#Sturdy Cat Trees

[fantasytrees]

Large Cat Trees for Multiple Cats

 Large Cat Trees for Multiple Cats Sturdy Cat Trees Large Fantasy Cat Tree www.aFantasyForest.com Large sturdy cat trees for multiple cats. A Fantasy Forest has been making unique cat trees for 19 years. We were the original cat tree that looks like a tree. All of our trees have leaves but you can order yours without them like this tree, if you would like. Spoil your kitties today!

[hopethishelpsdotcom]

Noodle loves this perch so much there would need to be a natural disaster of biblical proportions to get him to part with this perch. It's perfect hide for bird surveillance. I think the cats like it so much because the entire platform is made out of carpet material, so it feels cozy

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[kirkathechub]

It’s taking him a little bit to settle in, but Kirka finally sat on his cat tree!!! He’s having fun looking down at the busy boulevard

[cherrykcrunch]

More photos,,

(please don't use/repost elsewhere)

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hey I saw your post and honestly this is my first time making a request. How about arcane characters with a cat like reader? Idk it's just a thought that came (sorry if that's a bit weird)

Dunno whether this answers your request like you imagined. Also probs shit fire time writing for some of these characters.

Viktor found your cat like personality quite interesting and humorous if he wasn’t within the lab, working with things that normally didn’t capture your interest, unless they glowed of course.

Other than that it felt as though you were intentionally acting up in his lab for a reaction, like a cat would gauge the reactions of their owners before pushing a glass off the table. That’s how Viktor often felt with you

Then he has to keep an eye on you to make sure you didn’t touch anything dangerous because you were captivated by its light.

‘No, it’s dangerous and could hurt you my dear.’ He so often warms you as he guides your hand away when he felt it was dangerously close to what he was working with. Your mind didn’t head his warning, only the fact that there was a shinny object in the laboratory and it was the only thing you could focus on.

‘If so dangerous, why is it shining as though it wants me to touch it then?’ You responded, daring to touch the object once more and Viktor swore you either knew what you were doing and playing him for a fool, or you had no self preservation skills within your entire body to fight back against your urge to touch a dangerous foreign object.

It’s literally a stand still between the two of you and one that happens far too often that Viktor knows that this was all part of your plan, and unfortunately for him he falls for it almost always. He watches you while you watch him before doing something rash, making think you’ve actually touched the dangerous object, only to look at you unamused when you smiled at him mischievously as you wiggled your unharmed fingers at him.

This often leads you to being banned from the lab for pulling a stunt like that, however this was more for your safety and for him to calm his racing heart. You’ll kill this poor man with your antics but he wouldn’t want you any other way, especially when you cuddled up to him for warmth and sleep there.

It soothes him just as much as it soothes you.

Ekko found himself often wondering where it was you went sometimes.

He sees you in once place and then you disappear the next, returning to base only when you felt it necessary of you to do so, illusive and vague of where you’ve been it was often a bit frustrating. You could’ve been in serious danger for all he was aware and when he confronts you about this behaviour of yours, you’d only shrug and say:

‘Where it is a go on my own time isn’t something you should waste time worrying over.’ Before leaving to go elsewhere within the base and lounge against one of the trees thick and sturdy branches, eyes closed in content as you softly drift off into a light nap.

How the fuck you got up there, he’ll never know other than the fact that you managed to get up there in the first place with effortless ease.

Ekko’s nickname for you was either kitty or something along the lines of a cat based pun. You hated all of them equally but Ekko only feels more vindicated when you only proven his perception of you right whenever you displayed a trait that was common amongst cats. Whether that’d be silently judging everyone from your perch way up high, or lounging in his bed, more specifically where he had laid moments prior, feeding off of the warmth that lingered there or otherwise Ekko would find humour in you cat like traits because they were the things he loved the most.

(In a timeline where they actually have phones I can imagine him sending you cat memes and saying ‘this you?’ Or ‘I found your relative’ he thinks he’s funny, and he is but you won’t admit it out of petty pride)

However the one thing that you could always hold over Ekko’s head was the fact that you could silently manoeuvre your way into a room without him knowing and managing to catch him off guard. Ekko didn’t find it particularly funny but he lets up eventually and admits that it was kinda funny that you managed to take him by surprise. This was why you were more suited to missions heavily requiring a person with an abundance of stealth and agility.

‘Always landing on your feet aren’t you?’ He’d tease but you would let it slid as you shrugged your shoulders and reply. ‘What can I say? It kinda comes with the territory don’t you think?’

‘You sure you weren’t a cat in your past life or something?’ She would ask as she raised a brow at you as you cuddled into her side, much like a cat would when in they wanted to leech off is the warmth of a human.

‘No, why you ask?’ You say as you began to close your eyes, her warmth blanketing you almost immediately, and becoming increasingly sleepy.

‘You act like one for starters with how lazy you are.’ She pointed out and you’d only scoff at her, resting your head on her shoulder, having become too comfortable with your current position to even be bothered to move.

‘I’m not lazy, I’m merely taking advantage of the beauty that is power naps.’ You defend yourself and it was Sevika’s turn to scoff, having heard this excuse countless times before, and it never stopped her from continuing to compare your personality to that of a common house cat.

She disliked it at first, finding it weird and annoying at the fact that you didn’t seem all that bothered with the ongoings of Zaun, instead favouring to rest in high places that provided warmth or close to it and watching everyone with clear judgement within your eyes. However that judgment did end up saving her from time to time, not that she’d ever admit to this, as she was confident in her own abilities to smell a bitch from a mile away.

Though the more as time passed she grew to find it somewhat easier to deal with, though you cuddling up to her for warmth did put her off now and then, affection wasn’t commonplace in Zaun; so forgive her for not exactly taking to it immediately. Though each time you did cuddle into her side, her urge to create distance between you dwindled, from Perivale shoving you away from her, to slowly accepting that this was her life now.

‘Sure, that’s a hell of a way to avoid saying that you’re lazy.’ Sevika smirks when you glared at her, clearly insulted by this, before moving off of her to go rest elsewhere on the bed you shared and making sure your back was towards her in an effort to show your disagreement with her statement. ‘Not. Lazy. I just like napping.’ You retorted.

‘Yeah, sure keep telling yourself that, I’m sure it’ll be true one day.’ Sevika jokes and your shoulders only deflate more, knowing you’ll never win this war with Sevika when her mind is made up. She’s always in the right in most cases.

Mel is all too familiar with your cat like traits that nothing you do is out of the ordinary to her.

She finds humour and amusement in you participating in things commonly associated with felines. A human cat is what you were in her eyes as you slept the easiest you’ve ever slept when besides her, her presence was calming and was more then enough to have you reduced to a relaxed state before succumbing to sleep.

She just had that effect on you and you loved it as much as she does as she got to run her hand down your back.

‘You’re practically purring.’ She teases.

‘It’s not my fault you know exactly what makes me melt.’ You replied as you smiled up at her, never having gotten use to having this absolute goddess of a woman bless you with her smile, her heart, her everything.

Mel smiles softly. ‘You don’t exactly made it much of a challenge.’ She says as she watched the way you practically leaned in towards her touch, eyes closed in content with a smile spread across your face that she swore your nonexistent tail would be swishing from side to side. She has been in this position countless times before and yet it never gets old with how content she felt when moments like these between you and her freely exist within her mind.

You don’t exactly make it hard for her not to love you like she did, it came to you as easy a breathing as that’s how quick you were to fall for her, almost as if it was as though you were breathing; Easy, effortlessly and natural.

‘How can I when you read me so effortlessly and without fail?’ You replied back in almost a purr, a mischievous smile spread wide across your lips, ‘I shouldn’t need to hide myself from my lovers eyes, for she knows me all too well.’ You add. Another thing Mel adored was your cunning but cautious mind and the way you seemed oddly too relaxed for some, watching those very same individuals like they were merely mouses that squeaked about their freedom; like you were being amused by rather was being said in meetings as though you knew something they didn’t.

You were like the Cheshire Cat, often times speaking in riddles that only she herself understands.

Mel kisses the tip of your nose. ‘You smile like the cat that caught the canary,’ she says as she pulls away. ‘Learning more about you is more interesting and intriguing than the last.’

‘Then I hope I stay that way for a long while.’ You said, smirking when you felt her kiss your lips.

[edges-of-night]

I love your headcannons, thank you very much. How do you think fellowship would react if a reader saw two cute animals and said, "Oh, it's you and me!"

Thank you very much! I’m happy to hear you enjoy this little blog ♡ Another animal request, with another anon who asked for this, too – this prompt is super cute, I hope I did it justice!

･ﾟ✧ Aragorn.

You’re gazing at a golden twilight forest with Aragorn when you spot two deer in the distance. Just like you, one rests its head against the other. “Look,” you chuckle quietly, “it’s you and me.” Aragorn smiles as he follows your gaze. When one of the deer nuzzles the other’s ear, he, too, leans in to give you a kiss. “What an uncanny resemblance, my love,” he says and pulls you even closer.

.

･ﾟ✧ Boromir.

Boromir is scandalised when you suggest that the two cats crossing your path are “just like you and me.” He has heard stories of the ruthless Gondorian queen who used felines as her spies and flinches when one of the cats hisses at him. You go to pet it instead, and it softens and purrs – just like Boromir does when you caress him – but you don’t say that part out loud ♡

.

･ﾟ✧ Frodo.

You and Frodo share a cool carafe of strawberry lemonade when two butterflies flutter to the flower field beside you. “Look at those,” you say, “they’re just like you and me.” – “Sharing a delicious drink in the sunlight,” Frodo agrees with a dreamy smile. You keep watching the butterflies until one of them flies right into your face. “It gave you a kiss. I shall do the same,” Frodo says and leans in to peck you ♡

.

･ﾟ✧ Gandalf.

You’re travelling the Shire’s hills in Gandalf’s wooden cart when two sparrows almost fly right into you. You flinch but realise they’re only doing their Spring dance through the morning air – a couple! “They’re like you and me!” you laugh. Gandalf gives you an amused look. “What a subtle way to tell me we’re going to dance at tonight’s party.” – “Indeed,” you grin.

.

･ﾟ✧ Gimli.

Watching the puppies play on the ground makes you soften. When one of them bites another’s ear, you playfully nudge Gimli’s head – he’s been sitting silently next to you until now. “What?” he grunts. “The dogs are doing it,” you argue with a grin. Your Dwarf protests at first about this comparison. The two of you, dogs? “I reckon it is true though,” he muses. “We are both very loyal after all. And we like food. And games. And…”

.

･ﾟ✧ Legolas.

You’re making your way through Mirkwood with Legolas, crossing a tree over a small pond where you make a curious observation: “Look! The toad and dragonfly are sharing a lily pad.” You snort. “They remind me of you and me.” – “Indeed! The sunlight reflects on its wings just like in your eyes, in all the colours of the sky.” You blush and wonder whether or not Legolas knew you meant it the other way around.

.

･ﾟ✧ Merry.

Merry is a bit sensitive about his height, but that doesn’t stop you from comparing the two of you to the horse and the pony you spot in Bree. “Hey! I’ll have you know,” Merry begins, “that ponies are very sturdy and resilient.” – “I know. Just like Hobbits.” – Merry pouts at that comment and crosses his arms, murmuring, “Fine. Just don’t braid my hair like that pony’s.” – “Perhaps…”

.

･ﾟ✧ Pippin.

After a proper picnic, you lie in a meadow with Pippin. Purely by chance you look to your right when two bunnies scamper out of the bushes to eat some grass. You grin and whisper, “Don’t move too fast now, but there’s tiny versions of you and me over there.” – “Tinier than me?” Pippin asks and rolls over to watch the bunnies over your belly. “Aww! They’re mighty cute, but so are we!”

.

･ﾟ✧ Sam.

You watch fondly when two ladybugs crawl over Sam’s hands, dirty from gardening but still gentle to the bugs. You smile when you hear your Hobbit talking quietly: “Right. Let me get up… there you go… over here it’s safer for you. A flower house.” You tilt your head at him. “Moving in together? Just like the two of us, you mean?” – “Hm? What? Sorry, luv, I wasn’t listenin’ there.” – “Oh, nothing…” ♡

[inexplicifics]

A Witcher ficlet for the @domaystic 2025 prompt #4, "the dream", also on AO3:

There’s a little cottage in the woods somewhere. Where doesn’t really matter, except that it’s far enough south that it won’t get too fucking cold in the winter, and far enough north that the plants that won’t grow without winter can still prosper. It’s far enough from town that no one will come to visit without a damn good reason, and close enough to go in for market days.

There’s a garden around the house - an enormous garden, at least a full acre - divided in half; half is for plants used in alchemy, and the other half for herbs and vegetables. There’s a little orchard, too, with a couple of apple trees and a cherry tree and a pear tree. All around the edges of the clearing are berry brambles, half defense and half decadence.

There is a little pen for chickens, with a well-built coop, and a fenced-off field for a milch goat and her current kid. There aren’t any horses; the little cart stored beside the house is made to be hauled by a person. The goat, being a goat, occasionally gets out of its field, which is why the more valuable plants have little wardstones nestled at their bases, sparking with faint Chaos.

Behind the cottage, a safe distance away, there’s a well-built shed with a long stone counter in it, and big windows with cheesecloth covering the openings so there’s ventilation but nothing is going to blow in, and every sort of useful alchemical tool stored on sturdy shelves or lined up on the counter. There’s a shelf specifically for grimoires, and a selection of glass vials that would make a perfumier weep.

Inside the cottage, there’s a kitchen fit for a master cook, with a deep fireplace and a bread oven and another long stone counter, bowls and spoons and pots and pans, an entire cabinet of spices. There’s a sturdy, battered table near the hearth, large enough for two people to sit comfortably with their feet tangled together beneath it, and two comfortable chairs with straw-stuffed cushions on their seats. On the mantelpiece there’s a basket of raw wool and a pair of carding paddles and a drop spindle; on a shelf far enough from the fire to be safe from sparks, there’s a leather roll of woodcarver’s knives and a half-dozen unfinished carvings, mostly of animals, some amusingly obscene.

On the wall beside the shelf there hang four swords, two silver, two steel; one set are northern longswords, their pommels simple rounded things, the other set southern shortswords, their pommels shaped like single gleaming fangs. Their scabbards are old and worn, well cared for but much abused, and there is dust upon the hilts, as though they have not been drawn in many days.

The whole back half of the cottage is taken up by an enormous bed, its curtains thick enough to block out the noonday sun, its mattress extravagantly well stuffed, its sheets worn soft with time and many washings. There are a slightly ridiculous number of pillows heaped atop the mattress. A bronze mirror hangs on the wall beside the bed, with a little shelf of toiletries below it - a beautiful wooden comb, and two straight razors, and a bowl for shaving soap with a badger-hair brush beside it. The frame of the mirror is carved to look like a climbing vine; if someone were to look very closely, they would see very tiny cats and wolves peering out from behind the leaves.

Sometimes at night, when it’s cold and wet and miserable and yet another inn has refused to rent them a room, when yet another alderman has shorted their pay and yet another tavernkeeper has spat in their ale, Aiden will curl up on Lambert’s chest in whatever shelter they’ve contrived, sturdy canvas strung over them between two trees or shallow cave surrounding them, and say, “Tell me about our cottage.”

And Lambert does.

[chiming-bluebells]

LEXI’S REALITIES

⋆ ˚｡⋆ᨳ an ode to life itself.

heavy-eyed and drowsy, filled with mirth, cinnamon, and a certain night-born sweetness; she plants her fig tree with reverence. her lives. her realities. her self portrait.

THE MAZE RUNNER . . . main/home reality !!

where i’m the first and second-to-last girl to join group a. med-jack with a penchant for creating mischief and napping underneath swaying branches; if i’m not in the med-hut playing doctor, then i’m most likely in the kitchen together with frypan acting as his sous chef.

i. the maze runner masterlist

ii. introduction

iii. pin board

FANTASY / TERABITIA . . . main !!

on a cold winter night in 977 A.D., a single star fell from the heavens. it descended gently into the glade of edrasil, pulsing softly like a heart. when the light faded, a newborn lay in its place. a girl with the glow of the cosmos still clinging to her skin. i, the princess of terabitia, had been born.

i. introduction

ii. pin board

iii. the ancient land of terabitia

iv. fragrant balsam & redolence

v. what’s in my bag satchel?

vi. this little life ; ask game

MARAUDERS . . . wip; main !

where i’m a witch; a half-blood descendant of the scandinavian noble wizardry house of NATT (,,NIGHT”). 1970s groovy galore. a seer and a parrot/budgie animagus nicknamed chatty. ravenclaw with an appetite for creating mischief together with the marauders; giving newt the hufflepuff prefect regular headaches.

i. introduction

ii. pin board

MOUNTAIN GETAWAY . . . wip; potential main !

reality where i co-run a ski resort and gift shop together with my best friends (yes, my maze runner people are in the mix. surprise, surprise), and spend my days knitting sweaters and mittens. idyllic little mountain town covered in pine forests; cute little cafés and bookstores in the heart of it all. cold cold winters with lots of snow, woolen scarves, and hot cacao.

i. introduction

ii. pin board

FISHERMAN’S DAUGHTER . . . wip !

the setting: norway, 1920s. think grand fjords, impressive mountains, and quaint villages.

the days on sea are defined by thick wool sweaters, sturdy boots, and mental pep-talks to brace against the cold and harsh weather. nets are cast. the crew works en masse. and seagulls cry overhead.

WAITING ROOM . . . main !

an introvert’s dream; where i live in a (literally) enchanted castle-like cottage. where warm summer rain and thunderstorms are the predominant weather, and sweet treats are in abundance. magical walk-in closet. access to edits of my dr selves. ginger the cat and bark the dog (of course). regular waiting room stuff.

FOR THE FUTURE . . . UNSCRIPTED / HALF-FINISHED REALITIES.

i. better cr ◞ author, artist & future screenwriter. lit. student at oxford. daughter to a world renowned film director and a celebrated novelist. nepo-baby dream and old money lifestyle.

ii. illustrator/band dr ◞ co-creator of GORILLAZ. set in the 90s. secret identity. artist, illustrator, guitarist & writer.

iii. mermaid dr ◞ dozing off in seashell beds and pulling pranks on sailors and pirates.

iv. house of anubis dr ◞ original het huis anubis…..but in swedish.

v. vampire / history dr ◞ experiencing historical events as an immortal blood-sucking being.

vi. traveller dr ◞ a reality solely for travelling around the globe and experiencing the world!

vii. pixie hollow dr ◞ i. have. wings.

[merakiui]

100%

yandere!malleus draconia x (female) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, pregnancy, implied baby-trapping, captivity, very vague and slight implications of codependency, angst note - your mobile phone was at 100% when he took you away. with time, the percentage has diminished. so, too, does your hope for a brighter future.

The windowpane is spattered with rain.

Sitting cozy in a cushioned alcove, you watch the droplets slide down in regal rivulets, consolidating to form single streaks. The scenery beyond the window is bleak and dreary—a despondent landscape of gnarled, leafless trees and scratchy brambles stretching towards a dark, dismal sky. Sometimes you liken the rain to tears, wondering if Mother Nature weeps for all creatures or simply for you and your situation. Rare are the days in which the sun shines upon the craggy stone façade of your captor’s castle, and she is as benevolent as she is cruel.

For all of its sumptuous splendor, generational wealth filling the interior with priceless heirlooms and relics, it is an empty, cold structure. You’ve taken to enveloping yourself in thick furs, if only because these furs do not speak like the monster who so humbly offers his embrace. Though you’ve always considered yourself of strong, sturdy mind, your restraint is thinning. As the days pass and you shed clothing sizes like they’re second skins, you find yourself drawn to warmth.

Which is, ironically enough, contradictory to your current temperament. The windows, frigid like the grave, provide solace you cannot find anywhere else—for it is only tender warmth you receive from him. Had he not been so merciful, perhaps it would have been easier to shrink away and truly loathe him with every ounce of your being.

And yet, in order to escape the warmth which enshrouds, you seek the cold, bitter windows and their rain-weary countenance.

Lying beside you on the pillows, snoozing the afternoon away, a calico cat snores idly. She was a gift from him. You were neglectful of your mental health and thus, as per his guard’s suggestion, he sought to find a cat to cure your loneliness and inspire some form of happiness. You appreciate Silver—genuinely, you do—but the good luck a calico brings is not nearly enough to rescue you from captivity.

She was a stray, a scrawny thing with a limp and one bad eye. You took to her right away, scooping her up in your arms and lovingly naming her Cotton. Similarly, she returned your affections, rubbing her head against your palm and purring pleasantly.

Now she likes to nudge the dome that is your stomach, a great, round thing at only six months. Sometimes you think she’s more motherly than you are. You’ve never been able to care for much of anything. Plants wither under your touch, recipes spoil even when you follow them to the letter, and your electronics crack.

Your phone, more fractured than your very heart, is cold in your hands. The screen is blank; it’s dying. It was at 100% before. Now it’s been reduced to a sad 7%. There is no reception or connection to be had in Briar Valley. Your phone, once so powerful and all-knowing, is but a hollow shell. Useless. A digital photo album will expire at its final hour, and there’s no charger. He offered to use his magic to charge it, but he has never known his own strength and you couldn’t risk losing the treasured memories stored within.

Sometimes you’d return to old message logs and read through them. Now you can’t do that, lest you drain the battery quicker than intended.

“So this is where you’ve retreated,” Malleus notes, poking his head around the corner of a towering bookcase. Concern settles on his features. “Are you well? Sebek tells me you were absent for breakfast.” “I wasn’t hungry,” you mutter, watching his reflection through the stormy glass.

Malleus glances at Cotton and then at your phone as it rests in your clasp. “May I trouble you to eat just a little, if only some fruit?”

“I’m not hungry.” He nods, stalling. “Will you join me for lunch?”

“If I must.”

A small smile lifts his lips. “Are you cold? It can’t be very comfortable to sit there for such a long time. You’ll catch your death.”

“I hope.”

He tuts in disapproval and shrugs out of his cloak, draping it over you even though you’re already wearing a fleece robe. Malleus assesses you with a fleeting once-over.

“It doesn’t hurt to layer. You must understand where I’m coming from, dearest. Extreme temperatures serve to weaken those who are already so fragile.”

“I’m not fragile,” you snap, turning to scowl.

He doesn’t flinch at the heat smoldering in your eyes. “You’re human.”

“How many times did you have to practice that to come to terms with it?”

Malleus’s verdant stare narrows; his frown tightens. “It’s the truth.”

“I didn’t think you’d confront it.”

“I must if I’m to understand…” He exhales through his nose, deflating somewhat. “You’re in fine health. The physician tells me so. There’s no need to worry ourselves with ineffectual what-ifs.”

You turn your gaze on the sprawling forest next, unwilling to discuss the report and its subsequent conclusion: If she remains in good health and follows the recommended diet for an expecting mother, she’ll carry to term.

“My phone is dying, Malleus.”

“Is that not life? Lilia once said so.”

“My pictures… My everything is stored in this phone. It means so much to me.”

“Truly? Is there not a way to make physical copies of these photographs?”

“Unless Briar Valley has the technology to do so…”

“I’m afraid not.”

Malleus takes a daring step closer, endeavoring to comfort you. Cotton cracks her good eye open to peer at him. She hisses low in her throat, a protector standing small against something so tall. Pouting, clearly disheartened, Malleus heeds her warning and chooses to linger just within the bounds she deems acceptable.

“Yeah, that’s what I assumed.”

You heave a dejected sigh, your shoulders drooping. Seeking to cleanse your visual palate, you power the device on. 5% blinks back at you, an insignificant number sitting in a corner that you normally wouldn’t have paid much mind to. Now it weighs heavy, a reminder that the end is encroaching.

“I would’ve liked to keep these photos forever,” you whisper, mostly to yourself. Malleus hums his acknowledgement; you think he knows the feeling—or some variant of it, at least. “If I lose these pictures…”

“Do you not have memories?”

“I do, but it isn’t the same. One day I’ll grow old and my memory will be frail. I won’t remember nearly as much as I do now. Those memories will become ghosts and eventually I’ll—”

“You will not.” There’s a finality to the declaration—you won’t leave me; you won’t drain or die like this mobile device.

You rest your head against the window. The cool glass soothes your soul. I wonder what the others are up to right now… You place your hand upon your belly. I wonder if they’d have any good ideas for a name. I’m terrible at naming things. I can never pick something that feels right.

“I’d like to have a funeral for my phone.”

But maybe there is no right thing.

“Of course,” he agrees, perfectly serious. You will have that phone funeral, just as you will have every other request you make—however patently absurd it may seem. (Every other request except for freedom, of course.) “Materials may not have the same worth as a loved one, but the experiences they provide are just as valuable. Surely, no? Otherwise I would not feel so troubled when Roaring Drago…” Pausing to search for the placeholder, Malleus glances at your phone. “Perhaps there is no greater tragedy than existence itself.”

“It’s the most bittersweet burden,” you echo, scrolling through each picture with wistful remembrance. “But then I’d rather know the fleeting frivolity of life than endure hundreds of years of solitude. It makes me appreciate everything that much more.”

You stop at a picture of you and Malleus, a photo snapped by Lilia himself. Part of you often wonders why he chose you—why he adores you to such a degree when you, like everyone else, will inevitably perish. But therein lies the allure: That which is unobtainable is even more tempting. And because there is only one of you, a human destined to one day return to her home world, your very presence is more fleeting than a dream.

To Malleus, who has always dreamt, fond and fervent, of the unobtainable mundanity of normal life, you are a sweet, tangible blessing.

“Horns, do you think I’ll ever get another chance to have my phone at 100%?”

He softens under the nickname. It means more to him than his lofty station. “Would you like to know that joy?”

“It would be nice, yes, but then I’d just get sad when it reaches zero. I guess I should be grateful it’s stayed alive for this long. Sorry, it’s a stupid question. Just forget it.”

“Nonsense. There is no such thing.” He reaches to touch your cheek, but Cotton hisses again and so he refrains. She stands on unsteady legs and climbs into your lap, perching awkwardly in spite of your rounded belly. The sight draws a deep chuckle from him. “Your feline friend is quite taken with you.”

“It’s probably because I’m warm. She likes my belly a lot.”

“As do I.”

You roll your eyes.

“Your beauty is most beguiling. There’s a certain radiance to your person. It’s very charming. Do you not agree?”

“Flattery will get you nowhere—definitely not in Cotton’s good graces.”

“I’m simply voicing a fact.”

Your hand slides down from your stomach to pat Cotton. She purrs under your touch, and a weak approximation of a smile tugs at your lips. Amidst all of this sorrow, she is a glimmer of hope. In a way, she’s like you—a stray without a place in this world, snatched from the cobbles she once wandered and confined in a cage of royal opulence. Your similarities are striking, if not immensely devastating.

“Fact or not, I don’t care if I look pretty. It means nothing to me.”

“To be impartial towards appearances… Quite a noble mindset.”

I never once thought you were scary or strange, Horns. Even now.

You look at your phone once more. 3% flickers back.

You’re just lost, and in being lost you found me. But I was also lost. I never even belonged in this world to begin with…

“I’m not going to be a good mother.”

“You can’t know that.” 

“I can’t even take care of myself.”

“I shall care for you when you find yourself unable to.”

“I’d rather you not.”

With Cotton having curled on your lap, slumbering peacefully, Malleus chances to close the gap. His broad frame leans to make up for the difference in height, and he runs cold fingers along your cheek. He brushes away the tears you weren’t even aware you were shedding.

You grip your phone in shaky hands, your shoulders hunched. There’s a piercing ache in your chest, pain stabbing all the way through to your heart. It persists when you power it off, unable to delight in pictorial reminiscence for a moment longer. Silent like death, you sob; seismic dismay shudders through you in waves. Distantly, in a forgotten corner of your brain, you suspect this may be the last time you’ll ever use your phone. The last time you’ll ever look upon the photos you’ve amassed. Photos of friends, class notes, food. Photos snapped by mistake, blurry and unfocused. Photos taken when Ace and Grim stole your phone. Precious memories are preserved within the permanence of a photo album—an album that only remains everlasting so long as you keep your phone charged.

Your final shred of the world beyond Briar Valley vanishes in a blip, leaving you with the dark void that is an empty screen. Brutal is the agony, contorting your face, and you bawl like you’ve just witnessed the end of a life.

In a way, you have. You held it in the palm of your hands, and you watched it wither. Watched the percentages drop through numbers, double digits easing into singles. Watched every week and tried to spare your beloved phone of its fate. Watched and attempted to stall the impossible—a foolish undertaking. This was inevitable; you knew this, and yet you’re still mourning.

Perhaps that is the most tragic facet of existence. From the moment one is born, they are mourning. Humans mourn losing time—of allowing it to slip through their fingers when they should have put it to better use. Humans mourn aging even though it is celebrated yearly. Humans mourn for things that are inhuman—for robots stuck in an endless cycle of some menial task while gears grow rusted and systems shut down or trapped on a distant planet, never to return home. For the fruit that falls from trees and rots, trampled and forgotten. For the endings, good and bad, of novels. For art that will never see the light of day because it has been destroyed or stolen or silenced. For the friends they meet, have met, and will meet.

You mourn because you know it’s impending, and you spend all of your life coming to terms with it, only to break down when it finally happens because the truth of the matter is that you will never be prepared no matter how much you prepare yourself. You mourn because you’re a complex human with complex emotions, surviving in a complex world with millions of intricacies, and the only way to weather misery is to mourn.

To the little life cradled in your womb, who knows not of these difficulties yet, they cannot fathom the anguish that accompanies loss. And right now that is all you can hope for—a life without loss.

But that is impossible because loss is true to everyone’s experience. It is part of existence, and existence is inescapable.

Malleus does not gather you in his arms. He will do so if you ask, and he knows you want to ask, which is precisely why he waits. But you’re stubborn and you refuse to give in to the temptation, let alone grant him the satisfaction. It doesn’t offend him.

The windowpane is spattered with rain. So, too, is your phone, spotted with tears and snot.

Briefly, you wonder if you still look beautiful to Malleus.

Even at your ugliest, he would still cherish you. Desperately, as if he might lose you.

Knowing this does not soften the gutting grief.

[heliosunny]

Yandere!DemonKing Oikawa Tooru x Reader

You had no idea how you ended up here. One moment, you were booting up that new fantasy RPG your friend had gifted you: "Defeat the Demon King and Save the World!" and the next, you were blinking under the dim torchlight of a cold, damp dungeon.

Your head throbbed as you sat up, chains clinking around your wrists. The last thing you remembered was the game’s title screen flashing before your vision swallowed you whole. 

"HEY! YOU THERE!"

You turned your head to see a tall, lean figure stepping into the flickering light.

You recognized him instantly—not just from the game’s lore, but from the way he carried himself like the world was his personal stage. The self-proclaimed demon king, a man who ruled with a velvet glove hiding an iron fist.

"You’re… Oikawa Tooru."

His smirk widened. "Oh? You know my name? How delightful." He crouched down in front of you, tilting his head. "And yet, you don’t seem the least bit afraid. Most people tremble just hearing it."

You were afraid. Terrified, even—but you’d be damned if you let him see it.

Oikawa’s fingers brushed your chin, forcing your gaze up. "What’s even more interesting is that my ability doesn’t work on you." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Do you know how rare that is?"

You didn’t answer. You had no idea what he was talking about.

He chuckled, standing up and dusting off his immaculate coat. "No matter. I’ll have plenty of time to figure you out." His smile turned sharp. "Consider yourself my new toy!"

With that, he turned on his heel and left, the dungeon door slamming shut behind him.

You slumped against the wall, heart pounding.

What the hell have I gotten myself into?

----

Every time Oikawa summoned you for his "game" your body tensed with instinctive dread.

The first time, he had given you a ten-second head start before chasing you through the twisted, thorn-laced forests of his domain.

The second time, he had blindfolded you and left you in the middle of a ravine, whispering in your ear, "Run fast. I love the thrill of the chase."

And now, for the third time, you were exhausted, your legs trembling as you pressed yourself against the gnarled roots of an ancient tree, trying to quiet your ragged breaths.

Somewhere in the shadows, Oikawa’s voice sang out, taunting.

"Come now, darling~ You can’t hide forever."

The last two times, you had barely escaped—more out of sheer luck than skill. Oikawa was toying with you, drawing out the hunt like a cat playing with a mouse.

A twig snapped nearby.

Your heart stopped.

Then—a hand clamped over your mouth.

"Stop moving. He’ll hear you."

Iwaizumi Hajime - Oikawa’s right-hand man, the only demon in this hellish court who didn’t seem to revel in your suffering.

You stilled, and Iwaizumi slowly released you. His sharp eyes scanned the trees before he jerked his chin toward a hidden path. "This way. Now."

You didn’t hesitate.

His quarters were sparse compared to Oikawa’s lavish chambers—practical, with weapons lining the walls and a sturdy wooden table covered in maps.

Iwaizumi pushed you onto a stool before grabbing a cloth and a vial of dark liquid. Without a word, he began cleaning the cuts along your arms.

"You’re lucky," he muttered. "He’s getting bored of just hunting you. Next time, he might actually try to kill you."

You winced as the antiseptic stung. "Why are you helping me?"

"Because someone in this damned court should have a shred of decency."

You stared at him.

He sighed, running a hand through his spiked hair. "Look. that man’s… different. He’s always been like this—obsessed with things that amuse him, things that challenge him. And right now, that’s you."

"So what do I do?"

Iwaizumi met your gaze. "Survive."

When he returned you to your chamber, a slightly upgraded cell with an actual bed, you collapsed onto the thin mattress, exhaustion dragging you under.

But as you drifted off, one thought burned in your mind:

Oikawa wants a game? Fine.

But this time, I’ll play to win.

You woke to the weight of an arm draped over your waist.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty~ Did you dream of me?"

You stiffened, but before you could react, he rolled you onto your back.

"I was thinking," he mused, tracing a finger down your cheek, "that today’s game should be a little more… exciting."

A snap of his fingers, and the chamber doors burst open.

A monstrous, lion-like beast prowled inside—muscles coiled beneath its dark fur, fangs glistening with drool. Its glowing eyes locked onto you like prey.

"Meet my pet, Kuro. He hasn’t eaten yet."

Kuro snarled, crouching low—ready to pounce. As Kuro lunged, you moved, ducking under his massive paws and grabbing the first thing your fingers brushed against.

Oikawa’s wrist.

You yanked.

There was a pop as his arm dislocated at the shoulder, his hand tearing free from his sleeve.

For a single, stunned second, Oikawa blinked at his own severed limb.

"HAH?!"

You hurled his still-twitching hand straight into Kuro’s open jaws.

The beast chomped down instinctively. Kuro’s ears twitched. His massive head tilted. Then, slowly, he licked his chops and let out a low, rumbling purr, nuzzling against your leg like an overgrown housecat.

Oikawa stared.

You stared back.

Then, to your horror, his lips curled into the most terrifyingly delighted smile you’d ever seen.

"You just stole my demon beast. How rude~"

You braced for retaliation—but instead, Oikawa just laughed, flexing his already-regenerating fingers as his arm stitched itself back together.

"I’ll let it slide this time," he mused, stepping closer. "But next time" His fingers brushed your throat. "I won’t be so forgiving."

Kuro licked your face.

You groaned.

What have I gotten myself into?

----

The castle was eerily quiet when you slipped out.

Oikawa’s absence was a stroke of luck.

But you didn’t stop to question it.

You half-expected Kuro to come bounding after you, or worse—Oikawa himself, materializing from the darkness with that infuriating smirk.

But nothing happened.

By the time you reached the human village, your legs ached and your breath came in ragged gasps. The wooden gates creaked open, and wary eyes studied you before recognition flickered in their gaze.

A woman with sun-worn skin and calloused hands stepped forward. "You’re the one the demon king’s been hunting, aren’t you?"

"Word travels fast. Don’t worry—we don’t turn away strays here."

The village was small but nothing like the cold, gilded halls of Oikawa’s domain. People moved, trading goods, sharpening blades, murmuring about the growing threat of the Demon King’s forces.

A weathered hunter handed you a rolled parchment. "You’ve got fire in you if you survived him. Might as well put it to use."

The commission was simple: Clear the nearby ruins of shadowbeasts.

As night fell, you sat by the hearth, listening to stories of this world—the wars, the lost heroes, the whispers of a prophecy.

"They say the Demon King can’t be killed by just anyone," an old man muttered, swirling his drink. "Only someone from another world can end him."

The days in the human village had been strangely peaceful. You spent your time honing your newfound abilities, testing the limits of your strength, speed, and even a flicker of magic you hadn’t realized you possessed. The villagers watched in awe as you felled shadowbeasts.

Leveling up.

The thought almost made you laugh. This wasn’t a game anymore. This was survival.

"You’re a natural," the village hunter remarked one evening, tossing you a freshly forged dagger. "Ever think about joining a proper adventurer’s guild?"

You caught the blade, spinning it between your fingers. "Maybe. But I’ve got other things to deal with first."

Whispers had been spreading—of a legendary Hero’s party marching toward the Demon King’s domain, armed with sacred relics and sworn to end Oikawa’s reign.

Finally. A real chance to see someone stand against him.

That morning, you volunteered to gather rare herbs from the forest’s edge, a task that conveniently brought you closer to the main road where the Hero’s party was said to pass.

BOOM.

The ground trembled. Birds scattered from the trees in a flurry of wings. Your head snapped toward the horizon, where the distant silhouette of Oikawa’s castle stood against the sky.

A second thunderous crash echoed, this time followed by a flash of blinding light—magic.

"What the hell…?" 

The Hero’s party. They must have arrived early.

And they were attacking.

You ran to witness the scene.

The closer you got, the louder the sounds of battle became—clashing steel, shouted spells, the occasional roar of something monstrous.

Kuro?

You burst into a clearing just in time to see the castle’s outer walls crumbling, dust and debris raining down. A group of warriors stood at the gates—four figures.

"My, my~ You came all this way just to die?"

A tall swordsman with a blazing golden aura—stepped forward, his blade pointed at Oikawa’s throat. "Your reign ends today, demon."

"Oh, I adore when they say that."

Then his gaze locked onto you.

"Ah. There you are."

He knew you were watching.

The world seemed to slow as Oikawa raised a single hand, his fingers curling with dark intent. The air itself warped around him. A pulse of black energy erupted from his palm, swallowing the Hero’s party whole.

That was his worst spell? And he’d cast it like it was nothing.

Oikawa sighed, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeve. "Honestly, I expected more from the so-called Hero." His gaze slid to you, amusement dancing in his eyes. "But I suppose I have you to thank for the real entertainment."

Vines burst from the earth, coiling around your limbs before you could react. They dragged you forward, thorns biting into your skin as you were hauled toward him.

Iwaizumi stood silently at his side. Kuro whined low in his throat, recognizing you, but a single glance from Oikawa had the beast flattening its ears and staying put.

"Did you miss me?" Oikawa purred, tilting your chin up with a clawed finger. "Or did you really think I wouldn’t notice you sneaking off?"

You gritted your teeth. "I wasn’t sneaking. I left."

"Oh? And yet, here you are again." His grip shifted, fingers wrapping around your throat "Did you enjoy your little rebellion? Playing hero with the villagers? Watching those fools march to their deaths?"

"At least they tried to stop you."

"And you? What will you try, I wonder?"

You spat in his face.

He wiped his cheek with his sleeve, his smile never fading. "How adorable."

You summoned the first spell that came to mind—a weak spark of fire, barely more than an ember—and hurled it at him.

He flicked it away like a gnat.

"Did you really think that would work?" His grip tightened, cutting off your air for one terrifying second before releasing you just as quickly.

"Tonight, you’ll learn what happens to naughty little runaways."

Then he turned, snapping his fingers. The vines dragged you after him as he strode back toward the castle, Iwaizumi falling into step beside him. Kuro whined again, padding after you, but Oikawa didn’t so much as glance back.

---

The grand hall of Oikawa’s castle was steeped in shadow, the air thick with the weight of whispered strategies and the clink of goblets. The Demon King lounged on his throne, one leg draped carelessly over the armrest, as his most fearsome subordinates debated border skirmishes in hushed, venomous tones.

Iwaizumi stood at his right, arms crossed.

"AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH—!"

The doors burst open with a crash.

Every head in the room snapped toward the sound, weapons drawn in an instant—only to freeze at the sight before them.

You. Dripping wet. Barefoot. Wrapped in nothing but a hastily clutched bath towel.

"THERE’S A GIANT FUCKING CENTIPEDE IN THE BATHS!" you shrieked, pointing behind you with a trembling hand.

"Pfft—"

Oikawa dissolved into laughter, his shoulders shaking as he nearly toppled off his throne. "Oh my god—" he wheezed, wiping a tear from his eye. "This is the best day of my life."

The rest of the demons just stared. Some looked horrified. Others looked like they were seriously reconsidering their life choices.

Iwaizumi pinched the bridge of his nose. "You’ve got to be kidding me."

A skittering, chittering noise echoed from the hallway.

Your face went pale. "IT’S COMING—"

The doors exploded inward as a monstrous, segmented horror—easily the size of a horse—surged into the room, mandibles clicking, dozens of legs scuttling across the marble floor.

Oikawa, still grinning, lazily lifted a hand.

"Honestly, darling, you bring the weirdest things home."

A blade of pure shadow sliced through the air—and the centipede popped like an overripe grape, ichor splattering across the floor in a grotesque arc.

You stood there, towel still clutched to your chest, breathing hard.

Oikawa sighed dreamily. "I adore you."

The bath water had long gone cold by the time you finally dragged yourself out, your muscles still tense from the earlier ordeal. The servants had left a tray of food outside your door—roasted meat, warm bread, a goblet of spiced wine—but they refused to meet your eyes as they scurried away. Their fear was palpable.

You ate in silence, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on you. The bed looked like salvation—soft furs, plush pillows—and you nearly collapsed into it, ready to let sleep claim you.

Then the door creaked open.

"Tired?"

You didn’t even bother sitting up as he stepped inside.

"What do you want?" you muttered into the pillows.

He tsked, circling the bed like a predator. "So rude. After I saved you from that dreadful little pest?"

You scoffed. "You laughed."

"Because it was hilarious." He perched on the edge of the bed, his fingers trailing along the curve of your shoulder. "But now, I think it’s time for us to have a proper chat."

"Let’s start simple," he mused. "Your name."

You turned your head just enough to glare at him. "You don’t know it?"

"I could rip it from your mind if I wanted. But where’s the fun in that?"

Reluctantly, you gave in.

He hummed, testing the syllables on his tongue like a fine wine. "Hm. It suits you."

"Now, about that punishment I promised you..."

"You did think I’d forget, didn’t you?" 

You tried to twist away, but he was faster, he flipped you onto your back, pinning you beneath him.

"Oikawa—"

"Ah-ah." He tutted, leaning down until his lips brushed your ear. "No more games tonight."

Then his teeth sank into your shoulder.

You gasped, pain flaring hot and sharp as he bit down before pulling back with a satisfied smirk.

"There." He licked the blood from his lips. "Now you’ll remember who you belong to."

And with that, he was gone—leaving you with the sting of his mark.

The bite mark on your shoulder burned every time you even thought of defying Oikawa. A cruel little failsafe—his way of ensuring you couldn’t act against him without consequence.

But you weren’t about to let that stop you.

If you couldn’t fight him directly, you’d find another way.

Rumors whispered through the castle halls—of something powerful hidden deep beneath the dungeons, locked away where even Oikawa’s most trusted demons dared not go.

You waited until the dead of night, when the torches burned low and the guards were sluggish with boredom. You stole the key and soon you were slipping down the winding stone stairs, the air growing colder with every step.

Sobbing.

That… wasn’t what you expected.

At the end of the corridor, curled in the farthest cell, was a child.

A small demon boy with messy hair and a single, jagged horn. His eyes snapped to you the moment you stepped into view.

"Who… who are you?" 

You hesitated. "I could ask you the same thing."

He shrank back slightly. "Kageyama Tobio."

Your grip tightened on the key.

"Do you want to get out of here?"

You hadn’t expected what happened next.

The moment the cell door creaked open, Kageyama changed.

His small frame twisted, bones cracking, shadowy energy erupting around him as he grew—taller, broader, until a monstrous, horned demon loomed over you, his once-childish face now sharp with fury.

His voice was a roar, shaking the dungeon walls.

You barely had time to dive out of the way before Kageyama slammed through the stone ceiling, debris raining down as he surged upward—toward the castle.

The entire fortress shook as Kageyama tore through corridors. Demons scrambled, alarms blared, and somewhere in the distance, you heard Oikawa’s voice—laughing.

"Oh? Tobio-chan decided to join the party?"

It took him nearly an hour to subdue Kageyama.

When he landed in front of you, his coat was singed, his hair disheveled, but his grin was vicious.

"Did you miss me that much? You could’ve just asked for my attention."

You glared. "I was trying to prank you, not unleash a demonic disaster."

"Even better." His thumb brushed your lip. "But next time? Ask me first."

The bite mark on your shoulder burned in warning.

Note to self: No more freeing mysterious dungeon children.

Oikawa Tooru—no, just Tooru now, as he’d so imperiously insisted—had made one thing very clear:

“No more trouble, darling.”

You ignored him.

Because while he may have forbidden you from directly undermining him, he never said anything about… research.

The Demon Kingdom was vast, its citizens varied—lesser demons, shadowbeasts, even the occasional cursed spirit lurking in alleyways. And yet, one thing united them all:

Their baffling obsession with Oikawa Tooru.

You’d seen it before—the way servants tripped over themselves to please him, the way warriors preened under his attention, the way even the most fearsome demons turned into blushing messes with a single smirk from him.

But why?

And more importantly—how could you use it against him?

“Excuse me,” you said, cornering a flustered imp in the kitchens. “On a scale of ‘terrified’ to ‘would die for him,’ how would you rate your loyalty to Lord Oikawa?”

The imp squeaked. “W-Would die isn’t high enough—”

Noted.

You moved on.

A towering, battle-scarred demon general? “His laugh haunts my dreams. In a good way.”

A shy librarian demon with too many eyes? “H-His hands are so elegant…”

Even Kuro, when you bribed him with extra meat: “He scratches behind my ears just right.”

By sundown, your chamber was a disaster of scattered notes, hastily scribbled rankings, and one very incriminating pie chart titled:

“Reasons People Are Down Bad for Oikawa Tooru (And How To Exploit It).”

You didn’t notice the door creak open.

You definitely didn’t notice the two figures standing in the doorway, one visibly exasperated, the other…

“Oh my,” Oikawa purred, plucking a sheet off the floor. “Is this a ranking of how attractive my subjects find my smile?”

Your head snapped up.

Oikawa was already flipping through your notes, his grin widening with every page. “’Voice like melted sin’? ‘Hair so soft it’s unfair’? Darling.” He pressed a hand to his chest. “I’m flattered.”

“It’s not a compliment. It’s data.”

“Data you collected because…?”

“Because I’m figuring out how to ruin you”

Oikawa burst out laughing. “I adore you.” He tossed the papers back onto the bed. “By all means, keep going. I’d love to see what you do with this.”

And with that, he strolled out—leaving you surrounded by evidence of his own infuriating charm.

That night, you collapsed onto the bed, exhausted, papers strewn around you.

Somewhere in the mess was the real answer—the key to unraveling him.

You just had to find it.

The knock startled you awake—three sharp raps against your chamber door. You groaned, shoving aside the mountain of research notes you’d fallen asleep on, and stumbled to open it.

A demon you’d never seen before stood there, his armor scuffed and his single yellow eye gleaming in the dim torchlight.

“Kageyama Tobio requests your presence” 

You blinked. “…He’s locked up.”

The demon shrugged. “And yet, he asked for you.”

Curiosity won out.

Kageyama looked even worse than before—pale, his horn cracked, chains thicker than last time digging into his wrists. But his eyes burned with an intensity that made you pause.

“You’re the one from another world” 

���How do you know that?”

“That didn't matter.” His gaze flickered to the guard, who stepped outside, leaving you alone. “There’s a way to kill Oikawa Tooru. And a way for you to go home.”

“True love’s blade,” he continued. “The Namidagiri—the Sword of Tears. It lies at the bottom of Lake Akuyami, in the Valley of Lament. Stab him through the heart with it, and he dies.”

You frowned. “That sounds like a fairy tale.”

“It’s the only thing that can kill a demon king,” Kageyama insisted. “And you—you’re the only one who can wield it. Because you don’t belong here.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I loathe him.”

You left the dungeon in a daze.

It’s just a game.

That’s what you told yourself.

If I kill him, I go home. And he’ll just respawn. No consequences.

So why did your chest ache at the thought?

Your research came in handy.

Lake Akuyami was a cursed place, said to drown anyone who tried to swim in it. But according to your notes, Oikawa had hated it since childhood.

“Too many sad memories” a servant had scribbled in the margins of an old ledger.

Weakness confirmed.

Now, you just had to find the damn sword.

The journey took three days.

The lake was exactly as described—a mirror-smooth obsidian void, nestled between jagged cliffs.

You took a deep breath and dove in.

The water was cold. Not just temperature-cold, but soul-cold, like it was leaching the warmth from your very bones. You swam deeper.

There.

Embedded in the lakebed, glowing faintly, was a blade of pure silver.

You grabbed it.

Your fingers closed around the hilt of the Namidagiri—and the moment you pulled, the lake itself seemed to recoil.

The blade snapped in half.

You barely had time to register the broken shard in your hand before the lake’s fury erupted—currents twisting like enraged serpents, dragging you toward the depths. You kicked wildly, lungs burning, until you breached the surface, gasping.

Clutched in your grip was only the top half of the legendary sword, its edge still gleaming with an eerie silver light. The rest remained lodged in the lakebed.

"Damn it" 

But half a blade was better than none.

You returned to the castle, the fractured Namidagiri hidden beneath your cloak.

Kageyama’s words haunted you.

"Stab him through the heart."

But how? Oikawa was always on guard.

So you played the part he wanted.

The next few days, you doted on him like a lovesick fool.

You brought him his favorite wine.

You laughed at his jokes (even the terrible ones).

You let him drape himself over you like a spoiled cat, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin as he murmured about how adorable you were.

Iwaizumi watched you with narrowed eyes, clearly suspicious, but Oikawa?

Oikawa was delighted.

You had to wait for the perfect moment.

That night, as you lay beside him in the dim candlelight, his breathing slow and even, you finally let yourself think it:

What if this isn’t just a game?

What if Oikawa didn’t respawn?

What if killing him meant he was just… gone?

"You’re thinking too loud" Oikawa murmured, his voice thick with sleep. His arm curled around your waist, pulling you closer. "Whatever it is… it can wait until morning."

"Right..."

The moment the broken Namidagiri pierced the air toward Oikawa’s heart—his hand snapped up, catching the blade just before it could strike true.

Blood dripped between his fingers, dark and shimmering like liquid shadow.

"You really thought that would work?"

Oikawa tilted his head, studying you with something between amusement and hurt. "After everything I’ve given you. After all the fun we’ve had. You’d really try to kill me?"

"It’s the only way home." You answered truthfully.

His grip on the blade tightened, his blood staining the sheets. "Home?" A bitter laugh. "You think that’s what this is about?"

"Or is it that you’ve already got someone else in your heart?" His voice dropped to a whisper. "Someone you’d rather belong to?"

You recoiled. "What? No—"

"Or maybe," he continued, advancing on you, "you just hate the idea of being mine so much that you’d rather die than stay."

The bite mark on your shoulder burned, again.

You gasped, but before you could react, Oikawa was on you—pinning you down, his free hand tearing at your clothes.

"Fine," he growled. "If you need a reminder of who you belong to, I’ll carve it into your skin myself—"

Your fingers closed around the other half of the Namidagiri—the shard that had flown from your grip moments ago—and with a desperate cry, you plunged it into his chest.

Oikawa staggered back, staring down at the blade buried to the hilt in his heart.

"...Hah."

A trickle of blood spilled from his lips.

His knees hit the floor.

The world shattered.

You woke up.

The familiar glow of your computer screen greeted you with the word "VICTORY" flashing.

You were home.

A shaky laugh escaped you as you slumped back in your chair, running a hand through your hair. It had worked. You’d won.

The mark on your shoulder was gone.

Then—

A crash from the kitchen.

Your apartment was supposed to be empty.

Heart pounding, you grabbed the nearest weapon (a half-empty water bottle) and crept toward the noise.

The fridge door was open.

A tall, familiar figure stood in front of it, humming as he rummaged through your snacks.

No fucking way.

He turned, holding up a yogurt cup with a smirk.

"You really need to stock better desserts."

Your grip on the water bottle tightened.

"Motherf—"

[fantasytrees]

The Original Cat Tree that looks like a Tree

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[hopethishelpsdotcom]

[frost-queen]

Girl behind the glass window (Reader x Human!Damon Salvatore)

Requested by anon Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @alex–awesome–22, @ellie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve , @queen-of-books , @glimmering-darling-dolly , @denkisclown , @wildieflower , @meyocoko , @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl , @m-rae23 , @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr , @swampything07, @melsunshine , @panhoeofmanyfandoms , @venomsvl , @the-uncoordinated-house-cat , @rosecentury , @imagines-by-her, @evilcr0ne , @vviolynn , @niktwazny303 , @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 , @markive-m,

“Catch.” – Stefan called out, throwing the ball over to Katherine. Hoisting up her skirt, she took a run for it, catching the ball before it landed on the ground. Nearly making her loose her balance. Stefan flinched, ready to catch her if she would fall. Katherine giggling loud. She moved the ball down with a mischievous laugh. – “I bet you won’t catch this.” – she said throwing the ball away. Damon had his eyes on the ball, seeing it immediately fly over his head.

Jogging after it in an attempt to catch it before he saw it get tossed over the hedge. It made him slow down, panting brief. – “Wonderful.” – he gestured out of breath. Katherine came joining Stefan’s side. – “Well go on. Fetch it.” – she ordered with a motion of her hand. 

Damon looked over his shoulder to her. – “You serious?” – he asked to be sure since she was the one who threw the ball over the hedge. Katherine hummed loud with a nod of her head. Damon glanced over to his brother, who only shrugged his shoulders to him. Sighing loud, he started to make his way to the hedges.

“Do hurry up!” – Katherine called out, waving him goodbye. That made Damon sigh again, grabbing the hedge to climb over it. Grabbing onto greenery and sturdy branches to get across. Annoyed he puffed the leaves out of his face as they had come really close. With a few good pulls, was he at the top.

Letting himself roll over the hedge, disappearing out of sight. Losing his balance and grip, he tumbled down. Landing with a loud thud on his back. Making him groan chucklingly out of pain. Getting up to his feet, he brushed his pants clean. Removing all traces of ground and hedge. His gaze fell on the enormous garden.

Trees perfectly cut into shape. Up a head a fountain. Looking around for the ball, he went over to the fountain. Scooping a hand in to splash some water in his face. Patting his wet hand in his neck, he caught something in the corner of his eye. Up by the window from the mansion a few yards away. He saw the last of a curtain ripple, hinting someone must have been watching a second earlier.

It made Damon swallow nervously. Knowing very well he was trespassing. Backing away from the fountain, he brought his gaze down again. Searching low for the ball. Eyes not missing a thing. With his hand, he pushed into one of the trees, to see if the ball wasn’t caught in it. – “Where are you?” – he whispered out desperate.

Knowing each second longer spend here, was the more opportunity for the owner to come out and hold a riffle up to him. He had drifted away from the hedge he had crawled over. Knowing Katherine was waiting impatiently. Damon was close to just give up and return before he would get shot, when he heard knocking. Knocking on a glass window that caught his attention.

It was subtle. Not the loud thumping kind that would alarm him to take a run for it. More a soothing knock to get his attention. Damon turned around, facing the mansion. Furrowing his brows, he saw nothing but curtains closed behind the only available window in sight. Looking away, he scratched his head confused.

There it was again. Gentle knocks to catch his attention. He immediately turned around, seeing the last of the curtains ruffle. With a quizzable brow, he went over. Keeping himself low and out of sight. He neared the window in crouched position. Kneeling down under it as his gaze fell on the bush beneath the window.

There in its full glory was the ball that got tossed over. Intrigued, picked Damon the ball up. Someone clearly must have called his attention over to this place for him to find the ball. But who? Moving his gaze up, Damon got startled, seeing a pair of curious eyes peek through the curtains.

His reaction made the curtains move shut. Probably having scared the poor person. – “No, no…” – Damon whispered waving his hands across as he didn’t mean to startle them. He waited for the person to appear once more. When they didn’t, dared Damon to gently knock on the window at his side.

Two gentle knocks to get their attention. He waited a few more seconds before the curtain got moved aside. Just a bit for him to make out half a face. A sweet face. Clearly a girl. Damon showed you his sweetest smile, wanting you to reveal more of you. His smile made you smile bashful back, looking shyly down. Damon waved at you, hoping you’d become more comfortable with him.

You moved the curtains more aside, revealing you fully to him. You sat by the window, waving shyly back at him. Damon pointed at the ball under his armpit, mouthing a ‘thank you’ to you. You moved your hand to your chest. With one nod, you gestured to him it was alright. Damon curled up a smile, unable to look away from you.

“Do you want to play along?” – he asked, seeing how you furrowed your brows to focus on his wording through the glass. His words deafened out. As a response, you shook your head saddened. Damon’s gaze widened with shock as he saw you flinch. Look clearly to your side. Then your hands motioning for him to get away before the curtains got pulled closed.

Damon got up, stumbling back as he knew he’d be discovered if he’d stay. He started running back to the hedge. Throwing the ball over it, hearing his brother complain in pain. Probably the ball had hit his head. Followed by Katherine’s laughing. Damon grabbed onto the hedge, pulling himself up to get over. Swinging his leg over it, he lowered himself on the other side.

Jumping the last height down. – “Took you long enough.” – Katherine said unamused, faking a yawn. – “Couldn’t find it.” – Damon replied picking up the ball. The three of them started to move away from the hedge, more into Katherine’s garden. Damon tossed the ball to his brother. – “Do you know who lives over there?” – he asked Katherine curiously.

“Some rich grumpy man. I believe his name is Y/l/n.” – Katherine answered plainly catching the ball from Stefan. Katherine tossed the ball back to Damon. – “Does… does he have a daughter?” – Damon then asked, having caught the ball. Katherine shrugged her shoulders. – “If he did, I have never seen her.” – was her simple response. Damon nodded thoughtfully, clearly with his head elsewhere.

“Why do you ask?” – Katherine said curious. – “Nothing for.” – Damon replied, tossing the ball over to Stefan once more. – “Did you run into him?” – Stefan questioned. – “No luckily I didn’t.” – Damon responded. Stefan threw the ball back at Damon as he did no effort to catching it. Simply letting it drop to the ground as he started moving. – “I’m done playing.” – he said walking off. Katherine and Stefan looking confused at each other.

You narrowed your eyes confused, seeing a ball fly over the hedge. Not a moment later the same boy from yesterday climbing over the hedge. This time the ball was out in the open. Very obvious to see. The boy landed on his feet, looking anxiously around. He then jogged over to the ball, picking it up. You expected him to just go back over the hedge, when he came jogging over to the window you sat the day before.

Knowing you weren’t sitting there anymore, you knocked loudly on the glass. He froze, gaze towards your knocks. You waved shyly at him seeing a smile curl up. He came jogging over to the window you sat by. Coming to sit on his knees in the grass. He held his hand up, waving at you. He moved his hand down to his chest. – “I’m Damon.”  - he said loud, exaggerating in his words. He then gestured to you.

Chuckling shyly at his reaction, you pressed your hand on your chest. – “Y/n!” – you responded. Damon furrowed his brows, trying to distinguish your words. – “Y/n!” – you repeated, spelling your name onto the glass. Letter per letter for him to know. – “Y/n?” – he asked to be certain as you could see your name form on his lips. Nodding excitingly that he got it right.

“Can you come out?” – Damon asked with gestures. For a moment, you were happy. Chest moving forwards in joy till your joy faltered. Being reminded of your restrictions once more. Shoulders slouching down, you shook your head pitiful. – “Can you open the window?” – Damon asked. – “I’ll come in.” – he pointed at the glass, making you widen your eyes frantically. Shaking your head, you waved your hands across. – “Is… is your father home?” – Damon said curious.

He saw you look over your shoulder, gazing into the distance, before looking back at him with a nod. Damon pressed his hands against the glass with a sorrowful expression. You held a finger up for him to wait. He watched you leave, returning with a notebook. Sitting back down, you started scribbling on the paper. It was better than shouting against the glass. You surely didn’t want to alarm your father.

You held the notebook up to the glass for Damon to read. ‘I’m not allowed out.’ It read. – “Like ever?” – Damon questioned as you wrote down underneath your previous words. ‘ever.’ Was your response, holding it up to him once more. – “Why?” – Damon asked. Damon watched you write more. Hesitantly holding the notebook up to the glass once more. ‘Dangerous world.’ – it read. Damon looked in shock at you. – “He… he surely can’t keep you locked up forever.” – he said out loud. You only pulled your shoulders up to your known reality.

You heard footsteps, knowing it would be your father. The panic was clear on your face as Damon picked up on it quickly. He got up, nearly tripping backwards over his own stumbling. In a last second he threw the ball back into the bushes just underneath the window before running off. You watched him sprint back to the hedge, climbing over it with such effort, he made it over the top in a matter of moments.

“What are you doing by the window again!” – your father declared loudly. – “Aren’t I even allowed to look outside?” – you asked coming to stand before him. Your father moved around you, shutting the curtains closed. – “You may think I’m mad, but it is a dangerous world out there Y/n. It is best for you to stay here, where you are save and I can protect you.” – he spoke pushing you slightly away from the window. – “It is not save for a girl of your status to be out. Out where men want to harm you.” – your father continued. – “Because of you?” – you responded, shocked by yourself that you dared to go against him.

His expression angered. He grabbed you firm by the shoulder, dragging you away from the window. He dragged you all the way up to your room, locking you inside. Exhaling deep, you were once greeted by the same four familiar walls. Locked inside, just because your father had made a terrible mistake so many years ago.

Now he is haunted by the thought anyone of his previous co-workers would come and get revenge by hurting him or you. Even moving away, didn’t do anything to his fear. The sheer panic he had that his old workers would venge his cruel work conditions he put them through. The death of the little boy under his care, that shouldn’t even be there didn’t make it easier.

Damon wasn’t able to return within the next few days. He couldn’t shake his brother and Katherine off him. Having never been able to stop thinking about you. About the girl locked in her mansion. Each day he yearned to see you smile once more. Finally he had the time to climb back over the hedge when Stefan and Katherine were out. Stefan needing to accompany their dear friend on a matter.

Damon should be accompanying her too if it wasn’t for him faking that he didn’t feel so well. It took a lot of convincing for Katherine to stop bugging him about it. Now having crawled back over the hedge, he snuck right to the window where he had dropped his ball. He knocked gently on the window. Only to not hear a response.

He knocked again, thinking he might have not knocked loudly enough for you to hear. Scratching his hair confused, he started to look around. Looking at more window, to find your presence. Moving a bit back, his attention got drawn upwards. Looking up, he saw you knock saddened against your window glass.

Damon curling up a smile. You knew you couldn’t be close, so you turned around. Damon breathed loud, looking quickly around. Seeing some vines grow upwards to your window, made him reckless. He dropped the ball, running over to it. Grabbing tightly onto the vines to find a sturdy grip. It seemed to carry his weight as Damon started to climb up. Holding yourself, you hated being in the same room day in and out.

You wished to be outside. To feel the grass underneath your feet and the sun on your face. You wanted to feel the rain, get cold, warm and run endlessly without any walls holding you down. A desperate knock made you jump out of your skin. Turning round, you saw Damon pop up at your window. Motioning to you to get the window open quickly.

Panicking that he might fall, you rushed up to him. Opening the window in a haste. – “Lords Damon, are you insane?” – you called out, grabbing for his arm so he wouldn’t fall. Damon only chuckled, pulling himself more up. With the help of you, he tumbled into your room, making you move back.

He breathed out a laugh, relieved to have made it inside. – “Damon if my father sees you.” – you outed, keeping your voice low but with enough power to frighten him. Damon got up, walking up to you. Hesitantly he moved his hands out. Letting them fall on your shoulders with a smile. His touch made you blink surprised. – “Y/n.” – he said, wanting to speak your name. – “You shouldn’t be here.” – you told Damon, punching him in the armpit.

He rubbed the area. – “Neither should you.” – he responded. His words made your eyes widen, moving away from him. Knowing there wasn’t anything you could do about it. You walked up to the window, placing your hands on the windowsill. – “How… how come you aren’t allowed outside?” – Damon asked.

You breathed in deep, not even sure you remembered the last day you were outside. – “My… my father…” – you started unsure if you should continue. Damon started to come near as you started to explain. Explain what happened what made your father paranoid into staying inside.

Damon came placing his hands on the windowsill as well. Slowly letting his fingers spread to you. Till his pink came in contact with yours, guiding the rest of his fingers over yours. His little gesture, made you turn your head to him. The way he was looking at you, made your heart thump louder. – “I am sorry.” – he said, keeping his hand above yours. – “Don’t be…” – you answered, not wanting any pity.

For a moment, you were caught in his gaze. Mindless staring into his blue diamond eyes that bewitched you. Damon’s gaze went briefly from your eyes to your lips. Wondering what they would taste like. What it would be like to kiss those sweet innocent lips. Footsteps coming up the stairs, made you pull your hand from underneath him. Ushering him back out of the window.

You watched as Damon climbed down, taking his ball with him. Waving him goodbye, you kept watching till he was over the hedge. Damon was panting loud, looking up to the sky from Katherine’s side. – “I’ll get you out Y/n. One day.” – he said as a promise.

From then on dared Damon to danger himself frequently just to visit you. Climbing up to your room to spend time with you. Most days, you just talked. Some days, he would take your hand and lead you into a dance. The moments were brief, but never enough. He wanted you close, every day. Each moment spend with you, made him realize just how much in love he was with you.

The forbidden girl behind the glass. One day, Damon was in your room. Seeing how a bad day you were having. Sitting on your bed whilst staring into the distance. Damon would approach you, holding his hand out to you. Turning your head, you stared at his hand without any thoughts. Taking a deep breath, you placed your hand in his. Allowing him to pull you up.

Damon came standing beside you, keeping your hand up. Having placed his palm against it. Slowly he started to turn, forcing you to turn along. Placing a hand on your lower back, he spun you around. Making you chuckle as you had tried to hold it in. Damon smiled from hearing you laugh, wanting to hear that sound every day. So caught up in your dance, you didn’t hear the footsteps.

You didn’t hear your father come up till it was too late. He barged into the room, panting loud. His eyes flashed with anger at Damon. He started to make his way over as you jumped in front of Damon. Your father pushed you aside. You dropped to the floor out of breath. – “Y/n!” – Damon called out with worry. – “I had a feeling someone was sneaking in my garden!” – your father called out.  

“You’re here to kill my daughter?” – your father shouted in a panic. – “Father, father please.” – you begged him to leave Damon alone. Your father left the room as Damon rushed over to you. Helping you up to your feet. – “Y/n we’ve got to go.” – he said as you panicked. – “No!” – you called out a Damon kept pushing you towards the window. – “Y/n it isn’t save.” – Damon made clear, holding both your shoulders.

Your father had returned, holding up the riffle. It made you gasp loud. – “Father no!” – you screamed out as he readied it at Damon. – “You are dead!” – he shouted ready to fire as Damon jumped at him. Surprised him by grabbing the riffle and pointing it upwards. You screamed loud when a shot got fired directly up in the ceiling.

Some dust and pieces falling down. – “Y/n climb down!” – Damon ordered you, fighting off your father for control for the riffle. Another shot fired directly to the wall not far from you. – “Y/n now!” – Damon shouted with worry that you might be the next undeliberate target. Crying loud, you climbed out of your window, grabbing onto the vines.

You heard your father shout loud, followed by commotion. You didn’t had to see anything, knowing they were fighting. The last few meters you dropped to the ground, arms unable to carry you any longer. Falling onto the ground, you looked up with panic. The hearing of another shot made you flinch. Not sure who it had hit, you screamed it out in agony.

“Y/n get up!” – you suddenly heard. Opening your eyes, you saw Damon hurry himself down. Shocked, you stared at him, unable to grasp what had happened. If he was here, they that meant your father was shot? He jumped the last part down, hurrying over to you. Pulling you up in a haste. – “We have to go Y/n.” – he said, dragging you along to the hedge. – “My… my father…” – you said, hand extended to your home.

From out of the window appeared your father. Panting loud, but he seemed unharmed. – “Give me back my daughter!” – your father shouted swinging his fists around. Damon and you got to the hedge as he gave you an assist to climb over. You tumbled over as Damon gave you a little push to make it go faster. Landing on your stomach on the other side.

Damon jumped beside you, dropping through his knees. Dusting his hands off he took you by the elbow, pulling you along. Leaving in a haste. He kept running till he was out of breath. Not wanting your father to go over the wall to find you.

Both of you were panting loud. Gazes catching each other. Damon neared letting his hand brush against your cheek. – “You’re out Y/n.” – he said. It took you a moment to realize. Looking around you to actually see your feet stand in grass. Damon lifted your chin up to him by his finger. Wanting you to look at him. Never had he lost sight of what he wanted.

You. Having missed you deeply. Each day apart from you, was a torment. Having found love where it wasn’t supposed to be. Letting his gaze go from your eyes to your lips. You intentionally neared, closing your eyes as Damon’s lips touched yours. First gently. A simple touch till they parted your mouth to deep the kiss. Finally having broken the girl behind the glass from her tower. To finally have her for a lifetime to love and to hold.

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

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[fizzyapplecandy]

The one with the knight in shining armour

Ateez San x Fem Reader

Word count: 1k

Genres and warnings: fluff, slight angst, guard San x princess reader, talk about arranged marriage, forbbiden romance, hopeful ending

Summary: San was always with you, acting as your shadow and protector. However, nothing could protect your hearts from falling for one another - even if it was forbidden.

"San, come here."

You patted the spot on the blanket next to you, smiling up at your guard.

"Princess... You are aware I am not allowed near you unless you are in imminent danger."

"Oh, but I am! See! The Sun, it's so bright, I can barely read my book. Your broad shoulders would be a perfect barrier!"

The buff guard only huffed a laugh, used to your antics by now. Spending the last six months next to you, trailing behind your form like a shadow, granted him the opportunity to get to know the beautiful princess every kingdom spoke about.

"Is that so? We must protect the princess, in that case."

San took a few steps towards you, now standing by the edge of the blanket. Your frown told him you weren't exactly happy yet.

"That is too far away! Sit here, I hate it when you stand over my head like I am a child."

Your delicate palm reached out as if to take his hand, but you suddenly remembered something and both of your expressions turned sour.

San was your guard, however, it was absolutely forbidden for him to touch you unless you were in life threatening circumstances.

What he didn't know was that you were absolutely dying to take him by the hand and finally feel his soft skin against yours. He probably never will because you were betrothed to prince Yeosang from your neighborhood kingdom.

The fact that you were promised to another man hurt him in more ways than you could imagine, but San was aware that his feelings could never be said out in the open.

"My princess... If that's what you wish. Make some room for me, please."

You gathered your scattered books, watching as San made himself comfortable. He was so close, yet so far away from you, it hurt your heart.

"Is that a new dress, princess Y/N?"

Glancing down at the fabric spread around you, your cheeks turned as pink as your corset.

"Well, yes. My seamstress surprised me yesterday. She said it was a gift, but she wouldn't tell me from who. It was probably Yeosang, although I wonder how he knew my favourite colour."

San chuckled, observing how the silk sleeves fell over your small hands.

"I don't think it's that difficult to guess. Every item you own is in some shade of pink. Even your cat wears a pink bell around his neck."

Both of you let out a laugh when something dawned on you.

"Hmm... I wonder where he could be? I haven't seen Samuel since last night."

As if on cue, your chubby white cat jumped from the apple tree a few feet away from you. You sprang up, startling San.

"Samuel! You troublemaker! Where have you been?"

Picking up your skirt, you jumped over San's legs and took off after the white feline.

"Princess! Slow down!"

San went after you, trying to catch up to the cloud of pink running through the royal gardens.

That's when it happened.

You let go of your skirt, your heel catching in the fabric. You were certain you'd eat grass, but a pair of strong hands pulling you against a sturdy chest stopped that.

"Woah, my princess. That could have gone really bad."

"San..."

Silence overcame both of you. His hands were still around your waist, now tightened slightly. Your own were placed over his, finally feeling his warmth after longing for it too long.

No words were exchanged in the next minute, the two of you enjoying the light embrace without locking into each other's eyes. Your head fell back against his shoulder, and that's when San snapped out of his trance.

He let go of you like it burned him, back pin straight, and when you finally turned around you could see the panic in his eyes, despite the solder like stance.

"Sannie... It's okay. You saved me from a rough fall. Everything is according to the rules."

"I think we both know it was more than that, princess."

His gaze was downturned, the words hanging out in the open. San was giving you a chance, a once in a lifetime opportunity, to finally be out in the open about your feelings.

Even if it was just once.

Even if it wouldn't change your predicament.

Even if it couldn't be anything more after that.

"San... My Sannie... You know how you always say 'My princess'? You're my San as well. You'll always be."

Looking around you, you made sure there wasn't anyone else in the garden before making your next move.

In a flash, your arms were wrapped around San's shoulders, squeezing him as if he would disappear in a moment. He stiffened for a second before his own feelings took over. San embraced you as if you were made out of the most delicate material in the world.

You slowly placed your palms on his cheeks, making him look into your glistening eyes.

"Sannie... Kiss me, please. This is an order from the princess."

He smiled, leaning his forehead against yours.

"Who am I to disobey an order?"

His plush lips were on yours before you could respond. The kiss was light, but you felt like your legs would give out any second.

You parted, not being able to look anywhere but into each other's eyes.

"I am... Glad you like the dress."

Your brows lifted in shock.

"San... You... It's..."

He only nodded, a light blush painting his cheeks.

"Oh San... What am I going to do now?"

The reality of the situation dawned on him, and he quickly let go of you.

"You will do as duty tells you. This was... A misjudgement on my part. I let my feelings overtake me, and I forgot my place. I apologize, my princess."

"Please don't speak like that after you've kissed me like you love me."

He stayed silent, only observing the race of the woman he adored beyond measure. It was now or never.

"I do. I do love you."

"And I love you."

"What are we goi-"

"Honey! Prince Yeosang has arrived! Come greet him!"

Your mother's voice interrupted San's question, but you knew what he was going to ask. In truth, you wouldn't be able to give him an answer, but God so help you if you weren't going to try.

Eyes meeting again, San nodded, letting you know that the conversation was far from over.

You'd find a way.

You always did.

.

.

[prettyboykatsuki-moved]

your kind of like | h. suo

✮ tags ; fem!reader, tomboy / athlete!reader, friends to lovers, third-year suo but its not super important, mutual pining, silly shoujo tropes lol, i headcanon tsubaki using she/they pronouns

✮ wc ; 2k (??????)

✮ a/n ; based on violets request for suo + my tomboy reader delusions. reader is a himbo but a girl and i love her.

also sorry if i completely butchered this guy LOOOL

The first time Suo lays eyes on you, you're half-way up a tree - a few feet from the ground, trying to coax and old lady's cat to jump on you and come down safely.

He remembers it in great detail since it left a lasting impression. How you rolled your skirt up so it wouldn't get in your way, how your face and hands were covered in scratches - and most particularly, how you smiled the entire time. How you were loud as you clicked your tongue but soft to it once it jumped into your arms.

You had jumped onto the soles of your feet with great force but the kitty seemed calm in your arms after a while. Bright as the sun and twice as warm, you returned the cat to it's owner and then, met Suo for the first time.

You give him your name, your age, your birthday - and then ask him for the same. When he gives it to you, you clap a hand on his shoulder and tell him it's so good to meet him.

Suo does not believe in love at first sight. Koi no yokan—love at second sight, or the feeling when you meet someone that loving them is your destiny. If Suo could put a name to that feeling, it was probably that.

He was bound to love you from that very instance.

For the last two years, he's been going straight down that path with no resistance and insurmountable clarity.

It's natural for Suo to make comparatives. It's the type of person he is, the kind of fighter he sets himself up to be. Primarily a martial artists with a preference to keep calm requires strategizing.

Drawing connections comes to him as easy as breathing.

So, if he had to compare him to you, there's no end of things that make you incredibly different. Almost opposite in all ways except your decency. Compared to Suo, you are loud and brutish and strong. You're easy to read in a way that reminds him of Sakura, but denser. Your nature is tough and absurdly honest.

You don't often fight outside of your sport for one reason or another, but when you do - you prefer to tank hits instead of avoid them. Everything you feel always shows on your face.

He's never met a girl so earnest in his entire life.

He's never really met anyone like you in general.

After your first meeting, you began to get friendly with him and Bofurin in general. A student athlete in an all-girls school in the same town, you're often in the area doing odd jobs for money. You live with your brother who works in the city, and you're the youngest of your family. You're incapable of lying, even when it might benefit you and you like sweet things.

You're nice to everyone and like to chat up whoever's around, but you like Suo especially. You often ditch class to go to Furin and hang out with them and you're rarely intimidated by anyone. You're comfortable with his friends, though you seem especially fond of Nirei and Sugashita. Sakura too, though he has yet to know how to act around you even this many years later.

Your relationship is as normal as any other friendship, but maybe that's part of the problem. You treat Suo as thoughtful as you would any other friend - even when he refuses to tell you about himself. You're not hurt by the fact he's got walls up so high, and you don't hound him when he can't be straight with you.

You understand Suo as a friend and don't bother with any other details. You just.. get him. So effortlessly. And even when you don't, nothing changes.

The nature of Bofurin after all, leads Suo to fights that leave him in emotional tatters. Moments where anyone else would ask to open up, you remain steadfast. Your friendship is a lot like you, sturdy beyond his understanding

(Countless times, Suo has shown up at your door unannounced - often covered in bruises and battered. You worry and anger, but you always let him. Take care of his wounds, let him borrow your shower. Even going so far as sneaking him into your room when your brother was home, just so he didn't have to be alone with his thoughts.

He can't count how many times he's slept across from you in your bed. Dense. An honest idiot. A girl with no self-preservation who's letting a guy sleep alongside her with no care.

Suo always feels apologetic the next morning and you smile and go along like nothing happened. It might've been true in your case, but in his - he fell in love a little more each time.)

Because you're that way - Suo finds it hard to deal with his feelings. With the enormity of them, the intensity of them. You're not totally clueless - but when people talk about relationships or dating, it always seems like it has nothing to do with you.

If you were anyone else, he thinks it'd be easy to confess to you. If you had been another girl, or less of a friend.

But it's you. The bright, earnest, tough, you. He can't even bring himself to flirt with you or treat you idly despite how much he likes you. He knows better than anyone how good you are, and can't pretend to be anything less than honest about it. He adores you so utterly that it'd be pointless to even try to pretend to have the advantage.

He can be a tease. A flirt, if he wants to be. With anyone else it'd be easy. But with you, the love is so genuine it's impossible. He just wants to cherish you. Wants to shower you in affection, wants to spoil you and give you all of his time.

Friends is such a hard line in the sand. The minute Suo crosses it, there's never going to be anyway to go back to how you were before. He's been careful in being content with just friends, because he'd rather keep you in his life than not have you at all by scaring you away with his feelings.

He thinks it'll all be fine until Nirei tells him word on the block about a recent confession.

__

"A kouhai from a different team asked you out?"

Suo reaches out to wipe the grain of rice from the corner of your mouth as you eat onigiri. Your carelessness endears him but he's too distracted by the rumor to pay it any mind. You nod, swallowing with a sip of water.

"Uh-huh. Akira-kun. Dun' know his first name, but he's a good kid. Super tall for being younger, though."

Suo was sure he would never have to worry about this since you went to an all-girls school. To think you'd get a confession from a fellow student athlete, a boys member of an opposing team. He tries not to get irritated at the thought.

"Are you interested in him?"

You pause. Suo feels his heart race before you answer with a shrug and continue to eat your bento.

"Dunno the guy enough to like 'im. He seems nice. I told him as much but he said that was fine," You pick at the veggies in your bento, taking a bite out of one. "So he asked me on a date instead so we could get to know each other."

"Oh?" Suo forces himself to smile and keep his voice even. "Are you going to go?"

You nod and Suo feels his heart stop. Shit.

"Really? I'm surprised."

You hum. "Well, you know, I've never been on a date," You say, suddenly smiling. You look so genuinely happy Suo can't bring himself to be totally upset. "But, it sounds super fun! We're gonna go to a batting cage in another prefecture."

He looks at you in surprise. "A batting cage?"

"Well, he thought I'd like that more than other date ideas, but I'm not all that picky since I've never been."

"You already talked about it a lot then."

"Uh-huh. He laughed when I said I wanted to go eat meat after. Said that was just like me... somehow I don't get it, but I'm happy anyway. I hope it'll be fun."

Suo smiles his best business smile and tells himself beating the shit out of his friends kouhai for flirting with her is wrong. "Hm. Are you prepared to go on the date?"

"You sound like Tsubaki-chan," You lament. "She made me go get nice clothes and everything."

....

"She did, huh? That sounds just like her. Did Kotoha-san go too?"

"Mhm. They just picked it out for me since I'm not good with any of that. Tsubaki-chan is so beautiful so I trust her."

"Mm,"

"What's wrong?"

You're looking at him with such clear eyes it makes Suo guilty. He knows if he says nothing now, you'll drop it without question. That's just how you are. But for once he doesn't really want to drop it. It's too impulsive and entirely rash but he really...

"You know, if you wanted go on a date - I could've just taken you."

You pause then grin a little. "Dates are for people in like, you know."

Of course you would assume it was a joke. Suo pauses, suddenly looking serious.

"So, if I told you I liked you - would you consider going on a date with me?"

"Sure," You smile because you definitely still think he's joking. But it's a pretty, honest smile anyway. "But Suo-kun doesn't need to ask me for anything. We can always just go together."

He still himself as he scoots in closer to you where you sit, pushing your lunches out of the way and closing the distance to look at you closer. You blink in surprise but don't back away or flinch.

"I'm being serious you know?" He hums softly. It's less hard to say than he thought, but maybe it's because he's already been willing to put everything on the line for you from the start. "I really like you. In that way."

You blink. "...Huh?"

He can't help himself. He'll apologize later. Your breath is warm and soft when he leans in and presses his lips to yours for too long. You don't push him away, uncannily receptive to the touch. You taste salty. Suo kisses you for as long as you'll let him and pulls away only for breath.

He isn't sure what he's expecting, but the jump from pure shock to pure embarrassment surprises him. You put a hand on your shoulder, jaw open in disbelief.

"....So it was like that," You mumble, in shock. "It was... really like that?"

"For a long time, now"

"I also like Suo-kun, but how shocking."

Suo stares at you. "Are you sure your like and my like are the same? I get the feeling that -"

You press your lips to his as if to prove a point, pulling away and brushing it off just as quickly. He can feel the heat rise to his neck in immediate disbelief. You frown at him "Between us, I'm the one who's good at being honest so don't be like that,"

He just... stares. He's elated but completely confused. "Why didn't you confess earlier?"

You smile sheepishly. "Being your friend is also good, so I was okay with not changing it. It's hard to tell what you're thinking and I didn't think it was important."

He laughs in disbelief, dropping his head down to your shoulder. He didn't think he would be this happy. He didn't even think it was possible. "How could that not be important?"

"You're more important to me than that," You say easily, though he can hear your beating from where his head is. "I'm happy we like each other but I care the most about Suo-kun's feelings and being with you since you're important to me. I want to be with you for a long time."

Ah. In some regards, it seems like Suo is never going to be able to one-up you. He laughs in disbelief as his arms snake around your waist, crushing you more tightly in his arms than he can bear. You giggle so sweetly when he does he thinks he might really be done for. His usual demeanor comes in easy, calm and collected but absolutely estatic.

"It sounds like a proposal." He mumbles, almost lovesick.

"We could get married but you have to ask my brother first."

Suo laughs brightly against your neck. "Be less casual about something like that," And then a little softer. "But yes, we'll stay together as long as you want."

He holds you like that a little bit longer.