaving together stems of wild daisies and chrysanthemums into a small bouquet. She was humming softly to herself, completely oblivious to the danger she was in. The sight was so unexpected, so absurd, that for a moment, Sukuna simply watched her.

Her presence disrupted the sanctity of his garden. The stillness he had cultivated for centuries was broken by the gentle melody of her voice and the rustle of leaves beneath her fingers. Fury bubbled within him, and he took a single step forward.

The sound of his footfall broke her trance. She froze, her hand halfway to her basket, before turning her head to look at him. Her eyes met his, and in an instant, her expression shifted from peaceful contentment to wide-eyed fear. She scrambled to her feet, the basket tumbling to the ground and spilling its contents.

Sukuna towered over her, his crimson eyes glinting like polished rubies in the dappled sunlight. “What do you think you’re doing?” he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

“I—” Her voice faltered, but she swallowed hard and tried again. “I didn’t know anyone lived here.”

He stepped closer, his towering frame casting a long shadow over her. “You think that excuses your trespass? My garden is not a place for petty thieves.”

Her brows knitted together, and she shook her head quickly. “I’m not a thief! I didn’t know this was yours. I just… the flowers were so beautiful. I couldn’t help myself.”

Sukuna’s lip curled in disdain. He expected her to beg for forgiveness, to drop to her knees and plead for her life. Yet, while her fear was palpable, there was no groveling. Instead, she stood before him, trembling but defiant, her hands clenched tightly at her sides.

“You’re either incredibly brave or hopelessly stupid,” Sukuna sneered.

“I—” She hesitated, then straightened her back, forcing herself to meet his piercing gaze. “I meant no harm.”

He stared at her for a long moment, the silence between them stretching until it was nearly unbearable. Then, with a sharp flick of his clawed hand, he pointed toward the path leading out of the garden. “Leave. If I ever see you here again, I will not spare you.”

She didn’t need to be told twice. Grabbing her empty basket, she bowed her head quickly and fled down the path, her footsteps fading into the distance.

But she returned the very next day.

Sukuna had been expecting her. He had felt her presence as soon as she stepped into the garden, the faint hum of her aura a disruption he could no longer ignore. When he found her, she was kneeling in the same spot, carefully replanting a flower she had accidentally uprooted the day before.

His anger flared as he approached her, his footsteps heavy against the soft earth. “Are you trying to die, woman?”

She startled, looking up at him with wide eyes. For a moment, she hesitated, as though debating whether to flee. But then she squared her shoulders and met his gaze. “I… I thought it was the least I could do to make up for yesterday. I’m sorry if I caused any damage.”

Her quiet apology gave him pause. Most would have run at the mere sound of his voice, yet she faced him with trembling hands and a determined expression. “You’re an idiot,” Sukuna muttered, his crimson eyes narrowing.

“Maybe,” she admitted with a faint, nervous smile. “But I couldn’t leave it like this.”

Against his better judgment, Sukuna allowed her to stay.

Day after day, she returned. Each time, she brought a sense of life to the garden that had been missing for centuries. Her hands worked tirelessly to prune, weed, and water the plants, her soft humming filling the once-silent air. Sukuna found himself watching her from the shadows, his sharp eyes tracking her every movement. He told himself it was to ensure she wasn’t causing any damage, but deep down, he knew that wasn’t the truth.

She intrigued him.

Weeks turned into months, and her presence became a constant in Sukuna’s life. She spoke to him occasionally, her voice light and unassuming, as though she were unaware of the weight of his gaze. At first, he ignored her, offering only curt replies or silence in return. But slowly, without realizing it, he began to respond.

One evening, as the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting the garden in hues of gold and pink, she sat beneath a cherry blossom tree, her back resting against the trunk. Petals rained down around her, catching in her hair. Sukuna approached her, his footsteps soft against the grass.

“Why do you keep coming back?” he asked, his voice breaking the quiet.

She looked up at him, her eyes thoughtful. “Because the garden needs care,” she said simply. “And… I think you do too.”

Her words struck a chord deep within him, one he had long thought dead. Sukuna stared at her, his crimson eyes searching hers for any hint of mockery, but all he found was sincerity.

“You’re a strange woman,” he muttered, sitting down beside her.

Her smile was soft and genuine. “And you’re not as scary as everyone says you are.”

For the first time in centuries, Sukuna felt something stir in his chest—a warmth he had almost forgotten.

The days stretched into weeks, and their strange companionship deepened. Sukuna found himself lingering in the garden more often, his usual patrols of the mountain becoming an afterthought. She was there, her presence as natural as the flowers she tended, her hands bringing life to every corner of his once-forgotten sanctuary.

He had never been one for small talk, yet he found himself listening when she spoke. She talked about simple things—how the cherry blossoms were blooming earlier this year, how a rare species of orchid needed extra care. Sometimes she would ramble about her village, her family, or her childhood, her words painting a life so ordinary it was almost foreign to Sukuna. He listened, silently absorbing the details, though he rarely offered much in return.

But even he couldn’t ignore the way her laughter softened the edges of his harsh world, or how her smile seemed to brighten the very air around them. She was a disruption, a flicker of light in the darkness he had wrapped himself in for centuries.

One day, as the afternoon sun bathed the garden in golden light, she looked up from her work and asked, “Why did you make this garden?”

Sukuna was leaning against a tree, his arms crossed over his chest, watching her with his usual intensity. Her question caught him off guard. He had never told anyone the reason, never felt the need to explain himself. But something about the way she looked at him—curious, but never prying—made him pause.

“It reminded me that even in chaos, there’s order,” he said finally, his voice low. “That even in destruction, something can still grow.”

She tilted her head, her hands stilling as she considered his words. “That’s beautiful,” she said softly.

Sukuna scoffed, though there was no malice in it. “It’s practical. Nothing more.”

But her gentle smile told him she didn’t believe him.

The change in their dynamic was gradual. At first, Sukuna told himself it was her usefulness that kept her around. The garden had never looked more vibrant, and her care was unparalleled. But as time went on, he found himself seeking her out not for the garden, but for her presence.

She began to ask him questions—questions about his life, his powers, his reign. At first, he dismissed her curiosity with sharp remarks, but her persistence wore him down. He told her stories of the battles he had fought, the kingdoms he had razed, and the sorcerers who had dared challenge him. She listened intently, her eyes wide with a mix of awe and sadness.

“You’ve been alone for a long time,” she said one evening, her voice barely above a whisper.

Sukuna didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he looked out at the horizon, where the sun was setting behind the mountains. “Alone is safer,” he said finally.

“Safer doesn’t mean better,” she replied, her words hanging in the air between them.

He didn’t have an answer for that.

The turning point came one quiet night under the stars. The garden was bathed in silver moonlight, the soft chirping of crickets filling the silence. She sat beside him near the koi pond, her knees tucked to her chest as she stared at the water.

“I think I’ve fallen in love with this place,” she said softly, breaking the quiet.

Sukuna’s gaze flicked to her, his expression unreadable. “It’s just a garden.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s more than that. It’s… peaceful. It feels alive, even though everything else feels so uncertain.”

There was a pause, and then she turned to him, her eyes meeting his. “I think I’ve fallen in love with you, too.”

Her words stunned him. For a moment, he couldn’t speak, his crimson eyes locked on hers. No one had ever said such a thing to him—not with sincerity, not without fear. His first instinct was to dismiss it, to tell her she was foolish. But the look in her eyes silenced him.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” he said finally, his voice rough.

“I do,” she insisted. “I know exactly what I’m saying. I see you, Sukuna. I see the man behind the power, behind the fear. And I don’t care about what others say. I care about you.”

Her words cut through the walls he had built around himself, leaving him exposed in a way he hadn’t been in centuries. Slowly, he reached out, his clawed hand brushing against her cheek. She didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned into his touch, her eyes never leaving his.

“You’re a strange woman,” he murmured, his voice softer than it had ever been.

“And you’re a complicated man,” she replied with a small smile.

For the first time in centuries, Sukuna allowed himself to feel something other than anger and emptiness. He allowed himself to care.

Their love grew like the garden—slowly, patiently, but undeniably. Sukuna found himself smiling more, his sharp edges softened by her presence. She brought warmth to his cold world, filling the empty halls of his estate with laughter and life. They married in a quiet ceremony under the cherry blossoms, with no witnesses but the flowers and the wind.

For a time, they were happy. Sukuna began to believe that perhaps he could have something good, something pure, in a world that had always been cruel.

But fate was not so kind.

The sorcerers came without warning, their spells shattering the peace of the mountain. They sought to destroy Sukuna, to end the reign of the King of Curses once and for all. In the chaos, they captured her, dragging her from the garden as she screamed his name.

Sukuna fought with a rage unlike anything the world had ever seen. His power tore through the sorcerers like a storm, their bodies falling like leaves in the wind. But when he reached her, it was too late.

She lay on the ground, her body broken, blood pooling beneath her.

“No,” Sukuna whispered, dropping to his knees beside her. His hands trembled as he cradled her face, his crimson eyes wide with disbelief. “No, this isn’t happening.”

Her eyes fluttered open, her gaze weak but full of love. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Don’t you dare,” Sukuna growled, his voice breaking. “Don’t you dare leave me.”

“I love you,” she murmured, her hand reaching for his cheek.

Before he could respond, her hand fell limp, and her eyes closed.

Sukuna’s roar of grief echoed through the mountains, his tears falling freely as he held her lifeless body in his arms.

Centuries passed, and the once-grand estate crumbled into ruins. The garden withered without her care, its beauty lost to time. Sukuna withdrew from the world, his heart hardened into stone. He stayed atop the mountain, a shadow of the king he once was, his mind haunted by memories of her.

The modern world grew around him, but he paid it no mind. Centuries passed, and the world moved on without him. The mighty King of Curses, once feared and revered, became little more than a myth whispered in forgotten tales. Sukuna no longer cared about power or dominance; even hatred had turned to numbness. His estate, once a palace fit for a god, had withered into nothing but a broken skeleton of its former grandeur. Stone walls crumbled, roofs caved in, and the lush, vibrant garden that once symbolized life had long since withered into decay.

Sukuna sat atop the hill in solitude, a silent monument to what he had lost. The days blurred into each other, the passing of time irrelevant to an immortal being. The world at his feet changed, skyscrapers rising like great mountains of steel and glass, cars roaring like beasts on paved roads. Yet his world remained frozen, locked in the moment her life had slipped from his hands.

He no longer wandered through the ruins of his garden; the sight of the overgrown weeds and the broken koi pond was unbearable. Instead, he sat in the shadow of the mountain, a lone figure in a shack that had become more of a cage than a home. The nights stretched endlessly, his mind looping through memories that refused to fade.

Then she came.

It was early spring, and the air was cool and crisp as Sukuna rested against the doorframe of his shack, his gaze distant as he stared at the valley below. The first thing he felt was a faint ripple in the air, an energy so familiar that it stopped him in his tracks. He thought he was imagining it, that his mind was playing cruel tricks on him again. But then he heard the soft crunch of footsteps on the gravel path.

She appeared suddenly, rounding the bend where the old garden gate used to stand. She didn’t look out of place—dressed casually in a light jacket, jeans, and hiking boots, her hands tucked into her pockets. She wasn’t supposed to be there; people rarely ventured this far up the mountain anymore.

Sukuna’s breath hitched in his chest. It wasn’t just that she looked like her; it was that she felt like her. The aura she carried, that undeniable warmth, was the same. His sharp crimson eyes drank in every detail—the curve of her face, the soft glint of curiosity in her eyes as she glanced around the ruins. It was her. Reincarnated, but undeniably her.

She hadn’t seen him yet, too focused on taking in her surroundings. She knelt to touch the weathered stones of what had once been a garden wall, brushing away moss with her fingers. “It’s beautiful, even like this,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Her voice struck Sukuna like a thunderclap. It was different, yet the cadence was the same, the softness that had once soothed him now filling him with a tempest of emotions. His hands clenched into fists, his nails digging into his palms as he fought to keep himself from rushing to her. How could this be possible? How could she stand here, centuries later, as if fate had finally returned her to him?

Finally, she noticed him. Her head turned, her eyes widening slightly as they locked onto his figure. He stood still, his towering frame half-hidden in the shadow of the doorway. For a moment, neither of them spoke.

“Oh,” she said, blinking. “I didn’t realize anyone lived up here.”

Sukuna’s voice, rough from centuries of disuse, came out like a low growl. “Who are you?”

Her surprise turned to slight embarrassment. “I’m… just exploring. I’ve heard about this place before, but I didn’t think I’d actually find it.” She gave a small, apologetic smile. “Sorry if I’m intruding. I can leave if you want.”

He stepped forward, his crimson eyes narrowing as he took in every nuance of her expression. Her mannerisms were different, more modern, but there was no mistaking her. It was her soul standing before him. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said gruffly.

Her brows furrowed slightly, her gaze flicking between him and the ruins around them. “I didn’t mean any harm. I just thought… this place feels special. Like it has a story to tell.”

His jaw tightened. A story. If she only knew.

She hesitated, her hand brushing over the vines that had overtaken the garden walls. “I know it’s run down now, but… it’s still beautiful in its own way. I can’t explain it, but it feels like this place is waiting for something. Or someone.”

Sukuna felt the weight of her words like a blade to his chest. He wanted to tell her everything—that this place was waiting for her, that he had been waiting for her. But instead, he swallowed the words, masking his emotions behind a cold exterior.

“The garden is dead,” he said flatly.

Her lips pressed together thoughtfully as she looked around. “It doesn’t have to be. Gardens can come back to life if someone takes care of them.” She smiled softly. “I’m good with gardens.”

Sukuna’s chest tightened. It was almost too much—the way she stood there, so full of life, speaking as though she were meant to be here. He clenched his fists, his sharp nails biting into his palms. “You think you can fix this place?” he asked, his tone colder than he intended.

She tilted her head, unbothered by his harshness. “Maybe. It would take some work, but I’d love to try.”

He stared at her, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Was this fate’s cruel joke, dangling her before him only to take her away again? Or was this his second chance?

Finally, he said, “The garden is beyond saving. But if you’re foolish enough to try, I won’t stop you.”

Her smile brightened, and for a moment, the world seemed a little less gray. “I’ll do my best,” she said, her voice full of determination.

As she turned to examine the overgrown garden, Sukuna watched her silently, his heart aching with a mixture of hope and fear. He had spent centuries in darkness, his grief carving him into something colder, harsher than even he had been before. But now, standing before him was a piece of the light he thought he had lost forever.

He would find reasons to keep her here, excuses to bring her back. He couldn’t lose her again. Not this time.

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

1k night celebration 🍾🍾🍾🎈congrats 😏

i don’t know if you write ABO but if you do, please do an Alpha! Agatha Harkness who meets omega! Reader. Agatha see the fear in Reader’s eyes. Reader is terrified. Agatha is horny and thinks that Reader is pretty

Nothing to Fear Dear

Alpha!Agatha Harkness x omega!fem!reader

Summary: You are terrified of Alpha's, but suddenly one comes into your life that is just...different.

Word count: 2.4K

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, a/b/o content (marking/scent glands/scenting/breeding), shit alpha's wolf whistling and being rude to R

A/N: This is my first time writing ABO! Please if I got anything wrong please tell me how I could improve! I love reading ABO and would love to write more I just don't know if I did it justice.

You didn't trust Alphas. Your history with them wasn't good. Your dad, your cousins, your ex. Telling you what you could and couldn't do. Controlling you at every turn. Now that you were on your own and away from all of them.

You tended to stay home, get things delivered, but there was a farmers market with the nice weather rolling in and you really wanted to go see what it was like. You got yourself dressed for the day; nothing too revealing, nothing that would catch an Alphas attention. You took a little tote with you that you had bought with every intention of using sooner, but you barely left the house.

You step into the bustling farmers market, immediately enveloped by a symphony of sounds and scents. The air is alive with the chatter of vendors and the hum of visitors exploring the stalls. Vibrant displays of fresh produce catch your eye—deep red tomatoes, crisp green lettuces, and baskets overflowing with colorful berries.

As you stroll through the market, the scent of freshly baked bread mingles with the earthy aroma of herbs. You pause at a stand where a farmer enthusiastically offers you a slice of juicy peach, its sweetness bursting in your mouth. Nearby, a musician strums a cheerful tune on a guitar, adding a lively backdrop to your experience.

You find yourself drawn to a table laden with homemade jams and honey, each jar gleaming in the sunlight. The vendor, an elderly woman with a warm smile, shares the story of how her bees produce the honey you now sample on a small wooden spoon. The rich, floral notes of the honey linger on your palate as you continue your journey.

The vibrant energy of the farmers market is both exhilarating and slightly overwhelming. You navigate through the bustling crowd, making sure to keep to the less crowded paths. Despite your efforts to avoid attention, the occasional Alpha scent catches your nose, causing a flicker of anxiety.

You remind yourself to breathe, focusing on the pleasant sensory experiences around you. The sweet taste of the peach, the melody of the musician's guitar, and the warmth of the sun on your skin all help to ground you. You approach a stand with beautifully arranged flowers and pause to admire the vibrant array of colors.

As you continue exploring, you find yourself stopping at a stand featuring an assortment of herbs and spices. The vendor, a middle-aged Beta with a kind demeanor, offers you a sample of a fragrant lavender sachet. You inhale deeply, the soothing scent helping to further calm your nerves.

It’s while you’re at this stand that you feel a presence nearby. Turning slightly, you see her—a striking woman with brown hair and an air of confidence that immediately marks her as an Alpha. She’s examining a selection of fresh herbs, her expression thoughtful and focused. You can’t help but notice her tailored, yet casual outfit, giving off a sense of understated elegance.

Your instinct is to move away, to avoid any possible interaction, but something about her presence is different. She doesn't exude the same domineering aura you've come to associate with Alphas. Instead, there's a calm, almost magnetic quality to her. Before you can make a decision, she glances up and catches your eye, offering you a gentle smile.

“Lovely day for a market, isn’t it?” she says, her voice warm and inviting.

You nod, managing a small smile in return. “It is,” you reply softly.

“I’m Agatha,” she introduces herself, extending a hand. “It’s nice to see new faces around here.”

You hesitate for a moment before shaking her hand. “I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Do you come here often, Y/N?” she asks, her gaze steady and kind.

“No, not really. This is my first time,” you admit, feeling a bit self-conscious.

“Well, you’ve picked a good day for it. The weather is perfect, and the produce is exceptional this time of year,” she says, her eyes twinkling. “If you’re looking for recommendations, I’d be happy to help.”

The offer is tempting, and despite your usual wariness around Alphas, something about Agatha makes you feel at ease. “That would be nice, actually. I’m not really sure where to start.”

Agatha’s smile widens. “Great! How about we start with the fruit stand over there? They have the best strawberries you’ll ever taste.”

As you walk together, Agatha points out her favorite stalls, sharing little anecdotes and tips. Her presence is comforting, and you find yourself relaxing more with each step. The way she interacts with the vendors and other market-goers shows a level of respect and genuine kindness that you haven’t seen in an Alpha before.

By the time you’ve filled your tote with fresh produce and a few delightful treats, you realize that you’ve enjoyed yourself more than you expected. Agatha has made the experience not only bearable but pleasant.

As Agatha shows you around the market, you begin to let your guard down. Her warm, genuine demeanor makes it easier to forget the usual anxiety you feel in the presence of Alphas. However, this fleeting sense of comfort is shattered when a group of Alphas nearby start to take notice of you.

"Hey there, sweetheart!" one of them calls out, his tone laced with a possessive edge that sends a shiver down your spine.

Another Alpha joins in, letting out a piercing wolf whistle that makes your heart race with fear. You freeze, instinctively drawing closer to Agatha. Your eyes meet hers, and you see a flash of something intense and protective in her gaze.

In an instant, Agatha steps closer to you, her presence becoming a shield against the unwanted attention. The scent of lavender intensifies around you, soothing your frayed nerves. Agatha's expression shifts, her previously warm smile replaced with a steely determination.

"Is there a problem here?" she asks, her voice calm but with an underlying firmness that commands respect.

The Alphas, taken aback by her sudden presence, hesitate. One of them scoffs, trying to maintain his bravado. "We were just having a bit of fun," he says, though the uncertainty in his eyes is evident.

Agatha takes another step forward, positioning herself directly between you and the other Alphas. "Well, I suggest you find your fun elsewhere. This Omega is with me." Her tone leaves no room for argument, her Alpha presence now fully asserting itself.

The other Alphas exchange glances, the weight of Agatha's authority pressing down on them. They grumble among themselves before deciding it’s not worth the confrontation. One by one, they back off, their eyes still wary of Agatha.

Once they’re gone, Agatha turns to you, her expression softening immediately. "Are you alright?" she asks gently, concern evident in her voice.

You nod, still a bit shaken but deeply grateful. "Thank you, Agatha. I don’t know what I would have done without you."

She places a reassuring hand on your shoulder, her touch grounding you. "You don’t have to worry when you’re with me," she says softly. "I won’t let anyone hurt you."

The sincerity in her words touches something deep within you. Despite your past experiences, you feel a growing trust in Agatha. Her actions have shown you that not all Alphas are the same—that there are those who can be kind and protective without being controlling.

As you continue to explore the market together, Agatha remains close by, her presence a comforting anchor. The other vendors and market-goers seem to recognize her protective stance, giving you both a respectful distance.

By the time you leave the market, your tote filled with fresh produce and delightful treats, you realize that today has been more than just a shopping trip. It’s been a step toward healing and perhaps the beginning of a new friendship.

As you part ways, Agatha gives you a warm smile. "I hope to see you again, Y/N. Maybe we can make this a regular thing."

You smile back, the anxiety that usually plagues you feeling more distant than ever. "I’d like that," you reply, and for the first time in a long while, you truly mean it.

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

The weeks following your initial encounter with Agatha have been transformative. Each trip to the market with her has been better than the last. She introduces you to her favorite stalls, the vendors greeting you both warmly, and slowly, you’ve started to feel like you belong. Agatha’s presence has been a comforting constant, her protective nature ensuring you always feel safe.

Today, however, is different. Agatha had invited you out for a date beyond the familiar confines of the market. The thought had initially filled you with trepidation, but her kind eyes and gentle smile had reassured you. She had taken you to a quaint café, where you spent hours talking and laughing, the time slipping by unnoticed. As the sun began to set, painting the sky with hues of pink and orange, Agatha suggested heading back to her place for a nightcap.

You hesitated but agreed, feeling a mix of excitement and anxiety. Her home is cozy and inviting, filled with the same warmth and charm that she exudes. As you step inside, you can’t help but feel a surge of affection for the woman who has slowly become so important to you.

Agatha offers you a drink, and you both settle on the comfortable couch in her living room. The conversation flows easily, but there’s an underlying tension—a palpable awareness of the new territory you’re venturing into.

As the evening progresses, Agatha moves closer, her touch gentle yet insistent. When her hand finds yours, the connection sends a jolt through you. You’ve never felt so much fear and love all at once. Her touch is tender, but there’s an intensity in her eyes that makes your heart race.

"Y/N," she whispers, her voice husky with emotion. "I’ve wanted this for so long."

You swallow hard, your own emotions a turbulent mix. "Agatha, I… I’m scared," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

She cups your face in her hands, her thumb brushing gently over your cheek. "You don’t have to be afraid. I’ll never hurt you," she promises, her eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation.

You nod, trying to focus on the love you feel rather than the fear. "I trust you," you whisper, and the words are a revelation to yourself as much as they are to her.

Her lips find yours, the kiss starting slow and soft, but quickly becoming more passionate. Her hands move to your waist, pulling you closer, and you can feel her need for you in every touch. Your heart races, but this time it’s from desire rather than fear.

Agatha’s hands roam over your body, exploring with a gentle yet insistent touch. Every caress sends shivers down your spine, the fear slowly melting away under the heat of her affection. She pulls back for a moment, looking into your eyes, her own filled with a mix of love and desire.

"Are you okay?" she asks, her voice filled with genuine concern.

You nod, your breath coming in short gasps. "Yes, Agatha. I’m more than okay."

Her smile is radiant, and she kisses you again, this time with a fervor that leaves you breathless. You surrender to the moment, letting yourself be carried away by the wave of emotions. Agatha’s touch is both tender and possessive, her need for you evident in every movement.

She pulls you onto her lap, working you against her throbbing cock that pushes against her pants, making you moan out. It had been years since you had sex with another. Your fear took such a hold you’d taken suppression pills not wanting the attention of Alpha’s when you’d go into heat. You hadn’t been taking them since you met Agatha. She made you feel safe even though the fear sat in your chest like a heavy stone.

“Are you okay Y/N?” Agatha pulls you back to reality and you realize you’re not breathing properly.

“I got lost in thought. I’m sorry.” You tried to make an excuse, but Agatha knew you better she saw the look in your eyes.

“It’s me sweet girl. No ones going to hurt you.” She pulled you close, brushing against you and scenting, a lavender calm over you and you didn’t need much more to start grinding down on her. You wanted, no needed this, needed her and Agatha felt the same way. Trying to get herself out of her pants as fast as she could and you had worn a skirt because Agatha had asked.

She pulled your panties aside, rubbing against you as a moan tumbled out past your lips. Agatha pulled your lips towards her own, whispering against your lips,

“Is this okay?” You nodded frantically, moving your hips just enough for her to slip inside. Suddenly you’re getting pulled down onto her. “Fuck...you feel perfect. My pretty girl. Such a pretty little omega.” All you could do is nod dumbly as she thrusted up into you.

Nothing had ever felt this good. Nothing had even ever come close to how Agatha was making you feel right now as she thrusted up into you and you rolled your hips. She felled you up perfectly like she was made for you.

“A-Agatha...?” You breathed out, making her look at you. “Mark me. Please...wanna be yours...please let me be yours.”

“Only if you’ll be mine pretty girl.” You smiled all big and blissed out on her cock.

“Yes! Please wanna mark you too!” She smiled, leaning in and pulling you further onto her cock as she knotted you, filling you up full and biting into your neck, making you moan out at the double pain and pleasure combo. Once she pulled back you leaned in, marking her. The sound she made for you was perfect as you clenched around her. She was made for you and you were made for her.

As the night progresses, you realize that this is what you’ve been missing. The balance of fear and love, the intensity of her affection, and the safety you feel in her arms. Agatha has shown you that it’s possible to feel safe and loved without being controlled, and for the first time, you truly believe it.

When the night finally ends, you’re wrapped in her embrace, feeling more at peace than you ever have before. Agatha’s presence is a balm to your soul, and you know that with her, you can face whatever the future holds.

Taglist: @dorabledewdroop

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Ace Trappola: Trouble, that Trappola

Wow, different pjs??? I wonder if each student will truly have unique sleepwear or if it’ll be like “everyone in the same dorm has similar sleepwear, just recolored and with a different motif”. I’ve been laughing about how Ace is dressed and posed, it’s very… Justin Bieber-coded. His bedhead though, it reminds me of Sylvain from FE3H.

Fun fact, I have an irl friend that has the same birthday as Ace... Therefore, I am legally obligated to celebrate it with them/j This year, we're going to an Alice in Wonderland-themed afternoon tea, which I think is very appropriate for Ace! Aaaaaah, My Alice in Wonderland-loving heart can’t take it 😭

Rise and Shine!

He was having a pleasant dream.

There was a path, and the longer he walked on that path, the more the scenery morphed into nonsense.

First was a forest full of twisting turns, colorful signs that pointed this way and that. There was mewing coming from the trees overhead, but every time he looked, he’d find no one there.

Next was a field of progressively bigger and bigger plants. The flowers had faces set in them, and they taunted Ace as he passed. He had plucked the underside of a mushroom cap and chomped down on it. A mistake—Ace had an out-of-body experience, ballooning to the size of a giant and then back to his regular size.

Then he washed away in a sea of tea, spilling from a gigantic glass bottle labelled Drink Me. He swam with the sugar cubes drifting in the fragrant rapids. He caught a current of milk and rode it past trees of chocolate. A dollop of grape jam had dropped down from a branch and landed on his nose.

When Ace, at last, fished himself out of the tea, he was left sticky, skin caked in sugar. As he made to wring his clothes of Darjeeling, he spotted an iced cookie by his feet. Eat Me, it said. There was a trail of them, confections dotting the road ahead in a neat trail. He had followed it—followed until the cookies became crumbs and he was left wandering in a white void, a blank canvas.

Wandering… wandering… where?

Just as that question cropped up like an unwanted weed in an otherwise flawless lawn, a soft sound tickled his ear.

Someone was calling his name.

Who is it…?

He picked up his pace. A casual stroll to a speed walk, then a speed walk into a jog, a job into a run, then a run into a full-on sprint.

"I'm coming! I'm coming already, darn it!!" Ace shouted into the blinding white. "I'm coming, so...!!"

Wait for me. I'll meet you there.

I'll definitely, definitely...!!

His eyes snapped open.

He was lying on his back, wrapped up in his comforter and staring up at the ceiling of his bedroom. Ace blinked several times, slowly adjusting to the sunlight that was spilling in through drawn curtains. A groan escaped him--it was too early for this.

“Mmm… What time is it?” He rolled over in a groggy daze, reaching for his phone. It was still connected to a charger, but it snapped right out of its socket when Ace jolted up. "WHAT?!"

The time, it couldn't be correct. But the line of text messages in his history confirmed the building dread in his stomach.

Gm, Ace! I'll be over soon. Cya then.

I'm here!

Hey, are you up? It's 10 minutes past.

Did you stay up late talking to your bro and sleep through your alarm again?

Hellooooo?

I'm gonna leave without you if you don't come out in 5 minutes.

"Crap, I'm running late!!"

Ace leapt out of bed and flew across his room. The comics and magazines littering his mattress scattered to the floor, but he didn't stop to pick them up.

He moved like lightning, hurriedly dressing and rushing into the communal washroom. While he brushed his teeth with one hand (lest he face the wrath of his vice dorm leader), he teased out his hair with the other. After splashing his face with water (who was going to clock him, Vil?), Ace scribbled on his signature heart, grabbed his backpack, and slipped into his sneakers.

He had his technique down pat thanks to years of practice.

Ace bolted down the hall, stuffing a protein bar into his mouth as he cleared the door. The day greeted him--and so did you, glancing up from your own phone.

"There you are! You kept me waiting, wise guy," you lectured him. It wasn't anything serious--not like his dorm leader's lengthy tirades--just paling around.

"Excuse you," Ace huffed, running a hand through his hair, "I'm fashionably late. There's a difference."

You laughed. Typical of him to always have a snappy comeback prepared.

"Well, c'mon then, fashionably late loser," you urged, playfully nudging his arm, "or we'll both be tardy."

"We'll be late, but at least we'll be late together," he grumbled, nudging you back. "That's fine by me. Wouldn't be the worst thing in the world to be stuck in a room with ya for the afternoon."

"That's a weird way of describing detention with Crewel-sensei."

"What can I say? I'm a poet," he shrugged, letting his sarcasm drip like thick nectar. "Besides, I can't leave you hangin'."

"No?" Your eyebrows hitched. "Funny, cuz I clearly remember you ditching me for cleaning duty on the first day of classes. I almost thought you had left for class without me today too."

"Oi, that was then and this is now! Come on, do you really think I'd do that to you? Me? Really?"

"Absolutely," you said without missing a beat.

"Pfft. You're so wrong about that." He rolled his eyes. "If you were really that worried that I'd gone without you, you could've poked your head in to check on me."

You frowned. "That'd mean I'd have to go into your room."

"So? I've been over at your place and in your room before. What's the big deal? You'd just be returning the favor."

He leaned in, so close that your noses almost touched. Your heart stood still. The corners of Ace's mouth lifted into a smirk. It suited him well, loathe as you were to admit it.

"Or is it that you're being shy?" he asked in a singsong. "Prefect 🎵"

"I-I'm not!" you squeaked, stepping back to put distance between the two of you. "Quit assuming things, Ace! This is why you're so annoying."

"And who is it that's decided to hang out with my 'annoying' ass, huh?" he countered smoothly.

"Urgh...! Maybe I shouldn't have wasted my time waiting for you to get ready after all..." you muttered, turning away from him. "My morning would be way more peaceful without you."

"Way less interesting too," he quipped--getting in the last word.

You shook your head, but didn't bring yourself to argue. However meddlesome his tongue was, he had spoken the naked truth.

He's trouble, that Trappola.

[thewritetofreespeech]

Castlevania: Valentine's Day

---------🏵️----------

Alucard: Orange Blossom - eternal love, good fortune, marriage

Once, when Alucard was a boy, he witnessed his father present his mother with a whole drawing room of flowers to prove his love. It had been beautiful and lush. Flowers from all over the world nestled in it. Some medical for her work. Some just pretty to look at.

Alucard didn’t think he could top that, but he would make every effort to try.

“I cleared this away for you.” He said as he showed you the patch of dirt he had clear cut, tilled, and set up a small fence to keep the animals at bay. “You asked for a place to grow some fruits and vegetables for the villagers. This is your place now.” Your generosity and kindness had been what won Alucard over in his heart. He wanted to show you that your efforts mattered. That they were appreciated. That he would give you the world if only you would ask, and yet you only asked for a simple plot of earth. “And this is to help you get started.”

He produced a small orange sapling to give to you. Even as a young tree of just a few branches, the orange blossoms fragrant in the crisp morning air. “We’ll keep it in the castle for now but come next year it will bear fruit right here. And we will watch it grow together.”

Your smile felt like the first frost had suddenly melted. He looked forward to more smiles in the future. Watching this tree, and their love, grow.

-------🌷----------

Trevor: Pink Tulip - affection, love, tulips; general meaning of forgiveness

“Come oooon. You can’t still be mad at me.” Trevor whined as he followed behind you through the streets.

He knew he had messed up. Not usually one for romance, Trevor still knew that Valentine’s Day was a big one for couples (which was why he was usually two towns over by the time the holiday came around). Not with you, of course. He just genuinely forgot the date as there wasn’t a lot of time to check the calendar when your life was in danger.

“I said I was sorry, but I really didn’t think you would be into….all this.” He waved his hand around to all the fake sappy displays with fake papier-mâché hearts. “Once you’ve had a real heart in your hand, the décor sort of loses it’s effect.”

Trevor sensed he wasn’t getting anywhere with you. Your cold shoulder turning into a full cold back as you refused to turn around. So he realized he would have to fall on his sword and go for the big guns.

“Look, I’m sorry.” He said again after side-stepping in front of you to cut off your path. “I’m an idiot. But you knew that when you linked up with me. Still, I will try to be more romantic in the future.” He reached out to pluck a single pink tulip from a stall. Bringing it to his lips to hide his devilish smirk before offering it to you. “Forgive me?”

“Hey! You have to pay for that!”

Trevor sighed and glared at the stall owner. “You are literally ruining this for me my guy.”

----------🌼------------

Richter: Daisies - Innocence, Loyal love

Richter was broke. Broker than usual, to be precise.

The life of a vampire hunter was not one that paid well, if at all, so Richter was used to living frugally. But with times as they were, people starving as they cried out for change, his coffers were even more barren then usual. He only had enough for necessities for the two of you right now, and even that was stretching it.

Usually, it wouldn’t bother Richter so much. He could get by with the minimum. This time of year, however, he wished he had more than 2 livres to rub together so he could get you something for Valentine’s Day.

It was your first one together. That seemed important. Richter might not know a lot about romance, but he at least knew that much. Plus, regardless of the holiday, he wanted you to know how much you meant to him. How much you being in his life kept him fighting and hoping.

Window shopping with his empty coin purse, the young Belmont sighed as he looked at the jewels through the glass. He wished he could get you something like this. Something beautiful. Something nice. His eyes landed on one necklace in the window and he paused. It was a flower necklace. Delicate gold spun to look like leaves with white pearl petals along the neckline in intricate webbing. He suddenly perked up and raced out of the city to the hillside past the gates.

Later that night, he came back to the room at the inn the two of you were sharing and shyly offered you his gift. “It’s not much.” He cautioned. Watching you unwrap the resmoothed paper he had found and finding a flower chain within. “But my mother taught me how to make them when I was a boy. She said there was protection magic in them. I think she just liked them.” Carefully picking up the chain of daisies from your hand, Richter placed them around your neck. Smiling as he watched them rest there. “Beautiful.” Hesitantly, he leaned in to kiss you. Happy when you lean in to kiss him back.

It might not be much, but it was all he had. And Richter would give you all he had for the rest of his days.

[obsessioncorner]

•benedict bridgerton•

Summary : Benny sees you at your presentation to the queen and becomes infatuated with you

A/N : My DMs are open for requests x

NO WARNINGS

—————————————————————————————————————

Your arrival at the Featherington residence is met with a whirlwind of activity. Aunt Portia is determined to make you the belle of the season, and Penelope, sweet and supportive as always, assures you that you will shine. Despite their assurances, you can’t help but feel a twinge of anxiety as you prepare for your presentation to the Queen. This is your first season out, and the weight of expectation is heavy on your shoulders.

The day arrives, and you find yourself in the grand palace, standing among a sea of debutantes. The air is thick with anticipation and the scent of roses. As you wait for your turn, you try to steady your breathing, smoothing the delicate fabric of your gown and brushing a stray curl behind your ear. Your heart pounds as your name is called, and you step forward, curtsying deeply before the Queen.

In that moment, as you rise and meet her gaze, you feel a pair of eyes on you from across the room. You glance subtly to the side and see him—Benedict Bridgerton. His piercing blue eyes lock onto yours, and for a moment, the world seems to fade away. There’s something about the intensity of his gaze, the way he looks at you as if you’re the only person in the room, that sends a shiver down your spine.

The presentation continues, but you are only half-aware of the proceedings. Benedict’s gaze haunts you, lingering in your mind long after you’ve left the palace. That night, you find it difficult to sleep, his image replaying in your dreams, leaving you restless and yearning.

The first ball of the season is a grand affair, the Featherington’s ballroom adorned with glittering chandeliers and fragrant blooms. You stand near the edge of the dance floor, feeling both excited and apprehensive. The music swells, and the room is alive with colour and movement.

And then, you see him. Benedict Bridgerton, looking as dashing as ever, his eyes scanning the room until they find you. He makes his way towards you with a purposeful stride, and your heart races in anticipation.

“Miss Y/N,” he says, bowing gracefully. “Would you do me the honour of this dance?”

You nod, unable to find your voice, and place your hand in his. He leads you onto the dance floor, and the world around you seems to blur. The music, the other dancers, the whispers—they all fade away. It’s just you and Benedict, moving together in perfect harmony.

“You’ve been on my mind since the presentation,” he admits, his voice low and earnest. “I couldn’t wait to see you again.”

Your cheeks flush at his confession, and you feel a flutter in your chest. “I’ve thought of you as well, Mr. Bridgerton,” you say softly.

His smile widens, and he draws you closer as the dance continues. There’s a connection between you, something deeper than just the steps of the waltz. When the music finally stops, he doesn’t let go of your hand.

“Would you care for a walk in the gardens?” he asks, his eyes searching yours.

You nod, and he leads you outside, the cool night air a welcome contrast to the warmth of the ballroom. The garden is bathed in moonlight, the flowers casting gentle shadows on the path. You walk together in comfortable silence, the sound of your footsteps mingling with the distant strains of music.

Suddenly, he stops and turns to you, his expression serious. “Y/N, there’s something about you that I can’t ignore. You’ve haunted my dreams and my waking moments since the first time I saw you.”

Before you can respond, he closes the distance between you, his lips capturing yours in a gentle, yet passionate kiss. The world seems to stand still, and you lose yourself in the moment, in the feel of his lips against yours.

When he finally pulls away, he looks stricken. “I’m sorry,” he says, his voice filled with regret. “I shouldn’t have—”

You place a hand on his arm, stopping his apology. “There’s nothing to apologise for, Benedict.”

He looks at you, relief and something deeper shining in his eyes. “I must go,” he says, stepping back reluctantly. “But know this, Y/N—I’m going to marry you. I won’t rest until you’re mine.”

With that, he turns and walks away, leaving you standing in the moonlit garden, your heart full of hope and promise. As you watch him disappear into the night, you know that this is just the beginning of your story—a story that will be filled with love, passion, and the unbreakable bond that has already begun to form between you and Benedict Bridgerton.

[justbelievinginmagic]

BEWITCHED - part 1: we're not in munchkinland anymore.

pairing(s): witch!seonghwa x witch!reader ft. honjoong & san. mini-series summary: all your life you've had this spark - a touch of magic to your heart. as a munchkinlander, it was both a blessing and a curse. after all, two horrible witches had ruled over the land - all your life you had been asked: would you be a good witch or a bad witch? you wanted to be a good witch. and, finally, you would be! the day arrived; you were going to shiz university, the most-esteemed magical college in oz! you were prepared to work hard and make your dreams come true. but when you stumble upon cold bullies and an even colder sorcerer-in-training named park seonghwa who seemed to captivate you at every turn, will you be able to achieve your magical goals or will you fall under his spell? warnings/tags: inspired by the musical and movie adaptation of wicked, magical college AU, wizard of oz AU, set at shiz university, fem!reader, 3rd person POV, use of YN, set after a divergent-wicked timeline (where the wizard or a wizard still rules), magic, angst, some bullying, oz references and lore, use of ozian vernacular, nervousness, second-hand embarrassment, mentions of panties/corset, name calling. let me know if there are more tags needed. word count: ~4.5k

It had been known throughout Oz, for as long as the Time Dragon Clock tick-tocked, that the only place to become a grand sorcerer was Shiz University. Established, expensive, and exclusivatory, the university was known throughout the land as the cradle to success. Anyone who wanted to be anything went there – or to the Wizard to have their heart’s desire granted. But, of course, a meeting with the Wizard was rare. So, the only other option to success was hard work. Work hard to one day get to Shiz University.

Staring up at the ancient buildings of Shiz, YN couldn’t help but feel a rush of exhilaration. She had made it. Spiraling towers, open-air patios, water canals weaving in and out of the architecture, she knew one thing for certain: she wasn’t in Munchkinland anymore.

A shoulder bumped into her, making her huff and stumble over the aged tiles. She righted herself with a small huff, a familiar zing in her chest making her pause and take a deep breath. That was the last thing she needed to happen. The bustling crowds of students surrounded her like a sea. Some in the perfectly-pressed navy-blue jackets and horizontal-striped uniform dresses of Shiz with the silver-stitched emblem proud across their chest. Others were like her, dressed in their best-to-impress as they entered the grand corridors of Shiz as a new student. It reminded her of stories of masquerades in grand ballrooms – their outfits were all so different and extravagant. Pinks of the lightest shades, deep-rubied vermillion, bright yellows, all in the strangest textures and designs. Far different from her own dress fabric but never the less fantasticamagical!

YN felt out of place like a lost air balloon amongst the clouds. Clinging to her luggage case, she took a tentative step away from the open-air waterfront. As she moved ever forward into the college, she realized just how different everything was here. The air was cool and humid; the sound of sea-salt water trickling between the canal-filled paths babbled; there was the smell of fresh-Ozma petals blooming on the large leaf-pads floating across the shimmering water. It was really nothing like Munchkinland, and its sprawling country-sides. There was no smell of Ozwheat-ground bread, of fresh upturned soil, fragrant tulips in every shade of the rainbow, or the towering blossom stalks of sweet-flowers.

It was strange.

Swallowing, she hugged her brown suitcase closer and continued to walk further into Shiz. The honey-soft yellow of the buildings was complimented by a once-royal, now-pastel blue in the awnings and in delicate hand-painted décor across the buildings. Sunshine flickered past the shingled rooftops to cast the center of Shiz in a golden glow. It was beautiful. A different beautiful than what she was used to, but an optimistic jingle in her heart said she could like it here.

Another person pushed past her purposely, and this time it sent her tumbling to the ground. A laughter grumbled from the crowd, surprised but cruel. A mean-looking girl with a pointy nose laughed as she crowed out, “Watch where you are going, little farm girl!”

“She’s used to being that low to the ground I bet,” another encouraged with a sneer.

YN’s face crumbled at the words. Eyes burning before her face flushed. All her things toppled across the bustling court-yard – her books scattered, her dresses tumbled, her keepsakes rolled. Her suitcase had broken open. The clasp was worn and old compared to the new fancy luggage the rich (but mostly their entourage) toted along, but she didn’t think it was that old.

Embarrassment burned more fervently than that spark in her chest. Her focus to split between the pain of in her knees, the hurt from their words, and the panic of needing to grab her things now.

YN didn’t understand their uttertodious rudeness. She wasn’t the first nor the last to attend Shiz as a Munchkinlander. She hadn’t expected the dirty looks, the cruel laughs, the cold whispers, the foul name-calling. How did they even know she was of Munchkinland? She wasn’t of Munckinland holy blood. She was no Eminent, nor of the upper-class. She was just… YN. Was that so offending? Was it her dress? Was that what they were whispering about behind their hands and falling into giggles? Was it hideoteous compared to the swankified fabrics of the upper-class? She didn’t think so. She had put on her prettiest – a dirndl-esque dress of a deep sapphire. Hand-embroidered vibrant poppies, delicate milk-flowers, and candy-chrysanthemums decorated the hem and décolletage. Fresh flowers decorated her pig-tailed hair; some had begun to wilt in the change of temperature, but they still were prettied pastel yellows, blues, and pinks.  Some of those petals now rested on the ground from her fall, crumpled.

She felt the burn flare like embers fanned by a wind. Her book pages rattled in a nonexistent wind unnoticed by the snickering students. Behind her, a man’s voice cleared itself, baritone and rumbly.

“Are you alright?” He asked beside her.

Oh, his voice so melodic it reminded her of the Lullaby League singers that would pass through Munchkinland during the holidays. It reminded her of honey being poured over fresh-bread, of warm summer nights in the fields, of a bed waiting for her to curl up in.  

Looking up at him, her breath was stolen. YN swore for a moment she saw a star, a wizard, a sorcerer, an otherworldly being. There, haloed in the light of the afternoon sun, was a man with hair as light as milk-flowers and a nose carved by an artist. His shapely lips pursed in a thoughtful yet neutral pout; his eyes were a dark shade of fresh-soil. And somehow, they twinkled with stars.

Or maybe her eyes were filled with hearts. She blinked. YN had never seen someone so beautiful. The burning spark in her chest faded with awe.

His hand outstretched to her after a moment.

“Are you okay?” he repeated, bleached brow raising faintly.

There was another blink of her pretty eyes before she was shaken from her stupor.

“Oh, yes, yes,” she insisted as she took his hand.

With ease, she was tugged to her feet. “Thank you,” she whispered, pink cheeked.

The figure was tall especially so with his heeled boots. His presence was one she imagined only the Wizard to embody. Peace, stoniness, wisdom. He struck her with wonder. His gaze flickered from her, a faint ghost of a smile on his lips disappearing at the sight of her dresses tumbling away, her books’ pages fluttering in the wind, and, mortifyingly, her panties tumbling from her luggage.

“Um,” he cleared his throat, chin nodding in their direction.

Red cheeked and mortified, she went to grab the frilly underthings before sliding to her knees once more to catch all of her belongings from blowing away. Laughter rang out as students rushed around her things. Someone stepped on her leatherbound book of the History of Shiz.

Her savior, her star, hadn’t bent at the knee to help. He simply watched on, glancing at the student who was cackling at the Munchkinlander’s humiliation.

“Seonghwa!” A cry from the side caught her attention as a red-haired man, shorter than the white-haired star that had helped her, rushed forward. His arm slung over the taller’s shoulders - despite their size differences. Seonghwa bent at the knee for him, letting the red-head adjust him ‘til he was comfortable half leaning on his counterpart.

“Your Highness,” Seonghwa replied.

Highness! Her face only seemed to grow hotter and hotter. She knew Shiz had the rich and royal but she didn’t expect to a royal highness to be watching her gather her intimates and shove them into her luggage today. If her face could burn any hotter, she’d be a furnace.

“Here.” A stray hand held out a blue nightgown her way, and she grabbed it with only the quickest glance.

Sweet Oz, was this entire school flooded with beauty? A strong-shouldered man in decorated regalia was kneeling down to offer more of her items her way. He had collected a handful in his arms - a book, another nightgown, her corset! Grabbing it quick, she thanked him under her breath as she pushed everything into her bag messily.

“Making the ladies swoon and lose their panties already?” the red-haired man teased.

The burn in her chest returned almost as if it could incinerate her away ‘til she was nothing but dust. She wished she could disappear. She didn’t even notice her fingertips fading away, disappearing as she accepted another book from the handsome knight. They sparkled a ghastly transparent shape, almost like she was part ghost. San’s eyes lingered on her hands for a moment, eyes widening. She didn’t even notice that as she shoved a balled-up sweater into the bag.

“She stumbled and fell on her own,” Seonghwa commented. His tone felt cooler than before, almost defensive.

“I was tripped,” she muttered under her breath as she placed the last of her things in her bag.

With the last thing safely tucked away and her bag firmly shut, the broad-shouldered man gave her a soft smile, charmingly so, before he rose and returned to the Star named Seonghwa and his Highness.

“No harm in swooning anyone; stop acting like it’s some scandalacious thing,” the red-head chuckled as he peered down at the Munchkinland woman. His hand rose to tilt his rose-tinted glasses down the fine bridge of his nose.

He winked at her, and her face nearly matched his crimson locks.

“We aren’t here to swoon, Prince Hongjoong. We are here to—”

“Study, yeah, yeah. You okay, miss?” This Prince Hongjoong’s smile, or well, smirk was deadly. Playful, seductive, charming, all wrapped up in one.

“She’s from Munchkinland; I’m sure she’s familiar with being in the dirt,” someone said from the crowd.

Snorts and giggles erupted around. It made her ears burn as she finally stood back on her own two feet, with no help from the strange trio in front of her. The only reassurance was that they didn’t laugh, well, much. Hongjoong giggled out a high-pitched thing as San whispered in his ear. It didn’t feel cruel, more jovial, but still her ego was bruised.

They were laughing at her.

“I’m fine,” she said firmly, trying to cling to her words’ truth as tightly as she clung to her luggage.

Water-chimes rang out; hummingbirds playing them to the tune of the Shiz University alma mater. Everyone’s heads turned; some exclamations of excitement rang out.

“Orientation time,” she heard a girl from behind her say. “We have to get a good seat, c’mon.” A trio of girls pushed past and soon everyone was heading in the direction of the quad.

Orientation… so that’s what those bells were all about. It felt so utterly strange to not know. Everything was so different here, no bell towers here. Everyone seemed to know what things were – even something as simple as orientation’s starting call. But with that, her disturberanceand bullies left in a herd of Ozians scrambling to the main courtyard of Shiz.

She sighed out watching their attentions shift. Like she was nothing but an ant. Momentary entertainment before they casted her aside. She didn’t know it was going to be like this when she left home. Humiliating. Teasing. They weren’t children – why did they act so childish?

After working hard in her classes, after studying day-in-day-out, after facing endless scribing of papers, and even after facing nay-sayers who would taunt her with the words, “are you a good witch or a bad witch?,” she made it here. And she wasn’t going to let some rich-snobs make her feel lesser. So, what she didn’t have money or status? So what she came from Munchkinland? She was going to make it for herself – live an Ozian dream.

Munchkins were simple-folk – small-minded some would say, but not her. No, she believed they were clever. Innovative. They were responsible for feeding Oz; they were the Ozwheat Bread Basket of the lands; their rainbow-tulips techni-colored Oz! That had to stand for something. She was something.

She deserved to be here. She made it. She did it. She was equal.

The burning flame in her chest eased as she reminded herself this, sighing out as color flooded back to her fingertips.

Following after the crowd, she noticed that the trio stayed near her. Hongjoong’s stance was lazy, half leaning on Seonghwa who stood tall as ever, towering over both him and the strong-shouldered man who had helped her.

None were in the standard uniform – did that mean they were freshman like her? The Prince’s attire wasn’t exactly sloppy but mismatched. Dark velveteen pants hugged his legs tight. Laced up black boots with far too many laces climbed up his calves. He wore an ivory-white button up with far too many buttons, far too unbuttoned to be appropriate. A cream suit-jacket-esque sweater rested overtop that. The pattern on it held delicate handstitched purple-flowers… maybe gillyflowers? Was he from Gillikin Country? Regardless, he wore a strand of pearls around his throat, haphazardly. His rose-tinted glasses perched on the tip of his nose and a large oversized blue suede fedora hat hid most of his vermillion hair.

Meanwhile, the two accompanying him wore more uniformed outfits. The broad-shouldered one wore a black-suited ensemble with golden embellishments. A cape draped over his shoulder in deep purple. The one who she thought came from a Star had all white linens on, sharp shouldered and corseted tight around his already lean waist. They looked more royal than the so-called prince.

“You’re staring,” Seonghwa stated, blankly.

His gaze caught hers solidly. His gaze was all-consuming. Like he could see right through her. Read her thoughts. Great Oz… she was both intimidated and intrigued by him. He felt magnetic. Her stomach clenched. He tilted his head.

“Sorry,” she blushed.

“Again.” he added, brow twitching into a sharp raise.

His expression made her feel little, like he was throwing her back to the floor metaphorically. Because, he just had to point out that he noticed her staring earlier. He probably thought she was a creep or some dumb farmgirl like the students cajoled.

“Sorry… again.” she said, finally glancing away from him and walking towards an empty spot on a bench instead. She shifted to hold her suitcase in her arms, hugging it close to her chest. The spark twinkled and she didn’t notice aura she put off. A physical manifestation of her magic. It was a gentle aura; something that was more felt and less seen. It felt like dark clouds were hovering around her. A bubble to keep her safe and hidden, subconsciously.

He didn’t stop looking at her still. She knew because she snuck a quick glance and, when their eyes met in that flash, her cheeks matched the red poppies on her dress. The one with the cape chuckled; his eyes flashing to meet hers once more with a playful gleam. He was laughing at her. Sitting down in an empty spot on a bench, she turned her face away to look down the row of students seated next to her. She offered a soft smile about to introduce herself to the one beside her before one after one they scooted away. Glancing at her like she was the plague. “She’s the Munchkin girl; no, no, she’s not of any royal blood – shes just a charity case – maybe she—” Gossip trickled out as the other students sitting there shifted and moved until she was the only one sitting there. An outcast.  

What in Oz was this place?! She knew it was exclusivatory but not like this. So hateful. She wrapped her arms around her suitcase. Her chin rested on top of it as she looked around, making sure not to look at Seonghwa… A third scolding? From him? She’d rather melt into a puddle.

Once everyone had been seated, there was a great hum of a tune – the same alma mater that had twinkled out in chimes to summon them. Some students sang out with pride, knowing every word despite it being their first day. She knew it too; she had read it in her history book. But she refused to embarrass herself anymore today. If she could get through orientation without drawing anymore attention to herself, YN would be content.

Her spark kept a small bubble around her as if telling the world to not disturb her. She heard someone murmur something about, “do you see that odd shimmer around the new girl?”

As if not everyone was new… she pressed her chin into her arms firmer. Orientation and then she can get settled and try to start tomorrow on a better foot.

“Welcome students!” cried out a fancy-looking woman approaching the podium. Her dress was swirling with ancient blue magic; her hat a sharp point upon her head. A sorceress, no, a Witch! YN’s eyes perked up and she gazed up at the Witch in wonder. A real-life witch… a Good Witch of the North! How oztastic.

“Welcome, welcome to Shiz University. I am Madame Ozma, Headmistress here. Whether you are here to study logic, literature, or linguification, I know I speak for my fellow faculty members when I say we have nothing but the highest hopes for… some of you,” it was said in jest and a chuckle waved through the crowd.

“While all subjects are valued here at Shiz, I do want to bring some attention to two very lucky, very talented students that will be joining my sorcery seminar this semester. As you all know – sorcery is the life blood of Oz, and it’s a blessing and duty to cultivate any magic talent that shows itself. As rare as it is. It’s been decades since there have been two students studying sorcery concurrently. Their powers brought into a new age – as we all know.”

There was a murmur of agreement. Everyone knew of the Wicked Witch and Glinda the Good.

“Such a gift should be celebrated.” Ozma exclaimed out. “Uplifted. Guided towards the Light”

There was a scattering of applause. Her cheeks were burning red once more. Her head tilted downwards. The letter hadn’t mentioned this. Good Oz, she wanted to hide.

“Please rise, Miss YN of Munchkinland.”

A silence washed over the crowd in shock. All eyes snapped to her. Hongjoong let out a laugh in the silence, the sound bursting forth from his chest without a care. Blink, blink, blink; she felt like she was an art display of exhibition. Could she just ignore it? What would happen if she didn’t stand? No one really knew if she was YN after all?

“Don’t be shy.” The Headmistress encouraged.

Oh, Great Oz… With poppy-tinted ears, she slowly stood, ruby-cheeked and tight-smiled. That feeling of magic tingled in her chest, fluttering as her anxiety grew. It wanted to burst out – protect her from the murmur that rose through the students. Gossip rolled in wave as they leaned into one another. Whispering what? She didn’t want to know.

“Thank you, dearie. And, rise Sir Seonghwa of Gillikin Country.” She beamed out, encouraging a round of applause once more.  

YN’s gaze flashed to where Seonghwa rose as well, waving polite and light. Unlike her, he held such an elegance she didn’t have. Of course, he had magic! Of course, he was a Knight! She was sure he could control it better than she could ever control her wild thing of a magic spark. And now they were going to have private lessons together? After his friends made fun of her? After school-wide ridicule? After he reprimanded her for staring! She wanted to crawl into a corn field and rot.

“Our two sorcerers-in-training,” she declared over polite clapping. “We will be seeing lots and lots of each other.” Madame Ozma promised her and Seonghwa before nodding and allowing them to sit. The Headmistress beamed at the students before shifting her attention to another professor who began to prattle about dormitories, their roommates, and where the halls were located.

Sitting down quick, she wished she could just sink into the ground. How was she going to stand being around him? She blushed if he even so looked at her. How would she focus?

-

Once orientation ended, it was like a stampede. The students shuffled and hustled around her, rushing towards the many faculty who were handing out keys to their dormitories and pointing on grand scrolls and proclaiming, “Yes, yes, Ms. Gale, you are in the North Dormitory. No, you can’t trade roommates. Yes, its permanent.” Overlapping and overwhelming, the world of Shiz was back in swing – the orientation a flurry of too many moments and moving bodies.

YN stayed on the outskirts of the chaos, peering through a navy sea of uniforms to peer up at the many scrolls, listing out name after name. She’s already embarrassed herself enough for today; she’ll wait ‘til the crowd dispersed she decided.

“There must have been a miscommunication,” she heard Seonghwa’s smooth voice like a siren’s call. She couldn’t help but have her eyes flicker towards him. How could she hear him so well? It was like her body was already in tune with him – he was so far away and yet she could pick him out of a crowd. He was a beautiful flower surrounded by weeds.

Seonghwa’s face was crinkled, divine confusion making his upturned brows

“This isn’t right,” he continued, raising a polite hand towards a faculty member. “The Gillikin Prince requested a private apartment – for himself, Sir Choi San, and myself. But I only see his Highness and San listed.”

“Name?” the bunny-faculty member chirped out.

“Park Seonghwa,” he told him.

There was a shuffling of papers, the rabbit-professor humming and bumbling.

“Ah, yes, yes,” the rabbit nodded, his mouth chittering a bit as he chewed on the edge of his pen. “I see – no, no mix up, Sir Seonghwa. Thank you.”

“Where is my dormitory then?” Seonghwa snapped, his tone sharp and authoritarian before he swallowed and followed it up with a soft ‘please’.

“With Miss YN, of course,” It wasn’t the rabbit-professor who spoke but the nearby Headmistress. She walked forward; the rabbit-professor bowed in her direction and Seonghwa followed suit, bowing his head politely.

“YN, dear,” Madame Ozma called, “Join us.”

Seonghwa’s gaze turned and met hers – because, of course, like two magnets their eyes found one another immediately. It felt like she was caught staring for the third time. Bumbling, YN nodded and stood with her suitcase, walking forward.

“Yes, Madame,” she called, curtsying and bowing and rushing forward to the Headmistress. “Honor to meet you.”

“What do you mean I am rooming with Miss YN?” Seonghwa redirected.

Nearby, she heard Hongjoong giggled out manically. “This is perfect,” the red-head commented.

“Hush, your Highness,” Seonghwa scolded over his shoulder with ease, not even glancing at the Prince. Too natural, too routine, like he knew where the Prince was at all times without even looking his way. The Prince still giggled, and surprisingly San joined him in his mischievousness.

“Yes, Seonghwa, you will be sharing an apartment with YN,” the Headmistress confirmed, her head nodding towards the Munchkinlander. “I thought that was made clear to you through our letters?”

Seonghwa’s head turned, almost like an owl, to stare down the chortling Royal and the smirking San.

“I must’ve missed that letter,” he replied slowly.

“As did I,” YN piped up. “I never received anything besides – well, besides entry into the school and your approval of joining the seminar.”

“Oh dear, I’m so sorry,” the Madame apologized, squeezing the arm of YN. “I will inquire my office about correspondence throughout Oz and where there were any mishaps.”

She nodded lightly before glancing towards Seonghwa who seemed so indifferent to her as he turned back to face the Headmistress. Like a statue, his facial features had settled into a calm, neutral glaze.

“However, I must apologize; there are not two room available for you both. There is only one apartment closest to my offices – I want to have myself available to you both as often as possible. Magical growth doesn’t happen overnight nor does it follow any class schedule,” she chuckled lightly. “The apartment is up to standards, one of the best if I do say so myself.”

The two sorcerers-in-training spoke over one another next.

“I don’t doubt that,” YN replied.

“It’s not about that!” Seonghwa exclaimed.

They locked gazes once more. The man swallowed, his Adam's apple jittering, before looking away forcibly.

Her face fell visibly. Was he so… disgustified by her that he couldn't even share a space with her? She was an adult. She wouldn’t be dirty or disrespectful as a roommate. She'd leave him be but with how he was acting - it was as if she was some lowly creature. He didnt even care if the apartment was the nicest ones on campus! She could only imagine its history and beauty and yet... he was acting so adamant.

“I am here as protection for his Highness,” Seonghwa stated whole-heartedly. “First-and-foremost.”

“I understand,” the Headmistress asserted. “His Highness, Prince Kim Hongjoong has written me most ardently over the summer requesting for his apartment to be furnished only for two – him and Sir Choi. He expressed his full support to your studies.”

At the new information, there was a flicker of dust whirling off of the sorcerer's bare skin; his honey skin glimmering as magic oozed from him. He rolled his tongue over his teeth before Seonghwa finally let out a huff of frustration. His perfect mask fell as he gritted his teeth.

“And I do,” Hongjoong drawled from behind them. He took a step forward, red glasses pushed into his hair as he looked at his friend earnestly. “Hwa, you’ve protected me your entire life – its time for your talent to grow.” It was said genuinely but Seonghwa’s anger, no matter how small buzzed and bubbled in the air. She could see his hair rise with static electricity just faintly. His magic was so reactive… just like hers.

She had never met another wizard or witch; only read about them. And to see his magic surging in a near invisible dust-like ember around him, the little tells of its reactions on his body, it felt like for once she had someone who would understand her.

If only he didn't despise her.

“There are no curfews,” the Headmistress reminded. “If you wish to stay at his Highness’ suite, no one will stop you. But I’m sorry; there are no other official accommodations I can provide.”

Seonghwa took in a deep breath through his nose before offering a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “That’s alright, Headmistress. Thank you for the clarification. I’m sure me and YN will – we'll be fine. We will find a solution.” He stumbled over the right word.

She felt like he was already planning to sneak out of their dorm or distance himself from her as soon as the Headmistress floated away. He hadnt looked at her since she joined them.

“Very good. That's what I like to hear - my two sorcerers working together” The Headmistress beamed. Her magic blared out in a whirl of golden light with her happiness, looking like a living candle for a moment. “I do look forward to our lessons, but for now… welcome to Shiz.”

Yeah, what a welcome.

[sol941sblog]

Quando andar pelo seu caminho, traga flores perfumadas e espalhe perfume de amor, carinho e esperança.🌹

When you walk your path, bring fragrant flowers and spread the scent of love, affection and hope.🌹

عندما تسير في طريقك، أحضر معك زهورًا عطرة ونشر رائحة الحب والمودة والأمل.🌹

[queenstarlight2]

rivalry and a choice

Yandere Thranduil and Elrond summary: Thranduil takes you to the garden, Elrond interrupts, and two choices are given to you. (3k words) part 1, part 2 part 3, part 4

The Elven Gardens are a beautiful and serene place, filled with colorful flowers, towering trees, and a series of pathways that lead through the heart of the gardens. The air is perfumed with the scents of roses, lilies, and other fragrant blossoms, and the sounds of chirping birds and buzzing bees fill the air. The sunlight filters through the leaves, casting a dappled pattern on the pathways and creating a warm, idyllic atmosphere. The garden is a place of peace and contemplation, a perfect place for a solitary stroll or a romantic encounter.

Thranduil led Star through the garden, his arm looping through hers as they walked. The air was warm and fragrant, and the sounds of buzzing bees and chirping birds filled the air.

"I must say," Thanduil said casually. "I'm glad you decided to take this walk with me. I've been wanting a moment alone with you." Star glanced up at him, a faint smile on her lips. "I don't mind," she said softly. "The gardens are so beautiful."

Thranduil nodded in agreement, leading her down a path toward a quieter area of the garden. The sound of a small fountain could be heard in the distance, the gentle trickling of water adding to the peaceful atmosphere. As they walked down the path towards the quieter area of the garden, Thranduil suddenly chuckled, breaking the silence.

"You know," he said, his voice holding a hint of amusement. "I couldn't help but notice how Elrond was acting this morning. He seemed to be watching you like a hawk, almost like he was afraid I'd try something." Star's eyebrows raised slightly, a small flicker of curiosity crossing her Features. "Really?" she asked, feigning nonchalance. "I didn't notice anything unusual." Thanduil chuckled again, amused by her answer. "Ah, you're quite observant, aren't you?" he teased.

He led her towards a small bench near the fountain, gesturing for her to sit down. "You know," he said as he took a seat next to her. "You and Elrond haven't known each other for very long, have you?" Star nodded in agreement, her eyes fixed on the rippling water of the nearby fountain. "No, we haven't known each other very long," she said quietly. "We only met this morning, when I was trying to find where breakfast was served." Thanduil let out a low whistle of surprise, feigning shock. "Only met this morning, eh?" he said. "And yet Elrond already seems possessive of you. He doesn't waste any time, does he?" Star chuckled weakly, somewhat uncomfortable with the conversation. "He's probably just trying to help me get settled since I'm new here," she said, her voice quiet. Thanduil chuckled again, clearly not convinced. "Oh, is that so?" he said, leaning closer to her. "I've known Elrond for a long time, my dear. And I know for a fact that he doesn't usually take such an interest in newcomers. But he seems very interested in you." Star shifted uncomfortably, feeling a little overwhelmed by Thanduil's proximity. She had to admit that Elrond had been acting a little strangely, but she didn't want to admit it out loud.

"I don't know," she said, trying to dismiss the subject. "He's just being nice, that's all," Thanduil smirked, leaning back and crossing his legs casually. "Oh, I'm sure he's being nice," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "But there's a difference between being nice and being possessive, my dear. And Elrond has a touch of the latter where you're concerned." Thranduil leaned back on the bench, his regal bearing adding a touch of authority to his relaxed pose. His demeanor was as casual as ever, but his eyes gleamed with a hint of possessiveness as he looked at her.

"You know," he said casually. "Elrond has always been a little protective of those he cares about. And it seems like he's already taken quite a shine to you, my dear." Star shifted uncomfortably on the bench, feeling a little flustered at Thanduil's words. She wasn't sure how to respond to his implications, especially since she had only met Elrond that morning.

"I don't know," she said again, fiddling with the hem of her dress. "I haven't known him long enough to say it's anything more than just a friendly concern." Thanduil chuckled again, clearly enjoying their little banter. "Ah, but you underestimate the power of a first impression, my dear," he said, his tone lighthearted. "And I'm willing to bet that Elrond was quite captivated by you the moment he laid eyes on you." Star's cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and she looked away from him, hoping to hide her reaction. She could feel his gaze on her, sharp and intense as if he was studying her every move.

"I don't know about all that," she muttered, avoiding his gaze. Thranduil chuckled again, amusement lighting up his eyes. But beneath that amused exterior, there was an underlying tension, a hint of obsession that was barely contained.

"Oh, come now," he said, his voice dripping with charm. "You don't have to be modest. I can tell that Elrond is quite taken with you already."

As he spoke, his eyes roamed over her body, taking in every detail. He leaned closer to her, his gaze intense and almost predatory. "You're a very appealing creature, my dear," he said softly, his voice filled with a possessive edge. "It's no wonder he can't keep his eyes off you." As he spoke, his hand reached out and gently touched her chin, tilting her face up towards his. "But I don't blame him," he added, his thumb stroking her cheek. "I can see why he would find you irresistible." His touch was gentle but firm as if he couldn't help but want to claim her as his own. He let his hand drift lower, tracing the curve of her neck and shoulder with a possessive touch. Star was startled by Thanduil's unexpected touch, and she jerked back slightly, her eyes wide with shock. His touch had been too possessive, too forward, and it had taken her off guard.

"I… um…" she stammered, her heart racing as she looked up at him. Thanduil withdrew his hand, a flash of annoyance flickering across his face at her reaction. He wasn't used to being rejected, and her response had caught him off guard.

"What's wrong, my dear?" he asked, his voice sickly sweet. "Did I startle you?" Star shook her head, not wanting to offend him but also feeling uncomfortable with his advances. "No, it's not that," she said quickly. "It's just that your touch was a little… unexpected, that's all." Thanduil chuckled, but it sounded a little forced. "Ununexpected, eh?" he said, his tone casual. "Well, I suppose I can be a little… enthusiastic at times. Forgive me if I was too forward."

He leaned back on the bench, giving her a little more space. But his eyes were still fixed on her, his gaze intense and possessive. He seemed to be assessing her, trying to get a read on her reaction to his advance. He wasn't used to being rejected, and her skittishness amused him as much as it frustrated him. "You know," he said abruptly, breaking the silence. "You're quite a nervous little thing, aren't you? Like a scared rabbit, ready to bolt at the slightest noise." Star shivered involuntarily at his words, feeling a sudden sense of vulnerability wash over her. It was as if she was suddenly aware of the danger she was in, trapped between two possessive elves who wanted her all to themselves.

She couldn't deny the truth in his words. She was nervous and skittish, unsure of how to handle their advances. Thanduil chuckled again, clearly amused by her reaction. "Don't worry, my dear," he said, his voice deceptively casual. "I won't hurt you. I just can't help but notice how adorable you look when you're flustered." Just as Thanduil was about to lean forward once more, there was a sudden sound of footsteps approaching. A moment later, Elrond appeared from around the corner, a neutral expression on his face.

"Ah, there you are," he said smoothly, his eyes flickering between Thanduil and Star. Thanduil stifled a sigh of irritation, annoyed at the interruption. He had been so close to claiming Star for his own, and now Elrond had ruined his moment.

"Hello, Elrond," he said, his voice dripping with false cheeriness. "What brings you here?" Elrond didn't miss the hint of irritation in Thanduil's voice, but he didn't react. He simply gave the other elf a cool smile before turning his attention to Star.

Elrond didn't miss the hint of irritation in Thanduil's voice, but he didn't react. He simply gave the other elf a cool smile before turning his attention to Star.

"I've been looking for you," he said, his tone neutral. "I was hoping to speak with you."

But she couldn't deny that there was something different about the way he was looking at her. There was a hint of intensity in his gaze, almost possessive, like he was studying her every move. She felt a shiver run down her spine, and she was struck by the thought that maybe Thanduil's warning had been accurate. Maybe Elrond was interested in her, just as Thanduil had said. Star quickly pushed the thought aside, trying to convince herself that she was being paranoid. There was no reason to think that Elrond was interested in her in anything more than a friendly way.

She forced a smile onto her face and turned her attention back to him. "What did you want to talk about?" she asked. Elrond returned her smile, his eyes flickering over her face as if studying her. "I was wondering if you might be interested in joining me for tea later," he said casually. Elrond's smile remained unchanged, but his mind was racing. In truth, he was not as nonchalant as he appeared. His invitation was a pretext, a cunning plan to keep an eye on Thanduil and Star's interactions. As Elrond made the suggestion, Thanduil's expression darkened. He knew that Elrond's invitation was motivated by more than just a casual desire for companionship.

"Tea, eh?" he said sharply, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Interesting choice of activity." Elrond noticed Thanduil's reaction, but he didn't respond to it. Instead, he merely continued to stare at Star, waiting for her answer. Thanduil gritted his teeth, his annoyance growing. He didn't like the idea of Elrond spending time alone with Star, but he knew that he couldn't protest without revealing his possessive feelings toward her. He clenched his fists, trying to keep his temper in check. "Tea sounds lovely," he said through gritted teeth, his voice strained. "A perfect way to get to know our new guest better." Star hesitated for a moment, sensing the tension between the two elves. She didn't want to seem like she was playing favorites, but at the same time, she couldn't ignore the invitation from Elrond.

"Sure, I'd love to have tea with you later," she said finally, offering Elrond a small smile. Elrond's eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he heard her response, his lips curling into a pleased little smile. "Excellent," he said, his voice smooth as silk. "I'll see you in a few hours, then." Thanduil's hands clenched into fists, his anger and frustration gnawing at him. He didn't like the way Elrond had so casually arranged a date with her, and he didn't like the way she had so easily agreed. Thranduil clenched his jaw, trying to keep his emotions in check. He realized that Star probably had no idea that Elrond's invitation was a thinly veiled attempt to steal her away from him.

He couldn't blame her for not understanding the true motivations behind the invitation, but that didn't make it any easier to swallow. He glared at Elrond, his eyes narrowing in anger, but he didn't say anything. He knew that a public scene would only draw attention to their strange rivalry, and he didn't want to give Elrond the satisfaction of seeing him lose his cool. Elrond nodded at them, his expression cool and casual. "Until later, then," he said, giving Star one last assessing look before turning and walking away. Thanduil waited until he was out of earshot before letting out an annoyed huff. "That scheming bastard," he muttered under his breath. He knew that Elrond had planned this all along, arranging a date with Star under the pretense of getting to know her better. But he couldn't help but feel like he was losing ground, that his competition was gaining the upper hand. Thranduil gritted his teeth, trying to calm himself down. He couldn't let Elrond have all the fun; he still had a chance to win Star over.

He turned his attention back to Star, his expression clearing. "You know," he said casually. "You really shouldn't let Elrond monopolize all your time. It's nice to get to know different people, of course, but it's always good to have options. That's why I was wondering…" He paused, his eyes meeting hers slyly. "Maybe you'd like to join me for dinner tonight," he continued, his voice smooth and enticing. "I promise it will be a much more enjoyable experience than tea with Elrond." He watched her closely, waiting for her response. He was hoping that she would see his invitation as the better option, that she would choose to spend time with him instead of Elrond.

She looked at Thanduil, her expression thoughtful. "Well, it's not like I have to choose between the two of you," she said finally. "Maybe I could do both?" Thanduil's initial expression of disappointment quickly faded at her words. "Both, eh?" he repeated, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "I suppose that's one way to handle it." "Elrond may have invited you for tea, but I can offer something a bit more… substantial. Dinner, in my quarters…" He paused, letting the implications of his invitation sink in. He leaned a little closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "And I can promise that it will be much more entertaining than anything Elrond could offer you." Star was taken aback by Thanduil's forwardness, her cheeks flushing faintly as he leaned closer. She had only just met both him and Elrond, and now they were both flirting with her so openly.

"I… um…" she stammered, her voice a little higher than normal. "This is all a bit sudden, don't you think? I barely know either of you." Thanduil chuckled at her reaction, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on her. "Oh, my dear," he said softly, his eyes glinting with amusement. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting to meet someone like you. And now that I have, I have no intention of letting you slip through my fingers." He leaned back a little, giving her some space, but his eyes remained fixed on her. "And as for Elrond, well… he may have a bit of a head start, but I do not doubt that I can win over your favor just as easily as he has." He reached out, gently tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. "Just give me a chance," he murmured, his voice low and seductive. "I can show you things that Elrond could only dream of." He reached out, gently tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. Just as Thanduil was about to continue his flirtations, a guard appeared behind them, clearing his throat loudly.

"Excuse me, my lord," the guard said respectfully. "Lord Elrond requests your presence in his private quarters. He says it's urgent." Thanduil's expression darkened at the interruption, his eyes narrowing with irritation. He was just starting to make progress with Star, and now he had to go deal with Elrond's summons. He glanced back at Star, his expression a mix of annoyance and resignation. "I apologize," he said grudgingly. "It seems I have some business to attend to. But I won't be long." Thanduil looked at Star for a moment longer, his eyes flickering over her face before settling on her hand. He lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss on her knuckles, savoring the feel of her skin against his own.

"Until we meet again," he said quietly, his eyes flicking up to meet hers as he released her hand. "And remember, when evening comes, I look forward to having you in my quarters for a more… intimate dinner." He gave her a small, sly smile before turning and striding away, following the guard towards Elrond's private quarters. He couldn't help but feel a pang of irritation at the interruption, but he knew that he had to play along for now.

(star is y/n btw. just didnt wanna put y/n. next chapter gonna be them meeting up again)

[broomsick]

Nine unique ways to reconnect with nature

Why nine? Because it's the sacred number of my path. In my experience, for people like us who need a certain amount of spiritual practice in their lives, feeling close to nature does wonders for the mood. And I know this is easier said than done, which is why I wanted to share a few personal tips, all related to some extent to self care. After all, I feel like we underestimate the tight link between mental health and this feeling of “closeness” with the earth.

Find the sacred in plants, or animals you've always been drawn to. How can you explain this particular connection you feel? Your intuition often reveals truth.

Collect what you see, and don't be afraid to hoard trinkets like treasure. Cool rock, cool stick, cute acorn, fragrant flower, fallen branch... Whatever tickles your fancy.

Go out of your way to enjoy what every season has to offer. Garden in the summer, or chill at the park, carve a pumpkin during the autumn, make hot cocoa during the winter... Find ways to be cozy in every weather!

Look out the window. Do it as often as you can. Look at the sky, observe how windy it is, how bright the sun is, how thick the clouds are!

Give names to the natural elements around you. Simply calling a tree, plant or animal by the name of its species does the trick: names are powerful, and they show that you acknowledge the spirit that resides in everything that lives.

Learn the stories, as many as you can. Anything folklore related to your area! Folklore hides a great deal of generational wisdom and beliefs, and it reveals such a powerful connection between the people and the land.

Cook with fresh ingredients. No need to grow your own everything, or raise your own chickens, or adopt other such backyard farming activities. Simply by making meals out of fresh, local products as often as you can, you might feel as one with the land thanks to which you are fed.

Stop feeling silly when indulging in aesthetics. Make that Pinterest board filled with pictures of flowers! Listen to that song that makes you feel like a woodland fairy! Put on that long, flowy skirt, or that cardigan with knit mushrooms on it! Through these seemingly trivial little joys, we may experience a connection with ourselves that's crucial to feeling close to our mother earth.

Use your hands: craft artsy projects if you can, dig your fingers in the earth, and brush the bark of trees! You body is your best tool when it comes to feeling grounded. It's always the part of yourself that's closest to earth. To use it is to honor it, and to care for it is to care for yourself.

If you reside in the Northern hemisphere, have a great spring season! Hail the King of the Elves and the spirits of the land 💛

[bright-side20]

Little Things

This soft scene between Elain and Azriel (before the BC) is inspired by a poem called Little Things by Nizar Qabbani.

Azriel had been avoiding Elain for days now, keeping his distance to avoid the tension growing between them whenever they were near each other. He had convinced himself that it was for the best, that maintaining that space would help him keep control over his feelings towards her.

But when she invited him to tour the garden she had built at the townhouse, he couldn’t bring himself to say no. Maybe it was the softness in her voice when she asked, or the way her eyes lit up when she talked about the flowers she had cultivated with such care. Or maybe it was simply because being near her was something he could never truly resist.

They walked side by side, close enough that her hand occasionally brushed against his. Every touch sent a jolt through him, and he had to fight the urge to take her hand in his, to give in to the pull that had been growing stronger with each passing day. He remembered all the times she had taken his hand before, how natural it had felt, how right. But now, he forced himself to keep his distance, even though every part of him ached to be closer.

Elain led him down a winding path lined with fragrant flowers and lush greenery, her golden-brown hair gleaming under the sunlight. Her voice was light and cheerful as she pointed out different plants, sharing little stories about how she had nurtured each one. The rose bushes, stubborn and thorny, the ivy that kept climbing even when she cut it off. Azriel tried to focus on her words, but his mind kept drifting back to the feel of her hand brushing against his, to the memory of his hand wrapping hers.

He kept glancing at her, the soft curves of her body tempting him more than they should. Her dress clung to her in all the right places, her hair curls gently caressing her waist whenever she moves and when she bent down to touch a flower, he caught a glimpse of her neckline, the smooth skin there, and it nearly undid him,thinking of how it would feel to touch her, to pull her against him and press his lips to her throat, to feel her melt into him.

As they rounded a corner, he noticed them... the moonflowers. Their pale buds were tightly closed, waiting for nightfall to bloom. The sight of them brought back the memory of the last Solstice when Elain had brought him a gift, when he spent the rest of the night listening to her gardening plans, when he became sure that whatever had been growing between them wasn’t just friendship anymore.

He pointed to the flowers, his voice a bit softer as he said, “The moonflowers… You said they’d make the garden beautiful, even at night.”

Elain looked up at him, surprise flickering in her eyes. “You remember that?”

Azriel nodded, his gaze softening as he studied her. “I do. You talked about planting them during Solstice.”

She looked at him, her brows knitting together in thought. “I talked so much about the garden that night, I’m surprised you didn’t fall asleep.”

A soft chuckle escaped him. “I couldn’t. You described it so vividly, I could almost see it, the moonflowers glowing under the stars, the garden alive even when the rest of the world is quiet. It stuck with me.”

She blinked, caught off guard by his recollection. “I didn’t think you would remember such detail . It was just an idea… a way to make the garden special, no matter the time of day.”

“It’s more than an idea,” Azriel said. “It’s a reflection of you. How you see the world… even in the darkness, you find beauty.”

Elain’s cheeks flushed, and she glanced down at the flowers around them, her fingers brushing against a delicate bloom. “You should come and see the garden at night. It really looks so beautiful with the little jasmines spreading their aroma through the garden. I love its scent.”

Azriel nodded, wondering if she knows that she literally smells like jasmine, mixed with a hint of something sweet and intoxicating, something that made his blood thrum in his veins. He swallowed hard, keeping himself from telling her that he loved how her scent filled his lungs, how he wished he could bury his face in her neck, inhaling her, his tongue slowly tracing her throat, tasting her... His gaze trailed down her throat, the soft column of skin there, and he realized he had been staring too long. Elain noticed too, the blush that crept up her cheeks was now also coloring the delicate skin of her chest, and it made his restraint waver.

For a moment, they just looked at each other. Elain’s brown eyes held his, deep and warm like the velvety earth after a fresh rain. Then, she reached out and took his arm. The touch was gentle, but it sent a shockwave through him, his pulse quickening as her fingers curled around his forearm. Even through his Illyrian leathers, he could feel her warmth, a heat that seemed to sink into his skin and spread through his body. How such a simple touch could affect him so deeply, he wondered.

It felt like she was asking for more, like she wanted him closer. He wanted to slide his hands down her back, feel the curve of her waist beneath his palms, press her against him until there was no space left between them. But he fought it, fought the overwhelming urge to give in to the hunger that had been simmering for so long. He couldn’t... shouldn’t, but she made it so hard to remember why.

As they continued walking, Azriel’s mind was a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts, each one more dangerous than the last, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away from her touch. Not when it felt so right, so necessary.

As they neared the end of the garden path, Elain finally broke the silence. “Will you come to the family dinner tonight?” she asked, her voice hesitant. “It’s been a while since we’ve all been together.”

Azriel opened his mouth to say yes, the word almost slipping out before he remembered. Lucien. Her mate. He would be there. The thought hit him like a punch to the gut, reminding him of all the reasons he had been keeping his distance in the first place.

He hesitated, searching for an excuse. " I have some work I need to finish,” he said, his voice a little too stiff. “Reports to go over, a mission to plan. I don’t think I’ll make it.”

Elain’s face fell slightly, she knew exactly why he was avoiding her, why he made excuses, but she quickly masked it with a small smile. “Of course, I understand."

They stood in silence for a moment. Elain’s hand still rested on his arm, her touch warm and comforting, and for a brief moment, he allowed himself to savor it. To imagine what it would be like if things were different, if he could be with her the way he wanted to. How he craved these soft moments with her. Maybe she could rest her head on his shoulder, and he could wrap his arms around her, pulling her close, letting his hand play with her curls while they waited for dusk to watch from her garden. Maybe they could share some secret moments here…

But then reality tugged him back, reminding him of the boundaries he had set. He couldn't let himself be swept away by these desires, not now, not with everything at stake. He gently pulled his arm away, though he lingered a moment longer, letting his fingers brush against hers.

“Thank you for the tour,” he said quietly. “The garden turned out exactly as you had planned, it’s so beautiful.”

She nodded, her smile bittersweet. “Thank you. I’m glad you could see it.”

With that, he spread his wings before her. “Would you like me to fly you to the River House?” Her large brown eyes were staring at his wings, her mouth slightly open. He liked how she always seemed mesmerized by them, somehow, it sent a sense of pride through him. She swallowed, finally glancing back at his eyes. “I still have to visit a Fae garden nearby, thank you for the offer,” she said, smiling at him.

He smiled back at her, then launched himself into the sky, his wings cutting through the air as his heart twisted painfully. Leaving her behind always felt like losing something precious, like parting with a piece of his soul. Yet, amidst the ache, there was solace, he had created another memory with her, a fleeting moment to treasure. These small fragments of time, delicate as they were, would sustain him through the long, empty nights. He would hold on to them, these little details, nourishing himself on the echoes of her presence for months, perhaps even years...

[erebusbabylon]

The Pain of Parting (Gil-galad x F! Reader) One Shot

Summary: You grapple with the impending departure of your beloved husband, Gil-galad, who is preparing for battle against Sauron. As you try to immerse yourself in the affairs of the realm, the clashing of swords outside serves as a painful reminder of the danger he faces.

Notes: No warnings. This quote from the Silmarillion comes into play: "For the Elves die not till the world dies, unless they are slain or waste in grief." - The Silmarillion

You sat in the study, surrounded by scrolls and maps, attempting to immerse yourself in the affairs of the realm. The soft glow of candlelight flickered against the parchment, but your thoughts drifted elsewhere. Outside, the rhythmic clanking of metal swords echoed through the halls, the sound sharp and clear against the stillness of the evening.

You paused, your quill hovering above the ink-stained parchment, as the distinct clash of blades rang out once more. Gil-galad was training with his soldiers, preparing for the impending battle in Eregion. Each strike sent a pang of dread through your heart, a painful reminder of the dangers that lay ahead.

Determined to focus, you turned your attention back to the scrolls, but the words blurred together. The impending departure loomed over you like a dark cloud, each clash of metal increasing your anxiety. You bit your lip, willing yourself to remain composed, but the tension in your chest tightened with every sound.

Desperate to distract yourself, you tried forcing your gaze to the scrolls laid out before you. Yet, the words eluded you; they swam in a sea of worry and despair. You pressed your palms to your temples, closing your eyes tight, willing the tears to stay at bay.

But then, a particularly loud clash broke through your resolve, and you could no longer hold back. The tears spilled over, tracing silent paths down your cheeks. You felt helpless and terrified, knowing that soon he would leave, and all you could do was watch.

After a final, agonizing clash rang out, you stood and made your way to your chamber, seeking solace from the turmoil outside.

The familiar warmth of the room enveloped you as you stepped inside, but it did little to quell the storm within. You moved to the small table by the window, where sunlight still lingered, and sank into a chair. The soft glow did nothing to dispel the shadows creeping into your heart.

With a deep breath, you tried to focus on the beauty of your shared space—the intricately woven tapestries, the fragrant flowers in a vase, and the small tokens of your shared love scattered throughout. But each item only served as a reminder of what you stood to lose.

As silence settled around you, the weight of your emotions became unbearable. Tears streamed down your cheeks, and you buried your face in your hands, sobbing quietly. The thought of Gil-galad departing for battle gnawed at you, filling you with despair.

After some time, you heard the door open softly. Gil-galad stepped inside, weary but radiant, his presence instantly filling the room with warmth. He paused at the sight of you, his heart breaking upon seeing your tear-streaked face.

“Beloved," he said gently, crossing the room in swift strides. He knelt beside you, concern etched across his features. “What troubles you, my queen?”

You looked up, your eyes shimmering with tears. “I thought I could bear it, but the training… every clash reminds me of your departure. I can’t help but feel that I’m losing you, and it terrifies me.”

Gil-galad’s heart ached at your words. He reached out, taking your hands in his, his touch warm and reassuring. “You are not losing me. I will fight to return to you. You are my heart, and no darkness can take that away.”

“But what if it does?” you whispered, your voice breaking. “What if you do not come back to me?”

He pulled you into an embrace, holding you tightly as if to shield you from the fears that haunted you both. “I will come back,” he vowed, his voice steady. “I promise you that. I will fight for our future, for our love.”

“But what if you don’t come back?” You whispered, your voice breaking. “What if I’m left here, alone?"

He held your gaze, his expression steady and resolute. “If that were to happen, I know you would lead our people. You would be a beacon of light for the Noldor in dark times.”

Your expression became serious. “No. I will waste from grief if you do not return. I cannot bear the thought of your absence.”

“You cannot allow that to happen,” he urged, his grip tightening around your hands. “You must stay strong for our people, for the hope we have fought to protect.”

Tears spilled forth from your eyes. “It’s unfair of you to ask me to stay without you. If you leave me behind for the Halls of Mandos, I will swiftly follow, carried by my grief. I cannot promise to live in a world without you.”

Gil-galad’s heart ached at your words. "I cannot let you think that way. You are my light, and I need you to shine, even when I am not here to see it.”

As he held you, you leaned into him, drawing strength from his warmth. “Please, promise me you’ll stay safe. That you’ll remember this moment, our love, when you face the darkness.”

“I swear it,” he replied, his voice filled with emotion. “I will fight my way back to you, no matter the cost.”

“I will carry you with me, always,” he murmured, pulling back slightly to look into your eyes. “You are my guiding star. No matter where I go, I will always find my way back to you.”

He kissed your forehead gently, then stood to prepare for a bath after his training. As he moved toward the bathing area, you watched him, your heart swelling with love and fear. The sight of him, strong and noble, only deepened your resolve to support him, even as your heart ached at the thought of his departure.

After a moment, you stood and joined him, wanting to be near him, to cherish the time you had left. As he filled the basin with warm water, you reached for a cloth, helping him wash away the sweat and weariness of battle preparation.

As you continued to wash him, the intimacy of the moment enveloped you both. Yet, the reality of the situation loomed like a shadow, reminding you both of the uncertainty that lay ahead. Your heart was heavy, but you focused on the present, on the way his skin felt beneath your fingers and the warmth of your shared love.

“Promise me we’ll make memories tonight,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, a hint of vulnerability in your gaze. “Let us fill this night with… everything that makes our love sacred.”

Gil-galad searched your eyes, sensing the unspoken desire behind your words. “Yes,” he replied, his heart quickening. “Let us make this night one to remember.”

[southfarthing]

lotr on the brain again.....

[tetragonia]

Masters of the Air characters as aesthetics

John 'Bucky' Egan

Bucky was a golden hour, warm hues of gold and amber casting a soft, ethereal glow over everything. Giggles and banters over a sip of liquor. He was a low hum in a pub, filled with chatter and joy. Bucky was a worn sheepskin jacket, familiar and comforting. Waves crash against rugged cliffs, vivid colors pop against a backdrop of blue skiess. He was gentle and dominating, yet he asked to be taken care of behind closed doors. Back arching high against the bed sheet, hands pinned and left marks everywhere. He was a smoky jazz club alive with the sound of saxophones and clinking glasses, the sound of people laughing so loud until the stomach hurts. Grass stained knees. Running through the rain without an umbrella. He was classical music blasting from a cheap speaker. He was Apollo playing his instruments.

Gale 'Buck' Cleven

Buck was a calm before a storm. A misty forest enveloped in fog, with towering trees draped in moss and winding paths leading to hidden glens and secret clearings. He was both silent movies and thunderstorms that you'd feel inside your chest. Raised eyebrows and cold hands, pinching the bridge of your nose. Watching a painting a bit too long before the gallery was closed. Long walks to the library. Winter winds and freezing hands, subtle glances across the room. He was soft murmur of reassurance and a gentle touch behind the doors. Consensual and always asked if it's okay. Dark red lipstick, chilled red wine. A quaint cottage nestled in the countryside with a thatched roof and ivy-covered walls, surrounded by a garden bursting with fragrant herbs and vibrant flowers. He was Hestia tending the sacred flames.

Harry 'Croz' Crosby

Harry was the swirling feelings in your stomach night before a trip. A vintage typewriter sitting on a weathered wooden desk, surrounded by stacks of yellowing paper and antique books. The soft autumn sun. He was handwritten letters and cracked statues. Silver waves lapping at the shore and seashells scattered across the sand like scattered jewels. The rattling of rain against the window, messy and needed direction. He was scribbles and ink stains, messy notebooks, and the tea kettle whistling in the silent morning. He was urgent and hurry, but comforting afterwards. He was everything about pleasure behind closed doors. A disheveled bedroom with rumpled sheets and discarded clothing strewn across the floor, with posters peeling off the walls and sunlight filtering through grimy windows. He was Poseidon guarding with his trident.

Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal

Rosie was a vintage record player spinning vinyl records, filling the room with the warm crackle of music. He was sweet smiles and clear eyes. Paper planes. Overgrown rose bushes. That one song you always skipped but ended up loving it. He was tweed jackets and loose blouses. A field of wildflowers stretching out as far as the eye can see, with colorful blooms dancing in the breeze and the scent of earth and pollen filling the air. Gentle and nurturing, caring and soft behind the doors. He was a giver and always maintained satisfaction. He was pink-tinted blush. A pair of combat boots scuffed from countless adventures. Smiling at strangers on the street. He was all kind and modesty, but also Athena leading battles.