#I don’t know if this is a new observation but whatever I’ve been watching this show on a loop

[piratefalls]

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve watched The Big Bang Job, but I just noticed this very subtle thing Christian does when Eliot is in the car with Chapman before he’s supposed to “kill” Atherton. This is Eliot with a plan, a guy who trusts his team to do everything they can to pull off the impossible.

But then the camera pans back to Atherton hugging his little girl, and when it comes back to Eliot his face changes ever so slightly.

The facade drops. In a matter of seconds he’s gone from “I can do this” to “oh please no,” because he knows what Chapman is going to say before he says it. Moreau doesn’t leave the families of his targets alive.

And then there’s the very next moment where he looks at Chapman and he thinks “killing him right now might be worth the blood on my hands if it means keeping that little girl safe.”

Eliot breaks my heart, man.

[pucksandpower]

Your Love Is My Drug

Oscar Piastri x Norris!Reader

Summary: Lando’s teammate is behaving strangely, so of course the logical assumption is that Oscar must be on drugs (the truth ends up being so much worse … for Lando)

The McLaren garage buzzes with activity as mechanics scurry about, preparing for the upcoming race weekend. Lando leans against the wall, his brow furrowed in concentration as he observes his teammate from across the room.

Something’s off about Oscar today. Actually, if Lando’s being honest with himself, something’s been off about Oscar for weeks now. The usually composed Aussie seems ... different.

Fidgety.

Distracted.

As if on cue, Oscar lets out another of those odd little giggles he’s been prone to lately. Lando’s eyes narrow.

“Oi, Piastri!” He calls out, striding over to where Oscar is hunched over his phone. “What’s so funny, mate?”

Oscar’s head snaps up, his cheeks flushed a deep pink. “Oh, uh, nothing,” he stammers, hastily shoving his phone into his pocket. “Just ... just a meme.”

Lando raises an eyebrow. “A meme? Since when are you so into memes?”

“I’ve always liked memes,” Oscar protests weakly.

“Right,” Lando drawls, unconvinced. He watches as Oscar shifts uncomfortably, tugging at the waistband of his jeans.

A sudden, horrifying thought strikes Lando. No ... it couldn’t be. Could it?

“Hey, Oscar,” he says slowly, trying to keep his tone casual. “You feeling alright? You’ve seemed a bit ... off lately.”

Oscar’s eyes widen slightly. “Off? What do you mean?”

Lando shrugs, aiming for nonchalance. “I dunno, just ... different. Distracted. You keep laughing at nothing and your face is all red.”

“Oh, that’s ... that’s nothing,” Oscar says, waving a hand dismissively. “Just, uh, excited about the race, I guess.”

Lando’s not buying it. “Excited, huh? Is that why you keep fidgeting with your pants, too?”

Oscar freezes, his hand stilling where it had been absently adjusting his waistband. “I ... what?”

“Your jeans,” Lando repeats, gesturing towards Oscar’s lower half. “You keep messing with them. What’s that about?”

“Nothing!” Oscar yelps, a bit too quickly. “They’re just ... new. Still breaking them in.”

Lando’s eyes narrow further. He remembers something, vaguely, from one of the few health lessons he’d managed to stay awake for back in school. Something about drug users and fidgeting ...

No. Surely not. Not Oscar.

But the more Lando thinks about it, the more it starts to make a twisted kind of sense. The secrecy, the mood swings, the constant flush on Oscar’s cheeks ...

“Oscar,” Lando says, his voice low and serious. “I need you to be honest with me. Are you ... are you on something?”

Oscar’s jaw drops. “What? No! Of course not!”

“Because if you are,” Lando presses on, ignoring Oscar’s protests, “I need to know. As your teammate. As your friend. This isn’t just about you, mate. It’s about the whole team.”

“Lando, I swear, I’m not on anything,” Oscar insists, his voice taking on a pleading edge. “I don’t know where you’re getting this idea from, but-”

“Then explain the giggling!” Lando demands, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “And the blushing! And the fidgeting! Something’s clearly going on with you, and if you’re not gonna be straight with me-”

“I can’t!” Oscar bursts out, then immediately claps a hand over his mouth, looking stricken.

Lando’s eyes widen. “Can’t what?”

Oscar shakes his head, looking miserable. “I can’t ... I can’t tell you. I’m sorry, Lando. I know I’ve been acting weird, but I promise it’s nothing bad. I’m not on drugs or anything like that. I just ... I can’t explain right now.”

Lando stares at his teammate, torn between frustration and concern. “Oscar, come on. We’re supposed to be friends. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

Oscar’s phone chimes, and he jumps, fumbling to pull it out of his pocket. His eyes widen as he reads whatever message has just come through, and a small, dopey smile spreads across his face.

“Sorry,” he says distractedly, already typing out a response. “I’ve gotta go. We’ll talk later, yeah?”

Before Lando can protest, Oscar is hurrying out of the garage, leaving Lando staring after him in bewilderment.

“What the hell was that about?” Lando mutters to himself.

He’s still pondering Oscar’s strange behavior when his own phone buzzes. It’s a message from you.

Hey! Surprise — I’m at the track! Want to grab dinner?

Lando grins, momentarily distracted from his worries about Oscar. Absolutely, he types back. Meet you at the hotel in a few hours?

Later that evening, Lando’s sitting in the hotel restaurant, drumming his fingers impatiently on the table as he waits for you to arrive. His mind keeps drifting back to Oscar’s odd behavior, and he’s half-tempted to text you and ask if you’ve noticed anything strange about his teammate lately.

Before he can act on the impulse, you breeze into the restaurant, a bright smile on your face. “Lando!” You exclaim, rushing over to give him a hug.

“Hey, trouble,” Lando says fondly, returning the embrace. “What brings you to the race? I thought you were busy with work.”

You shrug, sliding into the seat across from him. “Oh, you know, just missed my second favorite brother. Thought I’d surprise you.”

Lando narrows his eyes playfully. “I finally won a race and I’m still not your favorite?”

“You can’t win everything,” you say with a grin. “Wouldn’t want your head getting any bigger than it already is.”

As you settle in and start perusing the menu, Lando can’t help but notice that you seem ... different. There’s a certain glow about you, a sparkle in your eye that he hasn’t seen before.

“You look happy,” he observes. “Something good happen at work?”

You bite your lip, looking suddenly nervous. “Oh, um, not really. Just ... life in general, I guess.”

Lando’s about to press further when his phone buzzes. He glances down to see a message from Oscar.

Hey, mate. Sorry about earlier. Can we talk?

Lando frowns, torn between his curiosity about Oscar’s situation and his desire to spend time with you.

“Everything okay?” You ask, noticing his expression.

Lando sighs. “I don’t know. It’s Oscar. He’s been acting really weird lately, and I’m worried about him.”

Your eyes widen almost imperceptibly. “Weird how?”

“Just ... off,” Lando says, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “He’s all giggly and distracted, his face is constantly red, and he keeps fidgeting with his clothes. I’m worried he might be ... you know ...”

You lean forward, your brow furrowed in concern. “Might be what?”

Lando lowers his voice, glancing around to make sure no one’s listening. “On drugs,” he whispers.

To his surprise, you burst out laughing. “Oscar? On drugs? Are you serious?”

“It’s not funny!” Lando hisses, feeling defensive. “I’m really worried about him. He won’t tell me what’s going on, but something clearly is.”

You sober quickly, reaching across the table to pat his hand. “I’m sorry, you’re right. It’s not funny. But Lando, I really don’t think Oscar’s on drugs. Maybe there’s another explanation?”

“Like what?” Lando demands.

You open your mouth to respond, but before you can say anything, Lando’s phone buzzes again. Another message from Oscar.

I’m in the lobby. Can we talk now? It’s important.

Lando looks up at you apologetically. “It’s Oscar again. He says he needs to talk. Do you mind if I ...”

You wave a hand, looking strangely nervous. “No, no, go ahead. I’ll wait here.”

Lando nods gratefully and heads for the lobby, his mind racing. What could be so important that Oscar needs to talk right now?

He spots his teammate pacing near the elevators, looking agitated. “Oscar?” He calls out.

Oscar’s head snaps up, and Lando is struck again by the flush on his cheeks. “Lando! Thanks for coming. I ... I need to tell you something.”

Lando crosses his arms, trying to look stern despite his worry. “Yeah, I’d say you do. What’s going on with you, mate? And don’t try to tell me it’s nothing, because-”

“I’m dating your sister!” Oscar blurts out.

Lando blinks, certain he must have misheard. “I’m sorry, what?”

Oscar takes a deep breath, steeling himself. “I’m dating your sister,” he repeats, more slowly this time. “Y/N. We’ve been seeing each other for a few months now.”

Lando’s mind goes blank. He opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again. No sound comes out.

“I know it’s a shock,” Oscar continues, words tumbling out in a rush. “And I’m sorry we didn’t tell you sooner. We wanted to make sure it was serious before we said anything. But I really care about her, Lando. And I hope ... I hope you can be okay with this.”

Lando’s brain is still struggling to process this information. “But ... but the giggling,” he manages to stammer out. “And the blushing. And the fidgeting.”

Oscar’s blush deepens. “Ah, yeah. That’s ... that’s because of Y/N. She’s been sending me these ... messages. And pictures. Really cute ones!” He adds hastily, seeing Lando’s eyes widen in horror. “Nothing inappropriate! Just ... you know. Flirty.”

Lando holds up a hand, feeling slightly nauseous. “Please, I really don’t need details.”

“Right, sorry,” Oscar says sheepishly. “Anyway, that’s why I’ve been acting weird. I was trying to keep it a secret, but I guess I’m not very good at hiding how I feel.”

Lando’s head is spinning. His teammate and his little sister. Dating. It’s too much to process.

“Lando?” Oscar’s voice sounds concerned. “Are you okay? You look a bit pale.”

Lando opens his mouth to respond, but the world suddenly tilts sideways. The last thing he hears before everything goes black is Oscar’s panicked voice calling his name.

When Lando comes to, he’s lying on a couch in the hotel lobby, with you and Oscar hovering anxiously over him.

“Oh thank god,” you breathe as his eyes flutter open. “Lando, are you okay?”

Lando groans, pushing himself into a sitting position. “What happened?”

“You fainted,” Oscar supplies helpfully. “Right after I told you about ... you know.”

The memory comes flooding back, and Lando groans again, this time for an entirely different reason. “So it wasn’t a dream, then? You two are really ...”

You nod, looking nervous but determined. “We are. I’m sorry we didn’t tell you sooner. We wanted to make sure it was, you know, real first.”

Lando looks between the two of you, taking in Oscar’s anxious expression and the way your hand is clasped tightly in his. Despite his shock, he can’t deny the genuine affection he sees there.

“Well,” he says finally, his voice rough. “I suppose this is better than you being on drugs.”

Oscar lets out a startled laugh. “You really thought I was on drugs?”

Lando shrugs defensively. “What was I supposed to think? You were acting so weird!”

“That’s just because he’s head over heels for me,” you say teasingly, bumping Oscar’s shoulder with your own.

Oscar grins dopily, and Lando has to resist the urge to roll his eyes. “Clearly,” he mutters.

There’s a moment of awkward silence before you speak up again. “So ... are you okay with this? Us being together?”

Lando looks at you, his beloved little sister, then at Oscar, his teammate and friend. He sees the happiness radiating from both of you, the way you lean into each other unconsciously.

He sighs dramatically. “I suppose I’ll have to be,” he says, unable to keep a small smile from tugging at his lips. “But I swear, Piastri, if you hurt her-”

“I won’t,” Oscar interrupts, his voice firm and sincere. “I promise, Lando. I’ll take good care of her.”

Lando nods, satisfied for now. “Good. And for the love of all that is holy, please keep the flirting to a minimum around me. I really don’t need to see that.”

You and Oscar laugh, the tension finally breaking. As Lando watches the two of you together, he can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this might not be such a bad thing after all.

But he’s definitely going to need some time to get used to it. And possibly some therapy.

[nimrochan]

I don’t think that my few handfuls of followers on various social media accounts realize that I’m an American-Israeli. I’ve been watching things unfold and staying silent for the most part. I know it’s very easy to have an opinion from the comfort and safety of my home, but too many people are also echoing online opinions without enough information or thought behind them. Although it’s fair to say that I’m biased, I think it’s important to view conflicts from multiple perspectives. Including and especially from someone from the actual region/culture that everyone outside of it suddenly has an opinion on. And I think I’m ready to say what I wanted to say:

Why aren’t people more angry with Hamas?

I’ve spent some childhood years in Israel. Every week on the news was another incident - a bus b*mbing, a car b*mbing, a s*icide b*mber… I remember being terrified of getting on buses, or going to public places. I remember soldiers standing at the entrance of every mall, and I remember hearing how one soldier died while stopping a s*icide b*mber at a mall entrance - both were women in their early 20’s. Until today my father tells me to avoid crowded places, and to always stand in a corner with my back on the wall to observe my surroundings.

When I moved to America I had moved on from these memories and didn’t really think about them. But the attacks never stopped. For DECADES. And over the last few years I did notice that very few non-Jewish Americans were aware of what life is like in Israel - having a barrage of rockets rain on you every once in a while. Having alerts to warn you to head to the nearest shelter. Israel has the protection of the Iron Dome. But it’s not perfect, and some rockets do hit their targets. Also, you know, maybe people shouldn’t be firing rockets unprovoked into another country?? (Don’t even get me started on Hezbollah, too.) No one bats an eye if other countries randomly shoot rockets into Israel, but as soon as Israel retaliates to try destroying the area where rockets come from, everyone comes out of the woodwork to condemn them.

Some of my American family members have an app that dings every time rockets are fired into Israel. I could never bring myself to download it. The number of dings drives me crazy.

In fact, if you ever wanted to buy a piece of jewelry or sculpture made of Hamas rockets, there are businesses upcycling them.

If you’re not from Israel, I just want you to imagine the number of rockets that regularly have to come into your country for any rockets-to-products businesses to even exist. For reasons beyond my comprehension, a lot of political parties in America want to defund the Iron Dome, a system designed solely for defense. But I digress.

Gazans never had an Iron Dome and yet Hamas gives no regard to the lives of their own people when they fire openly from homes, schools, hospitals. When they hide hostages and weapons in heavily populated areas.

I remember frantically texting and calling people on 10/07 to see if any of my family members were harmed or killed in the attack. All while anti-Zionists already rallied on social media to offer no sympathy and blame the attack on the Jews on, the Jews. Right. Luckily, whatever close family I had in the area was far away enough from the attack that they were spared, and they soon evacuated. My second cousin and her kids were only spared because they happened to be away, but their home was in ashes and their friends and neighbors were dead.

Israel is a small and close-knit country. I don't have words to describe how we grieved. 1200 innocent civilians sl*ughtered for no reason. That number is just a little under half of the number of deaths on 9/11, and it was done without the help of airplanes, just men running around killing people. The youngest one was 14 hours old. This is the largest m*rder of Jews since the Holocaust. I won’t even go into detail about how some of their bodies were mutilated because it’s too horrific for me to want to type it out. In fact I left the most disturbing footage out of this post. I had been avoiding seeing the footage of Shani Louk, but it was shown at the exhibit too and I’ll never be able to forget it for as long as I live. It made me sick to my stomach.

Look at the pictures. Look at all those shoes. The last time I felt such powerful emotion staring at shoes was at a Holocaust museum. A lot of item displays included their owners’ smart phones showing their final videos on a loop. The people who attend the Nova festival tend to be laid-back, free spirits. They show up covered in glitter and wearing fairy-wings, waving rainbow flags. They lived next to Gaza because they felt safe there, and they often supported Palestinians. Listen to the unhindered joy in the voice of the man calling his father to tell him he had m*rdered ten Jews. One of the most disgusting parts of this is the fact that people protested outside this exhibit as well.

When I brought myself to browse social media again, over and over I saw posts about how “they deserved it” and “they had it coming.” The same people, the same self-proclaimed “feminists” who would shared the #MeToo and #YesAllWomen hashtags, people with immensely large followings, were now having no sympathy for the Israeli women who were r*ped, basically saying “she asked for it.” People defending and excusing Hamas because they “weren’t created in a vacuum.” When did we start excusing r*pe and t*rrorism for ANY reason? On that note, don’t you think Israel’s aggressive defense of itself also stems from a historical reason, shaped by outside forces?

And then there are many voices still expressing plain denial! This was the most well-documented t*rrorist attack in history, because the attackers filmed it with pride, and yet over and over I also saw people posting about how “it never happened,” “they would never do that,” and how these t*rrorists were just “resistance fighters” with propaganda crafted to “make them look bad.”

In my home state of New York, I saw people marching wearing same types of scarves that these “resistance fighters” wore to commit crimes against humanity so recently, tearing down posters of Israeli hostages instead of hanging their own posters on innocent killed Gazans and sharing in the grief.

I see people over and over calling Israelis “white colonists,” when in fact MOST OF THEM ARE BROWN, dark-skinned just like their neighbors (if I showed you photos of my family in Israel, you'd be surprised to learn they aren't Arabic). We are an ethnic minority on this planet and in every country except Israel, but antisemites love to flip the script and paint us as majority white colonizer oppressors. When the majority of Americans calling for the abolishment of Israel are themselves actually living on colonized land (I mean, really?) When most of North Africa has been colonized by Arab populations, yet everyone seems to conveniently forget that. Most alarmingly, I see people marching the streets and praising Hamas and the actual 10/07 attacks.

These same people probably could never spot Gaza on a map before 10/07. Where were they for the Chinese Uyghurs? Where were they for the mass murdered Syrians? For Afghans left at the mercy of the Taliban? For Iraqis killed after 9/11? For Darfur? Because no news unless Jews, right? How can you say you care about Muslims and then praise Hamas? How can you be Pro-Palestine and Pro-Hamas at the same time?! There is a huge, sick problem in America when college students here are applauded by overseas t*rrorist leaders on goddamn Twitter.

And these “Queers for Palestine”- where is the support for the gayest, most feminist, and most liberal country in the Middle East? (Go ahead and look up which country in the Middle East holds annual Pride Parades.) Where is the support for the millions of Arab-Israelis and other non-Jews who call Israel their home? Where is the support for the Arabs and non-Jews also killed on 10/07? Where are the feminists using their voices to demand Hamas return the hostages that are very likely being r*ped as I type this?

I feel like I’m going crazy telling people that there is a lot of fake news and propaganda being spread by Hamas and eaten up by the West. I am not the kind of person to use the phrase “fake news.” But when I see some extreme footage allegedly showing the IDF doing something especially horrible, I count the hours or days before the news is silently retracted because it turned out to be incorrect. Propaganda against Jews has seeped so far into gentile culture over the decades that people don't even realize it. It’s become sickeningly casual and normalized in all kinds of circles. Hell, I don’t even know who to vote for or who secretly wants me dead - the left side with the pro-Hamas crowd or the right side with their white supermacists .

No, I am not denying that a lot of innocent Gazans are dying horrific deaths. When I see footage of injured Palestinian children, I don’t look away and pretend it doesn’t happen, because it does. But what about Hamas dressing up as civilians, firing weapons among civilians, and continuing to hide the hostages??? What about the 15-17 year old brainwashed children marching with guns? When is enough enough? You know which army doesn’t hide in civilian clothing, or recruit children, or parade naked dead women around after they’ve killed them?? Take a guess.

War is fucking awful. And I'm not trying to justify it, just trying to articulate why this is such a clusterfuck of a situation. Someone please name any other country that wouldn’t retaliate and demand their hostages back after such an ugly, unprovoked attack. Someone please explain to me why the hatred is so intense and out of proportion. Again, DECADES of attacks. Someone please tell me what should be done - because if you do nothing, then 10/07 happens over and over and over again. Israelis are all living, breathing people with families just like Gazan civilians are. Stop dehumanizing us.

Why is it that after the Ukraine-Russia war started, when most westerners were on Ukraine’s side (including myself so don’t jump down my throat), that individual Russians living in western countries did not feel threatened the way individual Jews are being threatened? That war actually seems a way more black-and-white situation to me. Why did the Israeli singer for Eurovision need presidential-level protection from the mob gathered outside her hotel? Why did the other contestants continually insult her? You think every single Jew on the planet has a say in what happens in Israel?

Why am I going on social media to dumb down, only to see posts like “Reblog to increase IDF soldier s*icides” and “Like to # CeaseFire” and “From the river to the sea” (that expression basically means to promote the killing of all Israelis, I don’t care how you look at it). Why are you trying to call a cease fire with t*rrorists who are known to constantly break ceasefire, then make a surprised Pikachu face when they do it again?

Anti-Zionism is a clever cover for anti-semitism. The very definition of Zionism is the pursuit of an independent Jewish state (of which there is currently only ONE - for comparison, there are 57 Muslim countries). A lot of people don’t even know what Zionism is when they call themselves Anti-Zionist. And if you do? Most Jews are Zionist. You can’t separate semitism from Zionism to make yourself feel better. Israel is such a tiny country, it takes 6 hours to drive end-to-end across the longest part. While all over the world, synagogues are being threatened, Jewish graveyards are being vandalized, and Jews are being attacked, you are absolutely telling me and my people that we don’t deserve a safe space. And yes, Jews are indigenous to the Middle East just like Arabs are.

How do people rally against discrimination, but in the same breath act like discrimination towards Jews doesn’t count? You can’t reason your way out of it. You do not get to tell me what is and isn’t antisemitic.

Hamas does NOT give a damn about the actual land that Jews are living on. Hamas’s ultimate goal is to kill all Jews (it's LITERALLY spelled out in their government charter), is that what people want?? And even if you deny it, you think you could theoretically move all 8 million Jews out of Israel to where exactly?

You think other countries want to welcome a mass migration of 8 million Jews? (Remember why Jews left in the first place?) You want literal t*rrorists to have a stronger foothold in the Middle East?

Why do the surrounding countries condemn Israel, yet not step up to help Gazans either? Why won’t they open up their borders?

I’m sick and tired of people who have zero stake in the Middle East and very little knowledge just jumping on the bandwagon and virtue-signaling like it’s some clear black-and-white situation when it’s not. And then having the nerve to lecture ME. I’m angry and I’m frustrated.

Bring them the fuck home.

[luv4fushi]

jujutsu kaisen bf headcanons

jjk - gojo satoru, nanami kento, fushiguro megumi, itadori yuji, inumaki toge

content: just some of my delusions <3 fem!reader

warnings: word dump, other than that nothing else hehe

i started this account to write oneshots but they’re all like. 7k words…. and MORE. so now im posting this because i’ve been writing two different stories for 3 days now.

gojo satoru

he’s such a menace. he looovessss being all gross in public to annoy people.

he doesn’t tell you when he’s upset and overcompensates to hide it (but you can always tell)

he likes when you play with his hair and when you tell him good things about himself. being the strongest means he’s used to having a lot of responsibility (everyone relies on him). he likes it when you tell him he’s doing a good job and that he can rely on you, too.

he doesn’t get jealous easily (he pretends he does, but it never actually bothers him) because he knows he’s the best and he’s confident in your love. he’ll pretend to be all pouty and sad but at the scene of the crime he finds it SO FUNNY. “babe… you did NOT have to reject him like that.”

he’s rich (duh) so he randomly comes home with the most EXTRAVAGANT GIFTS. you’ll be like “wtf???” and he’d just stand there with the hugest grin on his face and be like “i thought of you!!”

he pulls the “don’t you love me?” card WAY TOO OFTEN. it works every time.

he hates when you cry. he thinks he’s bad at comforting people so he’ll be all nervous and afraid that you’ll hate him, but he’s actually good at it. he pulls you into his arms and lets you nuzzle into his neck. “i’m right here. i’ve got you, baby.” AHHHH

nanami kento

he’s so daddy material. not even in a sexual way. he’s just very responsible and reliable. he’s the kind of bf where you don’t have worry about planning trips and events because he handles it. he’s the bf you’d trust with your passport.

he loves to get massages from you and home cooked meals.

he likes upbeat, bubbly people because he’s relatively calm. he likes to watch you do cute things with a fond smile on his face. when you force him to participate in things, he’ll only grin and let you have your way with him.

he overthinks EVERYTHING. he knows he’s a workaholic so he’ll say things like, “i’m so sorry i’m late. i didn’t want to be caught up at work, but things just happened to be that way today.” and if you pretend to be upset he’ll be at your feet. “i’m sorry, love. i swear i love coming home to see you and spend time with you. don’t be upset, hm?”

HE’S SO … he makes you feel protected. he’s very stern with others, but around you he’s a lot more soft and flexible. “you don’t need to force yourself. i can do it for you, baby.” HEHEH he’s so lovely i love him

he’s very attentive. he never makes you feel like he’s not listening to you. he will quite literally drop whatever he’s doing to listen to you.

fushiguro megumi

he’s so SHY!!! he blushes really easily too. you have to initiate most of the touching and talking at the beginning of your relationship with him.

he actually doesn’t mind pda. he feels kind of prideful that he’s able to call you his. he LOVES holding your hand and he does that little thing where he’ll squeeze it when he knows you’re nervous.

everybody makes fun of him for being super soft with you. at first, he’s not really good with expressing his emotions, but give it three months and he’s the cheesiest bf ever. he loves using pet names in private with you.

he’s on the quieter side so he’s able to observe you REALLY well. got a new haircut? “did you cut your hair? it looks nice.” wearing some new jewelry? “it’s pretty. you should’ve told me, i would’ve bought you some more.” always cold? “i wore another sweater because i knew you’d be cold.” got your nails done? “why didn’t you choose the color i picked?” he’s SO thoughtful.

he’s such a cuddler. loves being held. loves holding you. literally would rather spend all day in bed with you than do anything else. he’s so AGH !! “why don’t you just sleep here tonight? i don’t want you to go.”

itadori yuji

he is SHAMELESS omg. he loves to talk about you and brag about you to anyone that will listen. “my girlfriend can do that, too!” + “my girlfriend says that i can’t do that, sorry.” + “my girlfriend doesn’t like things like that…” + “my girlfriend thinks these are cute!” + “my girlfriend is so pretty.”

he adores you so much he’s so cute about it. he literally dies when he’s without you. he’s SUPER clingy and doesn’t even try to hide it. everyone else thinks it’s soooo annoying but he doesn’t care.

he loves receiving forehead kisses, but because he’s literally like … curse offspring (LOL) he’s taller than you so he has to bend down while you tiptoe to kiss him. he also loves to pinch your cheeks at random times.

he’s a lot more buff than you think he is (cue the scene where he’s sprinting while carrying nobara) so hugging him is literally like hugging a huge bear.

he gives you a kiss EVERY TIME HE SEES YOU. he gets so sad when you refuse one. “what do you mean ‘not right now’? i don’t see the problem. i literally your boyfriend :(“

inumaki toge

he’s also a menace but not as much as gojo. he’s SO PLAYFUL and you always pretend to be annoyed but he knows you aren’t.

he’ll pull up and randomly give you food. that’s his love language. he loves feeding you. he’ll literally pull you on to the seat next to him and give you food if you say you haven’t eaten.

he LOVES giving you his sweaters. once he hands them to you, prepare to never give them back because he smells really good. you always smell like him to everyone else (that’s his goal)

he makes those super corny playlists that spell out a sentence. but he also makes playlists with music he knows you like to listen to. he’ll name them really funny things like “me and bae’s locked-in playlist”

he’s so witty. he makes you laugh so hard and then he pretends like your laughter doesn’t make him swell with pride. he LOVES to pepper you with kisses to hear you giggle.

he’s super cheesy and hilarious over text. he uses every pet name imaginable. “baby can you come wake me up in an hour?” + “angel i need u to give me back one sweater. just one.” + “princess ur being unreasonable … AN OVERNIGHT TRIP? i’m gonna jump.”

that’s all hehehe i love jjk boys sm

[phyx-m]

Beneath The Silk | True form Sukuna x Reader

🔗 Masterlist

Chapter 29: Shatter

Content warning: Angst.

🔗 Songs for this chapter:

The Dreaming Dead - Jesse Sykes & The Hereafter (- major tonal shift, but for us feeling that emotion and leading up to us interacting with Sukuna) My Darkest Hour - Jimmy Svensson (- for our final dream in this story…) Gone - SIERRA (- for the very, very end of the chapter…)

* * * * *

Chapter 28 | Chapter 29

* * * * *

This view.  

This ceiling. These walls. These smells and sounds. All of it is familiar.  

The shrine.  

You’re back.

Both you and Sukuna.  

Lying on your futon in your chambers, you blink up. That same spot you’ve stared at for the last few months remains unchanged, yet somehow, it looks entirely different now.  

Something has shifted—whether it’s this place, you or someone else, you can’t quite tell.  

All you know is that change is stirring in you, setting your heart and mind racing at unexpected moments. You think you might know what this emotion is, but you’re not ready to name it. Not yet. For now, you’re content to let it seep out through tiny cracks and fissures, holding it at bay until the moment comes when you can fully accept it. And somehow, you know that moment isn’t far away.  

Pushing yourself up, you reach for the spot on your arm where your father had cut you. You’d expected to find a horrible wound or scar, but your fingertips glide over smooth skin.  

At some point, Sukuna had healed you. But you don’t remember when. For whatever reason, your memories of the last few days are scattered, and the ride back south is more a collection of blurred moments and glimpses, as though you were peering through a crack in a door, watching the King of Curses bring you back.  

All you remember is him keeping you close, keeping you warm despite wearing little more than your ruined kimono. Him building fires, hunting for food, tending to the horses. But through it all, a constant ache in your head muddled your thoughts, making everything feel more like a hazy dream than reality. Still, the way he cared for you was… nice.

No. More than that.

So much more.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Come in,” you call out, eyes drifting to the door.  

It slides open, revealing the corridor awash in morning light, and Uraume steps inside. 

“Good morning, my Lady,” they say, bowing before entering further, their hands slipping into their voluminous sleeves.

Sitting up straighter, a small smile takes shape across your lips.

“Morning, Uraume.”

Since your return, they have tended to your needs during the day while Ren has watched over you at night. Just last evening, you woke to find yourself standing in the middle of the corridor—your sleep disrupted, your body restless, as if it wanted to leave without your permission. Ren had been there, softly coaxing you back to your room. You can only assume these new nightly habits are your mind’s response to the trauma of the past week.

“The weather has turned colder,” Uraume notes, moving to retrieve a kimono and a pair of gloves from your wardrobe. “We’ll bring in a portable iron brazier to warm your room and line the floors with tatami mats to keep the chill away.”  

These days, the weather has dipped. A coolness clings to the floors and the corners of your chambers, though today doesn’t feel as bad.

“All right, thank you,” you say with a nod.

“It will be arranged by this afternoon. I’ve already instructed the attendants to see to it,” they add, laying the garment neatly on to the futon before resting the gloves atop.

You stare at the material for a moment, then lift your gaze.

“Uraume,” you murmur, clearing your throat and letting your fingers absentmindedly pick at the bedding. “I owe you more than just thanks.”

Expression neutral, they lean back and straighten, their pink eyes keenly observing your face.

“I’ve no doubt you’ve heard about what happened at the Kasai compound?” The skin around their mouth tightens in a way that suggests the answer is yes. “Without your teachings using a blade… I wouldn’t be alive, so… Thank you. I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for me.”

There’s a long pause as though they’re trying to take in this information before they tilt their head and finally bow.

“If you require any further instructions, I can assist you, my Lady. Times remain uncertain.” 

You give a faint dip of your chin. Times did remain uncertain. That was true.

Swallowing, your and Uraume’s eyes meet briefly before they step away toward the door.  

“Will we be serving your breakfast here this morning?”  

Your fingers find a soft fold in the futon’s bedding, and you pluck at it, hesitating and considering.

You haven’t taken your meals anywhere else, choosing to stay close to your room for one reason: you have no idea how to face Sukuna again.

The past few mornings, you have spent daydreaming about your next encounter, and each time, it feels like swallowing a thousand butterflies. Your stomach fluttering nervously at the mere thought of him.

Gods, you feel pathetic.  

Here you are, safe, yet this is what occupies your mind—while your sister is still out there, alone. The only solace you’ve found is in the overheard conversation confirming she had ridden away, along with the knowledge that she has connections in the capital and a resourcefulness beyond belief.

She had to be safe. And that was because of one reason.

“My Lady?” Uraume's mouth pulls rigid as they wait for a response.

Your mind drifts back.

“No,” you decide. “I’ll take it elsewhere today.”

It takes you far too long to dress and make your way to the private meal chamber. You spend an inordinate amount of time brushing your hair, running the comb through it over and over and adjusting the folds of your kimono until they all are smoothed in their proper place.

Nerves.

You tell yourself, that’s all this is.

Upon entering the room, you exhale a sigh of relief to find it empty, save for an unfamiliar attendant preparing the space. No Sukuna. That’s fine. You’re still deciding how to act when you see him.  

Kneeling on your cushion, you study the woman. She looks young, younger than you, with dark chestnut hair pulled back, and a faint dusting of freckles across her petite nose. You watch her hands move, dishing out the portions which are noticeably smaller than usual—a bowl of rice, a few pickled vegetables, and a thin slice of salted fish.  

“Apologies, my Lady,” she says, frowning before bowing her head. “We’ve had to begin rationing for the winter.”

You offer a faint shake of your head before she steps away.

“It’s fine,” you reassure, picking up your chopsticks and letting them dip into the bed of rice. “Is that normal? Something that happens this time of year?”  

You realize how little you still knew about the shrine’s operations. Perhaps it was time to change that.

The attendant hesitates, her gaze darting to the garden door, which stands slightly ajar to let in a breeze, before flicking back to you.

“No, my Lady,” she says softly.  

You pause, waiting to see if she’ll elaborate, but she doesn’t. Choosing not to press her further, she steps away and busies herself with other tasks while you focus once more on the meal in front of you.

For a while, you sit and eat, though your mind drifts. Replaying that moment when your husband had you on his mount and threaded his fingers through your hair.  

Phantom prickles still linger from where he touched. You think about that touch. Often. How it seemed to draw out emotions buried so deeply you hadn’t even known they were there.  

As your skin warms in memory, the burning scent of tobacco floats into the room. Your eyes lift from your plate to the garden door. Leaning over on the cushion, you peek through the narrow gap. 

Hair, the colour of cherry blossoms, catches your attention. 

Seeing it, you quickly lurch back. He’s right there, sitting alone. The realization sends a flurry of panic through your chest—like frantic wings beating, your heart desperate to escape.

You take a breath, steadying yourself.

I should go and talk to him.  

A shudder rolls through you. The very idea makes you want to toss yourself from the verandah.

But you should talk to him. Thank him properly for what he did to give you the chance to breathe again after decades, and maybe even tell him more.

No.

You’re not ready for that. Besides, he wouldn’t understand.  

Or would he?  

You fidget with your gloves.

Would the King of Curses laugh and reject your feelings, or would it be different after everything that’s happened? An understanding. A slow, fragile acceptance that the two of you are somehow drawn together. You can only hope.  

The faint rattle of dishes diverts your attention back to your meal. The rice in your bowl now lukewarm, the vegetables untouched. You push the food around with your chopsticks, pretending to eat while stealing glances at the crack in the door, though you don’t dare look further.  

“Is there anything else you need from me, my Lady?”  

The question nearly startles you, your eyes darting back to the attendant. 

“Oh, no, thank you,” you reply, the words easier than admitting what you truly need. “But whatever I don’t eat, could you save it for someone who might?”

Slanting her freckled face to the floor, the attendant bows deeply before turning to leave. 

“By the way, what was your name?”  

You interrupt her exit, and she glances over her shoulder.  

“My name is Nao, my Lady.”  

“Nao,” you repeat, the name settling on your tongue. “It’s nice to meet you.” 

Her eyes brighten, and she smiles. You return the gesture, watching her slide the door free and slip away quietly.

Another breeze squeezes through the garden door, and you find yourself slowly leaning forward again, peering through the gap as though drawn by some invisible thread.

Angling for a better look, you note how the foliage has shifted with the season. The vitality of summer gone, replaced by a quiet stillness. The trees, nearly bare, hold only a few gold and copper leaves that shiver faintly in the wind. Fallen debris speckles the ground, and the air carries the faint, earthy scent of decay that signals autumn’s touch.

Like me.

Changing, but you’re not entirely sure into what.

Your eyes find Sukuna again. He hasn’t moved much. Still sitting there leisurely, his back still facing you, the cloth of a dark haori draped over his broad shoulders. He takes another puff from his pipe, a slow exhale sending soft plumes of smoke into the air, where it dissipates into nothing. Then, with a lazy raise of his upper right hand, he brings it to his nape, fingers pressing into the thick, corded muscles as if to release some unseen tension.

You swallow.

For whatever reason, watching that small action has heat rising to your cheeks and creeping up to your ears. You take a sip of tea, hoping it will steady your nerves. It doesn’t.  

I’ll just… say good morning. That’s all.  

The words sound simple enough in your head, but the idea of speaking to him…  

He shifts, his head turning slightly to the side, and you quickly pull back, your pulse finding its way to your throat at the thought that he might have seen you.

Pathetic.  

Your grip tightens on the edge of your cushion.

Why is this so hard?

You know why.

The answer you’ve been denying sits thundering in your chest, expanding and growing each day.  

Because I’m starting to lose myself to him.  

The truth is more terrifying than any other battle you’ve fought with yourself.  

You close your eyes. Take a breath.  

Just say good morning.  

When you open your eyes again, you’re already pushing to your feet, the cool floor moving beneath as you go. Pausing at the door for a heartbeat, you flex your hands before sliding it open a little wider.

Sukuna doesn’t stir.

Carefully, you step out onto the verandah, staying close to the shadows cast by the wooden structure. He’s still sitting on the stone bench, his form framed by the waning beauty of the garden and dapples of sunlight.

Taking cover behind the bulk of a stone lantern, you peer around it. From here, you can see him more clearly, but you feel ridiculous for sneaking up on him.

Say something.

You want to, but your throat feels tight. Maybe simply standing here and ogling him could be enough.

It isn’t.

Perhaps I’ll ask him to—

“Are you going to keep hiding there?” His voice cuts through, halting your breath. “Or have you finally decided to come closer?”

He looks over his shoulder at you, his red eyes squint over the broad curve of his frame where his dark cloak rests.

You step out from behind the lantern and closer, clearing your throat. Rounding the bench, you dip politely into a bow.

“Good morning.” You lift your head. “Lord Sukuna.”

The corner of his mouth twitches below his mask then rises into a smirk that does far more than set your cheeks aflame.

“My Lady,” he hums arrogantly, tapping the bowl of his kiseru against the lip of the bench depositing the ash. The pipe clinks as he sets it down. Leaning back on his upper arms, his bottom pair resting on his thighs, he stares at you with an air of idle contemplation.

You shift awkwardly.

“How… have you been?” you ask, moving your hands behind your back to pick at your gloves.

“Fine,” he drawls. “Amused.”

You blink in puzzlement.

“Amused?”

Tilting up his chin, he sweeps his gaze down the length of his broad nose.

“It was amusing,” he says, a finger tapping once against the bench. “Knowing you tried so very hard to sneak up on me. As if I wouldn’t notice the moment you drew near.”

Right. Because to him, you’ve always been easy to find.

“Oh.” You huff a small laugh, though a muscle in his jaw feathers at the sound.

“What did you need?” He cocks his slitted eyebrow in question.

Ask him.

“I had something I wanted to ask.”

“Go on.”

“I wanted to know if…” you hesitate, nerves taking over. “If you would consider sending someone to look for my sister. After all the chaos, she went somewhere west, and I’m desperate to know if she’s safe.”

Ugh. Fucking moron.

While true, and a genuine concern, it wasn’t what you had wanted to ask.

His tattooed jaw tenses, and he stares at you.

“Please,” you add softly, sincerely. “I know you don’t—”

“I’ll see to it,” he interrupts.

You hesitate for a moment, not entirely sure you heard him correctly.

“You will?”

The unexpected kindness catches you off guard.

“What kind of husband would I be if I didn’t?” he says, leaning closer. His thick shoulders hunch forward, filling your field of view.

“Thank you. Truly…” You lower your chin, voice softening. “Everything you’ve done for me, for my sis—”

“Is that all?” he cuts you off with a dismissive noise.

You lift your eyes and nod, his amusement fading.

“Yes, that’s all,” you murmur.

Taking a few steps away, you silently scold yourself for not saying more.

Just ask him.

Before you can stop yourself, your feet stall, and you pivot back.

“Actually, no.” You step closer. Sukuna watches you, his body unfurling straighter.

“I was thinking—or wondering—if perhaps… you would like to go riding together sometime?”

There. That’s what you wanted to say.

He stares at you, unblinking.

“Are you asking me to spend time with you?” he chuckles. “Haven’t we already played this game before?”

Your mouth clamps shut, and tiny prickles race down the length of your spine. Yes, you had. Months ago, he rejected you—firmly. And, of course, he made quite the spectacle of your embarrassment, the proper asshole that he is.

“And what if I am?” you say, tone even. Composed.

Now, you just want him to put you out of your misery. A simple yes or no would suffice.

But he doesn’t. He keeps staring at you, his expression unreadable, as though lost in thought.

“Is that all you want to do?” he finally asks, his voice a rumbling low. “To ride horses with me?”

Before you can answer, he unfolds himself from the bench. Rising to his feet in one smooth motion, he looms closer, his presence filling the space between you.

“Because I think there’s something else I’d prefer.”

He slowly saunters closer.

“And what’s that?” Hearing his voice drop, you find a smile parting your lips.

“Something that involves you becoming desperate and wet for me.” His upper right hand reaches out, taking a strand of your hair and rolling it between his fingers. “Where calling you ‘my Lady’ or ‘wife’ feels wrong with all the delicious and terrible things I’d do to this body.”

Your face ignites in a dizzying array of colours as you realize he’s flirting with you. And it feels… natural. Without the looming barrier of your shared history—the fact that you once needed to kill him—everything between you feels endless. An open horizon.

“Could you be more specific? I’m having a hard time picturing what that might be,” you tease, your smile turning into a grin.

Looking at your mouth, his smirk widens. Releasing your hair, he steps closer, his lower hands slipping to your hips and hauling you against him. The shrinking proximity makes your heart slam in your chest, the sound hammering into your ears.

“Us. Alone. Together,” he husks.

Your eyes hood.

“And doesn’t riding horses involve us being alone together?”

You know exactly where this is going. You want to hear him say it. To hear him describe it. To hear what it would be like to writhe under him as he fucks you to within a hair's breadth of your life.

“No.” His eyes narrow, his face scrunching up slightly, clearly catching on. The combination is almost... cute.

Dipping his head, he brings his mouth close to your ear. His breath brushes your skin, and your knees threaten to give out, but the hands braced at your hips hold you firm.

“It would be me,” he murmurs. “Listening to your voice grow raw from the screams I’d pull from your lungs. Because I’d finally be splitting you open, watching you become sore. Aching.”

Aching.

His upper right hand moves, tracing lightly over yours, his fingertips grazing the silk fabric of your gloves.

“And these…” His voice dips further as his gaze lifts to meet yours. “They’d have to go. That way, you can touch me. Do you think you can do that?”

Your mind empties entirely.

“I can do that…” you manage, barely breathing.

“Is that so?”

You nod, numb.

“Are you aching for that now?”

“Yes…” A breath.

“Then consider me interested in spending time with you.”

You nod again absentmindedly.

“Okay…”

His grin spreads, but his eyes flick past you to a point over your shoulder. Turning to follow his gaze, you see Uraume standing in the doorway. A silent exchange passes between them before the pale-haired subordinate bows and disappears.

“Unfortunately, not today,” Sukuna says, drawing your attention back to him. “You’ll have to wait.”

Looking up at him through your lashes, you understand he’s needed elsewhere.

“Are you leaving the shrine?” There’s a sudden amount of vulnerability in your voice.

He shakes his head. You hadn’t expected anything more. He’d already given you so much.

“I’ll take my leave then,” you manage, your words trailing off as though reluctant to part.

He says nothing, only watches you with a stern expression, his brow dropping low for a moment.

You turn to leave, take a step, but your wrist is caught, holding you in place. Blinking once, you freeze, then look up at him.

Standing so still, your breath stops when his upper right hand curves around the shape of your neck, his fingers firm as they urge you back to him. You obey and step closer. His lower right hand settles at your waist, fingers spanning the delicate fabric of your obi, grounding you against the weight of him.

Your line of vision is swallowed whole.

Sukuna leans forward, bending toward you. The garden vanishes, and so does the sky and every sound.

Red eyes lock with yours, and he dips his head, a few stray strands of pink slipping free from the front of his temple to fall loosely against his forehead. Your pulse quickens as the shadow of his face draws near, and his mouth finds the curve of your cheek.

Your eyes flutter shut. Warmth blooms where he lingers, as though savouring the moment in a way that leaves you breathless.

It’s only then that you realize he’s kissing you.

Not biting, licking, or sucking like those few other times. Kissing you. And although it’s not on your lips, it’s still entirely consuming. 

​​Suddenly, the emotion you’ve avoided naming reveals itself. It rises to the surface, filling you, spreading warm and bright, like fire.

Leaning into the embrace, your hands slide along his chest, greedy to touch. His pectoral muscles shift beneath the fabric of his kimono—strong, warm, protective.

“Sukuna…” His name escapes as a whisper, burdened with unguarded emotion.

A low growl rumbles in his chest as his mouth, disarmingly gentle, trails upward from your cheek to your temple, stopping just shy of your hairline. He presses a soft kiss there, the faint brush of his nose grazing your skin.

His other hands remain still, though the one at your neck tightens slightly. The hand hovering at your side lifts away. He could hold more of you, but for some reason, he chooses restraint.

“Enjoy the rest of your day, wife.” He mouths the words against your temple and the pressure in your core knots. “I know I will.”

He presses one last, smaller kiss to your skin before the hand curving around your neck shifts, his fingertips tracing the underside of your jaw before sliding away.

All you can manage is a soft, breathless hum, betraying how undone you feel.

When he pulls back, you open your eyes. The sky and garden feel distant, and you don’t dare look up for fear he’ll see everything written across your face. The longing there, the affection, the desire.

As he steps away, relinquishing his hold, you hear him chuckle softly.

And then he’s gone, leaving you alone in the garden, his touch branded on your skin and your body aching for more, just as he promised.

* * * * *

You spend the rest of the day grinning like a damn idiot—grinning so much that your face hurts, wide enough to make yourself feel pathetic.

Pathetic because his lips had barely caressed your cheek, yet the memory is there. Replaying over in your mind like a melody you can’t forget. Memorizing his warmth, the weight of his touch to no end, making your chest flutter to no end and no matter how much you try, you can’t focus on anything other than that.

Pathetic.

By nightfall, as Ren helps turn down your futon, you sit nearby, your fingers wandering to your cheek, as if the sensation is still there. Without meaning to, a soft laugh escapes, drawing a glance from your attendant.  

“Something on your mind, my Lady?” she asks, her tone light and curious. 

You quickly lower your hand to begin peeling off your gloves, shaking your head.  

“No. Nothing.” You place the silk on the nearby table.

Ren hums, clearly unconvinced, but doesn’t press. Instead, her feet whisper over the new tatami mats as she kneels by the brazier in the corner. She nudges the coals, coaxing flames to spring to life.

“Can I ask you something?” you say, watching the glow dance in uneven patterns across the walls.  

“Hm? Yes, of course, my Lady.” 

“An attendant who was serving my meal today mentioned something about rationing,” you begin cautiously. “Is there anything I need to know?”  

Your attendant's movements still briefly, her hand hovering over the brazier. Setting down the poker, she turns to you carefully, the ends of her dark hair firing in the warm glow of the coals.

“There has been… some adjustments,” she says. “With Master Sukuna’s territories under attack, Uraume has taken steps to prepare for the winter. Food supplies are being rationed to ensure we can endure the colder months.”  

You blink, the words unsettling.

“The attacks…” you trail off, your mind catching on to the memory of what you saw weeks ago—the charred remains of that village not too far from here. The smouldering wreckage, the scent of death, the women dragged away and brutalized at the edges like discarded trash. “They’re still happening?”  

Ren nods, her face pinched with concern.

“Yes. Sporadically. It’s not as frequent as before, but enough to keep everyone on edge.”  

You look away, the firelight blurring as your thoughts churn. For some reason, you had assumed—or hoped—that the worst of the attacks had passed after witnessing that one horrifying aftermath. But to know they have continued…  

And to know what you had done.  

With your clan gone, the blood of many rests as a bruise on your conscience, even if you refuse to dwell on it. You’d told yourself it was necessary, the only way to survive—but you can’t ignore the potential consequences. A slaughter of that scale would not go unnoticed.  

What if these tensions escalated beyond the villages? What if word of what happened reached the capital? Would the court intervene? Send emissaries to challenge your husband?

The thought twists your stomach. The idea of retaliation against him is one you never imagined you’d have to consider.  

Then again, you never thought you’d find yourself actually interested in being the King of Curses’ wife.  

And yet, here you are.

Pushing up from the floor, your fingers curve into the fabric of your yukata as you make your way to the futon. Kneeling, you smooth the bedding before slipping beneath the top layer, settling with a faint rustle but not lying down just yet.  

“It’s reckless,” you murmur, more to yourself. “Attacking his lands like this…”  

Ren glances at you, her brow creasing slightly.  

“It is,” she agrees, “but desperation makes people reckless. Bandits, rival clans—it’s hard to say who’s behind it.”

“Rival clans.” The words are thick in your mouth. Mind drifting back, you recall the map spread across your father’s private chamber weeks ago—the black, pale, and red stones scattered over specific locations. 

It has to be Zen’in. Kasai is gone. It’s the only explanation.  

Ren adjusts the coals, the sound of them crumbling and settling in the brazier, snapping you out of your thoughts. Sparks leap into the air.  

You stare at them, at the glowing red embers.

Red, red, red…  

“The villagers are feeling the strain, too.” Ren draws your attention back to her. “Though, their offerings brought for this first of the month were smaller. Uraume has ensured the shrine has enough to last for now, but it is… tenuous.”  

You know the villagers don’t bring offerings out of loyalty or devotion. They do it out of fear of displeasing Sukuna.  

Scrubbing a hand against the side of your face, you try to quiet your thoughts, letting the crackling fire soothe you. Though its warmth suddenly feels indulgent.  

“Does that include this?” You gesture to the flames.  

Ren sighs softly, setting the poker aside.  

“The brazier is a necessity, my Lady. It would not do for you to fall ill. But yes… even here, we’ve been asked to reduce usage where possible.”  

“And the other attendants?” you ask, stifling a frown. “Are you all eating enough?”  

“We eat enough to manage our duties,” she replies, folding her hands into her lap. “Foraging helps. Mushrooms, roots, herbs. It’s not much, but it makes a difference.”  

You nod, her answer easing the knot in your stomach only slightly.  

“Anyways, my Lady, you should rest,” she says, rising to her feet and smoothing her robes. “I’m sure you’re still exhausted from everything that’s happened.”  

You manage a faint smile.  

Ren bows gracefully.  

“Goodnight, my Lady,” she says before excusing herself.

The door slides shut behind her with a soft rustle. The dimly lit room feeling quieter now, the crackling of the flames filling the silence. You lie down, staring at the ceiling, your gaze not straying far from that one familiar spot.

Sukuna’s kiss swims back into your mind, unbidden but welcome, and a small smile curves your lips.

“Pathetic…” you sigh, turning onto your side to get a better view of the room.  

Eventually, the warmth of the brazier pulls you under, and the last thing you see is the kindling of flames, the shifting of shadows, and the silhouettes dancing along the walls.  

You sink.

Down.

Deeper.

Until the nightmare devours you.

* * * * *

“He’s going to kill me…” 

You stand in the darkness of the grove, your voice small and jittering as you look into your sister’s face. The sky frames her in rough, curling shadows, stars twinkling through the yew’s branches above, and the wet grass pricks cool against your feet below.

Somewhere in the distance, the baying of men and the shrieking of horses echo into the night. They’ve returned.

Mercifully, Yuna dips her head to meet your gaze, her thumbs gently grazing over your cheeks as she brushes the hair out of your face.

“Just stay here, okay?” she soothes.

Your feet feel rooted in place.

“I’ll talk to him first.”

How could she possibly persuade your father not to kill you after what you’ve done?

Still and obedient, you nod in silence, watching as she steps away, her figure fading into the shadows, leaving the grove and heading into the Kasai compound’s interior.

Once alone, you start to pace.

Feet tracing small, tight circles into the earth, you watch your bloody yukata cling like a second skin, wet and slapping against your ankles.

“I killed her…” you whisper, the first of many slow-declining mutterings.

“I killed her…”

You turn. Pace. Turn again.

“I killed her…”

Turn. Pace. Turn again.

Eyes starting to burn, you dig your fingernails into your palms, fighting to swallow down more tears. Your mother, your unborn brother or sister—the thought of what you did to them. You shouldn’t have gone in there. Why did you go in there? You shouldn’t have done that. Why did you do that?

Turn. Pace.

I killed her. I did this.

Turn again.

Despite your efforts to hold them back, fresh tears fall. Enough that you can’t breathe. Enough that your chest constricts.

Sobs rack and sting their way up your tightening throat, forcing you to drag in a deep breath of the grove, pulling in a mix of scents into your lungs—blood, resin, and the tang of fire. Something burning.

Turn. Pace. Turn again.

Turn. Pace. Turn again.

Turn. Pace. Turn aga—

A twig breaks with a startling crack.

Crack.

Crack.

Crack.

More.

Branches in the undergrowth snap under heavy weight.

You stop. The hair on the back of your neck rises.

It takes only a moment to realize something is wrong.

Because you’re not alone.

Something is here. It has been the entire time. Watching you. Hunting you.

You are a deer caught in a clearing, at the mercy of a presence far greater than yourself.

Crack!

Slowly, you lift your head, tears tracing silent paths down your cheeks. Strands of hair tumbling forward to hide your face.

And there it is.  

Peering into the maze of murky trees, a massive shadow unspools itself into view. It comes in the form of a man, but it’s not a man. It’s a creature.  

A demon.  

You realize this as a pair of bottom arms split beneath the top. And it’s then that you realize this must be the same demon the Kasai clan is hunting. The one they are attempting to trap and kill. But it’s here.

Why is it here? Wasn’t it supposed to be to the east? 

Hardly daring to breathe, you pinch your brow together, squinting at it. Its slow, laborious gait presses through the undergrowth, its bare feet whispering over the grass as it approaches.  

The creature stops only paces away, where the trees grow into an archway of dense gnarled bramble.  

It tilts its head.  

And stares at you.  

Its scarlet eyes pierce into you, studying you. Observing you. Dissecting you. Picking at you. Its muscles pull taut, straining as though holding back the urge to move closer.

The grove falls deathly silent.

Not a word.

Not a sound.

Except for your shallow, trembling breaths—a ragged cadence of in, then out.

You keep staring, hoping it will ignore you. Hoping it will leave.

In, then out.

But all you can do is stand there, frozen in paralysis.

In, then—

“Fuga.”

The word rumbles out, shattering the silence.

A flame opens, slithering across your bleary vision.

The creature lifts its upper pair of arms and pulls back, elbow cocked. The fire condenses in its grasp, tight like an arrow made of blistering flames, tiny sparks snapping and scattering into the air.

You’re going to die.

Maybe, I should let this happen.

No. No.

Run.

You want to, but you can’t. Your body wants to move, but it won’t. Your feet feel rooted in place.

Stay here. That’s what she said.

Powerless, all you can do is stand there, your legs weak with panic. You watch the fire narrowing into a blazing, crackling point that hums with energy, burning bigger, brighter, and aimed straight for you.

And then, all you see is red.

Red.

Everywhere.

Red, red, red—

“My Lady. Wake up!”

Your eyes snap open.

All at once, you’re awake. All at once, you’re blinking, the flat surface of the ceiling coming into sharper focus.

Though you can’t quite orient yourself, Ren’s words fracture the nightmare. Her voice close with concern as she kneels beside your futon, hands resting on her thighs.

“Are you all right, my Lady?” she leans forward, craning her neck to get a better view of your body sprawled across the bedding. “You were screaming out in your sleep.”

Out of breath and almost panting, you drag in uneven lungfuls of air, forcing them to settle while rubbing your thumb into your temple. Shit, it hurt, that ache there, one you desperately want to ease.

“I’m fine,” you murmur, shifting as you push yourself upright. “Just… a bad dream.”

An understatement. You’re still reeling, confused about what the hell that even was.

A soft notch settles at Ren’s brow.

“You were calling out for Master Sukuna,” she points out quietly.

You swallow, sitting up a little straighter.

“Was I?”

She lets out a low hum of confirmation.

It’s more than a little embarrassing if not entirely telling. Apparently, even in your dreams, you’re desperate for him.

“How about I bring some tea?” she offers gently, already moving to stand. “It will help you relax.”

“Ren, it’s the middle of the night,” you protest, glancing toward the faint sliver of moonlight peeking through the narrow window. “That’s such a hassle for you.”

She brushes off your concern with a quiet shake of her head.

“It doesn’t matter. You won’t rest properly like this.” Her nose wrinkles as she gestures toward you and the crumpled futon, your limbs tangled awkwardly in the bedding. Knowing her, the sight must look ungodly.

“Fine, all right. Thank you.” You nod, fingers curling into the fabric of your yukata and lifting it for airflow.

When she leaves, you lie back down, staring up at the ceiling.  

You swallow again.

That dream lingers at the edges of your mind, fragments slithering into your thoughts—fire, the demon… no, Sukuna. You’ve had that dream before, but never like this. Never so vivid. Never with him there in the grove.  

Your head throbs painfully.  

It doesn’t take long for your attendant’s footsteps to return. Her slippers whisper soft across the woven flooring, the ceramics clinking. You push yourself up, watching as she crosses the room and sets the tray on the table. Steam rises in delicate threads from the bowl, carrying the faint, calming scent of tea leaves.

With nimble fingers, Ren stirs the liquid with a small whisk, before lifting the tray and beginning to walk toward you.  

“My Lady,” she says softly, offering you one of those rare, unguarded smiles as she steps closer.

You smile back, a warmth settling in your chest, easing your body from the nightmare.

“You’re good at this,” you remark, peeling back the bedding and scooting closer to the edge of the futon. “Were you ever someone’s sister?” 

She shakes her head.

“No, I was an only child."

“Really?” you draw out the word, a teasing grin widening your face. “You hover like you’ve been doing it your whole life.”

Her face flushes, a faint tinge of red painting her cheeks as she lets out a bright laugh. An honest rarity, that sound.

She takes only a few steps across the room when, somewhere between the futon and the table, her foot catches on the uneven edge of the tatami. She steps but stumbles, the tray lurching precariously in her hands.

With no time to think, you react.

Pushing up, your hand shoots out to steady her. 

Your fingertips graze the skin along her wrist.

Ren jerks back violently as though burned. The tray tilts. Ceramics wobble, teetering, and then—

Crash!

When they break, they shatter.

Tea splashes across the woven flooring, darkening the weave like ink swirling into water. You stare at it, watching it soak in, watching it sink in.

Let it all sink in.

Everything falls silent.

Everything.

Instinct has always dictated that you not touch others for fear of destroying another life, and you’ve tended to remain true to that. Only on rare occasions have you broken that rule. And in all your time here, you’ve never—not once—touched Ren.

So then… why? 

From where you stand, you watch her drop to her knees, fingers frantically picking through the tiny shards of broken ceramics. There are so many of them—thousands, it seems—each fragment catching the soft light of the brazier tucked into your chambers.

The brazier to keep you warm. To keep you comfortable. Safe and protected.  

That’s why it was there. Wasn’t it?

Your eyes flit back to the stain, the imprint slowly fading, disappearing.

“Ren…” you murmur.

She doesn’t look up.  

Her hands move quickly, almost desperately, gathering the shards into a fold she creates with her cream-coloured robe.  

“Ren.” More firm.

Still, nothing.

Her hands move faster.

“Ren!” 

Her head shoots up. Her face is pale, her eyes cracked wide and nervous, like she’s been caught doing something she shouldn’t. Like she’s opened a secret that should’ve stayed sealed.

That’s your answer.

She swallows.  

“My Lad—”

“You know.”

It’s not a question.

You see it in the way she refuses to meet your eyes. She peers over your shoulder, studies the ceiling—anywhere but your face.

There’s a pause, but finally, she nods, her head bobbing stiffly.

You blink. Your hands clench and unclench into fists, the knot in your stomach rising to your throat, threatening to choke you.

If she knows, then how? You’ve been hidden, kept as a secret. And if she knows, who else?

“What do you know?”

Ren swallows again, the force of it jutting her chin outward.

“I… I know about that.” Voice barely audible, she points to your bare hands, which now shake uncontrollably. “What you can do.”

“How?… since when?”

But that’s not the real question, is it? 

You take a step forward.

“Who else knows?”

Ren softly shakes her head, regret outlining every feature.

Not good enough. You want answers.

“Fine.” You inhale a horribly shaky breath, fighting to keep control. “Did Sayuri know?”

Her jaw shifts, working back and forth as though resisting the words. In the end, she only gives a faint nod.

Throat drying out, you swallow.

“And Uraume?”

Another nod.

Your mouth tightens, a sharp twitch pulling at the corner. For some reason, that stings.

“Do I even need to say it?”

A pause. She hesitates. She opens her mouth, then closes it, indecision winning out, only allowing her eyes to drift back to the floor. Finally, she shakes her head slowly.

No. You don’t need to say it.

Sukuna.

This one hurts more. Much worse.

“Why… have you all not acknowledged this?” you breathe. “You need to tell me what's going on. Now.”

She shakes her head.

You let out a sharp scoff, your feet already moving. If she won’t answer, you’ll get the truth yourself—tonight.

Numb, you cross the room toward the door.

Behind you, the sound of broken ceramics thudding onto the mats sounds as Ren flings herself into your path.

“My Lady, please.” Her hands rise as if to stop your trajectory.

“Get out of my way, Ren,” you bite back, rushing past her and sliding the door open to reveal the yawning darkness of the corridor.

You take one small step out, angling to the right.

“He’s been manipulating you!”

You stop.

Her voice slams into you like a physical blow, every muscle, every fibre in your body coiling in an attempt to protect yourself. The place where his mouth met your cheek suddenly stings. Your head throbs painfully. Your heart even more.

“You’re lying.” The words come flatly, spoken to the corridor ahead. You don’t turn to face her. But the truth rests in her voice. “Why are you trying to hurt me?”

“My Lady,” she says softly. “Please… come back and rest.”

Ignoring her, you take another step.

“Please!” Desperation cracks the word. “If you go to him like this, he will kill you.”

You stop, though you don’t remember deciding to.

Slowly, you turn, your body moving on its own.

“He… what?” The words stick in your throat, becoming only a collection of strained consonants and sounds. “He wouldn’t do that. He’s… protected me. He’s been protecting me...”

Hasn’t he?

Ren’s gaze falls to your hands. There is pity and sympathy there.

“I’m sorry,” she mutters, it almost makes you believe she means it.

Mind stumbling, you grasp at fragments, piecing together moments that now feel like lies. Sukuna gripping your wrists instead of your hands. The tension in his body whenever you touched him. The lingering looks. The what if I want to know you? All the goading in the beginning—the pushing, the pressing, the prodding—as if he wanted you to snap. As if he wanted you to… attack him. Then, the sudden shift, the slow pull of him luring you closer, drawing you in, until you almost fell in lov—

No.

You jerk your head, cocking it to the side, and an unhinged laugh rips out of you, your nose scrunching as your mouth comes away a sneer.

“You’re sorry?”

As if freed from a blindfold, your eyes open.

The deception here. The lies here.

This place is a lie.

You step back inside, moving to the table to grab your scabbard. The leather scrapes loudly against the wood as you drag it off. You glance at your gloves once before turning back to the door.

You won’t need them.

Ears ringing too loudly, you step into the corridor, ignoring Ren’s frantic pleas from behind.

You don’t stop.

You need answers. You need to get out of here. You need everything to stop spinning. You need that cruel place where your heart sits to stop begging for attention.

Taking the turn to the right, your body feels detached as you walk down the passage that leads from your chambers to your husband’s. The path feels like a bridge, one you haven’t crossed since your first night here. He’s been so close—right at arm's length. Everything at arm's fucking length.

Your hand rises to your cheek again before you quickly drop it.

Lying. Two-faced. Monster.

That earlier emotion thrashes wildly in your chest like a caged animal struggling to break free. You imagine yourself screaming at it for being so careless, for giving away even a small piece of yourself.

Stupid. Useless. Girl.

You should have known better.

Halfway to the massive double doors, you lose all sense of yourself. You no longer feel your feet beneath you, your body entirely numb, reduced to the blade in your hand and the slow, creeping realization that you might actually follow through. That you might finally kill the King of Curses—not for the purpose you were sent here for, but for yourself.

Tap, tap, tap.

Rushing footsteps patter as an echo behind you, descending in the opposite direction. Glancing over your shoulder, you spot Ren vanishing into the dark passage. Her robe shudders, disappearing, swallowed by the gloom.

You turn back.

Flex your hand. Flex your fingers. Start to slowly find your gift and unravel it.

It doesn’t take long to reach the doors. Before them, you sink into a crouch. Unsheathing your blade, you stab the end into the hem of your yukata and pull. Remembering the monster’s advice about stepping into enemy territory, you cut the loose fabric free, and toss it away.

It takes two more heartbeats to stand and heave your gift fully to your fingertips. It takes longer than you’d like, but when it arrives, you dip your hands into the doors, willing them to whoosh open silently. You only hope it won’t fail you like last time.

You step inside.

It’s dark.

Another step.

Your eyes adjust, and there, on the enormous raised futon, lies an enormous shape.

Your mother once said that monsters come in many forms as if they have the capacity to change.

Change.

For a time, you might have considered to believe that fairytale.

Now?

What fucking nonsense.

Like a snake, and without looking back, you slip inside, shut the doors, and seal your fate.

* * * * *

🔗 Chapter 30

[kimmie2me]

Greeny Ghost

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Ghost!Midoriya Izuku x AFAB!Reader

.....

The alley stretched out longer than you’d thought, shadows swallowing the corners, broken only by dim streetlights. You’d walked down plenty of places like this before, but this one was unnervingly quiet. Your friends were supposed to be with you, daring you into the so-called “haunted” alley, but when you turned back, you saw—no one. Just empty space.

“Those jerks,” you muttered, kicking a stray pebble with an irritated huff. Just your luck to get abandoned in the middle of a ghost story.

That’s when you saw him: a faintly glowing figure at the far end of the alley, barely visible in the low light, his form flickering like static on an old TV. He wore a junior high uniform, like he was frozen in time, but it was his eyes, wide and curious, that had you rooted to the spot.

"What the hell." You blurted out, which caused the ghost to jump a bit.

“You… you can see me?” he asked, sounding more surprised than you felt.

“Guess so,” you replied warily, feeling your fists clench. You took a step back, but he stayed still, watching you with something close to wonder. “A-are you the… ghost? Y'know.. that one ghost?”

“No. I mean, yes, but… not like… like an evil ghost!” he said, frowning as he waved his hands in the air, trying to seem harmless. “I don’t hurt anyone or anything. I just… hang around.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? So why are there all those rumors about people going missing in this alley?”

He let out a dramatic sigh. “I have no idea! I’ve been here for years, and no one ever went missing because of me.” His arms crossed, and he gave you an indignant look, clearly offended. “I keep watch over the place. There’s a run-down building nearby, and sketchy people use it for… whatever sketchy people do. I’m just here observing them, making notes sometimes.”

“Uh-huh,” you said, unconvinced. “Sounds like something an evil ghost would say. Plus, why would anyone believe some… green-haired ghost taking notes?”

His frown deepened and he sighed. "Really? 'Green-haired ghost? I have a name and identity, you know? My name is Midoriya Izuku."

You shrugged, giving him a skeptical look. “Sure, whatever. and I'm giving you a new identity: ‘Greeny Ghost.’ Also, how am supposed to trust you? You're a ghost and the movies basically explain what you're supposed to do. Just don't haunt me or I'll pour holy water down your throat.”

He threw his hands up. “Why are you making this harder than it has to be? I’m just here because I, well, exist here.” His voice softened a bit, frustration giving way to a hint of sadness. “It’s not like I can go anywhere else.”

“Yeah, and every creepy spirit says that before they drag you into some other world and keep you locked up for eternity,” you replied with a smirk, folding your arms in a show of exaggerated defiance. “Sorry, but I’m not falling for the ‘poor trapped ghost’ act.”

Izuku groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as if your words were physically painful. “You remind me so much of Kacchan! In a bad way!”

You raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Uh-huh. And what, or who, the hell is ‘Kacchan’?”

Izuku looked at you, his face twisting into an expression halfway between exasperation and resignation. “Kacchan! My… a friend from junior high. Sort of. He’s… well, actually, no, he’s nothing like you.” Izuku seemed to rethink this, blinking in realization. “He’s a lot worse.”

“Wow. So you’re saying I’m less tolerable than some guy named Kacchan, who, by the sound of it, doesn’t sound like someone with a good rep?” you said with mock offense, pressing a hand to your chest. “Way to compliment a girl, Greeny-Ghost.”

He looked like he was about three seconds away from floating back through the alley wall, giving up on this ridiculous exchange.

You look at him a bit more closer, and you note he looked about your age, but… different. Ghostly, of course, but there was something else, something in his eyes that almost seemed… lonely. You didn’t know if you believed him, but something about him made you stay.

“What’re you even doing here?” you finally asked, taking a careful step forward. "Are you trapped here or something?"

“Besides not being evil?” he shot back, still salty. But when he saw you weren’t about to leave, he sighed, softening. “A villain got me… in this alley. I was just a kid, and I never really… left, I guess. People pass by now and then, but nobody usually sees me.” He shifted, looking suddenly uncertain. “Actually, you’re the first one to ever talk to me.”

You studied him, noticing the worn edges of his uniform, the tired, resigned look in his eyes. He seemed less scary and more… well, kind of tragic. Still, you weren’t about to let your guard down. “Yeah, well, maybe people hear the creepy noises you make,” you challenged. “Y'know it freaks them out.”

He blinked, clearly caught off guard. “Oh! You mean the notes? I’m trying to keep track of the activity around here,” he said defensively. “Besides, no one told me my note-taking was creepy.”

“Right,” you said, biting back a smirk. “So you’re a scholarly ghost, huh?”

A light blush appeared on his cheeks. “Look, I don’t get many hobbies! Ghosts don’t have a lot to do except observe.” He crossed his arms, giving you a quick glare before his expression softened again. “Anyway, I’m not the villain here. The creepy noises? That’s just me muttering to myself or something.”

Your arms relaxed a bit, the eerie feeling of the alley giving way to something else entirely. His earnestness was unexpected, and honestly, a little endearing.

“Alright, Greeny,” you relented, softening just a little. “Maybe you’re not as evil as they say.”

He sighed, looking relieved but still a little skeptical himself. “That’s… comforting, I guess.”

You shrugged, shoving your hands in your pockets. “Guess I’ll see you around.” You turned, giving him a small wave as you walked away, his faint figure watching you until you disappeared around the corner.

.....

Three days later, you found yourself back at the alley. You weren’t sure why—maybe it was the way he’d looked at you, or that stupid hopefulness in his voice. This time, you came with something: a small letter in your hand, the ink smudged slightly where you’d clutched it nervously.

You called out, half-expecting him not to show, but he appeared, looking pleasantly surprised.

“Back already?” he teased, a lopsided smile on his face. "

“Don’t get too excited,” you shot back, trying to keep your tone casual. You extended the letter. “It’s… from your mom. I found her, told her I met you… and I convinced her to write something for you. Don't ask why I did it. You looked so miserable here, it made me miserable.”

His mouth dropped open, his expression turning from surprise to something you couldn’t quite name. He took the letter in shaking hands, his gaze fixed on it like it was the most precious thing in the world.

“She… she actually remembered me?” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. He looked up, tears pooling in his eyes. “Thank you… I can’t believe you’d go out of your way for… for me.”

You shrugged, feeling a little awkward under the weight of his gratitude. “Figured you could use a reminder that you’re not just… some alley ghost.”

He laughed a little through his tears, wiping his eyes. “I’m really not an evil ghost,” he said, voice soft and grateful.

“Yeah, well,” you replied, rolling your eyes with a small grin. “You’re still Greeny Ghost to me.”

Izuku blinked, visibly surprised by your small grin, and for a second he just stood there, processing it. Then, with an awkward but excited energy, he smiled back.

“D-do you want to, uh… stick around for a bit? I could, um, show you what I’ve written down,” he stammered, gesturing to a tattered notebook that materialized in his hands.

You chuckled. “Sure. Show me what a scholarly ghost looks like.”

He lit up, practically vibrating with excitement as he began flipping through his notes, talking fast as he pointed out every bit of information he’d gathered. You listened, half amused and half impressed by his careful, detailed observations. Each page was crammed with tiny, meticulous handwriting that covered everything from people he’d seen pass by to strange objects left in the alley over the years.

“I try to keep track of everything,” he explained earnestly. “It’s not like anyone really notices me, so I figured… maybe someday, if someone needed to know anything about this area, I’d have it all written down.”

“Sounds like you take your ghostly duties pretty seriously, huh?” you teased, glancing through his observations. "Well, I try to be a hero in my own way" He replied with a small smile. As you skimmed a particularly eerie note about some “sludge villain” incident that had occurred nearby, a thought hit you.

“Wait, was it… the sludge villain? Was that what got you here?” you asked, looking up to find his expression turn somber, yet resigned.

“Yeah,” he murmured, a shadow passing over his face. “It all happened so fast. I didn’t even see him coming. They said… All Might couldn’t get there in time.” He paused, then shrugged, as if he’d long made peace with it. “Guess it’s just the way it happened.”

You looked at him thoughtfully, and something in you softened. “You know… I think All Might was really sad about what happened to you.”

Izuku’s eyes went wide, almost panicked, like you’d just told him he’d accidentally disappointed a beloved friend. “S-sad? I didn’t want him to feel sad! I mean, All Might is my hero! He’s… he’s… I never wanted to make him feel like that. I was always cheering him on!”

You attempt to put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, which failed as it phases right through. After a second try, you deem the gesture to be futile. “Hey, it’s okay. All Might probably knew that. And who knows? I bet he even came to your funeral.”

Izuku looked up, the panic giving way to a kind of hopeful wonder. “You… you think so?”

“Of course,” you said, grinning a bit. “And hey, maybe that ‘Kacchan’ guy you mentioned showed up too. You’re not as alone as you’d imagine, Greeny.”

He looked at you, eyes brimming with a strange mixture of gratitude and disbelief, as if no one had ever told him something like that before. “Thank you,” he whispered, voice soft and full of warmth. “For saying that. It… it actually means a lot.”

You shrugged it off, feeling a little flustered under his earnest gaze. “Yeah, well, can’t leave a ghost like you feeling down, right?”

Izuku chuckled, the sound light and unexpectedly comforting. “I guess not,” he agreed, eyes still shining with gratitude as he turned back to his notes, flipping to a fresh page. “You mind if I write down that you came back? I think… I think I’d like to remember it.” You nod.

"Yeah, sure you can."

From that moment on, he followed you like a quiet shadow, slipping into conversations, teasing you as much as you teased him, and reminding you of the friend you’d found in the most unexpected of places.

[steppingstar]

Gun x Goo: shed your knuckle velvet (torn on my teeth)

(is this how u post fanfictions on tumblr?? i’ve never done this..)

Goo visits Gun in prison.

“You dick.” is the first thing Goo spits at him when he enters the visiting room, pressing a finger firmly against the glass partition, so close Gun can see the ridges and furrows of the skin of his index finger.

Gun, in his usual manner of answering Goo, rolls his eyes. He’s without his sunglasses now, so Goo can actually see him do it for once, and he has to bite back a smirk at the offended squawk he receives. His eyes don’t leave Goo as the blond sits down in the designated chair, fingers already itching for a cigarette as the other man leans in far closer than he needs to. There’s a glass window separating them, he has no idea why Goo is leaning closer like he’ll somehow be able to reach him.

“You have any idea how long it took for me to get them to let me come visit you?” Goo huffs, crossing his arms, like he’s talking about something as mundane as the weather, like Gun didn’t almost kill him the last time they met. Like nothing has changed between them. And, maybe, nothing has.

“I don’t.” He says dryly in return, and he’d really like to take a drag right now. He always found amusement in the way Goo’s face would scrunch up in disgust at the scent.

“Well, a while!” Goo scowls. “I’m not one to give up, though,” He’s grinning now, the smile stretched wide across his face in a way that Gun thinks makes him look uglier than usual. It’s admittedly his favorite smile on him. “It only took a little bit of bribery to convince them.”

“Bribery?” Gun sighs, straightening up in his chair finally, resting his arms on his knees. “Of course.”

“Yep!” He chirped, still grinning at him. “All on your card, don’t worry.”

“..How the fuck did you get access to my card.”

“The same way I always get access to your things.” He says in a singsongy voice. Gun wishes there wasn’t a glass wall between them so that he could reach over and hit him over the head.

They don’t..talk about. Goo chats his ear off, rambling about whatever new anime he’s been watching, about the new people he’s met, yada yada. Gun, like always, tunes him out, and takes a moment to observe the other man across from him. He seems unfazed, like he walked away from their fight the same man, but Gun knows him better. He’s broken him down and put him back together more times than he can count in their years together, the same way Goo has done for him, and he can recognize the smallest shift in his expression, the way he winces ever so slightly when he moves a certain way.

He’s hurt him. Bad.

Gun can’t help but feel a bit of satisfaction well up within him at the knowledge. He thinks he should feel guilt at the damage he’s caused to his body, but he feels as if this is the most suitable way to leave his final mark on Goo. They’ve always been violent people; it’s why they work so well together. If he thinks hard enough, he can even remember the way Goo’s hand fisted in his hair as he pressed painfully close to him, the taste of blood filling his mouth when he bit Goo’s hard enough to make him gasp and slip his tongue into his mouth like it was yesterday.

The conversation reaches a lull, neither of them speaking for a moment. They simply stare at the wall, stare at each other, Gun’s eyes catching on Goo’s lips and staying there a while.

Gun had always imagined since they had first met how their final meeting would go; his knuckles kissing a bruise into Goo’s unmarked face, his fingers clenched and wrapped tight around his slender neck, squeezing like he was trying to hold onto him, all the way until the warmth, the light, the life he always brought with him drained out of his eyes.

He didn’t expect this, the two of them uncharacteristically silent, gazing at each other through the glass that separates them with a soft look unusual of men like them.

He feels an inexplicable tenderness suddenly. The urge to wrap his arms around Goo and never let go, until their bodies meld into each other and become one. Like they were always meant to be. One in the same, two halves of the same coin.

“I love you.” Gun cannot say.

“Get the hell out of here, Goo,” He drawls instead, leaning back in the uncomfortable metal chair. His lips twitch just barely, the closest thing to a smile he’ll allow himself to direct at the blond.

Goo just laughs, unfazed. “I’ll leave whenever the hell I want to, you bastard.” He shoots back, grinning, eyes glittering mischievously beneath his glasses.

And this, Gun thinks, is the best possible outcome.

[sergeantxrogers]

| something that we’re not |

Summary: Just don’t fall in love. That was the only rule. It was literally the only rule, and it was already broken. 

Pairing: fwb!Bucky Barnes x f!reader

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: Angst, swearing, alcohol consumption (if you don’t drink just pretend it’s juice xx), kissing, yearning, fluff at the end

Note: heyy y’all... i know it’s been a while and i also know i have a shit ton of unfinished stuff and a couple requests but this idea popped into my head like two days ago and i was gonna explode if i didn’t write it since i’m basically going through the same thing (just without the fluffy ending yet) i’ve been very very busy with college and studying and life in general, i miss you all like crazy tho, i hope you enjoy this :)

_______________

“So, I guess our best option would be moving to Quantico?”

“Do we really wanna be associated with the FBI, though?”

“Well, I just thought-”

“We need to look at more options.”

Your eyes bounced back and forth across the board room, landing on Sam, then Torres, then Fury. You tried staying focused, you really did. 

But it was proving difficult with Bucky’s eyes searing into the side of your face, making you acutely aware of every movement you made and every breath you took. You shifted in your chair, eyes flickering towards him, and you saw his jaw clench with his lips pulled back in a subtle smirk. He moved his gaze away from you, instead opting to watch Fury as he spoke about... whatever he was speaking about. Something about finding new headquarters, or working out of multiple areas. Sam would give you the run-down later.

Bucky’s eyes would be the death of you. 

You spent the remaining half hour of the meeting avoiding them altogether, biting your tongue and trying to keep your foot still and your breathing even. 

“Y/N,” Fury’s voice boomed, and you jolted slightly.

All eyes turned to you.

“Any thoughts? You seem quiet today,” Fury observed, head tilted slightly. 

You shook your head. “No, I just- No. Nothing to add, sir. I’m okay.”

You gave him an awkward smile as he stared at you a bit longer. Eventually, he decided he had grilled you enough, and called the meeting to an end. 

You let out a long, quiet sigh, and turned your chair to face the glass table in front of you, papers and files askew and messy. You cleared your throat as your eyes followed everyone through the door as they left, dragging your hands slowly as you collected your papers. Sam left first, dropping a heavy hand on your shoulder as he went by. Torres went next, giving you a boyish smile, and Fury left after him without a word. 

Your fingers tingled as you slammed your binder shut, trying to keep your smile at bay. You refused to look up, because you knew if you did, you’d be met with those eyes that got you to do anything they wanted. 

“Problem?”

You shook your head nonchalantly, keeping your eyes glued to the plastic cover of your binder. “Not on my side. You could’ve tried being a bit more subtle with the staring, though.”

You heard him chuckle, and finally, you lifted your gaze to rest on him. A mischievous smile rested on his lips, his tongue dragging across his bottom teeth as he stared at you, slowly making his way around the table. 

You stared back, unwilling to let him know how fazed you truly were with his proximity, even though it felt like your skin was on fire, a heavy, slow beat thundering in your ears and through your veins, travelling it’s course throughout your body and finding home deep in your core. You shifted your hips slightly. Bucky noticed. 

He stopped walking only when he was a foot away from you. You swore if he was half an inch closer you would’ve fell to your knees in front of him, his gravitational pull too strong to avoid. 

He was the sun, bright, burning, and energetic, and you were the singular, lone planet orbiting him, never able to pull away far enough to forget him, but never close enough to really, truly, have him. You just went in circles around him, over and over again, day in, day out, and he watched you and laughed. At least, that was what it felt like sometimes.

Bucky studied your eyes, gaze dropping to your lips, before lifting to meet your eyes again. Your chest rose and fell unsteadily no matter how much you tried to keep it in check. 

“Come over tonight?” he whispered, eyes drinking in the way your pupils dilated at the sound of his voice. 

You felt a tinge of sadness, buried somewhere deep inside your heart; a place you had closed off and locked up for good a long time ago in order to keep from breaking altogether. You kicked it down, swatting it away like an annoying fly before Bucky began to notice your hesitation.

“Okay,” you said softly, nodding. The smile on his face was almost worth the pain that singular word stabbed you with. 

__________

One Year Earlier

You set the extra beers on the table with a soft grunt. Sarah turned, almost poking you with the barbeque fork in her hand, and gave you a grateful smile. 

“You’re a sweetheart, Y/N,” she cooed, and you brushed her off with a wave of your hand, despite the blush on your cheeks. 

“No biggie, you know I’m always down to help.”

Sarah leaned over the table, abandoning the grill for a second to place a kiss on your forehead. “You can go now, have some fun.”

You smiled and turned to walk away before she grabbed your wrist.

“Take one, honey,” Sarah said, pointing to the beers in front of you. “You’re a guest, too, ya know.”

You hummed with a happy smile before pulling out a beer from the package, then pausing. Before your judgment got the better of you, you pulled out another one, cold against your fingers as the droplets of condensation rolled over them.

“See ya, Sar!” you called out over your shoulder, and she waved the fork over her head in goodbye.

You weaved through the sparse crowd of people, saying hi to a few and smiling at some others. Sam was nowhere to be found, but you figured he was the one responsible for the children screaming with laughter somewhere near the end of the dock, so you decided you would look for him later. The water splashed gently against the wooden dock, the sound of the waves bringing you a sense of peace as you squinted behind your sunglasses against the sunset and looked for Bucky.

Finally, you saw a figure, dark and shoulders wide against the orange expanse of the sky, sitting on the hard top above the helm of Sam and Sarah’s boat. His feet were hanging over the glass windows, and you knew Sam would throw a fit if he saw him dirtying the glass with his shoes.

You smiled to yourself before gathering the courage to clamber onto the boat, holding on to the two beers for dear life as you did so. 

“That you, dolly?” he called down, and you rolled your eyes with a smile. 

“Who else would it be, dumbass,” you replied, holding up the beers and letting him take them before you grabbed onto the small ladder and hauled yourself up. 

He scooted to the side, making room for you as you sat down beside him with a huff. 

Bucky had opened the beers with his hand as you were climbing up, so you took one from him with a soft ‘thanks’, pushing your glasses up onto your head.

The two of you sipped in silence for a couple of minutes, your eyes scanning the open water, sparkling in the red and pink hues of the setting sun. It wasn’t as hot here, near the water, as it was back on the dock with the people and the food and the laughter. Everything seemed quieter, behind you, in another world. The boat back and forth softly. 

“What gave you this idea?” you asked, breaking the silence. 

Bucky was silent for a moment, tapping a finger against the glass of his beer, before shrugging and turning to look at you, squinting an eye against the sun. 

“It’s peaceful,” he said, and you nodded. 

You held your own beer between your legs and leaned back to rest on the palms of your hands. “You feelin’ okay, Buck?”

He took in a deep breath as he looked out ahead, staring at the water before just nodding his head. 

“Yeah,” he said after a moment. “Yeah, I’m good, actually. I just needed a moment to clear my head. Nothing bad, just... I’m grateful, is all.”

“Grateful for having such amazing best friends like Sam and me? Or grateful for being able to open beer without an opener? Or maybe grateful for Sarah’s world-famous barbeque chicken?” you teased, and he snorted a laugh, shaking his head.

He turned to look at you and shrugged. “All of it, I guess.”

He had said it so softly, and so truthfully, that your first reflex was to sit up straight, bringing yourself closer to him. You brought a leg up and folded it underneath the other one, left hanging beside his, so you were turned to face him completely. Your beer was left getting warmer in your lap, but you didn’t mind, because the way Bucky was staring at you right now made nothing else matter. It made you believe everything was gonna be okay eventually. 

And you didn’t know what came over you. Maybe it was the soft waves rocking the boat, or maybe it was the cool summer breeze that danced across your arms. Maybe it was the call of a seagull somewhere in the distance and the soft murmur of the party back on the dock that made you close your eyes and lean into him. And he did the same, connecting your lips with a soft sigh that made you wonder if he had been waiting for this moment as long as you had. 

Bucky tasted like beer and peppermint gum. His lips were soft, and warm, and a bit salty, as if he had come up out of the ocean himself, some form of Poseidon sent to seduce you and take you back underwater with him forever. And you would gladly let him if it meant he would keep kissing you like this. 

You heard a soft rolling, and then a bang and a crash before realizing Bucky’s beer had rolled off the hard top and crashed onto floor of the boat. And he didn’t care, opting to now use his free hands to pull you onto his lap, wrapping his arms around your waist. This sent your own beer following his, the sound of glass breaking making you giggle against his lips.

“Sam’s gonna kill us,” you muttered, and he smiled into the kiss.

“I don’t care,” he whispered, hands travelling underneath your cotton shirt and leaving trails of fire wherever his fingers passed. 

He pulled away, and you brought your hands up to tangle your fingers in his messy hair. He looked so beautiful, lips red and puffy, cheeks painted by a soft blush, eyes hooded and dark. 

“I could get used to this,” he said, voice hoarse, and it sent chills down your spine. 

You merely nodded. “Me too.”

Bucky brought a hand up to your neck and pulled you down into him for another kiss, and you melted into his touch. 

“This is- this is good,” he mumbled against your mouth, and you just sighed and hummed in agreement.

“We should do this more,” he said, hands gripping your hips and moving you against him slightly. “We should do this a lot more.”

You bit your lip and stared into his eyes as you tried catching your breath. One of your hands found its way from his hair to his face, your finger tracing the worry lines between his brows softly, then dropping to travel across the bridge of his nose. “We should.”

Bucky nodded, and gave your hips another squeeze. 

“Just don’t fall in love,” he said, a teasing tone lilting his voice, and the breath in your throat hitched.

“What?” you asked, trying to sound as casual as possible.

“Just don’t fall in love,” he repeated, nipping softly at your neck as he spoke. 

You scoffed. “Not a problem, trust me.”

Bucky lifted his head from your neck to look up at you. He gave you a boyish smile, and you rolled your eyes at him in return. 

You hoped he couldn’t sense the way your heart split open, flooding with sadness and heartbreak at the realization that he didn’t love you the way you loved him. You hoped he couldn’t read the desperation in your eyes and on your tongue as each kiss dimmed your soul a bit more.

You hoped he wouldn’t notice the fact that you were madly in love with him already, but decided to pretend not to be, because having him in any way was better than not having him at all. 

__________

“I just don’t know how much longer I can keep going.”

Sarah hummed in contemplation, wiping down the glass in her hand and setting it in the overhead cabinet. 

“Well, have you talked to him about it?”

You scoffed. “No fucking way. I’d rather suffer in silence than lose him completely.”

Sarah threw the rag in her hand over her shoulder and rested her hip on the counter. She crossed her arms and gave you one of those looks of hers where she just knew you were bullshitting her. 

“Y/N,” she sighed as she stepped over to the dining table where you were sat with your chin in your hand. “I’m begging you to think this through. You know I only want what’s best for you.”

You give her an unamused side eye and shrug your shoulders. You kept your focus on the placemat in front of you, picking at the edge with your finger.

Sarah pulled out the chair next to you and took a seat, bringing a hand up to squeeze your forearm. 

“It’s been a year of you hurting after him and him not giving a damn. Now, I love Bucky, just as much as I love Sam, but he can be so dumb sometimes. It’s like he misses social cues on purpose.”

Her exasperated tone pulled a smile to your lips and you quirked your brow in agreement. Sarah continued.

“I love seeing the two of you together, believe me, if anyone wants you to end up together officially, it’s me. But if you’re too afraid to talk to him about it because you’re worried you’ll lose him, then there’s only one thing you can do, honey.”

You gave her a look, and she gave you an apologetic smile in return. “This friends with benefits thing just isn’t cutting it anymore, I fear. You have to let him go.”

You took in a deep breath to try and keep the tears at bay, because no matter how much you avoided it, you knew Sarah was right. You had two options: risk talking to Bucky about it and potentially ruining whatever semblance of friendship you had left. Or, you could stop giving in to him and running whenever he called just to feel a sliver of something bigger. 

You let out a frustrated groan and let your head hit the table. Neither option sounded appealing, but you supposed if you had to pick one, you’d rather it be the latter. Ignoring someone was always the easy way out.

Or so you thought.

Three weeks later, and you were about to implode. It was difficult to go no-contact when all Bucky did was contact you. 

Dozens of his calls left to voicemail and ignored text messages, you thought he would’ve gotten the message by now. However, he only seemed to be getting worse. 

You left Sarah’s every time Sam called to say he was dropping by with Bucky. You asked Fury to put you on assignments with Torres instead of Bucky. You were doing your very hardest to come up with excuses as to why you couldn’t come over every time Bucky managed to corner you in a hallway or text you to stop by. 

You thought it would get easier over time, yet your heart only ached more and more each day you woke up and remembered: it wasn’t the same anymore. Those first two seconds after waking up, before that sinking feeling of realization hit, were something you treasured more than life itself. 

You wondered if he noticed. If he asked himself what had happened, or if everything was okay. He hadn’t come to visit, though, so you supposed he was just ready to move on to the next one after all. 

__________

Bucky tried focusing on whatever Sam was saying. He really, truly was. But it was proving difficult when his thoughts kept pulling him back to you. Or rather, the lack of you these days. 

It didn’t help that everywhere he looked and everything he saw reminded him of you in some way. The fishing nets Sam made him help haul over the bow? He smiled to himself at the memory of your foot getting tangled in them, making you trip and fall with a swear. The gulls flying above them? Almost like that time one flew down and stole a huge bite of your burger, leaving you wide eyed in shock. And God forbid he looked up, at the hard top above the helm. The first time you ever kissed him, soft hands and soft touch, marked to this day by the beer stains on the floorboards of the ship. 

“Buck?”

Sam’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts, and he cleared his throat, shaking his head. “Sorry, what did you say?”

“I asked if you wanted to go out fishing with me later since Sarah’s busy with the kids. The babysitter cancelled on her, and you know she can’t leave those boys alone in the house for longer than five minutes.”

Bucky smiled fondly and nodded. “Yeah, I’ll go.”

Sam threw a rag at him, wet and dripping with soapy water. 

“How about you actually help clean something for once, Barnes?”

Bucky rolled his eyes but obliged, turning to his side to start wiping down the hull as far as he could reach. As he wiped, he cleared his throat.

“Have you, uh, seen Y/N lately?”

Sam paused his mopping, letting out a sigh and resting his elbow on the mop handle. “Yeah, man, she’s at Sarah’s, like, all the time. Why?”

Bucky’s heart sank at Sam’s words, and he tried getting rid of the uncomfortable feeling in his chest as he shifted on his feet nonchalantly. 

“Oh.”

“Why?” Sam repeated.

Bucky shrugged, still avoiding Sam’s eyes. “I dunno. I get the feeling she’s been avoiding me these days.”

Sam stayed quiet, and that prompted Bucky to look up from his wiping and make eye contact with him. He gave him a knowing look, leaning against the mop.

“What?” Bucky asked defensively. 

“Does she have any reason to be avoiding you?” Sam asked him, and Bucky paused.

“I don’t think so,” he replied after a moment. 

Sam scoffed and shook his head disbelievingly. “Alright man. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Bucky threw his hands up and turned towards him. “What is it? Do you know something I don’t?”

“You’re really stupid sometimes. You know that, right?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Yes, actually, you’ve told me multiple times.”

“Good,” Sam said with a satisfied smile and clapped a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “Just makin’ sure you didn’t forget.”

Suddenly, his smile dropped and he lowered his voice. “But seriously dude, just go and check on her. Don’t be a jackass.”

Bucky stood still, even after Sam turned to continue mopping the deck, staring at the back of his head. He nodded slowly, to himself, and squeezed the rag in his hand a little tighter. 

__________

The knock on your door had you groaning in annoyance, prompting you to push yourself up off your bed where you had been rotting away over the weekend. You had told Sarah you weren’t feeling very well, and it wasn’t a lie. You had just omitted the fact that you were emotionally unwell. 

A chill ran through your body as you made your way to the door, making you wrap your robe a little tighter around your body. You heaved out a heavy sigh as you unlocked the door.

“Sarah, I already told you I don’t need any-”

It wasn’t Sarah at the door. Sarah’s eyes weren’t that specific shade of blue that made you want to sink into them and never come back out. Only one person had eyes like that-

“Bucky?”

“Y/N.”

“What... what are you doing here?”

“What, I can’t visit my best friend?”

A tiny, needle-like tinge pierced your heart at his words, yet another reminder that you were just that to him: his friend. 

You stuttered, tripping over your words as he sidestepped you, making his way into your place. 

“How have you been?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Well, I haven’t seen you in a couple of weeks, so I was wondering if you were okay,” Bucky clarified, shrugging.

You stared at him, standing in the middle of your living room, black t-shirt and black jeans so out of place in the midst of all your pink and grey furniture and decorations. Yet somehow, he looked like he was exactly where he belonged. 

You shook your head, trying to brush him off with a slight chuckle. “I’m fine, Buck, I don’t... I don’t know what you mean-”

“Yes you do,” he interrupted you, cutting straight to the chase. “Why won’t you answer my calls? Why haven’t you been returning my texts? Why do you leave Sarah’s the moment you find out I’m coming over? You’ve been ignoring me, Y/N, and I wanna know what I did to deserve that.”

You stood flabbergasted, opening and closing your mouth, at a loss for words. 

“I just- I,” you stuttered, shaking your head. “I have no idea what you’re talk-”

“Y/N,” he pressed, and in two long strides he was right in front of you, towering over you with his supersoldier frame. His hands came up to hold your face, his eyes searching yours for an answer. “Please don’t make a fool of me.”

Your bottom lip immediately began to quiver, and Bucky’s eyes softened. 

“Bucky I-”

“Shit,” he swore softly, leading you over to the couch where he sat you down, kneeling on his knees in front of you. “I didn’t mean to make you cry, dolly.”

You shook your head, even as the tears spilled over your lash line, because it was so stupid. The whole thing was just so stupid. 

Bucky’s lips pressed against yours feverishly as he tried to kiss the tears away, covering your lips and cheeks in soft pecks. You tried pulling away, his actions only making the tears fall harder.

“Bucky, please,” you whispered hoarsely, and he pulled back to take a good look at you, his thumbs stroking your wet cheeks. He looked pained to see you in tears, which only made it harder for you to push him away.

“Y/N....”

You shook your head firmly, reaching your hands up to wrap around his wrists. “No.”

“What?”

“No,” you repeated. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Bucky looked slightly taken aback, and he dropped his hands from your face. “Do what?”

You shrugged and sniffled, gesturing between the two of you. “This... whatever this is.”

“What do you mean?”

Bucky looked genuinely confused, and it only made a sob tear through your chest. 

“It hurts too much, Buck. I can’t stand to be the one you call only when you’re bored, or horny, or frustrated after a bad date. I shouldn’t have let it get this far in the first place but I’m just so fucking stupid because I kept thinking... maybe it’ll change... maybe he’ll realize. God, Bucky, I love you so much. I would do anything for you, including bring myself to fucking ruins if it means being able to hold you and touch you, even for just a little bit. You’re hurting me, Bucky. I can’t breathe when I’m around you.”

You took in a choppy breath after you finished your small rant, squeezing your eyes shut and letting fresh tears streak your cheeks. Bucky was quiet, and you were too afraid to look at him. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered to him with your eyes closed. 

You felt his fingers brush the tears from your jaw. “Sorry for what?”

You swallowed heavily. “Sorry for falling in love with you.”

The silence surrounding you was deafening. It was threatening to suffocate you, pounding in your ears and clawing at your throat. 

“Dolly,” Bucky whispered, and you whimpered. 

“Look at me,” he said softly, and you refused, shaking your head like a little child. “Look at me, please.”

He grabbed your face and forced your head up. You opened your eyes to find his staring back. 

“I love you, too,” he began, but you started to pull away. 

“No, no, Bucky, you’re being mean-”

“Baby, please-”

“Bucky! You love me as your friend! You love me... you love me the way you loved Steve, or the way you love Sam. I’m in love with you, Buck, to the point where I would jump off a cliff if it meant helping you, or saving you, or even making you fucking smile.”

“Listen to me!” Bucky snapped, shaking your head in his hands slightly. You ran silent, punctuating his sentence with a teary hiccup as you studied his face.

He looked more distraught than you had ever seen him. His eyes were glinting with unshed tears of his own under the soft living room lights, and his brows were creased together in worry. 

“What you don’t understand, Y/N, is that I am in love with you. And I always have been. And I... I think I always will be.”

You stared at him.

His fingers twitched against your face as you began shaking your head.

“But that... that doesn’t make any sense,” you retorted, and Bucky let out a sigh.

“I know,” he whispered, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them. “I only warned you not to fall in love because I... I wanted you to find someone better than me. Someone with less baggage. Someone who could give you the life you deserve. Not me. Never me. But I was just selfish.”

“Bucky...”

You let a teary laugh. 

He looked up at you through his lashes. 

“It’s always you. It’s always gonna be you. I just don’t understand why you didn’t tell me sooner,” you cooed, bringing a hand up to brush his hair back from his forehead. 

“I was just... I was afraid you only wanted something physical, so I pretended it didn’t bother me. I just liked being near you any way I could.”

You stared at him for a moment before a genuine laugh bubbled out your throat. 

“We’re both so fucking stupid,” you said with a teary smile, tracing the shape of his lips with your fingertips. 

He smiled against your feather-light touch and let out a content sigh. 

“I love you, truly. I’m sorry I ever made you feel otherwise,” he whispered into your palm, placing a kiss to it. 

“Doesn’t matter anymore. We get a fresh start now.”

_______________

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[barbs111claims]

Hi

So 2 years ago I wanted to kill myself but then I had a huge “spiritual awakening” where I say things beyond human comprehension. And from that moment I decided to give life a chance, I knew that life actually had a meaning and that was for me to discover what was beyond what I could think. It gave my so much clarity of the world around me and who I was. From that moment I also started to randomly consciously manifest things without knowing about manifesting. I’m not kidding when I say this but in that time I manifested 6 million overnight while I was just kidding about being a millionaire while listening to my rich music and then when I woke up my parents had the good news. I also manifested others things that I thought where extremely special. But I didn’t really put in effort it was just fun experimenting with my powers.

So then I decided to deepen myself in the laws. I started with law of attraction. And I ended up meditating so deeply everyday that I was so passionate about finding the ultimate truth of reality inside me, that I was extremely depersonalised from my 3D and basically lived inside my brain. I could ask things and receive answers on my questions, like the one time i asked how to invent something that could end humanity ( I still have a full doc on how to build to most effective machine that could end humanity in less than second) I also got the answer of questions about reality and my vessel. So that’s when I realised there was nothing but me. And that I was experiencing myself from the experience of myself ( if that makes sense!) I found that there really was nothing and everything at once while I was giving meaning to it. So that’s when I started with extreme anxiety and depression because I struggled so much with intrusive thoughts, not being able to ground myself in this reality and being so so scared of my thoughts. Still to this day my thoughts scare me so much that I can’t help but experience anything other than fear from myself. It’s like I’m living in a constant nightmare. I have watched so much law of assumption post and videos dedicating every second of my day on being focused and disciplined to affirming and being in the state of having what I want, but it makes me so fuckiyn angry and I don’t know why. Everytime I see a post I feel depressed because deep down I know everything but everyday I wake up in the same reality where everything fucking sucks ( I have been forcing myself to be kind self love gratitude letting go void state visualisation whatever exist I’ve done it all) and when I finally have build up that trust that everything is working out in my highest favour and I always get what I want and the 3D can’t tell me nothing yk I can delude myself into knowing I have it but it’s been over a year and I just can’t bear this reality anymore I know I’m meant for another reality and there’s just nothing for me to find here anymore. And I really don’t know what to do anymore I feel like I’m stuck in this reality where everything seems to get worse. And my thoughts are also getting worded everyday for the last year but whenever I tried manifesting a better self concept mindset etc it got worse when i don’t even want to be the person that is in conflict with themsef because that’s just a idiotic thing to do. But can you help me out?🫶

wow. Thanks for sharing your struggles I'm sure it wasn't easy.

I really want to say that we all ARE Master Manifestors. Either consciously or unconsciously. It is amazing how you found your powers earlier but also I want you to understand that there is nothing to be afraid of because "Good or bad" doesn't exist to I AM. They are just Human made concepts.

I AM is I AM.

It is being. It is the vessel that comprehends, desires and thru I AM, it gets what it want.

I would suggest you to go back meditating and just focus on the day, your thoughts and journal them and do some introspection.

Every time you have a negative thought, observe them and ask why you have that. Is it the vessel's fear or your fear? (short ans: It's your vessel's)

So as we know the creation is already done. I AM exists anywhere, It is our decision to choose what we want. I know having that power might go good or cause anxiety but the truth is that it is so freeing.

Think of the times when you manifested and the fulfilment. Feel that feeling again.

Free yourself, you aren't gonna 'manifest' anything bad to yourself truly because you are the god of your reality and god doesn't worry for being a god.

And if you still have worries, Loa is basically Law of assumptions so just assume that every time a negative thought pops, your new story manifest quicker. BE CRAZY. It's your reality<3

(btw your thoughts or your mindset getting worse are just affirmations, you can ditch the old story any moment now)

[cynosdaydream]

REPAINT MY HEART

What good is love if you have to beg and beseech to receive just a sliver of it?

Now playing: 你，好不好？/ How have you been? - Eric Chou

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

Word Count: 1.7k Author's Note: Based off a real experience, sigh. (honorary tag for @noxellaa) CWs: Angst / No comfort, Breaking up, Mildly unhealthy relationship

“Hey, would I be a bother if I sit here?” You asked the blond. Albedo barely flicked his eyes over to you before he shook his head, laser-focused on the various equipment sitting on the table. Trying to make minimal noise in fear of distracting him, you sat on the spare chair normally meant for Sucrose to observe Albedo and take notes, watching how his brilliant teal eyes followed the reactions produced by the different chemicals mixing together in the flask, nimble hands jotting down notes on a piece of paper.

At this point, you were barely focused on how the acid dripped from the burette into the beaker. Instead, your eyes traced Albedo’s facial features;  the way his pupils would dilate when the experiment yielded results, the way he would bite on his lip while trying to get the exact measurements, the way his hair would barely move with how still he was when focused. The details of how everything went down that day was permanently etched into your mind, keeping you awake at night at times. Somedays, you begin to reminisce … 

“Albedo, can I tell you something?” He turns to you,  pen and clipboard still in hand, but eyes now focused on you.  The gesture which showed he was paying attention to you made your breath hitch. You turned your head to the side for a moment, trying to regain your composure. “It’s something I’ve been wanting to get off my chest for a while.” You began,  breath barely above a whisper. “I… I have feelings for you, Albedo. Not just platonic ones, but something more than that. I have romantic feelings for you, Albedo.” You still remember how he merely blinked at you a few times, causing you to fall into an awkward ramble. “But it’s fine if you don’t reciprocate! I won’t fault you for it, it’s perfectly fine-”

You still remember how he cut you off by grabbing your hands in his, stationery long forgotten. You still remember how he silently nodded his head, reassuring you that he indeed reciprocated your feelings. You still remember how he gently motioned for you to rest your head on his shoulder, and him trying his best not to move too much in fear of causing you discomfort. You still remember how that day, you drifted off to sleep on your new lover’s shoulder, and being tucked soundly into bed the next morning.

Ah, that feeling. You can’t put your finger on exactly how it felt. But if you were to try, you’d describe it as… heavy and weightless simultaneously.

Albedo’s way of loving wasn’t reckless  or the type that made you feel like you were soaring high up in the sky, it was the type of love that was like a subtle peek of the head from behind a wall; brewing a mug of whatever beverage you preferred when you came over, purchasing a chair with cushioning specifically for you to sit in, and going out of his way to run errands for you when you;’re occupied, regardless of how busy he was.

Maybe you weren’t there to witness him actually doing said things, but his actions spoke volumes about how much he loved you more than words could.

Love is such a funny thing, isn’t it? Everyone has their own unique experiences, some finding true love during their teenage years and some feeling like they’ll pass on before experiencing love. But that’s the beauty of it. You’ll never know what to expect when you enter a new relationship. Maybe it’ll end in a recital of vows, and maybe it’ll end with salty tears dripping onto floorboards. There’s really no way to tell how it’ll end from how it starts. 

That’s what you think when you lie on your bed, waiting for your lover to come home. This was becoming a common occurrence, you watching the hour hand spin from nine to twelve, with no sign of your lover coming back any time soon, until you hear the front door creak open. As soon as the sound reaches your ears, you walk out of the bedroom, almost immediately bombarding Albedo with a series of questions, “Where have you been? It’s already past midnight! Are you alright? Was work okay today?” 

He would always gently pat your shoulders and reassure you that he was just fine, and that it was expected that his occupation would force him to frequently work overtime, ending off with “Thank you for worrying about me, dear,” paired with a peck on the forehead.

But you should’ve known. Should’ve known that one day, this ‘routine’ would grow old, and he would grow tired of it. 

Again. Again you were home alone after dark, sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the clock. You knew this feeling all too well. From reassuring you and answering your incessant questions, Albedo had started to simply nod and brush past you to walk straight to bed after coming home with no further interaction with you. You had a feeling this time was going to be no different as well.

Tears filled your eyes just thinking about it, the numbers and hands on the clock all merging together to form a puddle of colours. You absentmindedly locked your hands together as a way to make them stop shaking. What went wrong along the way? Have I not been good enough of a lover? Am I too overbearing? Clingy? These thoughts invaded your head as your gaze lowered to the floorboards, clenched fists trembling when you tried to lift them in a feeble attempt to wipe your tears. 

You’ve tried to communicate this to Albedo multiple times. You’ve tried to tell him you felt neglected at times, and that you would appreciate it if he could give you a tad bit more attention. However, this ‘communication’ was all for naught. Your lover would just give you promises that he would show you more affection, promises that you would soon find out were all empty. 

Love shouldn’t feel like this. Love shouldn’t feel like a fist gripping your heart so hard it hurts. Love shouldn’t feel like nails scratching on iron walls, trying to escape. Love shouldn’t feel like your throat is constricting, while you helplessly gasp for air.  

Something had to be done about this ‘love’.

The familiar sound of the front door opening had no effect on you anymore. Instead of jumping out of bed to greet Albedo like a puppy, you stayed put in bed, waiting for him to come to you instead. “Dear.” Your lover’s silky voice filled the silence as he walked into the bedroom. It was obvious that you had recently cried, with the way your eyes were slightly bloodshot and the way your breathing was still uneven. “Are you alright, __?” You almost let out a laugh at his question. What did it look like? You took a few moments to regulate your breathing and to regain your composure before finally speaking. 

“What does it look like to you, Albedo? No, I’m doing just fine.” You barked, voice laced with sarcasm. Perhaps you didn’t mean for it to come out like that, but maybe it was the weeks worth of pent up frustration finding a way to manifest.

Albedo looked taken aback at your tone, at a loss for words. 

Taking his silence as a queue to elaborate, you continued, “I’m sorry for speaking to you like that. However, I’ve been meaning to have a serious conversation with you for some time.” 

You could see how he tried to turn away, trying to find an excuse to leave the exchange, knowing full well what was coming next.

“Don’t try to run away from this, Albedo.” Your tone was harsh, freezing him in his place. 

After a few minutes of awkward silence and shuffling around, the both of you were situated at opposite ends of the bed, and you were clutching a pillow while trying to articulate what you truly felt to him.

At first, your relationship and the love Albedo gave you felt like a blooming rose, layers of wine red petals unfurling and flourishing within you. However, with each passing day, the red began to dull, and the thorns on the stem became more and more apparent, piercing straight through you. But your bleeding heart still desperately poured blood unto the rose, as if trying to paint the wilting petals with colour again with the red liquid.

“I just feel like you’ve been…busy. I know it’s not your fault, and I should’ve known you would be busy, but I don’t wish to be unhappy like this any longer. Every night, I wait for you to come home, only for you to disregard me and go to bed straight away. And if I try to talk to you in the mornings, I can’t, ‘cause you’re off to your laboratory even before I wake up.” You take a deep breath before continuing, “So I’ll say this now– I’m breaking up with you.”

The words hung heavy in the air, feeling like a rope around your neck.

Honestly, you didn’t know you expected Albedo to say in response to you, but it definitely wasn’t a simple ‘okay’. “Okay…?” You parroted back to him in disbelief. “You have nothing else to say?” He nodded. You were in shock, but the realisation gradually set in.

If he didn’t care about your feelings before, why would he care about them now?

How stupid you were; to believe that he would finally care, finally listen and not just hear you this time. You just thought that maybe he would try to salvage the relationship; plead for forgiveness, or maybe even get on his knees as a show of repentance. But there was none of that– there were only those turquoise eyes that you once found so magnificent staring back at you blankly, the blue-green hues seeming dull to you now.

“Well, we’re done then.” You state firmly. “I’ll pack up my things by tomorrow afternoon and leave.” 

You then turn and slam the door shut behind you.

Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me.

[cordyce]

⇢ FOR ALL YOUR ATTENTION

tsu’tey x gn!reader

includes: na’vi!reader. mate tsu’tey. teasing reader. tsu’tey is literally whipped. probably ooc tsu’tey. suggestive (?) themes.

notes: i’ve never written tsu’tey before so be gentle. also not proofread (what’s new?) so don’t judge i beg <;/3

tags: @nanamimizz @ydsm-29 @netesbby @loaksky @citruskasa @vanillawhale

If there is one thing you know about Tsu’tey, it is that he is attentive. Whether that be in the sense of categorizing and keeping tabs on his people, or the doting he does on those he holds dear in private; he is always watching, waiting, basking in the shadows to make sure he knows every detail. You think it partially to be his position as future Olo’eyktan that makes him that way. But you also know it to be just how he is in nature—even if he’d struggle to openly admit that. 

A fatal flaw on his part, maybe. The way he is so devoted to the lives of those around him; how he is so willing to double stack his duties to take care of the needs of his people. Bearing more stress and burden than he should (or more inside knowledge than he has any right to know) because he is simply so keen on ensuring he is not out of the loop with anyone, ever. 

He’s being attentive even now, at this very moment. If that is what you could call spying on Jake and Neytiri from his perch of raised tree roots, partially shielded by the overgrown flora in front of him. It is sweet and terribly endearing how he cares for her, loves her; his want to protect knows no limits. 

Someone else might stir up a smidgen of jealousy at that, but not you. See, even if he had been betrothed to her, you’re conscious of what resides in his heart; what always has. You know that his feelings never crossed that one fine line, no matter how much he’d try to pretend that they did. How much he was willing to sacrifice for the sake of his clan to have strong leaders—willing leaders. It’s commendable. 

Such an admirable act of a man of his caliber, one must admit. 

And it isn’t that he does not trust Jake—because if asked he would have to be honest and begrudgingly attest that he has grown quite fond of the uniltìranyu—but he is just.. wary. Rightfully so. That is a well suited sentiment for these types of situations. Relationships with tawtute, no matter how docile and complaisant they may seem, should always be handled with a lingering sense of fragility. So you understand his urge to leer, his need to observe when he is alone with one of your people. 

It doesn’t mean you don’t find it the slightest bit amusing, though. How he’ll stress and strain over maintaining glimpses. Hearing him scoff when you tease of his meddling is humorous. You enjoy getting to tug on his leg. 

“You are lurking again,” you state, stepping up beside Tsu’tey’s still form on the root, peering through the clearing of brush right along with him. 

And he must have been far more engrossed in his couple watching than you thought (it’s not like you were trying to sneak up on him after all, your steps were not even close to quiet) because he flinches the tiniest, minute bit at the sound of your voice. His head snaps to you and you turn your own to meet his gaze. 

“I am not lurking,” he rebuts, lips dipping downward in a scowl. You can tell he wants to roll his eyes just by the tone of his voice, but he won’t. He’s aware that that gives you satisfaction. 

Little does he know you get satisfaction from that fact alone. 

“Ah, right. Then what would you choose to call this? Spying?” You tip your head, a seemingly innocent gesture but it is nothing of the sort. Playing Tsu’tey is quite effortless when the dice fall into your practiced hands so routinely. “Snooping?”

“That is—” Absurd? Foolish? Whatever word was going to punctuate the end of his sentence dies before it reaches the tip of his tongue. His mouth screws up for a moment, along with the ridges of his brows, and you can tell something about him that is so painfully easy to pick up on. “I do not snoop.”

“Sure you don’t.” 

Your words tilt with a shrug of your shoulders, the leveling of your head. Swiveling back around to look through the brush once again, you have to bite your cheek to fight the smile threatening your lips as Tsu’tey still stays locked on you. It’s a pleasing feeling, knowing you have riled him up so much in less than a minute.

“I do not snoop. Nor do I spy.” He reiterates, says it with authority now. In the same stern voice he uses to talk to the children of the clan and warn them about venturing too far into the depths of the forest without parental supervision. But you are an excessive amount of familiar with him for it to work on you; for it to sway you in the slightest.

If anything it eggs you on. Maybe a small personality flaw; most definitely a little boorish of you. Nevertheless you enjoy it, you think you always will. Because you are the only one who gets to see Tsu'tey like this. Who gets to poke and preen and tease, without worrying if your head might end up on a pike afterwards. (Not that he could stomach ever doing such a thing without a monsoon of reasons, truly, because even behind his ostensibly permanent glower he is just a big hearted fool deep down). 

“I see,” you hum, and his gaze is still boring holes into the side of your skull, “Then you’re just nosy.”

“I am nothing of the sort.” And there it is, the scoff that always comes when you begin to make sport of his tendencies trailing after his detest. You’ve finally got him—successfully sunk your teeth into his throat and dragged him right into your claw toothed trap. 

“Great,” you denounce, then flick your gaze back to that of the agitated man beside you. “Then it will not matter to you to know that Jake and Neytiri snuck out of your sight five minutes ago.”

“What?” Head whirling, eyes shooting wide, he turns back instantly to his break in the brush to confirm your statement.

Your statement that was in fact laced in nothing but falsity and had the sole purpose of exposing him for just how intrusive he is; which worked like a charm, you must add. Jake and Neytiri are still there, of course. Still talking and collecting herbs like they were before. Still enjoying their innocent—albeit sickeningly flirtatious—time together. 

Tsu’tey whips back around to look at you, this time squaring his shoulders to glare at you properly.

“Wiya!” He hisses, but it holds no threat. Just his annoyance, the baseline of frustration. (Probably out of embarrassment for being caught, if the sharp flick of his tail is any indication at all). “What is it that you need?”

You consider him, hold his gaze. There are one of two ways you could go about this and you’re trying to decide which route would be the most entertaining. It becomes clear with each tick of his jaw what option you’re going to settle on, so you begin to pick up the puzzle pieces and place them down methodically. 

“Oh, nothing.” Shrugging as you lace your fingers behind your back, you count your breaths. “Was just seeing what you were up to.”

Tsu’tey, expectedly, does not waver still. “I am busy tending to things.”

“You mean spying?”

“No.”

“Hm.”

After your hum you let another pause take place. Another beat of silence between the two of you. There’s a faint rustling to your right and out of the corner of your eye you see Jake and Neytiri actually gathering their things to leave this time. You wonder if it’s because they heard the two of you or perhaps on their own whim. Regardless, you don’t miss the twitch of Tsu’tey’s ears as he picks up on it too. You’re almost certain his brows knit tighter together, if that is even possible. 

“What do you need, yawne?” He repeats himself, presses once more. 

Yet even on edge, his tongue strikes lovingly. How enthralling of him, how compelling. How can he expect you not to want to toy with him? When he is just so yielding? 

You shake your head. “Nothing.”

Another pass. The noises of the forest fill in your lull. 

“Well,” he huffs, straightening himself out. “If there is nothing you need then you should be going. Like I said, I am busy.”

And you’ve been plotting, scheming, for this perfect time to swing the hatchet down. Tsu’tey has set you up beautifully, honestly. It’s almost like he’s in on it himself. He should know better by now, you think.

“Right, you’re busy.” This time, your words drift off with a deep sigh. Shoulders rising up and dropping theatrically like they’re being controlled by a puppeteer's strings, you turn to leave the same way that you came. You mumble under your breath, but not low enough that the man in your presence cannot hear you as you take your first steps away, “Always so busy. Looking out for everyone. Leaving me be..”

Tsu’tey’s sharp intake of breath might be stifled, but you hear it without a single shred of strain. In less than a second wide strides are being made to close the short gap you’ve created between the two of you. And just as soon as they stop, the unreserved grip of a calloused hand is clutching onto the ridge of your hip bone, pivoting you back around to beset the (now slightly less annoyed) warrior before you.

“Leaving you be?” His voice is tainted with something endearing, something unfiltered. Concern flitters across his strong features and it’s riveting; telling. 

You’ve got him. Right in the palm of your hand. 

“Mhm.” Angling your chin with a nod you turn your eyes downward. Relaxing your shoulders into a defeated slump, posturing yourself to be despondent. “It’s fine, really. I know you are an important man. I should not expect your undivided attention.”

“My attention?” He quirks, and his hand is leaving your hip only to take place on your jaw. He tips your head up but you still keep your gaze averted. It is not time to give in yet. “You have all of my attention, always. Oeyä txe’lan, why would you believe that you do not?”

You bite your tongue. Attentive, heeding; earnest is his expression as he deciphers every twitch across your face. You’d think for a man that is so good at reading you he would be able to tell when you are presenting faux emotions. Yet it’s like his worriment outweighs his fluency of you.

Somehow that’s even more touching.

“Ma (Y/n),” he hearkens, veering into your line of sight until you’re forced to meet his gaze, now. The intensity of his focus has your stomach fluttering, your hands behind your back ringing together. Oh, how you love him. “Tell me, am I being neglectful of you? What is it I have failed to do?”

“I—” His thumb is rubbing against the plane of your jaw. The curve of his lips pushes them out in an adoring pout as he inspects every quiver and crease of your features. 

This was supposed to be a fun little game, one you are used to playing and one you are always in control of. So why does it suddenly feel like Tsu’tey has wiped the gameboard clean and tossed out all the cards? How has he flipped this on you, by simply cracking open his chest and laying his bleeding heart atop the deck? How has he become the game master, with a simple cradle of his palm and the dripping of devoted professions off his tongue?

How is this fair at all?

“Oeyä tìyawn.” My love, my heart; he holds you with such firm care like you are the very muscle that pumps life into his body. Like you are the very essence of his soul, all in all. Like you are his lifeblood—and aren’t you, really? “Do you crave for my attention? Have I not awarded you enough?”

“No.” It’s instant, no hesitation in your deliverance and, somehow, this is not about teasing your lover anymore. Your lungs burn, your internal clock ticks like the time frame of minutes has been cut short. “No, it is not enough.”

Contrition trickles down Tsu’tey’s face like watercolor pathos coating concern by the brush of your velvet tongue. His grip on your jaw softens, his free hand slides across the hollow of your throat until his fingertips bracket the braid encasing your kuru. He steps close; impossibly closer than he was until the beads of his neck piece scrape delicately against your sternum, until his breath fights to contrast the already growing warmth of your blood rushed cheeks. 

You swallow, but it is not enough to stomach the tension clawing up your ribcage. His forehead is just a mere breadth from yours, his nose twitching millimeters from your own. With his ears pressed back and his tail flicking lowly, he envelops every sense a Na’vi can use. 

He debilitates you, wholly and unquestionably. 

“Forgive me,” he presses, and his lips seal yours before you can respond. “Forgive me, paskalin,” he longs as he steals your breath once more, presses his thumb against your pulse point. “Ngaytxoa, Ma (Y/n). May you never want for my attention again. I will grant you anything to prove as such. What do you wish of me?”

“I wish…” It is tasking, trying to catch your breath. He is just so close and just so consuming and adhering. “I wish for you.”

“Me?” He ticks his head, drops a hand in order to slide it down to the base of your spine. “You have me, all of me. Do not be foolish and believe otherwise.”

You blink, regain yourself. Yes, you suppose he is right. You suppose you do have him—all of him—that his actions now prove to supplement that statement. So what is it you really want? What is it you crave of a man who has given you everything even if you bait that he does not? What is the desire that you harbor in your heart, that he has not already graced you with forthright, at the any shallow utterance you muster?

“The day,” you wager, ���Spend the rest of this day with me.”

Tsu’tey’s lips cinch to the side for a moment—his duties listing off on the blackboard of his mind, you are sure—but a moment is all he tenses before his foundation gives. He nods, cleaves to your wish. 

“Of course. What would you plan? A hunt? A harvest?”

A fang hooks the corner of your lip and you shake your head. So willing to heed to you but it is not quite right, not quite on script. He has mistaken your petition for something far more innocent than you thought he would; but you suppose you cannot fault the conservativeness of a warrior that holds such merit as he. 

“You mistake me,” you correct, snaking your hands up until they reside over the ridges of his protruding collarbones. “I wish to spend the day with you. Alone. As my mate. Doing that of which only mates are permitted.”

At this, Tsu’tey’s ears flicker; his pupils expand against his will and you take that as your sign of agreement before he even murmurs as such. And his compliance does not run verbal—not fully—other than a gruff rumble of his chest as the hand on his spine drifts to drag against the back of your thigh and hoist you up. Instinctive is the way your legs find themselves winding around his cinched waist. The woven ridges of his cummerbund brush against the insides of your thighs, and it is not an unfamiliar feeling.

Funny, how as lips sear against your own, drift and smear along your jaw and down the curve of your throat until they find refuge on your pulsepoint at which his thumb now retreats, you feel far more innocent than tainted. Perhaps love does that to someone; hides guilt or shame and breeds only purity. Perhaps attention can surely prove to be a cure all, in certain sentiments. 

Whatever it is, you embrace it fully and relish in it with all of your being.

And maybe it distracts you, just slightly, because your tongue grows dangerously loose as you give up your will. You really do prove to be your own betrayer, truly.

“Sau,” you sigh as you tip your head to the side to allow virtuous lips room to roam, “I should tempt you with plight more often.”

Kisses halt and hands tighten where they grip onto you. You realize your mistake just as soon as the last word rolls off your tongue, but you cannot swallow down things already spoken. Fingers still sifted into Tsu’tey’s braids, you peer down as he leans back enough to look up at you. 

“How kawng of you,” he aims, but he grants you no tell of expression.

“And even so?” You ponder, hum as you scratch the base of his scalp. “Will you revoke my request from me? Will you be so cruel as to deny me this?”

“Do not be foolish,” he hearkens, and something twinkles in his eyes as he says it—something twitches at the tilt of his lips. “You will have your day with me, just as you wish.”

“How merciful of you.” And you cannot help the simper that plays at your mouth. Even after fumbling, giving up your original position, you have still seemingly gotten your way. How delightful, this has proven to be.

But Tsu’tey’s fingers delve into the meat of your thigh with a little more pressure. His kisses find their way back to the juncture between your throat and jaw with a little more fervent. His tail brushes against your hooked ankles and you are not foreign to this rhythm of flicks.

“Do not deem me merciful yet, yawne,” he apprises with a nip of your skin. “You wish for my attention? I will grant it. But remember—”

A deep chuckle rumbles against your skin and the heat of his laugh has your stomach boiling with fire-licked butterflies. Your heart skitters, your inhales hitch before they slip out of your throat, as his lips find their way to the shell of your feverish ear. You find yourself bated, waiting, on whatever is to come.

“You asked for all of my attention. So now, you must take it.”

And if there is one thing you know about Tsu’tey, it is that he is attentive. And that is what you are banking on as he carries you further into the forest.

[hana-no-seiiki]

Happy Holidays Everyone!! As promised this was finished and published before Christmas so I can work on official portraits. Enjoy your gift from your one and only god, Yun ♡

I don’t know where this takes place in the timeline for the HNSverse and my webtoons but we’ll just go with whatever the fuck was given to me in my dream.

Likes & Reblogs are much appreciated!!

YANDERE POWER RANGERS-ESQUE ORIGINAL CHARACTERS x AMNESIAC! MALE! RANGER READER

OPERATION : PRETTY PINK LIAR ♡

tw/cw: dddne. yandere fic typical violence. mech/scifi fantasy violence. off-screen character deaths. in this version reader is male. check the masterlist for other versions of the fic. your name appears as [ REDACTED ]. one-sided semi-cestuous pining(by yan). brief mention/implication of cheating. necrophillia (implicit). descriptions of gore/violence.

fic type: long oneshot

status: unedited

[ MASTERLIST / CHARACTER APPEARANCES ]

When humanity needed them the most, the Elemental Squad Unit came to save the day. Composed of Earth’s mightiest, most righteous men, they drive those wretched aliens away. Protecting our daily lives, while risking their own.

That was the story often told to the people. Those who lived blissfully unaware of the turbulence in heaven. Everyone knew of the ESU, whether they liked it or not.

“[Y/N]. You really don’t have to do this y’know.” Blue Ranger: Kaguya, repeated. He had medium length navy hair tied into a ponytail. He was short, cute almost. Sparkle shaped freckles dotted the middle of his face. Throughout your stay in the hospital, he had been the second most frequent visitor. He always touched you in one way or another. His fingers always grazed a part of your body. His eyes in a glaze as he’d stare at your injured figure. You found out it was because you two were dating or had a mutual interest towards one another . . . you think. At least in the eyes of the other crew members.

To you he was just a rando that always seemed to ignore your boundaries. Even when you were adamant with keeping a certain distance.

You tried your best not to flinch every time he came close, meticulously concealed any involuntary reactions, and strived to maintain an unwavering composure. It was difficult being so intimate with a total stranger. What was more concerning was the way your heart wrenched at such occurrences. An unsettling sensation, leaving you with a peculiar awareness that the narrative he presented was a well crafted farce.

You rolled your eyes at his worried face. It felt so off on him. Instead of the average look of concern one might show towards an ill individual, Blue’s expressions and tone always came off as haughty, snobbish, pitying, condescending. Red assured you that it was just what Blue sounds like all the time due to his background but you still couldn’t help but grimace as you spat back, “The squad has almost been eliminated thrice since I’ve woken up and was able to watch the news. I think I do.”

Yellow Ranger: Malik, shook his head. Despite being the tallest and rather gruff looking in comparison to the other members, his nagging often made all the intimidation in your nerves melt away. He had been the worrier you observed. Except that his worry usually came in massive spiels and sermons that threatened to have your ears bleed if you so much as breathed the wrong way. He was the complete opposite of Blue. Fitting when you weighed in his hometown — the kingdom on the other side of the planet of Blue’s. Harsh and condescending on the outside, a complete softie on the inside. “You don’t even know how your suit works! And it hasn’t been responding properly to your commands—“

You sighed as the brunette continued, delicately slipping a hand into the control unit positioned before you. Your fingers glided within akin to a nimble set of needles, traversing through the viscous, gelatinous substance within the intricate contraption. Abruptly, the entirety of the suit burst into a vibrant display of illuminating hues.

【 SUIT ACQUISITION SUCCESS 】

You fought the wide grin from appearing on your visage as you completely enclosed yourself into the suit. The odd, metal like material encased your form. You closed your eyes for a couple of moments, embracing the darkness and the brief second of peace you had without the other team members on your 6, before opening it to see the outside world beyond your suit’s controls. Completely in your view despite your current location and condition. Holographic graphs and charts on the edge of your peripherals.

“Ranger Pink. Welcome back.” The leader of the ESU, Red Ranger: Jasper, smacked the rose colored sentinel. He was your half-brother as you’d learnt. With features similar to your own. Tall, muscular, he towered many of the members. You spotted a lot of scars throughout his body, a few could be found accompanying his facial features; lips, eyebrows, his nose.

In the advent of this world’s technology, those scars could have easily been removed. In fact you knew the procedure was popular with many of your other members. Yet Red refused to do so.

“I’ll accompany them.” Blue ran off to his sentinel. His steps leaving a layer of water across the launch pads in his excitement.

“Blue . . .” Yellow reached out to him, only for Blue to brush his hand aside and eagerly jumped inside his suit.

Green Ranger: Zelenka chimed as he chewed on a špekáček, “Way to be obvious about what his dick thinks.”

“Green!” Yellow smacked him at the back of his head.

Green only grumbled, not at all surprised, bothered or in pain. His face blank, and eyes drifting off in boredom, “It was a compliment. At least Blue is honest about getting hard when Pink’s around. Unlike some people.”

“S-shut your goddamn mouth.” Yellow gave one last ‘hmph’ before he stalked off of the platforms.

Green gave the seething man a brief glance before his eyes wandered to his own sentinel. After a long sigh, he got inside.

Finally, Red provided a go signal, and the three rangers took off. Their sentinels; gigantic, metalic humanoid stepping from within the Ranged HQ and into the deep dark ocean.

Red smiled to himself, rotating his body to walk to his own suit’s platform for his own set of missions, nonchalantly speaking into the air. “Black. Ensure nothing . . . unfortunate happens with Pink.”

A figure clad in black emerged from the shadows. Much larger than even the ESU leader’s form.

“Understood.”

【　MEMORY UNLOCKED 】

Accessing files . . .

“. . .”

As consciousness gently clawed its way back to the surface, a haze of confusion shrouded the mind. Blinking away the remnants of slumber, [ REDACTED ] ‘s eyes slowly adjusted to the harsh, artificial lighting of the hospital room. A flicker of anxiety danced across their thoughts.

“You’re . . . awake!” A muffled voice entered their ears. The sensation of cool, crisp sheets under fingertips became apparent, offering a peculiar contrast to the warm cocoon of blankets. And as their sense of touch returned so did their full hearing capacity.

A face, dark tan — excessively alluring really, your gaze was immediately glued — with golden eyes reminiscent of the blaring sun covered most of your vision.

“You goddamn idiot! I- I was so worried. Why’d you protect me?! I could’ve handled it y’know?!”

“Easy, Yellow.” Another voice. But you could not move your body to view them. But with such a beauty right in front of you, did you really want to?

“To hell with that.” The pretty boy continued, “You hear me, Pink? I’m one of the original three. I am above you. I don’t need your god damned pity. Or anyone else’s! Especially not a nepo baby like—“ His pointer landed on your chest, painfully despite the massive amounts of bandages the surrounded your nearly eviscerated body.

“Yellow, that’s enough.” The voice popped out again, this time more authoritative and firm. You see a gloved hand reach from behind and grab ‘Yellow’s’ shoulder.

“No, I need to hear it from him directly! Tell me you won’t do this again!”

“Your Majesty, I don’t think—“ This time another voice advised the young man in front of you. They sounded a lot more frail, older.

“Answer me, bastard!”

“. . . Who . . .” You breathed, struggling to form words as every second you remained conscious was agonizing as it much less when you produced any sort of moved. “. . . Who are you?”

The more delicate voice spoke up once more. Your vision was starting to turn blurry and dark. “As I was saying, I’m afraid Ranger Pink has sustained too much damage in the battlefield.”

On a more solemn tone they added, “We did the best we could do.”

“Who . . . are these . . . people . . ?”

You fought with everything to stay awake. You truly did. But as the moments passed and the world around you started spinning and blending into itself, you could not resist the temptation to close your eyes. Your once anxious mind now slowly faded into serene clarity.

【　MISSION ACCOMPLISHED 】

The world was lot more vibrant than you expected it to be. Everything looked apocalyptic whenever you watched the ESU in battle. The only thing that signaled an invasion was happening was the occasional alien and buildings that were being repaired post-fight.

You marveled at the view around you, almost in a daze.

The sound of a lazer being shot snapped you out of your stupor.

“The hell—?! Green! That’s friendly fire you mani—“ Blue hollered.

You’re sure that if this man were any more petulant his suit itself would be stomping the ground in anger.

“I just saved you, your highness.” Green’s suit does a curtsy. He then pointed to the dead blob on the ground.

“Thank you, Green.” You bowed back.

“Hahaha! I like the new Pink. Maybe he should never recover his memories—“

“Had an Alien on your shoulder.” Blue deadpanned after shooting a jet of high pressure water towards Green.

“Bullshit.”

You grinned at their antics. You almost couldn’t believe that these were the saviors of humanity. One of if not the only line of defense against its extinction. But then grimaced at an indicator flashing within the corner of your vision. “Enemy at 7 o’clock.”

“On it.” Blue’s sentinel hurried to the scene, moving around as if it were swimming in the air.

Green cursed. It wasn’t just a normal enemy. “Shit. It’s a full on ship.”

“We have to re-unite with —“

Green is promptly taken down. A group of fliers came at him like vultures to corpse.

“Pink!” Blue screamed, swiftly flying to close to you once more. His suit takes yours’ hand and held it tight.

“. . .” You looked at him, almost angered that he tore your attention away from Green’s potential demise.

“We have to fuse. You’ve seen the squad do it on the news right?”

“Ain’t no way I’m fusing with—“ Green screeched as he fought off the bird like creatures. Vines reaching to grapple the them, but are promptly sliced by support from above: the main ship.

“Well I didn’t ask you did I?” Blue practically hissed at him. When you saw the ESU fight before they seemed so in sync, now you were starting to understand why these men kept on almost dying recently.

“Will Green be alright?”

“You heard him. He doesn’t want to fuse.”

It takes you moments to reply and hesitantly you finally responded with, “Okay.” You nodded, closing your eyes as Blue’s sentinel moved towards you, melding into your suit.

Your eyes flutter open. You’re surrounded with water, but somehow you were able to breathe. You see Blue’s figure beside you.

“. . . Your interface.” He looked over to your system, most of which has been covered in the ooze aliens were typically made of.

You must have been infected while Green was first attacked, hence the reluctance to fuse.

“Enemies” You reminded.

“Right.” Blue shook his head. Every ESU member was taught to put the mission before their own well-being. He had a natural resistance to infection due to his cockpit’s watery environment. It should help stave off the infection for enough time until back-up arrives.

“Let’s switch forms this time.” He suggested. If he took more control he’d be able to help fight the infection off better. “Flight mode ON!”

A chase begun. You and Blue flew at a breakneck speed, leading the ship and birds away from any nearby cities and Green. While fused, you could feel what Blue felt. Anxiety, fear. Perhaps this was how the team worked together properly. It was hard not to empathize when these emotions were shoved in your face.

You release one of your hands from your interface and place it on his shoulders.

You feel a sudden wave of warmth. Calm.

“You forgot the boosters.” You advised, hoping to jog his memory a little in this moment of extreme pressure and stakes.

He fumbled, causing your fused sentinels to dip for a moment, but was able to activate the booster in time. Creating a workable distance

“Shit, we’re heading straight into a city.”

Panic returns to your senses once more. You release your hold over his shoulder. With a smile, an idea popped into your head and you take over.

“Perfect, I got this.”

You shove the hand you used to comfort him back into the sludge and take control. The whole cockpit turned pink with swirling black tendrils.

The enemy followed you as you passed a bridge leading into a city.

“What are you doing?! You’re going to get people killed!” Blue attempted to override your command but found himself unable to.

You try to keep the sentinel above most of the building as to avoid making the alien ship collide and cause unnecessary casualties.

You soon reach the center where a monstrous skyscraper stood. You figured out from watching other members use flight mode that it was based off of the distance from underneath the suit to its main hull. As such, if you went up close to scale the wall of such a tall building . . .

【　TARGET LOCKED 】

The system prompted you and Blue as your soared through the skies and above the aliens.

You waste no time and shoot. A beam of electricity, water, and . . . shadow? releases — piercing straight through the tar like material. You made sure to destroy the wings of the birds and the flight mechanisms of the ship.

And as an extra assurance you fly back down, switch modes once more, and use the suit to stomp on their soon-to-be corpses.

As you float back down to check, you spot an aura of shadowy wisps clinging unto the wreckage. It seemed to be minimizing the damage surrounding the area via changing the material’s weight.

“Black. Thank you for the assist.”

Black Ranger: Noir. Close friends with the White Ranger. They looked nothing alike, acted nothing alike, and you never saw them even speak to one another. But they worked in terrifying efficiency together — scout missions — and as such were assigned into a sub-unit that rarely ever crossed paths with the main ESU.

Red was watching over you.

Your body tensed in the suit.

“No problem.” Black muttered. He was a man of few words. Rarely ever seen. You don’t think he even wants to be.

“We should go check on Green”

【　MEMORY UNLOCKED 】

Accessing files . . .

“My name is [ REDACTED ]. It’s a pleasure to join your team!”

Your introduction was fine you think. Jasper told you not to make it too long as the team was usually chasing time enough as it is. You even added a bow at the end, in both the Lunar and Solar Kingdom’s variation as to show your respect and admiration for the team.

“I can’t believe this. Another one? Green is already a pain in the ass.” Yellow reacted first. You flinched at his reaction, which made his demeanor soften for a brief moment before it returned to its domineering self.

“Yellow.” Red glared at him, this time semi-permanently making Yellow sink into himself. “Welcome to the team, brother.”

Blue does not respond nor look at your direction. A grim expression painted his pretty features.

“Guess I’m not the only newbie anymore! What should I call ya?” Green vibrantly beamed. Poking your cheeks as he munched on a bag of cheese puffs. No doubt making the dust stick to your face with his saliva.

“P-Pink would be fine.”

“Pinkie it is!” Green laughed letting go of his snack and hugging you tightly.

Your hands slowly, inch by inch, raised hug him back.

“Your vital signs are all fine.” You mused as you put down sphygmomanometer.

“Thanks for your concern, Pinkie.”

You shook your head. There was no concern here. “No problem. We simply can’t lose our healer. That would be a dire situation.”

“Pffft— I’ll be up and about after a day no problem.” He waved his hands. Well, a hand. His other one was broken and almost completely detached from his body when you busted him out of his sentinel. He was able to heal it enough to somewhat move it safely, but otherwise it was unusable.

“ . . . Red is considering taking you off the team.”

“. . . What . . ?”

“He says you’re too much of a liability. Your conduct and lack of cooperation that is.”

“Lack of cooperation my ass.” Green sat up and straightened his back with a grunt. “What do you get by telling me this? I’m guessing you aren’t supposed to?”

“If he’s kicking you out I’m coming down with.”

“Pinkie . . . “

“You’re a valuable member to the team.”

“Hey, do you . . . do you have a name I can call you by? Your actual one I mean.” Green leaned his forehead against yours.

He peered into your eyes. The once pink color had now slowly faded into black with swirls of purple.

What was he asking? He knew your name.

And then you realized.

“. . . I don’t have one.”

“Then I guess I’m stuck with calling you Pinkie?” He smiled holding your cheek. Sluggishly his face tilted moved closer to yours —

“Get your hands off of him!” A whiny voice resounded throughout the medbay’s room.

“Augh, your highness. Can’t you see I’m having a moment with your ex?”

Dazed you pushed the Ranger away from you and left the room, bumping shoulders with Blue.

You were able to get quite a distance away and were about to take a long sigh in relief. You were too exhausted for the other member’s antics and drama.

“[Y/N]—!” Blue panted. It seemed that he ran after you. In any case, he yanked you by the wrist to face him. “I- I’m . . . I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

“That we used to be—“

“In a relationship? I knew. White told me.”

“That bastard—“

“May you let go of me? I have another check up.” You raised your wrist and his hand, shaking it a little.

“No!” He shouted. You gave him a shocked look which led to him lowering his voice and talking in a nervous, timid manner. “L-look, we can make this work. Alright? I don’t want us to just — end up like this.”

You do not sugarcoat your words and simply spoke “Blue. To me you’re a stranger.”

You continue even after he flinched at your words. “I don’t know you. Coupled with the fact that you purposely hid something as big as that makes your reliability questionable at best.”

You watched as his face morphed into sadness, then grief,

“I’ll make the judgment when my memories come back. Until then . . . It’s a no.”

and lastly, anger.

“No? No! Do you think you can say no to me?” He squeezed your wrist and you hear bones crack.“I’m the goddamn crown prince of the Lunar Empire! I get what I want and—“

“And you need to get off your high horses.” You halted him from his spiel. “We’re all equal here. As rangers. As defenders of humanity. Only Red has the right to be ordering the rest. You’re the prince aren’t you? Go find another potential mistress. I’m not doing this to Yellow.”

“But I . . .” Blue’s tone finally went back to it’s more quiet and tolerable version. “I need you.”

You feel Blue’s hold slacken and immediately took the moment to pull your hand away.

“You disgust me.” And you walked off.

You heard him falling to his knees as he cried. Yet you do not look back.

The control room wasn’t a place many team members went to. It was implicitly known that it was Red and his most trusted entourage’s domain.

You weren’t a part of that group. Not even from the memories you’ve slowly started to gain.

But this matter was of utmost importance.

“I’d like to be taken off the team.” You said as the doors slid open. A robotic greeting could be heard in the background, signaling your entrance.

From your rare visits, it was mostly where Red and White would plan out patrols and store their information about the invading forces. The place remained unchanged. Most likely due to Green’s lack of interference in the decor, and overall organization.

“If this is about Green, then don’t worry. I’ve changed my—”

“It’s about Blue.”

Red looked more alert. His head flicked from the various screens inside the room to your direction. Finally looking at you directly. “I told you two that a relationship would be detrimental to the future of the squad. But none of you ever listen. See what happens?”

Beside him, Ranger White: Blanc, mumbled yet it was audible enough to be heard by you from across the room. “Let’s be frank here, Red. You said that because you were jealous.”

“White—?“

You didn’t know Red could even be flustered. He always seemed so level-headed, so dangerously focused on the task of eliminating the invaders that anything aside from a stoic look on his face looked . . . well . . . out of place.

“Red. It’s easy to see your favoritism.” Unlike him, White’s eyes do not leave the screens. The man’s void like eyes were trained unto the replay of the fight you just had.

“Aren’t we . . . siblings ?” You questioned. You weren’t unaware of his feelings. But you always viewed it as a over-protective if not suspicious brotherly act. Thinking of it otherwise . . . vile.

“Oh honey, you two aren’t completely blood related remember?” White swiped to another angle of the battle. “At least that’s what Red keeps reminding himself in order to lessen the guilt he feels lusting over you.”

“But — “

And then he suddenly looked at you.

Void meeting tar.

“Much less now that you’re hosting an alien parasite.

Fear. It was such a human concept. The way your heart thrashes within the confines of its boney cage. The way your mind goes blank. The way your instincts take over and all you could do is either fight, run or freeze.

You chose silence. Cursing this human shell for glueing your mouth shut and feet to the floor.

“What are you talking about?” Red gripped White’s clothes. A jacket you’ve often seen him wear that completely engulfed his body.

Completely unbothered by Red’s actions, White continued, “I was wondering why you weren’t able to get your suit activated at first. But suddenly you’re able to control it with ease. Better than you were able to from before actually.”

He then brings up a tablet of your previously brutalized state. Ooze of black, violet and magenta coming from every orifice and wound. Your bones mangled in a way that seemed almost uncanny. Viscera from all sorts of organs on display. If you were anything but an ESU member you’d been twice dead. You feel your . . . this body’s stomach reel at the way it was treated.

“Green wasn’t able to heal you either, you had to ‘recover’ the old fashion way. I bet he knows too.”

You know of that memory. Green was all over you that day. He was a sobbing mess. He was always trying to help you recover, until you gained consciousness he spent countless nights without sleep or much sustenance just trying to figure out why he couldn’t help.

Zelenka. He was one human you’ll spare to move unto to the next phase of your plan. Such selflessness and kindness deserve recognition after all.

But back to the matter at hand.

“That the original pink ranger is dead and only a gooey parasite in the brain remains.”

Red released his hold on White, turning to you in a flash, and in a gentle manner he laid his hands atop your shoulder.

“[Y/N], tell me this isn’t true.” His red eyes were overflowing with grief, held back by a single, cracking dam. You shivered internally at its uncanny look. His face devoid of emotion suited him far better. “You know I’ll only believe in you. Whatever you say, I will follow.”

You looked down, mustering all the tears you could squeeze out of your vessel’s eyes.

“He’s lying, brother — no — Jasper. I’m alive. I’m right here in front of you.”

“Yes. Yes, you’re right.” Jasper placed his head right atop your chest, “I can hear your heart beating. You’re still alive.”

“Red? Are you listening to yourself? Of course your brother looks and sounds alive. A parasite is puppeting his body, forcing his heart to beat, his eyes to blink, his limbs to move. But he’s dead.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Noir?

Black approached from the shadows. Without his suit you can finally see his handsome face. Dark skin and hair like the night sky, and white eyes that lacked pupils.

“You can’t be serious. . .”

“Dead or alive. At least [Y/N]’s body is here with us. Don’t you see it, Blanc? God has given us the opportunity to be with him again.” Black’s face was smeared with an expression akin to religious ecstasy. A fervor so unlike him that it gave you a whiplash harder than Red’s sudden change.

“Are you going to take that opportunity away from me Blanc?” Black’s hand reached to carress White’s pale features.

And with those words White visibly turned docile. “No. No, of course not.”

“Good.” Black planted a kiss atop White’s hair and forehead. “Now what was this about you leaving the team, [Y/N]?”

[ PRESENT TIME ]

Humanity was far from salvation. As such, your kind, the so-called ‘Alien Race’ were sent to end their suffering.

In a world where billions of their currency went into glorified missile measuring contests, you were there to reset them back to zero. To their naive, infantile, god fearing state.

“Your Majesty. The carriage to the Lunar Kingdom has arrived. The mission in the Northern Front was successful. Reinforcements will arrive in due time.”

Planting yourself into the world was an easy feat. Although you missed your designated target and occupied a much weaker vessel than you intended to, it ended up being a boon. It barely took a decade before you wiped out humanity’s biggest defenders from their main planet. Only a few more left standing.

You stared up into the heavens. The moon and sun’s destined reunion shall signal a start of a new age and you were its herald. Smoke billowed and obscured part of the sky, but the celestial bodies’ light still remained visible in the sky.

“Good.”

You arose from your throne of corpses. You felt no guilt, not an ounce of remorse for the genocide of billions. You knew this was for their own good. Besides, you have done this several times before. In the end, humanity would thank you, even see you as the deity you served. Not that you would want that. You were to loyal to Them after all.

“Let us break down Humanity back to its roots.”

You took your seat upon the helm of your army’s main commanding vessel. A large rose-like entity that covered at least a few cities below.

“Praise be to the Divine.”

“Praise be to the Divine.”

©️ hana.no.seiiki - yun | 2023

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I feel like this was just a glimpse into what this part of the HNSverse was like so I’ll be glad to make this into a holiday tradition instead of a one-parter if this post is successful.

And yes the romance/elements between the members is a Genshin reference.

[cherri-rice]

Giyuu & Mitsuri being siblings <3

——————————————————————————

Giyuu has, for as long as the pillars have known him, been a quiet and kept to himself

He’s isn’t very flamboyant or out going and has never made the outrageous gesture to be friend every pillar

He’s observant and direct; he is always watching others ways and tactics and keeping himself far away from embarrassing himself

He’s tried to check up on the female pillars, kakushi, and the butterfly girls after uniform incident

Mitsuri is shy but bashful and loves to engage in conversations with the pillars

She’s happy and engaged but hides from her embarrassment about certain things out loud

She loves to give people with equal love and respect

She treats people to with gifts and sweets

After a mission Giyuu, being accompanied by Mitsuri, noticed little things she would do

Like the way she braids her hair or the way she waits for the crowd to die down before ordering her food

After the mission Giyuu realized she was one of the only people to consider his emotions

She was the only person to actually be interested in talking to him

The only person he saw his sister in

He never thought about her in a romantic way and always saw her as a caring sister after that day

Now they hang out together when they have free time or need to talk

——————————————————————————

Walking back from the food stall, carrying the plates of food, Giyuu and Mitsuri walk side by side, Mitsuri talking about whatever is on her mind while Giyuu listens in silence.

The walk to Mitsuri’s estate was calm and comfortable, nothing new to the duo.

“-and then Obanai gifted me these beautiful stockings! Aren’t they just perfect!” Mitsuri gushes about her outing with Iguro.

“Yes, they do look nice” Giyuu try’s to complete her feelings and a small smiles tugs at his lips.

-

“Today I was thinking we could get some-“

Mitsuri stops herself looking at the sight in front of her.

Giyuu sits at the end of the table with lines of food he knows she likes. “Were you saying something?” He knows today was a rough day for her.

As today was another Valentine’s Day that Iguro couldn’t tell her how he really felt. Of course she never doubted that he liked her, and she would always wait for him.

“What’s this?” She looks at the mochi and cakes and rice and meats at each end of the table. Her eyes slightly sting from the water rising in her eyes from the beautiful view he made for her.

“I made you dinner. Is it bad?” He asks looking at her to the food. “Did I made you cry? I’m sorry”

“No, it’s perfect! This is just what I needed!” She sits at the other end of the table and clasps her hands together “thank you for the food!”

-

“Don’t forget your lucky anklet” Giyuu speaks handing it to Mitsuri. The anklet was a birthday gift she has got from Giyuu.

-

“Giyuu let’s go to the beach!”

“You don’t like getting your hair wet though?”

-

“Can we get udon? And mochi!” Mitsuri quirks

“I have some on the way, delivery.”

——————————————————————————

This isn’t something I’ve tried writing before, I’m sorry if it was bad!

Thank you @ryleelovespancakes for requesting!!

PLEASE DON’T COPY, REBLOG, OR STEAL CONTENT

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

[yuurei20]

Trey Info Compilation part 8: Jade, Idia and Crowley

Trey has a comment during Beanfest that he doesn’t believe Jade is “the kind of guy who would dive into a group of enemies and go on a whole tear like Floyd did…”, and in a vignette we see that he has a well-meaning but poorly informed opinion of Jade: After seeing Jade put up with admonishments from both Azul and Riddle, Trey apologizes on Riddle’s behalf, saying that he feels guilty for not stepping in to wrangle Riddle.

Trey compliments Jade and Jade responds that is is an honor to receive such praise from him, which surprises Trey (“I don’t recall ever giving you cause to regard me so highly. In fact, we’ve hardly spoken”).

Jade compliments Trey for being quick witted and Trey encourages Jade to not be so humble. “I’ve been watching you for a while…you should whatever you want to do.”

Later in the same vignette Trey tells Riddle that Jade is easily manipulated, saying, “He really has it rough, Dealing with that day in and day out must be borderline torturous for a strait-laced guy like him.”

Somewhat more familiar with Jade, Riddle tells Trey that “When you evaluate others, you must observe them more closely.”

They eavesdrop on Jade talking about turning the first-year students into loyal pawns, and sharing secret information with Azul that he gathered independently from the instructions he had been given.

Trey reflects, “I have never been more wrong about anything.”

Trey and Idia do not have a lot of overlap outside of the Wish Upon a Star event, despite both being third-year students.

Trey does not seem to have a very flattering opinion of Idia (and most students do not), comparing him to “a child screaming ‘I don’t wanna’” and saying he honestly expected him to drop out of their performance at the last minute.

They interact in a Vargas Camp 2 vignette where Trey is friendly and happy to hear that Idia had originally intended to join the Science Club. Trey says it would have been cool to learn all kinds of new things from Idia, as, “I’d be hard-pressed to find a guy who knows more about digital technology and technomantic engineering than you.”

Idia calls the conversation exhausting, saying that while Trey might not be as pushy as others, “he JUST. KEPT. TALKING…I just hope he never tries to talk to me again, like ever…”

Seemingly unaware of Idia’s opinion, Trey finds rock salt in a mine and says, “I should show Idia too…I’m sure he’d appreciate hearing all about it.”

Like most of the students, Trey seems suspicious of Crowley: When he allows the Firelit Sky group to use the school’s mirrors to travel to Kalim and Jamil’s hometown Crowley says, “I will graciously accept whatever souvenirs you see fit to bring back” and Trey observes, “There it is. I knew there was no way he’d let us do this for free.”

In reaction to being selected as a Stargazer during the Wish Upon a Star event Trey says, “The headmage claimed he used astrology to pick us…you don’t think he was lying about that, do you?”

[tabithatwo]

I love Yellowjackets okay it’s CLEAR if you observe my insane habits around this show but listen to me stay with me they so clearly did NOT have the 96 timeline planned out enough when writing the adults in season one. Or it got changed or added to or whatever to a Strong Degree. Maybe this is execs trying to make the show and it’s characters more palatable for mainstream success?? idk it feels possible to me.

But SHAUNA? Present Shauna was haunted by Jackie almost every scene of s1. It was so painfully clear how much Jackie’s presence was felt by her entire family CONSTANTLY. The bunnies, the conversations they had, the hallucinations all of it!! Jackie Jackie Jackie dead girl alive haunting the narrative. This season? Radio silence. And like pls don’t tell me shauna just has too much going on this season to feature any Jackie haunting like rewatch s1 she was PLENTY FUCKING BUSY having affairs and being blackmailed by her husband and doing murder!!! Jackie was so woven in to her character that NOTHING was untouched by her. So what, now we’ve seen Jackie’s death in 96 so she doesn’t haunt her anymore in present?? Now the baby is the strongest presence looming over her family? (This is said in an interview with the show runners and I’ve talked about it in another post!) When it wasn’t felt at all s1? No, you don’t want to spoil things in 96 so it is tricky, but there could’ve been hints. We always knew the baby would go poorly at the very fucking least. And the lack of Jackie haunting is a HUGE change. If you don’t think so, go back and watch s1 like I promise you it was POTENT. So does shifting the cause for her violence to being heavily based on losing the baby make a general audience more sympathetic to her? I think it might.

Misty?? Crystal???? If you watch s1 present Misty, there is no presence of crystals loss impacting her. They didn’t even have Crystal as a character. Misty was shown with a very unwavering proclivity to feel EXCITEMENT during horrible things. That continued into adulthood. Yeah, as we see characters more, we get more details. Sure. But the issue is the present timeline characters are only shifting based on the unfolding events of 96, you know what I mean? Like I’m sorry but the impact of Crystal and Misty’s panic around her and this new crushing GUILT for what she’s done was not a presence in s1 adult Misty. To make way for this crystal arc, teen Misty just doesn’t give a single FUCK about Ben anymore? Not obsessing with him or controlling him? And you might say she transferred her obsession. She got bored of her toy. Okay MAYBE yes, but in present day she doesn’t transfer. Walter would be a new option and she’s locked on natalie. Adult Misty has kept tabs on every single Yellowjacket, she has room for multiple lines of obsession. Her just dropping anything with Ben is odd and what makes her more sympathetic? Being a fucking monster to Ben? Or accidentally causing crystals death and mourning her and feeling an influx of guilt for her shitty actions?

I WORRY that we’re seeing a series of unplanned (therefore unshown in the adult versions of them that we ALREADY HAD in s1) events to increase sympathy and likability. I could probably think about this for more of them but shauna and Misty really stand out. YES you can and should develop characters as a series evolves, but the issue is if you show them in the PRESENT you can’t make them EVOLVE based on what you’re revealing in the PAST, does that make sense? It can inform their present actions, you can highlight different facets of them, all sorts of stuff. But this feels like something wayyy beyond that.

I hope I’m wrong and I hope they bring it back around <3 like so sincerely <3 and if you disagree and this makes perfect sense to you I’m happy for you <3 I wish that I did not feel this way <3 I’ve been trying to live in denial land about this all season <3 but it’s hitting hard right now <3

[newtthetranswriter]

Soulmates? Soulmates. Pt 3

Word count: 3384

Summary: Here’s a good idea: let's take our new elf friend to the cabin our human father was sending us to. Yeah, that’s a great idea. Only time will tell how terrible that idea truly was

Warnings: Talk of drinking blood (callum’s an idiot), canon typical violence

A/n: Hello welcome back for part 3 of this series. This part has very little interaction with Soren but it’s fine he’ll be back next chapter. Anyway, enjoy and remember to hydrate or diedrate.

Part 1. Part 2

After gathering some berries, I made my way back to where I left my brothers and Rayla. Reaching the clearing, I noticed Ezran had finally woken up and it looked like Callum was packing up getting ready to keep moving. “Hey guys, I was able to find a few berries we can eat before we get going.” I said handing a few to each person present.

“Oh, Y/n good you’re back. I thought you should know we are making a quick stop at the Banther Lodge to grab something before heading for Xadia.” Callum informed me as he took the berries I offered him. I looked at him confused but before I could voice my concern he beat me to it. “Don’t worry, it’s the winter lodge so there won’t be anyone there.” Once again I was about to speak up but was cut off by Rayla saying we needed to get going. I just shook my head and hoped Callum was right about no one being there.

We had been walking for a short while when Ezran spoke up about being thirsty. Rayla kindly offered a vial of what I’m guessing is moonberry juice having seen it when I was younger. But alas my brother is stupid and spoke first. “Uh, no, thank you. We don’t drink that.” Rayla looked confused and glanced at me only receiving a shrug from me. “Blood, We don’t drink blood. We don’t mean to be rude, but, uh, you can keep it.” I couldn’t hold back from groaning at Callum’s stupidity.

“It’s moonberry juice.” Rayla said, correcting Callum and receiving a confused glance from him. “Is that what humans think we are? Bloodthirsty Monsters?”

I watched the guilt wash over Callum’s face as he realized he messed up. “It, It’s not that. I mean, I’ve heard stories, b- but I’m sure they’re just stories. Horrible awful stories.” He stuttered as he tried to fix his stupidity.

“You know for a kid who constantly has his nose stuck in a book, you really are stupid.” I said, shaking my head at him as I moved past the group. “Oh, Look we’re here.” I said as I spotted the lodge through the trees.

Rayla and Callum moved to look past me at the Lodge. “See? No winter, no humans at the winter lodge.” Callum said, sounding smug for his observation. Rayla just rolled her eyes at him.

“Let’s make this quick. Tell me where the thing is and I’ll be in and out.” She said motioning for my brother to tell her where whatever it was we were here for was.

I blocked out the conversation about it while looking at the lodge confused, if this is where we were being sent for our safety why was it empty. It makes no sense. As if Ezran could hear my thoughts he voiced his concern as well. “It is kinda weird that there’s no one here since this is where Dad was sending us.” I nodded agreeing with his observation, finally noticing that Rayla must have made her way into the lodge already.

Before we could think on it any further we were startled by the sound of a horn and horses approaching. Thinking quickly I pulled the boys from the bushes and stood in front of the doors. Ezran had ducked behind me and Callum putting the egg in his backpack, before standing next to me to greet the approaching guards. “Aunt Amaya?” Ezran said as the General hopped off her horse and removed her helmet.

After looking the three of us over Amaya pulled us into a tight hug, before kneeling in front of Ez to speak with us. “I’m so glad you’re safe.” Gren, Amya’s right hand man and translator, said as our aunt signed to us.

Being terrible under pressure Callum spoke up before I could. “Extremely safe! Safe and alone!” Trying to go along with how stupid he sounded I nodded as Ezran also used his leg to push his back pack behind us out of view.

There was a moment of silence as Amaya looked up towards one of the windows on the second floor of the lodge. Gren silently asked the general what was wrong. Amaya just pushed between us moving to the door. Callum panicked and moved in front of her. “Oh, uh, that door’s locked. So, uh, you wait here for a minute, couple minutes, few however long it takes. I’ll go find a key.”

   Instead of listening to the teen, Amaya just picked him up, moved him to the side and kicked the door open. As she entered the Lodge she signed again. “I don’t believe in locks” Voiced confidently by Gren who followed his general into the building. 

   I shot Callum a look that said he was an idiot for thinking it was a good idea to come here. As we made our way in, Amya froze before signing that someone was there. Knowing that Amaya’s intuition was never wrong I tried to prevent my brother from being stupid but alas his mouth moves faster than my body half the time. “What? No, no. No one here but us and all your human troops.” Callum shouted, looking like a complete lunatic.

   “Callum, you know it doesn’t help to yell.” Gren began interpreting Amaya’s signs. “ And why are you saying ‘Human troops’ like that?” It was clear both adults were extremely confused by the prince’s odd choice of wording.

   “Uh, what do you mean? That's how always say ‘heavily armed human troops!’” He answered shouting the last part.

   Deciding to end this weird display I grabbed Ezran and pulled him in front of the confused General. “Uh Ezran has something to tell you.” I stated, knowing that whatever random thing he thought up would likely be more believable than the ramblings of Callum.

   After pausing for a moment Ezran finally spoke up. “Um, I skipped breakfast.” His statement may not have been much but it seemed to shift the focus off whatever presence Amaya was sensing. “I’m sorry” Ezran finished looking down sadly.

   We waited for a moment hoping the boy’s lie was believable, before she began signing again. “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.” After that me and my brothers moved to sit at a table while Amaya looked for food. 

   While Amaya and Gren were busy looking for food, I couldn’t help but smack Callum in the back of the head. “What was that for?” He asked quietly, not wanting to draw attention to us.

   “That was for insisting on coming here. Now we have to hope they don’t notice Rayla.” I whispered back clearly angry.

   Before he could respond I heard Gren speaking meaning Amaya was back in the room. “The food here is… weapons grade.” There was a pause as Amaya hit a counter with what looked like a loaf of bread. She set the bread on the table in front of us, and pulled out a dagger slamming it into the wooden table top. “Dig in.” Gren instructed while Amaya gestured to the ‘food’.

   While Callum inspected the bread and Ez tried pulling the dagger from the table, I asked a probably obvious question. “Aunt Amaya, why are you here?”

   She smiled as she responded. “I received a messenger bird from the king yesterday.” After hearing Amaya’s answer, Callum began feeling his jacket for something. “What’s wrong?” 

   Callumed looked at the table clearly distraught over the realization he came too. “I just, he gave me a letter, too, but I must have dropped it somewhere.” I couldn’t help but feel for him as I can’t imagine what he may be thinking after losing such an important letter.

   “What’d your letter say?” I asked Amaya, hoping to move Callum’s focus to his misplaced letter. Amaya handed over her letter for me to read. “General, the castle is under threat. Assassins have infiltrated the kingdom. Moonshadow elves.” I read aloud for my brother’s to hear.

   As I looked at Amaya, she signed ‘The worst kind’. I nodded as if agreeing before continuing to read the letter. “Do not bring your force to the castle. Your orders are to proceed immediately to the Banther Lodge. Y/n, Callum and Ezran will be there. Above all, see to it that my children are safe.” As I finished the letter I set it on the table, looking at Ezran, who was now trying to saw the bread in half with the stuck dagger.

   Before any of us could say anything in regards to the letter, Amaya indicated there was more on the back of it. This time Callum picked up the letter, flipping it over to read the additional note. “PS: Once their safety is assured, they may wish to build a dirt man.” Hearing that I shook my head. “We do not wish to build a Dirtman.” Callum said.

   Ezran paused his effort in cutting the bread for a moment. “We do not.” was all he said before going back to the bread. I just nodded in agreement before leaning back in my chair hoping that Rayla had found whatever it is that brought us here and we could find a clever way out of this situation.

    After failing at eating the rock pretending to be a loaf of bread, my brothers and I were sitting in a small living space while Amaya and her soldiers patrolled the lodge. “This is all my fault. We should have never come here.” Callum said slumping into one of the couches while Ez was sitting on the floor playing with Bait.

    “You’re right this is your fault.” I said, earning a glare from the brunette. I just shrugged sitting down in one of the chairs nearby.

    “But we found Aunt Amaya. Maybe we should tell her.” Ezran said looking up from the action figure he found.

   Confused, Callum asked what both of us were thinking. “Tell her what?”

   Ezran didn’t seem to understand the situation the same way me and Callum did, but he was optimistic. “ About the egg. About Rayla.” He answered like it was plain as day what he was suggesting.

   “We can’t.” Callum left his answer simple, his self blame getting the best of him.

   Sighing I filled in the gaps for the young prince. “You heard what she said, Ez. How she talks about elves. To Aunt Amaya, elves are monsters.” It hurt to say that but I knew I couldn’t show how much it truly hurt to voice that one of the people I considered family would hate the real me. 

   Ezran sighed in response. “But what if we explain everything?” He asked in a voice that sounded hopeful. 

   Before I could explain, Callum spoke again. “It won't work. Humans and elves don't trust each other. That won't change until we take this egg back to Xadia. We have to find Rayla and get out of here.” As he finished he looked at me nodding. We had silently came to an agreement and spread out in search of Rayla.

    After a short while of looking I heard one of the guards talking about how there was an elf in the cellar below the kitchen. I quickly ushered the boys into said kitchen and tried to think of a plan. “Oh what if we put bait on the little service elevator and lower it down.” Ezran said excitedly, holding up the glow toad.

   Callum looked at me as if expecting me to give a better answer. Knowing what Ez was thinking I shrugged and responded with  “I mean it’s better than trying to fight our way through Amaya’s guards.” Ez silently cheered before placing the toad on the elevator.

    Callum rolled his eyes as he began lowering the box. I tuned out as the boys argued over ezran’s random plans like snail armor. It was only for a few seconds and even though I tried to reach out to Soren through our connection it seemed he was busy and had the link closed on his end. So I refocused and just in time to see light break through the cracks of the box as the toad began glowing brightly.

   Seeing the light we rushed to the stairs leading to the cellar, running into Rayla as she threw Bait into Ezran’s arms. “Come on!” She shouted as we turned and made our way out of the lodge.

   As we raced outside we became cornered by Amaya and her soldiers pointing their weapons in our direction. “Stop right there elf. Y/n, Callum, Ezran, come here.” Gren announced what Amaya was signing so everyone understood what the General was saying.

   “Guys, we should just tell her.” Ezran suggested looking nervous.

   Not liking the hesitation Amaya signed again. “Kids, get away from her.” The look on Amaya’s face said she would not say it again.

   “Wait” Once again Callum took advantage of my slow thinking and stepped forward signing to our Aunt. 

   I watched as Rayla observed both Callum’s movements and the looks on Amaya and Gren’s faces. “What are you saying?” She asked, concerned.

   Amaya signed back, Gren interpreting for the Elf to understand. “He says, if we don't let you go, you'll kill them and drink their blood. That you are a monster.” Rayla’s face looked horrified by the description.

   “Right, so you have to let us go.” Callum said. Ignoring the look of hurt on Rayla’s face.

   “It’s okay Callum. I’ve slain monsters before.” Gren spoke for Amaya. “Do it. Take her out.” Gren relayed the General’s orders to the Archers who had their sights set on Rayla.

   Before I could think I moved to try and protect Rayla. She had also acted quickly, moving to turn out of the arrow’s path. I watched as one arrow just barely grazed Rayla’s face, tearing off the small braid that hung by her face. What I failed to realize was in my haste to try and help Rayla, the second arrow snagged on the necklace that kept my true identity safe.

   It was silent for a moment as everyone took in the scene before them. Taking advantage of everyone’s confusion Rayla pulled the boys in front of her holding her blades to their throat.  She just nodded her head at me to stand beside her before she spoke. “Go ahead, take another shot. But read my lips. The next time I swing my blade, I’ll end both of them in half a second.” I watched as Amaya signaled the archers to lower their bows. “Move, Humans.” Rayla spat moving my brothers.

  As we moved around the side of the bridge to the edge of the water I finally noticed why everyone froze. The weight I had grown used to sitting around my neck was gone. Everyone who was there now knows what I am. I stole a glance back at where we had been standing and sure enough there laid my enchanted necklace. As much as I wanted to run back and grab it I knew going back into the cluster of soldiers would most likely lead to my arrest. I sighed before focusing back on my brothers and Rayla who were now waiting for me to join them in the small boat that happened to be resting in the water. Shaking off the worry of how to explain this to the three of them, I just climbed in, sitting as far from them as I could get in the tiny boat.

  We continued down the river in silence until we could no longer see the Banther Lodge in the distance. “That worked, I can’t believe it.” Callum said, sighing. He looked in my direction as if wanting to ask about the sudden drastic change in appearance, but Rayla cut him off.

  “I can’t believe you’re such a jerk.” She mumbled tucking her head into her knees.

  Ezran and Callum shared a look of confusion. “What? What’s wrong?” Callum asked the Moonshadow elf.

  “You called me a bloodthirsty monster. You have no idea how that feels.” Rayla responded clearly upset with how things played out.

   “But I don’t actually believe any of that. I was just trying to scare her. I thought she’d back down.” He defended.

   “oh , that went well. They tried to kill me.” Rayla said, turning to callum.

   Callum looked down to the bottom of the boat. “I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant to happen.” He apologized. 

   Rayla turned back around facing away from the group. “Well, it did.” After a moment she threw a small cube at Callum.

   “You found it.” He exclaimed in slight excitement.

    “It’s a toy. Probably a piece from a children's game. I hope it was worth it to you, putting everyone's lives in danger.” Rayla responded, earning another sad look from Callum.

    Clearly wanting a change in topic, Ezran looked at me before speaking. “So would now be a bad time to ask about your horns and ears?” Ez asked, not sounding rude just curious about this new development.

    I sighed before responding. “For now would be satisfied with a simple, I’m half elf?” I asked, also trying to lighten the mood. I received a look from Ezran that said he really wanted to know. Again not aggressive, just a curious kid wanting answers. “How about we find a place to rest for the night and I’ll tell you once we stop.” I suggested, Ezran and Callum both nodded and accepted my offer.

      Y/n why did General Amaya just show up saying that you are a traitor and you helped a moonshadow elf kidnap the princes? Ah, yes after a day of radio silence from my soulmate, I'm greeted with questions about abducting my own brothers.

    Hello to you to Soren. But to answer your question, I may or may not have jumped in front of an arrow to protect the very helpful elf who is leading us to xadia. And said arrow may or may not have snagged on my necklace and broke it. I explained zoned out from whatever my traveling companions were talking about. After that the only safe way out of the situation was taking my brothers and following the elf via boat. I explained briefly.

   There was a pause before he responded. Wait, why is an elf leading you to Xadia?

   I sighed as I remembered that in the commotion of trying to protect the King, Soren forgot our other conversations from the night before. My brothers and I found the egg of the dragon prince. So with the help of Rayla, our new elf friend, we are returning it to Xadia in hopes of ending this never ending feud between the human kingdoms and Xadia. I really hoped he understood and would be on our side of things.

   Okay, if you think that’s the right plan then I trust you. On a slightly different note, my dad has declared you a traitor and a spy. How lovely I should have known Viren would do something like that once he found out I was half elf.  Should I tell him that you’re not and that you are trying to return the egg to Xaida?

  I know you want to tell him, but you can’t. Soren if your father or hell if Claudia finds out that I’m your soulmate, it could cause a ton of problems for you. Please for your safety do not tell them about us, or anything I have told you. Please? I held my breath, waiting for his response.

  After a very short moment he responded.  If you think it’s for the best I'll keep quiet. But please keep me updated on how things are going for you?   I sighed, happy that he understood what I was saying.  Of course I’ll keep you updated Soren. Now please get some rest as I know you likely haven’t slept in a couple days. With that I shut our connection from my end. When I tuned back into what was happening on the boat, we were approaching a small beach. I let out a sigh knowing that as soon as we got off the boat it was time to explain everything to my younger siblings and our new elf companion.