#all I remembered was that it started with a village burning down and ended with the pretty boy villain backing down and

[tinyetoile]

Oh my god so literally over a decade ago I randomly rented an anime OVA series while i was getting my hands on every ghibli movie my library had to offer (I had just discovered studio ghibli) and I had literally forgotten the name of it and almost everything about it (except that, through a convoluted chain of events, it got me into the first disgaea) and it's been bothering me for a while that I couldn't figure it out and I. Think I found it. I think it's the Tales of Phantasia OVA.

[homunculus-argument]

A sweet slice of life series about some former byronic anti-hero who just managed to finally complete their all-consuming revenge quest, and is now just sitting there like "ok, now what." When you've spent seven years of your life training to fight, just to kill this one guy, and then worked ever since to infiltrate an organisation to raise in its ranks for the sole goal of getting close enough to the target to kill them, and the moment is finally over and everything you've worked for is finally complete, and you didn't die trying like you gambled that you might, there's still life left.

And it's all about this former warrior hero just awkwardly gingerly trying to learn how to build a normal life. There isn't one to go back to, the villain whose end they dedicated their life to killed the protagonist's family and burned down their village, they've got to start from scratch now. And the audience learns about their past life through the way they suddenly remember how things used to be, and how long it's been since they've last done something ordinary.

Frequently making observations like "damn, I shouldn't have made a deal with that entity to trade their ability to always know someone's greatest weakness, in exchange of my memory of how to bake bread", or discovering that their cursed weapon of Kill Everything You Touch can also be used to sanitise jam jars.

[xxanaduwrites]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ a residue series installment ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

sweet talkin’

main hive 🐝 | next part here: honey, are you comin’?

✎ elementary-teacher!reader (miss.honey) x biker!benny 🏍️

summary: in which “uncle benny” picks up johnny’s girls from school and finds some honey along the way ;)

warnings: not much of anything besides talks of danger & some side eyes from on-lookers. an absolute fluff cake of a piece really. enjoy! x

author’s note: ngl there is some inaccuracies. i fully made up locations & such. never been to chicago or illinois even, but maybe someday :)

word count: 2.8k

💌 requests are open, send ‘em honey 💋

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You remember it like it was yesterday, the very first time you met Benny Cross. Ironically, it was one of those sticky sweet days in June, just before the start of summer ‘65. The Chicago heat was hard to beat in the cramped little classroom you worked in on Phipps Avenue. Your third graders were all flushed faces with curly cues frizzing about, and their red little cheeks burned in exhaustion. It was no surprise that you lost their ears to the tsk tsk tsk of sprinklers swirling about on the school grounds. Even though the principal was against it, you were rather relieved to see your students running about the wet grass come dismissal.

It was a lovely reprieve, truly to be out of the shoe box you worked in at the end of the day. Sure, the heat hadn’t let up. It was awfully sweltering passing clammy hand to clammy hand to their designated pick up person. But you loved being a teacher. Moreseo you loved those sweet turned up smiles that graced those baby faces of your students as they chatted about their after school plans. Heading down to the local pool or picking up a firecracker pop at the corner store was such a sweet treat. It made you miss being that young again, finding hidden treasures through the little bits of life.

You moved like clockwork during dismissal, attentive as you made small talk with parents and hugged your students goodbye. The pick of the cycle was usually smooth on your part. You knew who tended to be retrieved right away and who was left hanging, so it took you by a hint of surprise when you found yourself still hand in hand with Mr. and Mrs. Davis’s little girls.

You knew the Davis’s well — as well as anyone could holding residence in the quaint village of McCook, Illinois. Mr. Davis and his wife Betty were perishoners at the local church you frequented with your Ma and Pa. St. Caron’s on the corner of Rose and Dawn. You’d see them all together in their Sunday best, the kids in puff pastry kind-of dresses packed together in a pew with their Ma, while their Pa was mulling about in his pressed suit and tie. There was no trace of the Vandals you’d come to know, the Johnny that would be amplified under that some-what imposterous clean cut demeanor. You’d see him solemn as ever ushering pew to pew with the collections basket for the poor and at communion during the mass.

Yet, if you had to name one thing that complimented Johnny to Mr. Davis, it had to be his consistency with being on time. Never once was he ever late to church. 12pm sharp he’d be looking at his watch, waitin’ for the priest and deacon to do their thang. The same applied for his children and their respected school schedule.

It took you a moment to remember the note from the office that was sent up in the afternoon. In your defense, mastering concentration in this heat proved almost impossible. Until it wasn’t. You could see the lovely writing of the secretary with that neat cursive of hers in the back of your mind, reminding you that the Davis girls would be picked up by their Uncle Benny come dismissal.

That would explain it, you thought. But would it really? Fathoming a member of Mr. Davis’s family not being as meticulous as him? You momentarily wondered how the man would react to such a thing as being late. You were sure it wasn’t in his vocabulary by any means.

Your fingers, engulfing the petite ones of the Davis girls, squeezed their hands reassuringly. “M’sure your Uncle Benny will be here any moment.” Neither of them said anything as you glanced between the two flanked at your sides, little eyelashes blinking up at you without a care in the world. And here you thought they would be just as anal-retentive as their father.

They weren’t.

Since the school yard was becoming less compact with people, and the principal put an end to the fun with the sprinklers, you figured some chit-chat wouldn't hurt to keep them occupied. “You girls have any fun afternoon plans?”

The Davis girl on the right, taller, darker hair, lookin’ far too much like her father — a carbon copy if you will — spoke up then. “Yes! Uncle Benny is takin’ us to a picnic. Gonna see Daddy race his bike, Miss. Honey.”

A bike race, huh? You couldn’t remember seeing anything in the McCook weekly papers ‘bout an upcoming cycling event. But, hey maybe you happened to miss it on your skim of the thing, when your Pa just so happened to put it down for a second durin’ dinner.

“Well, ain’t that sweet!” You chirped, smiling brightly at the girls with genuine excitement in your eyes. “Sure it’ll be tons of fun.”

“S’not when Daddy gets all muddy.” The smaller girl, the one that looked more like her mother. Lighter hair and lighter eyes said. Her tiny face contorted into a grimace.

Muddy? Weren’t cycling races on the roads?

Surely the town would block off the streets like they did for those celebratory parades. The little one was probably exaggerating.

“Aw,” you hummed, a frown dousing your features. “M’sure your Pa is just real dedicated, y’know?” You tried to bring out the bright side for your student. “S’like when you buy a fresh book and worry about those pages dentin’. Y’won’t know if you like it if you don’t read it, right?” The girls nodded. “Dentin’ the pages just goes to show all that love you had for that book while readin’ it.”

“I guess…” The Davis girl shrugged, tiny fingers wrapping about the strap of her pretty pink backpack. Seemingly, she wasn’t as impressed as her sister to the right.

You were gonna change the subject. Gonna start chatting ‘bout something else, when a twist of tiers against the pavement sent a squeak across the air. Your mother-hen instincts kicked in instantly, protective hands pulling the girls behind you without a second thought. All heads turned simultaneously to the intrusion on the road, expecting the worst. Expecting a crash of sorts. But no, there was no crash, just a slick car pulling abruptly up against the sidewalk and jerking to a startling stop. One that could only be equated to the driver going far above the speed limit in a school zone.

It went quiet. Far too quiet as the lot of remaining faculty, students, and parents alike kept their eyes peeled back sharply at the reckless driver. Funnily enough the attentive stares of onlookers could have very well been just as bad as those witnessing an actual crash.

You weren’t any better than the rest, collecting snap shot after snap shot like a roll of consecutive film. You could still hear the engine cutting out, the door swinging open and closing with a solid flick of his wrist. A wrist that would do far worse to you in the bedroom. Far worse in the eyes of your religious upbringing, but would feel too holy to you to be considered a sin.

You only caught a glance of him for a second until his back was facing towards you, thick white letters staking his claim with a skull and crossbones for the Chicago Vandals on his cut down vest.

You’d heard a thing or two about those motorcycle men. Your father ranting and raving about the disturbances near route 95 and police chases. But never, had you ever seen one of them in the flesh up close and personal. A shrill of unprecedented delight shot up your spine at the colorful sight, no longer reserved to those blurry black and white paper cuttings.

Stopping in his tracks, you figured his car must have broken down or somethin’ – but no. He was putting out his cigarette with his worn down boot before making his way over to you, and oh he had his eye on you alright.

A relative unease wahed across the school yard, harder than the obvious heat wave as he sauntered across without a care in the world. As if dozens of heads weren’t makin’ disgusted faces and whispering about. Yet a clear intimidation set over them, people stepping out of the way without a word as if he was a Bible figure. Like Moses parting the red sea.

“Uncle Benny!” One of them chirped. Who you didn’t know, couldn’t know with the sudden flush creeping against your cheeks. Your heart dropped to your stomach once you realized who it was and that the man himself with dirty blonde scruff, calloused fingers, and a black inked layer over a honey toned canvas was makin’ a beeline to you. A beeline to you and the girls.

It was the taller Davis girl that must have called out his name, cause suddenly she was pulling you and her sister forward to meet Benny half way. You almost tripped down the stairs within the broken bubble of her excitement. Barely having a moment’s notice to collect yourself, you found your pristine baby pink ballet flats toe to toe with some scruffed up biker boots that had seen better days. You managed a breath before you looked up and boy were you glad you did.

The wind was practically knocked clean out of you when you were caught face to face with the Benny Cross. It wasn’t because you were scared of him — no. You were more taken aback with how pretty he was. How his deeply set ocean eyes managed to speak volumes without saying a word.

And suddenly, on the front steps of Phipps Avenue School you felt seen. More seen than you had ever felt in your life. He wasn’t the only one sticking out like the sorest of thumbs. So were you with your baby pink tank to match your shoes with your signature embroidered denim overall dress. Hair up and out of your face, loose honey curls frizzing about. Your kitsch tastes and unpolished attire were rather baffling for the picturesque depiction gracing the magazines your Ma read at the salon.

Some would say you were lost somewhere in Neverland. Lots of your fellow teachers would crack jokes here and there ‘bout it too. Sure, on a bad day a jab or two could get to you — but hey you liked what you liked and you weren’t gonna change that. Not for anybody. Not even for your Ma or Pa who grimaced at your bedazzled pins wedged into your messy curls during Sunday mass.

So Benny, well who were you to judge him?

“Hi, you must be Uncle Benny,” you greeted the brood of a man in front of you, flexing a sweet-like-honey smile that was just oh-so-you. You let go of the Johnny look-a-likes hand then, allowing her to wrap her small self around Benny’s leg in pure delight to see him as you outstretched your hand in a shake. To your dismay, he didn’t take it. Instead, his free hand that wasn’t mushing up Johnny’s girls dark locks as he patted her head fished for his pack of Marlboro reds in his vest pocket. That didn’t stop you from introducing yourself though. “I’m Miss. Honey.”

He gave you once over, eyes tracing you from head to toe before the edge of his lip tweaked up in a sly smile. “Honey, huh?” He mused, that deep set voice of his, thick and smokey sweetin’ up something deep inside you.

Dropping your hand back down against your dress, the material felt rather rough on your clammy skin. “Yuh-huh.” You nodded, that tight smile of yours making your eyes twitch just a bit.

A fresh cigarette materialized between his teeth then, unlit. A strange courtesy you found rather charming on the midst of educational grounds. “Hm,” he hummed, the narrow cylinder vibrating against his lips as his eyes devoured you a second time. Yet, you figured he was more unimpressed. Most were anyways.

“Benny! Benny! Can we go see Daddy now?” The girl wrapped around his leg yanked his belt loop with a small finger. The little one was still at your side, hand in hand with you. It was kind of amusin’ how different the two were. It was simple figuring out who was the bigger Daddy’s girl of the two.

“In a ‘inute, sweet-art,” he mumbled, that cigarette of his disrupting any fully coherent sentence from spillin’ out. “C’mere ‘ittle one,” he motioned to the shorter girl who was rather uninterested in leaving. In the midst of your conversation, she managed to keep her hand raised, keeping herself conjoined to you as she sat down on the bottom step in complete and utter protest.

“Don’t wanna.” She pouted down at her bunny tied saddle shoes that matched her pretty little pick-tails.

In a sense, you couldn’t blame her. Now it was all adding up. What was really going on. This wasn’t just some run of the mill village cycling marathon. This was a Vandals bike race.

Any other teacher would have probably made a stink, called the parents in for a sit down with the principal over infiltrating their kids in a biker environment infused with criminal records. But, you weren’t like that — no. Especially when you’d see a child’s eyes light up with so much delight. It was clear that Mr. Davis’s look-a-like was really proud of her father. Who could blame her? Respected throughout the community, a family man who put his all into a trucking' job.

A picnic with some bike racin’ wouldn’t be so bad, right?

Not with Mr. Davis involved.

So, you gave the benefit of the doubt. Sure, it could have been for all those reasons that were swarming about your head, but in actuality your heart was working double time over your mind. The image of the Davis girl clinging to Benny’s leg had teddy bear written all over it, giving you all the sweet talkin’ you’d need. Ironically enough, in due time that soft side of him would turn into plushy lovin’ reserved just for you.

“Lemme,” you mouthed to Benny before getting down to the little one’s level. Flattening out your skirt you took a seat next to her and rested both hands over her own in her lap. “Remember when we were talkin’ about a good book? Dentin’ the pages?” The girl nodded, but didn’t meet your eye. Instead, Benny doing the opposite, his eyes practically grilled onto your peripheral vision. “Well, sometimes if we are too protective of it. Too keen on keeping it all in tack, we’ll never learn not to and we’ll just be more and more disappointed when we come across a little crack we never created in the first place. We may not like it, but it’s there, and there is so much love there.” You squeeze the little girl’s hand. “Just like your old man racin’. You may not like it, but he does, and that’s quite alright. You know why?”

“Why?” She looked up at you then, little doe eyes attentive as ever, clinging onto your every word. It was times like this that reminded you why you were a teacher.

“‘Cause you love him, no matter what” You replied, tilting your head ever-so subtly to observe her reaction.

And oh did Benny love you. He didn’t know it then. Couldn’t fully compartmentalize it until later. Yet, unbeknownst to you, it was one of the first of what would become many of Benny's thoughts on how damn good of a teacher you were, how fine of a wife you’d make, and how sweet of a mother you’d be.

Thankfully, your words must have resonated with the little girl. It only took a moment for those delightful dimples of hers to grace those little features before her lips turned up in a sweet smile. “We gotta go Uncle Benny!” The girl declared suddenly, standing up straight with a whole new attitude. You were glad to supply the optimism. That’s what you were all about. That was the lesson you hoped to instill to your students the most.

You couldn’t help but smile yourself, feeling like a warm blanket was being draped over your shoulders soundly. Not uncomfortable. Not contributing to the intolerable heat wave. You’d only been in your second year of teaching, but hey — small victories like this made it worth it. Made you proud of yourself, even if you couldn’t find such gratitude from others.

Little did you know, Benny — he was so fuckin’ proud. Proud to see you spreading such honey-coated wisdom to a youngin’. And there on the steep steps of Phipps Avenue school as the little one wrapped her arms around you and thanked you profusely before grabbing Benny’s hand and heading to Johnny’s car, he found his mission.

You were gonna be his wife.

He was sure of it.

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this was so much fun to write! i hope you liked it :) i’m thinking of also including some honey interviews curtesy of danny ! stay tuned for “from the hive” 🎙️🐝

also to note, my requests are open for any miss honey x benny cross works + any convos about these two in general. don’t be shy honey, i’m all for yapping in the asks.

+ don’t forget to comment if you’d like be added to “da bee hive” (my version of da tag list)

smoochies. all da love xanadu 💋

da bee hive 🐝🍯:

@nervousnerdwitch

@sunnbib

@rose-deathman

@austinbsblog

@thegabbyh

@jihyowrrld

@bellesdreamyprofile

@superemobitch

@m00npjm

@imusicaddict

@astrogrande

@alana4610

@cynic-spirit

@mariaenchanted

[really-burnt-toast]

Redesigning my COTL cast pt.1

HAHA I'm finally done! I only made busts tho bc Im lazy and Im not putting myself through drawing a size chart... YET.

It WILL come, just so I can show pretty outfits and show how ridiculous Leshy's hight is LOL

If you see any spelling mistakes, please ignore them <3

(more info and rambling under cut)

Here I'll write some more things relating to each character;

Lamb

Born in Darkwood to a single mother, their mom had named them Mellia after the flowers that grow there, since they had aided in striving off an illness she had during the pregnancy.

The Lamb grew up pretty happily despite being on the run. Their mother was eventually caught whilst they made an escape. During their years of hiding, they broke their leg during one particularly risky escape and were caught not long after.

Their number is 1.600.666 because I keep making a connection between Darkwood and Germany's Schwartzwald - there are 1.6 million sheep in Germany - so I decided to have that be the approximate number. 666 was just added for fun.

Their ear was tagged to keep track of how many sheep were caught in which realm. They just so happened to be the last to be executed. By mere coincidence.

They were born without horns and kinda made the crown shape into a set. It has the benefit that they can rip em off and use them as impromptu weapons.

Due to centuries of being treated as a tool for a prophecy and merely a vessel, their self esteem is downright horrid. Whilst they don't condone followers speaking ill of them, they pretty much let Narinder trample on their feelings up until they had snapped one day. In the end it did help them both, but it wasn't great it had to be taken to that point.

Extra: I added the vitiligo because when I imagine a human version, I couldn't help but see them as having Vitiligo. Their leg limp was made after I thought it would make them look more imposing seeing someone "weak" suddenly pull out a giant hammer.

Narinder

Found within a burning village under rubble, clutching a crown as war raged around them. He was found by Shamura and taken in.

He was the first to create resurrection and back then it was an EXTREMELY taxing ritual. It would require his own godly flesh to beckon people back to life - thus it would literally cause his skin and flesh to melt off his bones. Now that's not needed anymore but his body is still weak to it, meaning during certain stress factors, he can still become skeletal. He doesn't have scarring from it, but gained some cool markings.

He was bound by his arms, torso and neck - all of which are scarred. In the afterlife he was perpetually sitting, causing him to be paralyzed from the waist down. Once he was usurped he had to regain his ability to walk and was taken care of by the Lamb.

He was in a catatonic state for many years and it only got better gradually with many setbacks. For years he never left the bed and by the time his Siblings had been rescued, he had barely started going outside. He was also suffering from chronic pains which wasn't really helpful.

He's also very... Temperamental. It took him just as long to say anything nice to the Lamb and it took him extra long to see them as more than his vessel.

Extra: I changed his markings to be more like I had imagined them. The catatonic trait and chronic pain was added after the update and I remember how horrible it was having tendonitis and I wanted to channel my distaste into Narinder.

Shamura

Found and raised by the last gods, they weren't the greatest sibling. They may have taken in the others but it took them a long time to be anything other than cold. With Kallamar, Shamura was distant and strict - then with Narinder they attempted to be less harsh after the kid started crying himself to sleep. With Heket and Leshy they got less and less cold. They tried their best, they'd argue.

They got carried away by their feelings as they had feared at the start and that's when the first prophecy came to them. They had kept it hidden for way too long until the balance of the crown's powers were ripping at the seams due to Narinder's pursuit in power - and they made a decision. They had told Kallamar first. Then Heket and Leshy were brought in.

Stuff happened. Now they are barely coherent and at most have an hour or two at a time where they seem to make sense. Leshy stays with them the most. Kallamar takes care of them. Heket takes care of the rest. Their skull is caved in, they lost an eye and limbs - some of the damages can't be hidden by bandages.

There's also this thing that their crown keeps getting out of control whilst trying to keep their mind stable - sometimes they'll get startled - attempt to form a weapon and instead end up with their arm speared through. They have scarring all over their body from it.

Upon recruitment they are pretty overwhelmed. Their crown can't stop them from breaking anymore and they have gotten so used to godhood that mortality now feels like they are literally rotting alive. They can feel their body wasting away.

Only after getting their relic back do they start becoming more independent and stable. They nowadays go through some sort of rehab to try and regain their sense of self.

Extra: Not much was added. I wanted to give them Glasses but I can't for the life of me draw them with a pair... So Ill just say they have them but not show them LOL

Kallamar

His past is basically forgotten. It sorta slipped away since he hadn't deemed it fit to be remembered. At first he had MANY fights with Shamura, then it ceased after a confrontation turned violent which left him with a bad scar.

He had to take care of his younger siblings whilst coming to terms with godhood - filling in whenever Shamura wasn't physically or mostly emotionally unavailable. For a long time he was the only one that could comfort his ailing siblings. Dealing with that sort of made him pretty easily agitated.

When Shamura proposed the plan, he had been hesitant - but ultimately didn't say anything.

Now he takes care of his siblings medically. He hates himself more than he hates anyone else and as much as he is quick to condemn and betray Shamura - he is also quick to condemn himself. Though maybe not as enthusiastically or openly.

He likes to compensate. Giving gifts to request forgiveness - grand displays of favoritism or mainly decking himself and his multiple spouses out with Jewels. He still keeps his wedding rings around his neck and his earring references his siblings.

Funnily enough, he caused the least troubles to the Lamb. They could argue he even seemed relieved after a short while of staying in the cult.

Extra: Added Jewelry and two tentacles because he looked naked without them.

Heket

Loudmouth frog that when found with her crown, she started trying to fight Shamura - insulting whatever parent they had. She kept threatening to poison them too.

In the lineup of her siblings, she was often the one who took the sidelines. If she was happy, she was left alone. If she was displeased, she'd let herself known. The most uncomplicated of the siblings.

You'd almost miss how every other bishop would seek her out when help was needed. While Shamura helped with godhood and Kallamar with emotional needs - Heket was a good person to pester with anything else. She'd handle it - just let big sis do it. Even if she was the second youngest - it's funny how even Kallamar and Narinder would occasionally use the nickname.

Then when everyone else was dealing with their wounds, she picked up the pace and kept their respective cults from falling apart. She handled Silk cradle until Shamura could - helped with Darkwood and took over Anchordeep when Kallamar was tending to the others. No problem.

She was still loud when entering the cult. Not as much as her brother - but she loved to cause scenes. Her muteness didn't seem to hinder her at all with that. She's not allowed near knives but somehow can handle axes?

Her temper problems don't get better. She just stops being an asshole about it.

She prefers having scarfs covering her neck bandages whilst they're all bloody and disgusting.

Extra: Nothing because Heket is already perfect.

Leshy

Literally a weird insect that kept clinging to the crown until it grew big enough to hold in one hand. It bit anything that got close and by the time Shamura found it - he had started eating small critters.

And god, he kept growing and growing until he wasn't a small worm in Shamura's hand but literally too big to fit through most doors. They suspected he'd grow until the end of time. Or well, now since his crown is gone.

He never listens. He screams for fun and overshares the worst details to the point he manages to break his siblings into just accepting anything he talks about. They can't even scold him or punish him since Leshy always finds a way to make things worse for anyone else but himself.

He also copies everyone. First it was Heket's tone. Then it was Narinder's behavior - now he started growing flowers and vine braids to make fun of Kallamar and his antlers were at first a crude mimic of Shamura's pedipalps and now they grow vines to be similar to the jewels hanging from them. He refuses to acknowledge doing so.

He's very clingy. After locking away Narinder, he stayed with Shamura every day until they were out of bed rest. He follows his siblings around and when he does give them a second to breathe - hes probably laying around in Darkwood instead of doing anything productive. He does tends to plants occasionally, but he prefers "to let chaos do its thing" - as if that means anything.

He makes for a great gardener after he stopped trying to break everything upon recruitment. And once he got over growling at every living thing - he actually became one of the most well liked people living there.

Leshy knows exactly what someone needs and somehow finds a way to achieve that with the littlest of efforts. It's the thought that counts.

Extra: Braid and vines because I thought Leshy would look cute with it.

Special: The 4 bishops all wear old faith themed robes, but Shamura got the elder clothes for comfort and Leshy kept tearing his clothes apart so he is not permanently excluded from having any special outfits as punishment. Narinder wears fancy robes (who happen to be loose and warm while being special - otherwise he'd complain)

The Lamb wears one of the leaked fleeces since I loved the red riding hood aesthetic.

In the end this turned more into biographies than actual explanations but its 3:30am, Im sleep deprived and I wanted to get my thoughts out because I start having memory problems again YIPPEE

[dogw1tch]

Enclosed Within🌿

18+ Dryads x Gender Neutral Reader

(Tentacles, sex pollen, reader has afab anatomy)

DogWitch’s notes: I figured I would post some short stories while I work in a much larger project. I don’t think dryads get enough love so instead here’s a little story of them giving reader pLEANTY of it.

Summary: Lost and alone you stumble across a beautiful grove. There’s something in the air that seems to have you desperate and burning up from the inside. Perhaps grinding against the dew soaked moss might soothe you? I’m sure the vines starting to enclose your body are just regular plants.

It had been a long time now since you had found yourself cut off from the rest of your hunting party, and the dapple of gold on the moss covered ground told you that dusk was not far away. You paused again, listening, observing, searching for any sign that might help you get your bearings. Nobody ventured into the forest unless they were sure they could defend themselves against the creatures within and this was not the first time you had needed to navigate home from an unfamiliar place. It was, however, the first time you had done so alone. You grip your bow a little tighter. It was a warm evening and the cloying air had you sweating beneath your linen shirt that now clung to your chest. The cooing and flittering of birds was beginning to quiet now in the fading sun and beneath it you could hear exactly what you’d be waiting for. The gentle murmuring of running water.

Moving swiftly, bow at the ready, you follow the little stream down through the forest. Your village had been built in the valley and all the forest streams connected to the water mill there- therefore, so long as you followed the running water, you could never stray far from home. You had been walking for a few minutes, keeping a keen eye out for any familiar landmarks, when the brook you followed abruptly came to an end. Looking up you take in the strange scene. The brook had opened up into a large pool, spring green with duck weed and lilies, surrounded by moss-covered rocks. Nestled in every crevice of every boulder were fungi of every variety. Tiny white fairy caps to sprawling shelves of orange and brown gills. Some you recognise but most you do not. And above all of this there stretched the branches of a glorious willow tree. Its bows were thick and draped over the grove like a protective embrace.

A strange smell began to pull at your senses as you stood there; something sweet and heady that mingled with the petrichor. You noticed that a light, yellow dust seemed to be falling from the branches of the willow. Tiny particles that caught the light and danced through the air. You find the scent intoxicating, almost addictive, as you breathe deeply into it. It seems to coat your throat with sticky sweetness, like nectar from the most vibrant honeysuckle. As you take in this glorious new experience, you find yourself becoming increasingly uncomfortable in your dampening clothes. The material clung to you, restricting, making you feel hot and over sensitive. Perhaps it was your mind becoming dazed in the sweet air, but it seemed the only solution was to peel off your now drenched, clothing and sit, completely exposed, in the cool, damp moss. The water on your skin instantly soothed the heat that was building up in and around you, and you sighed contentedly, digging your fingers deeper into the mosses and leaves. Your mind had now become so clouded and vague, you struggled to remember how you got here. All you could think about was the cool moss soothing the sticky heat that now seemed to be coming from inside your body.

You began to buck your hips against the rock, hoping the cold surface that rubbed against your entrance might cool your insides. Little waves of pleasure began to radiate through your body as you moved your hips faster, grinding down on the rock beneath you. Your lips opened to gasp for fresh air but all that entered your lungs was that same sickly sweet that dulled your mind and set your nerves ablaze. You let out a whine of frustration and continue to rut against the moss, your own juices mixing with the dew. It was then, as you felt the heat would surly overtake you, that you felt a voice speak within the back of your mind.

‘So easy. So quick to submit. Poor thing.’

With that, the bows of the willow were suddenly upon you, twisting around your limbs and lifting you from the ground to hang, suspended above the lake. You couldn’t even find it within yourself to be alarmed as the loss of friction had you bucking desperately against the air.

‘So needy’

The voice came again, though now it seemed to be joined by a thousand others that echoed its words.

‘Worry not little one. We shall fill you up.’

The whole grove started to shift to life around you, mushrooms and ferns and flowers all shifting into new forms that stared up at you. The branches that bound you, held your arms behind your back and spread your legs wide, revealing your dripping entrance for all these creatures to see. For the first time, your mind began to attempt to shake off its fog and you struggled against your restraints. But they only tightened as the willow lowered you down into the crowd of waiting creatures bellow.

For a moment, they simply observed you. Each one looked different; with features humanoid enough to be recognisable as a face, but with knowing, pupal- less eyes and bodies that flowed into tangles of glistening, vine like tendrils. There was a moment of silence where you could hear nothing but your own racing heart before…

‘Come my children; drink your fill.’

The dryads swarmed around you, wanting to touch and fill every inch of your aching body. Thick tendrils flicked between your folds, coating you with thick nectar before pushing inside. The thin vines of smaller creatures forced their way in beside them and you could feel each of them curling inside you, pumping in and out, sending waves of pleasure through your desperate body. Finding your slick entrance to be full, a dryad that was clearly once a bright fairy cap mushroom, made its way behind you and began to push into your tight ass. You yelped in pain as the engorged head of one of its appendages suddenly filled you, stretching you out. If they heard, the creatures payed no mind as they begin to toy with this new hole, filling it just as achingly full. The pain dulled into overwhelming pleasure as the feeling of countless, slick tendrils fucking deep inside you overtook your fogged out mind. Your hips twitched uselessly and your mouth hung open in drooling, wanton moans.

As soon as your lips parted, you realised your mistake. Vines came curling up your body, encasing you completely and filling your open mouth. You gagged and spluttered but they t kept coming, writhing down your throat. They felt cool on your tongue and their slick was sweet as honey and you found yourself relaxing into the sensation as the lack of air just added to the heady state of your mind. You moaned around the tentacles, limp and pathetic as you could do nothing but feel pleasure.

‘That’s it.’ The voice came again. ‘Let go little one. Let us have you. Let us have every inch of you.’

You had no way of knowing how long you spent, bound up and being filled by countless creatures. Every time one seemed to finish, thrusting deep and releasing its thick, sweet nectar, another just curled its way around and inside you. Honey came leaking from every hole, coving your skin, your face, your hair. The dryads closed in around you and pressed you flush to their cool, damp skin. Perhaps you began to fade in and out of consciousness, waking up only to feel such overwhelming pleasure that you passed out again. But at some point, you realised as you took your first full gasp of air, they all retreated. You felt so empty, bound and dripping with nothing to fill you. The dryads still gathered around, their empty eyes seemed now to be softer, perhaps affectionate, as a few reached out their strange limbs to brush your hair from your eyes and gently caress your body. In your fucked out daze you leant into the touch, craving more, but you felt the willow begin to lift you up again. The tree twisted you around to face its trunk and revealed it to have become a creature of incredible size. Like the dryads below, it had an angular, almost insect like, face and huge, all knowing eyes. But this one had hands too, that reached out and cupped your tiny body within them. It bore a crown of sticks and leaves and it seemed to smile at you, though its face was hard to read.

‘You have done well, little one.’ It didn’t have a mouth to move but you knew now who had been addressing you. ‘So well, in fact, that I should like a taste of you myself.’ It’s gigantic hand wrapped around your waist and held you with ease. You looked down to see that, emerging from what was once the trunk of the great willow, there sat a single, thick, tentacle-like branch. It was thicker than any other that had filled you and seemed to be longer than you were tall. It glistened with nectar and twitched slightly as the dryad drew you close.

‘Fit… it won’t… too big..’ you tried to stutter out, struggling to form a coherent thought. A low laugh rumbled around you, shaking the earth.

‘Worry not little one. I shall not hurt you. You shall feel only pleasure.’

Before you could protest, that overwhelming fullness took you over once more and you cried out in ecstasy. The creature used your body like you weighed nothing, fucking all the nectar that had collected inside, deep into your stomach. You watched as your abdomen bulged against its ungodly size and pressed against every nerve, sending waves of delirious pleasure through you.

‘Such a pretty body, made to be filled. That’s it little one, give yourself to me.’

It moved you faster, your limbs limp and useless as your mind went blank. You were simply a toy to be used for this creature’s pleasure, it’s strange cock filling you completely, stretching you around it until it felt like the most natural thing in the world. You wanted it. You wanted to stay full and delirious forever.

‘I’m yours…’ you choked out a whisper as ropes of thick honey began to bubble inside you. The creature didn’t stop, pushing itself deeper as it emptied into you. You were so full you could taste it.

‘All mine’

The world went dark.

***

It was around three days later when your hunting party finally found you. They had located your clothes, stuck in a brook and feared you had been accosted by some brutish thieves or roaming orcs. Following the stream though, they came to the pool and saw you, leant up against a great willow. You were naked, hair sticking to your forehead but clearly breathing and without injury. They called out to you, relieved that you seemed unharmed. The only strange thing was that you seemed to be almost completely covered in plants. Moss was growing over your legs and vines enclosed around every inch of your body. It looked as though you had been here for years.

One hunter approached, calling your name to no response but a few feeble moans. They must be starved, she thought, as she knelt beside you. But looking closer, she realised your moan was not one of pain, but one of gentle pleasure. Between your legs there sat several mushrooms, seemingly taking turns to push their way inside your swollen entrance. A thin vine flicked, absent- mindedly, at your clit and more still seemed to be caressing your dew covered body. Your friend reached out a hand, trying to shake you awake when suddenly, the moss itself seemed to open its eyes and let out a viscous hiss. She stumbled back to find all of the plant life was seemingly staring at her with a hateful glare.

Perhaps they would just have to leave you here after all.

[oh-no-its-bird]

Normal 'Izuna survives' au but he gets isekaid into canon founders era and doesn't notice for a week (everyone is convinced he's a ghost)

He literally lives in the same house as Madara but Madara acts like this is normal bc hes been hallucinating so this is clearly just another hallucination

He only realizes smthn is wrong with Tobirama sees him and immediatley goes "what the FUCK" and suddenly everyone is going "oh god you can see him too????"

Izuna is on a quest to convince people he's not a hallucination (it's a losing battle)

Realistically tho, in that era, wouldn't it be more believable that Izuna is a ghost / somehow came back to life than fucking dimension travel?

Cearly the ghost of Izuna just doesn't realize hes died (common enough in ghost lore)

Tobirama is the only one who believes Izuna bc he has the brain cells to think ab dimension travel / time and space jutsu

POV Madara starts to convince Izuna he's actually a ghost. Maybe... he did die? And he just doesn't remember?? Oh god is he a ghost??? Is he dead????

Tobirama is standing by watching this shit happen with a look of disgust on his face (I'm sorry Tobi the stupidity is genetic)

Madara really said gaslight gatekeep girlboss, starting with yourself first

@beatriceportinari :

hashirama is trying to be compassionate and get him to move on and izuna just. stays there (bc he's not a ghost)

hsrm so desolate abt it

tbrm he won't move on 😦 what if he's stuck forever 😦

SORRY IM JUST PICTURING LIKE HASHIRAMA AND MADARA DOING A FULL EXORCISM LIKE OUTFITS AND SAGE BURNING AND HITTING THE DRUMS AND ALL AS IZUNA STANDS IN THE MIDDLE OF THEM LIKE 🧍‍♂️

Tobirama is standing nearby watching this shit happen fully aware Izuna isn't dead but no one will listen to him so !!! Might as well watch the show

@fashionredalert :

Izuna standing there like

Tweak it slightly to turn it into a happy ending where they get to keep him bc he eventually has to go back home: there was no dimension travel, for some reason he survived or was revived (zetsu interference gone wrong?? Or right ig, for Izuna)

IT LOOKS LIKE HES WAITING PATIENTLY FOR IT TO WORK PLS

@mengfm :

He fr came back to life/survived but everyone's convinced he's a ghost and are trying to lay him back to rest

The idea of people trying to re bury him is so funny. Left and right he’s trying to avoid having funeral rights just said to him

@beatriceportinari :

PLS YESS

montage where they make him lay down in a coffin and he's just laying there fidgeting like "this feels weird is it working yet"

noooo asdfghjh he's letting them do it'

maybe i should be dead yeah' izuna!!!

@mengfm :

"No I saw you die"

"Ok convincing argument I guess" -Izuna, apparently

@fashionredalert :

I know there’s that trope about the Uchiha burning the bodies with funeral rites could you image…Bro having to run away from Madara trying to burn him alive to lay him to rest again

@mengfm :

IZUNA GET ON THE FUNERAL PYRE

ITS TIME TO BURN!!!

@fashionredalert :

Izuna running through the village with rope ties around his hands as he runs

ZUNA STOP SCREAMING AND LET THE FIRE DO ITS JOB

"IZUNA COME BACK!!"

THEY TRY TO DO IT BUT IZUNA GETS TWITCHY AS THE FLAMES DRAW CLOSER THEN JUMPS OFF THE PIRE

"NO I CHANGED MY MIND"

"THIS IS FOR YOUR OWN GOOD"

Madara is chasing Izuna through the streets with a lit torch as Izuna screams about wanting to try a different way and Madara screams about how it'll work if he just STAYS STILL

@instant-bull :

(Hashirama looks out his window and asks Tobirama if he just saw Izuna running through the streets and Tobirama tells him to stop making shit up to get out of work)

@mengfm :

JSDNJNFSDJNSDFKSNDJF HASHIRAMA THIS WON'T SAVE YOU FROM THE PAPERWORK

That’s just a lack of sleep hallucination back to work!!!

@instant-bull :

Madara trying to burn his brother alive isn’t real!

"You'll get used to them" Tobirama waved his hand, the years of insomnia experience making him sound particularly knowledgable

@mengfm

Hashirama’s already moukoton scrambled brain is going to feel even more insane. This is not helping his sanity

@instant-bull

Hashirama starts to believe he sees into some alternate timeline or the past or whatever that shit was

HASHIRAMA ON HIS OWN INSANITY KICK BELIEVING HE CAN SEE INTO ALTERNATE TIMELINES

The ending is literally just Tobirama hitting everyone over the head with a rolled up newspaper and yelling that they're all stupid, going "HES alive. YOURE not hallucinating. and YOU can not see into other dimensions!"

Only sane person in Konoha

(Then in the epilogue he goes home and has his own regular hallucinations of his dead brothers)

Parts of todays AU are brought to u with the help of @instant-bull @mengfm @fashionredalert and @beatriceportinari, everyone say thank you to them

[nonsensenook]

Chapter 1 | Torn, Placed

Synopsis: An unapologetic take on you, the reader, appearing in the world of Black Myth to accompany the Destined One on his journey.

Word Count: 2,138

Warnings: Violence

Author's Note: I hope you enjoy and join me in the indulgence!

Ch. 2 - Ch. 3 - 3.5 (Optional) - Ch. 4

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You felt your legs screaming as your inner shirt clung to you with sweat. It’s been hours since today’s trek began and you truly would do anything to simply sink to the forest floor and cuddle with some nearby mushrooms to sleep. Despite passing some very inviting fungi you refrained from asking to rest. After all, this wasn’t your journey. It wasn’t your place to halt its progress as you wished. You felt you were enough of a burden to have added yourself to a story already written. Tired as you were, you could always rely on your own stubbornness to keep you going. 

The Destined One held out an arm, stopping you as he listened for any sounds ahead. Unlike you, his breathing wasn’t labored. You weren’t sure if he ever needed to sweat. He looked as he always did: composed, reliable, and ready with staff in hand. Watching him like this reminded you of the deep gratitude you held for him, one that came to be long before you stood by his side.

It’s been nearly two weeks since you appeared in this world. You don’t remember much other than vague flashes of memories. You were falling, tumbling, then a creature of unfathomable size found you. You remember bracing yourself as its claws promised a swift death. You saw a staff crash down on its head just as you fell unconscious. The next time you opened your eyes you were laying near a fire. Darkness and a lush forest surrounded you. Someone had draped a spare robe over you. That someone, you recognized, slept across from you sitting up; leaning against a tree. 

You remember staring at him, hands running through your hair in stunned silence. He was a character turned to life, one that you knew too well. After almost burning your hand in the fire to test the theory of a dream you pieced together the only logical conclusion to this illogical situation. One that you weren’t ready to accept. Your thoughts and rising panic were interrupted by the Keeper of Blackwind Mountain. 

He appeared in a whirl of smoke, waving the mist away and pointing towards you with the end of a backscratcher. He called you an “unprecedented interloper.” You couldn’t say you disagreed. The Destined One awoke to the two of you exchanging questions that neither could answer. There was the idea to have you dropped off at a human village, though this was quickly rejected as not only was it well off the course, but the Keeper had a sneaking suspicion that your presence, however “wrong” and “erroneous,” was tied to that of the Destined One’s. It was decided that you would accompany him on his journey, whether that be for a larger role you play or simply to keep you alive. You personally leaned more towards the latter. “Perhaps,” the Keeper said as smoke enveloped him once more, “once everything falls back into place, then so too would you.” 

The Destined One initially traveled ahead of you so as to scout for potential dangers. This was remedied when you both were ambushed from behind. Now he keeps pace with you, never showing any signs or indication that your slower speed frustrated him. The start of the journey was a cruel leap from what you were accustomed to, but you soon found yourself adapting. You never allowed yourself to ask for anything, not even as your feet bled or how much your body screamed at you.

Today may be easier, but that didn’t stop your lungs from feeling like they were bursting. The Destined One let his arm fall. The path ahead was clear. You took a step forward and felt your foot catch on a tree root. The Young Sage reacted quickly, catching your arm. 

“I’m sorry, let me just-” your legs took this golden opportunity to buckle under you. The Destined One put his arm under yours, shouldering your weight. He led you to sit on the root as you settled your breathing.

“I’m fine, I just need to catch my breath,” you explained, clutching at your chest. The Destined One shrunk his staff, stowing it away. He knelt beside you. To your horror you realized he was offering his back. 

“Truly! I’m fine!” you cried out, flustered. The Destined One stood back up. This relieved you till you looked closer at him. You could read how utterly unconvinced he was the way his hand resting on his hip paired with his unblinking stare. 

“You’re already carrying enough, I can manage my own weight at the very least.” You readied yourself to stand back up. In response he held up a pinky. You stopped, staring at him skeptically. He stepped towards you, hooking it onto your outer robe. He barely moved his arm before your whole body was lifted from the ground. Message clearly packaged, delivered, and received. Ever and always so silent, he placed you down and offered you his back. This time, you obediently let him carry you, ignoring the feeling of satisfaction that came from him. 

The young monkey straightened up, making you instinctively move your hands from his shoulders to wrap around his neck. He quickly understood and angeled himself downwards before he started walking. 

Your mind went from the way your chest was pressed against his back to your faces being much too close, then to the way his hands gripped your legs to support your weight. You felt yourself warming up. You weren’t sure that it was from the heat of the day anymore. With you on his back the pace quickened to where he was almost doubling the distance covered. You shoved away the feeling of guilt which nestled into your stomach. You ignored whatever dance your heart was doing in your chest. 

~

Traveling with your silent companion had a difficult adjustment period. You appeared in this world with nothing but your clothing, which were shortly in tatters from your stumble into a Yaoguai’s territory. The Destined One fashioned you new clothing that could hold their own. He’d also lent you a staff, but your first attempt at wielding it had you either accidentally hitting yourself or dropping it. You thought you saw a humorous quirk of his lips when you had hit yourself on the head the third time, but that may have been the self-inflicted head injury. He had held out his hand and you wordlessly returned the staff. 

The journey was initially silent, but you eventually began filling the air with light chatter. You talked about anything on your mind on that particular day whether it be a memory, story, or particularly interesting item from your world. You weren’t sure if he was ever fully listening. He never made any indication for you to stop. In one instance you were interrupted by an archer who was shortly intercepted and disposed of. When he returned to your side he made a motion for you to continue your story about a movie you had once watched, a delight you tried to settle down. It became easier to read his subtle gestures and little facial expressions. Sometimes, you would react to him as if he were speaking aloud. You never made mention of how you knew as much as you did about him or his journey. That was the one topic you avoided. There was this strong instinct never to mention this world’s origins. It was akin to how one would avoid eating ominous mushrooms or lick questionable stains. 

With the knowledge you could share, you advised him when able. He eventually understood that telling him you’d be waiting for him at a shrine meant he was about to fight a rather powerful Yaoguai. He never questioned when you pointed out things he may have missed or the way you would let him know what sort of enemy to prepare for next. Whether he thought your instinct or intuition strong, he trusted your judgment.

At night, the Destined One would scout for a place to rest. On some lucky days he finds an abandoned home or building to stay in. On the cold nights where camp would be set outside, you’d sit closer to the fire. One morning you woke up to find your limbs wrapped around your companion. Your blanket twisted between the two of you. Your body had sought him out in the night. Even with you rousing from your stupor you found it unbearably difficult to separate from his warmth. Eventually, you did manage to unwind yourself. You had rolled over, pretending to continue to sleep for a bit longer before doing a very convincing rise and stretch. You avoided eye contact with him the first time you did this and your stories came sparingly. After the next few times you eventually realized that the days you woke up intertwined with him were the only days where he’d be the second to rise. You assumed he was graciously giving you time to leave without having to go through the embarrassed apologies you had prepared. For that you were grateful. In any case, neither of you brought it up. 

As time passed you were soon able to keep pace with the Destined One without relying on him having to carry you. The speed at which you were adapting to this world felt too quick to be natural, but you were working with too many unknowns to be sure. You thought of giving the staff another try, but your skills were just the same as when you’d started. Learned behavior did not count, unfortunately.

~

The day had been sweltering when you and your companion made camp near a spring. The Destined One had scouted the area with you before it was deemed safe to stay for the night. You were excited to be able to bathe in such a beautiful area, especially after such a hot day. You left the young monkey at the camp before going to the water. The flora around it kept you private from one another. You stripped off your clothes, letting them rest on some rocks in the light of the setting sun. You tested the water with one foot, it was refreshingly cool. You waded in till the water reached your waist, then held your breath and ducked below the surface. You emerged laughing, feeling the droplets fall from your hair. 

The water felt invigorating on your skin. You felt more than just the accumulated dirt and grime being washed off of you. You began washing your hair, trying to detangle any knots you found when you felt something squirming land on you from an overhanging tree branch. You cried out in surprise, quickly brushing off a curious little lizard. The lizard made its getaway just as the Destined One leapt into the spring, staff in hand. 

“It’s okay, a lizard just surprised me,” you explained with a small laugh, hands raised in reassurance. He looked down. You looked down. You quickly covered yourself in a panic, going lower into the water as he turned on his heel to head back in the direction of camp. You lowered your head till it was submerged again so that only the fish could hear your cries of embarrassment. You stayed longer than you wanted to in the spring until your face stopped burning and your hands began to wrinkle. Drying yourself off, you did whatever you could to shake off the mortification of what just happened. You dressed yourself, hesitating to return back to camp. What do you say to someone who just saw you naked? Do you apologize? Make a joke of it? Pretend it never happened? All were answers but none seemed correct on their own. You settled your breathing. You can go with E: All of the above.

Back at the camp you found the Destined One sitting cross legged, poking at the small fire he had made. His tail was swishing left to right, making the pattern of a fan in the dirt. You hesitated again, unsure on how to bring up what just happened. You weren’t sure how long you stood there for when the Young Sage suddenly inhaled sharply through his teeth, tossing the stick he was holding aside. He had let it burn down to a stub till the small fire reached his fingers. Seems you weren’t the only one lost in their own mind. You smiled, somehow relieved in knowing that. 

“Are you alright?” you asked, your tone light with humor. He turned to you, you saw him relax at seeing you smiling. You went next to him, then crouched down, holding out your hands. “Can I see?” 

He held out his hand, you took it between yours, looking closely for any sign of damage. His hand was large with dark nails well pointed and sharp. You felt you were brushing past his fingers with your own more than you needed to. Satisfied at seeing no wound, you let go. He held his hand there for a moment before retracting it. Wordlessly, you both stood up. You refuse to let any awkward silences stretch on, being the only one who can actually break them. 

“It’s your turn to use the spring,” you said, putting your arms behind you, “Watch out for lizards.” You mentally kicked yourself. The Destined One watched your expression for a moment, considering your warning. Then he gave a small nod and headed for the spring. You let out a held breath. This feeling will not be leaving you any time soon, but at the very least nothing’s changed as far as you can tell.

The next day, after untangling from the Destined One once again, the two of you continued onward as usual. Soon, the lush forests became bare sand as the two of you entered the next part of the journey. 

[daemour]

♡ Event: @pirateeznet 2nd Anniversary Event

♡ Pairing: Farmhand! Choi San x home aide! f! Reader

♡ Genre: Harvest Moon AU, slight slow burn, fluff, slight angst, T for Teen

♡ Warnings: Cursing, some sexual innuendos at the end, that's it

♡ Summary: Working as a home aide on a farm brings you some new trials...namely a certain attractive farmhand named San.

♡ Word Count: 9277 (im SORRY)

♡ Genre: Regular Life ; Prompt: Coworkers

This was supposed to be...a lot longer. LAMFIJGDFJKGHKJSHDF x) With both Hwa and Joong as other love interests...but I gotta learn how to restrain myself LOL. But I do have more planned with YN and San (and a little more spicy too hehe) so if you'd like to read that let me know!

it's a honker of a fic, so i really do hope you enjoy despite the plot holes LMAO

Thank you to @okiedokrie for beta'ing,,,the first draft lmaooo surprisee...its totally different lol

“Are you serious?” you mutter, standing knee-high in a mud puddle. When you decided to move out of the city and stay with an elderly man as a home nurse on his farm temporarily, you expected to get dirty. But not like this, and not that soon. The wagon was only able to take you so far before you had to walk the rest of the way since it was technically private property or whatever the guy said. You didn’t quite remember his reasoning, and it wouldn’t have been such a big deal if it hadn’t started pouring about five minutes after you started walking. Now you’re cold and wet, and mud is everywhere.

With a frustrated groan, you try and take another step, wincing at the feeling of the mud squelching in your shoes and soaking your socks through. You’re having regrets, but you’re sure the ailing older man is having worse issues than wet socks and shoes and you power through. After a long and gruelling walk, you finally see the cream building and connected barn and you sigh in relief.

“Oh, man, you look a mess,” a voice is heard from behind you and you shriek, dropping down to the ground and clutching at your heart. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you. YN, right?”

You nod miserably. “Yeah. This is Aria farm?” You punctuate it with a sniff as you try to regain your dignity.

The man laughs, much more high-pitched than you expected. “Yup. I’m the farmhand, San.” He holds out his hand. “Need a hand up?”

With a shaky smile, you nod, grabbing his hand and letting him pull you up. His grip is strong, warm, and calloused, and you shoo away any unwanted thoughts. “Got caught in the rain?” San smiles apologetically like he was the one who brought the showers down upon you.

“Yeah, I sure did.” You return the smile with a weak one of your own. “Got dumped at the end of the road by the wagon, and not five minutes later I got poured on.”

San winces. “Oh, well, sorry that had to be your first welcome here. I’ll give that guy a talk later—he means no harm, just likes to play pranks.”

You grunt, not caring all that much about the villagers in the town, pranks or not. You have no doubt that the wagoneer meant no harm, nor that the villagers aren’t nice, but most of your days will be spent cooped up with the old farmer in his house. Plus, you decided to move away from the city to get away from people and let your introversion take over.

It takes a moment for you to realise he’s expecting you to keep up a conversation. “How is Mr Takeru doing?”

San shrugs, his eyes continuously flickering back to you. “He’s doing fairly well, all things considered. The fall left him physically incapable of a lot, but his energy hasn’t dwindled at all.” There’s a fondness in his voice. “He’s happy to hear you’ll be coming. He loves having people around and his kids barely visit. To no fault of their own, of course. They’re all on different islands, farming as well and it’s hard to get away.”

You hum. You’ve heard of their family situation, how Takeru’s kids all followed in his footsteps to become farmers, and that their children also went on to become farmers. It’s interesting, and you sometimes wonder if it’s something they all wanted. “It’ll be nice for him to have someone around,” you tell an attentive San. “It would’ve been great for him if some of his family could see him, but I’m sure he’s excited anyway.”

As you talk to San, you don’t realise how quickly the two of you walk until you are already at the house’s porch. San opens the door, stepping in, but you hesitate for just a moment. You almost turn tail if it wasn’t for the warm smile San offers.

“Don’t worry, I promise Mr Takeru is super nice. And I’ll always be happy to keep you company.” His eyes crinkle as his smile widens even further, and you can’t help but feel your face warm at how sweet he is.

“I’ll have to hold you to that, then.”

-

“Are you going to the flower festival tomorrow?” San catches you right when you go out to grab the mail.

You tilt your head as you flip through the many letters. Nothing of too much importance, just a couple of notices from the local stores. You see a letter from one of Mr Takeru’s kids and you smile at the sight of it before realising you hadn’t responded to San. “The what?”

“Flower festival,” San repeats himself, a smile growing on his face. It always seems to be there when you see the farmhand. “It’s a holiday where couples enjoy the cherry blossoms together and all.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “San, I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m not quite part of the couples demographic.” The farmhand’s eyes sparkle at your joke, but his gaze does not waver.

“You could go with me,” he suggests and you choke on the spot. “I’m being serious! It’s a really nice time and it’d be a shame if you missed it.”

You sigh, glancing behind you. “We’ll see. I might be busy tomorrow.”

San still smiles triumphantly at your answer. “If you do decide to come, I’ll meet you at the church grounds at seven.” And before you can even respond, he winks and walks away, making sure to flex his back muscles. If you can’t rip your eyes away, that's your own problem.

As the clock ticks closer and closer to six, you get more and more antsy. You’re still debating whether to go. One part of you wants to go so he won’t wait in vain, but the other part of you wants to avoid all sorts of contact with people. Every time you go and buy groceries for Mr Takeru, the villagers all stop to stare at you. And you know it’s partly your fault for never trying to get to know them, but you really would rather stay a hermit.

But San, he was different. Although you’ve only been here for a few weeks, San seems to have taken an interest in you. He’s always finding an excuse to talk to you, be it lunch break or asking to pass a message to Mr Takeru. You’re not quite sure what his motive is, but you’re not complaining. He’s good-looking, kind, and makes an effort to get to know you. Perhaps you should return the kindness.

When the clock strikes half past six, you know it’s the last moment before you can make your decision. After a moment’s hesitation, you call up the stairs “Mr Takeru, I’ll be going out! Do you have everything you need?”

You can hear the smile in his voice as he responds, “Mmh, I’ve got my cane so I’m all good. Going to the festival, I see?”

“Bye, Mr Takeru” You roll your eyes good-naturedly even if he can’t see it, grabbing your bag and practically launching yourself out the door. If you run, you’ll make it just in time.

You’re sure you look crazy, running down the streets while attempting to pull your hair away from your face to no avail, but time is of the essence. You manage to smile at the villagers who wave at you, but you’re panting hard and you think your legs might fall off as you take the church steps three at a time.

As you catch your breath, you can see San out of the corner of your eye approaching with the biggest smile you’ve seen on his face. “You came!”

You open your mouth to respond but all that comes out is a hack from the lack of air in your lungs. San laughs, reaching over to pat you on the back as you take a moment to catch your breath. “My gosh, I am not cut out for running,” you gasp, finally straightening up and brushing your hair out of your face.

San’s hands slow as he shifts them lower to rest at the small of your back. “Well, I’m glad you made it anyway. Come sit with me and my friends. They’ll be happy to see you came.”

Without giving you a moment to protest, San sweeps you away towards the back corner of the courtyard. The two people sitting on a blanket you recognise—the farmer you buy your groceries from and the bartender who walks past Mr Takeru’s farm on the way to work in the afternoon, and neither of their names you ever got.

“Guys, this is YN,” San introduces you and you give a little wave as they chorus your name with ‘hi’s. “This is Wooyoung, and that’s Yunho.” He points to the bartender and the farmer respectively.

“Good to finally get your name,” Yunho smiles at you, a bright smile lighting up his face. “You’ve been shopping with me for what, two weeks now?”

You laugh awkwardly. “Yeah, just about.” You silently beg for the topic to change because San is sensitive about how you buy groceries elsewhere since a storm destroyed most of the farm’s crops. “What does one do at the flower festival?”

Wooyoung and Yunho exchange a glance between each other, their eyes soft. “Generally couples sit together and watch the flowers fall and talk about each other. At the end, you pick up a blossom and blow it after making a wish,” Yunho explains, the corner of his lips pulling up as Wooyoung leans into his body. “I’m here with Wooyoung.”

He immediately realises this is not the best thing to say as your face heats up and your brain immediately goes into overdrive. “You don’t have to be in a romantic relationship to go, of course!” San immediately rectifies, his hands shooting out to smack Yunho in the shoulder. “I always go with friends.”

A smile pulls at your lips even though you’re still a little awkward at the revelation. “Well, thank you for inviting me anyway,” you bow slightly. “It’s nice to get a little scenery difference.”

Wooyoung laughs at that. “Yeah, I don’t think I’ve seen you away from the farm since you arrived, barring your visits to Marimba and Horn Ranches.” You duck your head shyly and San swoops to your rescue.

“Not that you’re any better, Wooyoung. All you do is work and go home to sleep,” San teases. “Except when Yunho makes you go outside, of course.”

Both Wooyoung and Yunho immediately blush red and you laugh at the sight. “You two are cute together though,” you compliment. “Hopefully one day I can have a relationship like yours.” You miss the soft gaze sent your way by San, but neither Wooyoung nor Yunho do and they exchange a look before smiling back at you.

“I’m sure you will one day.”

-

It’s pouring buckets out there and even San has taken the day off. There’s nothing to do on the farm other than feed the animals, and the day before San had put extra food in their buckets for that occasion exactly. Mr Takeru is fast asleep and all you’re doing is sitting in the living room and trying to focus on reading. But it’s not coming to you.

With a sigh, you put your book back down and move to stand near the window, staring at the bleary landscape. That’s when you see it. A little glimmer of light right by the bending tomato plants. You narrow your eyes, unsure if your eyes are playing tricks on you, but then it happens again. Now you’re sure something is out there, and against your better judgement, you’re going to find out what it is.

With another glance towards Mr Takeru, who doesn’t seem to be waking up anytime soon, you pull on a raincoat and open the front door. The wind almost slams it shut but you catch it just in time, slipping out of the house and closing it gently instead.

The wind is practically bullying you as you make your way slowly over to the garden. When you finally reach the plants, you squint but can’t seem to find anything, but you swear you saw something. Your eyes dart around to see if you can find it again, and another sparkle catches your eye further down the road.

You cast a glance back at the house, inner debate raging in you. But at heart, you’re forever a toddler and you go chase after the pretty lights.

The farther you go, the more you’re starting to regret your choices. But you’re too far to find your way back—although you’ve been here for almost a month now, you’re not all that well-versed in where things are around this island. Yet another point into why you should’ve just stayed at the farm.

With a groan, you take another step closer, making your way through a tunnel of trees. The rain only seems to get heavier but you can still see the faint sparkling but not much around it and you step closer.

Suddenly, the rain melts away to reveal a little grove and a giant tree standing tall and proud. The only thing that tells you were just in the rain is the fact that you’re soaking wet. You blink, step back, and the rain falls around you again. Another step forward, and the sun is shining again.

You rub your eyes, sure you must be going crazy. But the sunny area is still in front of your eyes. As much as your brain is screaming at you to turn back and make your way home, your curiosity gets the better of you. You take a few steps closer, marvelling at the old spring on either side of the stone pathway you’re on.

You’ve heard of the stories of the fae and magic surrounding this island, mostly from Mr Takeru himself, but you always chalked it up to him being old, as much as you thought it would be nice for it to be real. And here you are, standing in the middle of what can only be called magic surrounding you.

The area looks almost unoccupied, with more of the sparkles that drew you out of the house in the first place flitting around. You take a couple of steps closer when someone steps out from behind the tree. “What are you doing here?” You don’t recognise the figure standing in front of you, with perfectly coiffed hair and a frown upon his pouting lips.

You blink at him. “Uh, I was taking a walk and ended up here. What is this place?”

The blonde man blinks at you. “You don’t know? It’s the Goddess Spring, home of the tree that powers our island. Though…I guess you are new here.”

You frown, cocking your head. “Sorry if I seem rude, but I don’t think I’ve met you. Who are you?”

The stranger’s piercing blue eyes widen and he laughs, waving his hands. “Oh my, I can’t believe I forgot my manners. I’m Park Seonghwa, son of the mayor of this little island. My father speaks highly of you and how well you care for Mr Takeru.”

His hand is firm and warm although his palms are softer than San’s. “Nice to meet you, Seonghwa,” you smile at him warmly. “Your father speaks proudly of you as well.”

You can’t believe you haven’t made the connection. Seonghwa isn’t the spitting image of his father per se, but they look similar enough to each other, especially in their eyes. Mayor Gil and Seonghwa both have the same stare.

The young man smiles again, shaking his head. “My father can be passionate. Now that he’s older, he tells me he has less grievances against the world. But I am curious—what are you doing here? It’s still pouring out there.”

You shrug, a little embarrassed. “I was just following some…uh…sparkles.”

“Sparkles? Nothing else?” Seonghwa’s facial expression shifts to one of curiosity. Your eyebrows furrow at his intensity and his features soften as he chuckles. “Ah, I don’t mean to alarm you. This island has a rich history behind this little grove. Are you busy?”

You shrug, glancing behind you. “No, not really. I’m not really in the mood to walk all the way back to the farm in the rain. I’m a big history fan anyway.”

Seonghwa shrugs, gesturing to the stone bench up further on the stone pathway. “Come and sit then. The story starts with this tree.”

To be honest, you don’t understand much of what Seonghwa explains. Something about bells and trees powering the island, and how only the line of mayors and Mr Takeru’s family can see the magic. But Seonghwa seems so passionate about it, and you have no reason to disbelieve it, not when you’ve witnessed the grove itself, so you just smile and nod and do your best to comprehend.

Seonghwa is finishing up his story of how Mr Takeru single-handedly revived the island when he takes a glance at his watch and gasps. “I’ve kept you far too long,” he sighs, shaking his head. “I’m sure the rain has stopped, you should make your way back to the farm before it gets dark.”

Your brows furrow, glancing up to see the sun getting close to the west. “Oh, crap,” you gasp, “I need to start dinner. Do…do you happen to know the way back to the farm? I didn’t quite see how I got here.”

Seonghwa chuckles. “Yes, you can just take a left out here and follow the path down the mountain. It should lead you to the pond right by Aria Farm. I’ll see you around town, then.”

You nod, promising him to try and find time to visit him in town before booking your way out of the grove. He was right, the rain had slowed to a drizzle that hardly bothered you. You’re making your way down the mountain, rushing so much you can hardly enjoy the view you missed on your way up.

As soon as the blue roof of the farmhouse comes into vision, you can’t help but smile to yourself at the familiar sight. Your little adventure was fun but now it’s time to go back. As you unlock the door and swing it open, your vision is immediately blocked by a firm, warm chest and strong arms wrapping around you in a tight hug. “YN, where were you?”

San’s worried voice reaches your ears and your initial shock wears off as you tilt your head back to look at him. “I went on a walk and found some grove near the mountains,” you explain honestly, and San’s eyebrows raise into his bangs.

“A walk? YN, are you insane? I came around to make sure you both were okay and Mr Takeru told me he didn’t know where you had gone. It was a crazy storm out there too. You have to be careful, YN. I– you could’ve gotten hurt.”

San’s arms tighten around your shoulders and your face heats up as you pat his back awkwardly. “Well, I agree it was pretty stupid of me, but I’m fine and here! I won’t do it again, I promise,” you try and cheer him up while also doing your best to wriggle out of his grip. It’s embarrassing for you to be so close, you’re sure he can feel the heat radiating off of your ears. He’s too hot for you to be this close to and you need some space before you combust.

You finally manage to untangle yourself, offering a smile to ease the distance between the two. “How long were you waiting for me, anyway?”

San sighs, running a hand through his dark locks. “Maybe just about three hours? I think I was about ten minutes away from going out to look for you myself. I mean, the rain only stopped an hour ago, it’s understandable I was worried.”

He’s trying to convince himself more so than you, but you can’t really blame him. You would’ve been the same way in his shoes. You try not to think about what would happen if he had suddenly disappeared in the rain. “No, I really am sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you,” you shake your head, glancing away in guilt. “I just thought something was out there and went on a wild goose chase. Turns out it was just my eyes playing tricks on me. But in the grove I went to, I finally met the mayor’s son.”

San’s expression shifts to one of understanding. “Seonghwa? He’s nice, I’m glad you’ve met him.” He finally smiles back, softly, but shakes his head as if remembering where he is. “Er, I suppose I should let you go have dinner now. You must be hungry.”

He slips out of the door before you can even respond, the thought of inviting him for dinner only popping into your head as he’s already halfway down to the river, his form glowing gold in the sunset. You poke your head out to call for him, but your nerves get the better of you and you just watch him grow smaller and smaller in the distance.

“You should go for it.” A hoarse voice interrupts your swirling thoughts and you turn back to see Mr Takeru leaning on his cane and smiling kindly at you. “You’re young, and pretty. Anyone can see clear as day that San likes you. You know, he was quite worried when you were out.”

You swear there is steam radiating off of your face. “Ah, Mr Takeru, don’t get my hopes up,” you laugh. “There’s no way San sees me as much more than a friend. Now, let’s get dinner started, no?”

Mr Takeru just sighs, a melancholy smile on his face. “You should run right after him before it’s too late, you know. But yes, let’s have dinner YN.”

-

You stand in front of the door of the mayor’s house, debating whether to walk in or not. When you received an invitation for lunch from Seonghwa earlier this morning, he had assured you that you could walk right in without knocking, but you felt a little too awkward to do that.

“What are you doing here?” A sharp voice startles you and you jump, looking over your shoulder guiltily. A silver-haired man with sharp eyes and thick robes gazes at you with an uninterested expression on his face.

“Ah– Seonghwa invited me for lunch here,” you explain, glancing back at the door.

Before you can say anything, the strange, eccentric man brushes past you, the many bracelets and necklaces he has on jingling. “Well, then. He’s up to one of his schemes to get me to socialise again. He invited me for lunch too. Come on in.”

He swings the door open, stepping inside the house and you stare at him with wide eyes before scurrying after him. The outside of the house is filled with flowers lining the stepping stones, but the inside of the house is more mature in decor, with dark oak tables and brown wallpaper. The stranger glances at you, having noticed your eyes wandering the decor and he laughs shortly. “Quite the juxtaposition of interior and exterior, no? Mayor Gil’s late mother had designed the inside and so the mayor hasn’t had the heart to change it.”

You’re about to respond when one of the doors to your right slams open, revealing Seonghwa standing there with messy hair and a sullen look on his face. “Sorry, I’m going to have to cancel lunch. My father has fallen ill with cow fever. YN, I’m so sorry to have to turn you away but I don’t want you to catch it, or Mr Takeru for that matter.” He heaves a sigh, then turns to the stranger. “Hongjoong, could you do me a favour and bring me some medicine?”

The man—Hongjoong—nods sharply and spins on his heel, striding out the door without a moment’s hesitation. You falter just a moment, shooting Seonghwa a quick smile and ‘hope your father feels better soon’ before following Hongjoong’s steps out the door.

On your way home, you can’t help but wonder…what on earth is cow fever? You’ve never heard of such a thing. You’re too lost in thought you almost don’t see San waving at you from afar. “Ah, hey San!” you greet him with a quick wave and a smile. “Did you have lunch yet?”

A shrug is your answer and you laugh at San’s nonchalance. “Nah, I was just about to head out for some, though. How was your lunch?”

You shake your head. “It had to be cancelled. Mayor Gil came down with the cow fever, so we decided to reschedule.”

A pout forms on San’s face. “Well, I hope he gets better. Cow fever is no joke. But hey, since you didn’t have lunch, would you like to join me?”

Although it would mean you’d have to walk back to town, you can’t say ‘no’ to the smile on San’s face. “Sure, I’d be happy to,” you grin. “Inn? Do you want to get sandwiches and eat on the dock?”

The smile on San’s face widens. “It’s almost like you’re reading my mind. Let’s eat on the dock.”

Without another word, he hooks his arm around yours and pulls you in the direction of the barn. “Ah– San, the town is the other way, you know.”

San laughs again, loud and bright. “Yeah, I know. We’ll take Emma.”

It takes a moment to register. “The cow? San, are you crazy?” you gasp, but there’s still a giggle present in your tone. “First, we have a horse. Second, I don’t even know how to ride a horse, much less a cow!”

“That doesn’t matter,” San grins impossibly wider, his dimples deep. “Emma’s sweet, she’s an easier ride than Princess. Plus, I want Princess to have some more bonding time with her foal. Come on, I promise it’ll be fun.”

You groan good-naturedly but can’t keep the smile off your face as the two of you approach the well-mannered cow. “Fine,” you agree. “How do I get on?”

Instead of answering your question like a normal human being, San places his hands on your waist. For a moment, you’re lost in his firm grip, but it doesn’t last long as he lifts you and places you on Emma’s back, a shriek emitting from your mouth. “San!” you laugh, looking down to see San’s eyes crinkling as he chuckles and pats your thigh. “Warn me next time!”

“So there’ll be a next time?”

“You’re focusing on the wrong thing,” you scold lightly, turning away so he won’t see your flushing cheeks. “Come on, let’s go. I’m hungry.”

You can hear San laugh to himself one more time before hopping up behind you and wrapping an arm around your waist. Immediately, your mind is taken back to that rainy day almost a month ago when he hugged you and your cheeks burn even more. “Hold on tight,” San hums, leaning forward till his lips are right by your ear.

And once again, he doesn’t give you time to mentally prepare before Emma runs down the path towards the town. You’re terrified, hands gripping so tightly on San’s that you’re sure your nails will leave indents. But somehow, you’re enjoying yourself taking a wild ride on a cow of all things. Maybe it helps that San’s body is pressed against yours and you can feel the heat radiating off him.

You’re practically in a daze when you reach the town, San lifting you off Emma much more gently than when he put you on her. “You good?” he asks, and you snort, shaking your head fondly.

“God, I can’t believe I did that. I can’t believe you made me do that. But yes, I’m good. More than good, even. That was fun.” You chuckle mostly to yourself, brushing your hair out of your eyes. “Come on, let’s eat.”

It’s your turn to grab San’s warm hand and pull him in the direction of the inn, the little bell tinkling as you step inside. Mai smiles at the two of you, waving you both over to her station. “Hello, you two. Looking for some lunch this fine morning?”

“Yep,” San leans on the counter with his elbow, ignoring the glare the head chef, Chihaya, sends him. Mai hides her smile extremely badly. “Could I get the tuna sandwich? And whatever YN’s getting.”

Your head snaps towards him. “Oh, no, no, San, don’t worry about it. I can pay for my own,” you decline as quickly as you can, but he raises an eyebrow in response.

“It’s my treat, YN. Don’t fight me on this, I’ll win. I invited you out, so it’s only right I pay.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “But–”

“No buts, okay? Don’t worry, I’m perfectly capable of paying for the both of us. Let me do this, YN. Just order, okay?” San holds up a hand, and you know he’s won.

With a sigh, you concede. “Fine. But next time, I’ll pay, and no buts.” San raises his hands in defeat. Satisfied, you turn back to Mai. “Could I get an egg sandwich?”

Mai chuckles, writing down your order in her little notebook. “It’s cute to see you two together. Poor San has been lonely for a long time.”

“We’re not dating,” you quickly correct her, face heating up in embarrassment.

“And I’m not lonely!” San interjects, pout on his face, and his cuteness in that moment makes you forget how awkward you were about Mai’s statement.

“Okay,” Mai chirps, clearly disbelieving the two of you, but before you can refute any longer, Chihaya stalks over, handing the two of you nicely wrapped sandwiches.

“Mai, stop bothering them. You two, go eat. See you later,” he shuts down the conversation, waving the two of you away.

Both San and you exchange a look before quickly leaving the inn, Mai’s sweet giggles trailing behind the two of you until the door shuts behind you. “Well then. Dock?”

You snort, nodding. “Dock.”

You skip your way through town to the dock, empty aside from the local fisherman about to head inside for his own lunch break. The wind isn’t too harsh today, something you appreciate so that the sea’s waves don’t get close to your feet. Neither you nor San feel the need to talk as you work through your lunches, the food delicious enough to keep your mouths occupied.

You finish your sandwich much earlier than San, leaning back on your arms as you sneak a peek at his side profile while he continues to eat, unaware. Something about his focused gaze on his sandwich seems to draw your gaze. As you wait, you can’t help but think back to Mai’s words, unable to keep your mind from daydreaming about Choi San.

Ever since that fateful day in the rain, the hug he had given you keeps popping up in your mind at the most inopportune times…like right now. You can already feel heat rising to your face once again and you quickly focus your eyes on the horizon to do your best to rid yourself of such thoughts.

You can’t afford to like San, not like that. Not when you have no idea what you’re going to do after this job, or even where you’ll go. This little island feels more like home than the big city did, but you don’t know where your life could fit in here. Not when it feels like everyone already has their place in the town.

“What are you thinking about?” You blink yourself back to reality, where San has finished his sandwich and is looking at you with such a fond look in his eyes. “You look lost in your head.”

You shrug, bringing your legs up to your chest and resting your chin on your knees. “I don’t know…” you murmur, a melancholy smile playing on your lips. “Just the future, I guess. What I’ll do later.”

San hums, his hand coming to rest close to your own, and you push back thoughts of grasping his worn, warm palm. “I get it. Before I started working for Mr Takeru, I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do either. I bounced from ranch to ranch, even started over at Marimba Farm for a time until Mr Takeru offered me a job.”

“Is that where you met Yunho?”

At your question, San chuckles. “Yeah. He hired me at Marimba when it was first starting out, then recommended me to Mr Takeru after he was able to manage it with the help of Wooyoung. Yunho is one of my oldest friends here.”

“It must be nice to have that close of a friend,” you state, more to yourself than anything, but San hears you anyway, his brows furrowing with light concern. “Say…who’s Hongjoong? I met him briefly at Seonghwa’s before I had to go home. I’ve never seen him around before.”

San hums, tilting his head so he can look into your eyes more clearly. You fight to keep the blush of your cheeks. “Hongjoong runs the clinic, and does fortune telling on the side. He’s descended from a long line of wizards, and his paternal family has run the clinic for a very long time. Why?”

You shrug. “I heard something about him getting medicine for Mayor Gil. Thought it might be interesting to talk to him about the island’s medical practices. Since I’m a nurse and all.” You laugh, shaking your head. “Maybe I’m a little curious too. He dresses nothing like the other islanders.”

San chuckles alongside you. “His robes are the traditional wear for the wizards of this island. He does quite enjoy talking about the history behind them, so you should ask him about it some time. Any other trivia I can answer for you?”

His tone is light, teasing, and you snort and shove at his shoulder. “Shut up, can’t a girl be curious? I get it, you don’t like me.”

“You and I both know that’s the furthest thing from true.” San shakes his head, and you freeze, aware of what he’s implying.

“San–” You’re unsure of what to say. “I’m–”

“You don’t have to say anything,” San laughs, leaning in to tap his forehead against yours. “Not right now, at least. I’ll give you time to think about it. Now come on, let’s get back to the farm.”

Before you can blink, he’s already on his feet and holding out a hand to help you stand. After a moment's hesitation, you reach out as well, placing your hand in his. As he pulls you up, he leans forward to press his lips against the side of your head and you duck your head, heat rushing to your face.

The walk home is silent, but not uncomfortably so. Instead of riding Emma back, San lets her amble along the path on her own. You walk side by side, fingertips not quite brushing, stealing glances at each other and soft smiles. Maybe it's because he finally put words to what the two of you have, but you can’t help but wonder exactly why both of you are suddenly so open with how much you care for each other.

As he walks you to the front door of the farmhouse, he clears his throat, obviously wanting to say something. You turn to him expectantly, taking note of the nervousness in his eyes. “YN…” he mumbles, a far cry from the confident man he was on the dock. “No matter how you end up feeling, please don’t leave the island because of it. Everyone here likes you, even though you don’t really know them well. And Mr Takeru is terribly fond of you. Don’t let me influence your life too much, okay?”

You sigh, body visibly relaxing. “Of course not, San. I’ve grown to love it here. I don’t think even you can keep me away.”

San chuckles at your feeble attempt at a joke, out of pity, you think. “Okay, okay. Have a good day, YN.”

You close the door behind you, smiling to yourself subconsciously. “Miss YN, is that you?” Mr Takeru calls out, and you shake your head, willing your brain to clear up before quickly making your way to your employer.

“I’m here, Mr Takeru!”

-

You awkwardly stand at the bar, waiting for Wooyoung to finish up with a customer. The bar is the last place you would usually be, but you’re at a loss. San’s words have been replaying in your head since that fateful day on the dock, and you haven't spoken to him since. Not that he’s bothered by it. True to his word, San had been giving you space, only exchanging soft, sweet, ‘good morning’s and gentle smiles.

As each day passed, you knew what your answer would be, but then a letter arrived today from your agency back home. A reminder your contract was almost up. You knew you had to make a decision, fast.

“All right, what’s going on in your head, missy?” Wooyoung’s voice breaks you out of your swirling thoughts. “You look like you’re about to be sick, and I don’t want to have to take you to the doctor’s.”

You open your mouth, close it again, and then reopen. “Wooyoung, do you know if the clinic has any job openings?”

Wooyoung furrows his brow, frowning. “Well, you’ve picked the worst person to ask this question to. I’ve never gone to the clinic before, and Hongjoong never comes in here. But they might. Hongjoong’s grandfather recently retired, so as Mr Van takes his role, there might be a job opening soon. I think Mao was thinking about volunteering there, though. You’d have to talk to Hongjoong about it. Why?”

You hesitate, eyes moving from side to side. No one is close enough to hear you over the music. “Did San talk to you at all in the past week?”

Understanding dawns in Wooyoung’s eyes. “Ah. He told us what happened, but let me hear what you think of it. All our regulars are here already so I won't have to make any more drinks for a while.”

A sigh makes its way out of your throat. “My contract with Mr Takeru is ending soon. The easy answer is to renew, but what about after that? I don’t know where I could work, other than the hospital, and if Mao wants to work there, I don’t want to take that opportunity away from him.”

Wooyoung laughs. “I said he would volunteer, not work. He’s the fisherman’s son, the sea is in his blood. But even if you don’t work at the clinic, San would probably be happy to support you until you find something.”

You shake your head tiredly. “But I don’t want him to. He already works so hard, and I don’t want to make him feel obligated to help me, not when I’m capable of supporting myself and it’s just me overthinking.”

There’s a pause, and then Wooyoung dissolves into laughter. “YN, he would be helping you because he wants to. Hell, any of us would be willing to help you. Yunho could use someone to help him on his own farm, I’m sure Seonghwa would like to have a secretary, hell, I could use you as a server. You’re worrying too much about it. Things will work out if you want them to.”

You wince. “I know, I know. I just worry, you know.”

“Well, don’t,” Wooyoung teases. “Just talk to San. He’ll understand.”

“As always, your advice is impeccable,” you smile. “Thanks, Wooyoung, really.”

“It’s what I do,” Wooyoung winks, sliding a glass over. “Have a drink before you go, okay? I’m not getting paid to gossip, you know.”

You squint at him. “Don’t you own this bar?” All Wooyoung does is smile knowingly and nod towards the cup of…something. You take a tentative sip, and then another, and then it hits. The sweet but tangy flavour with a hint of bitterness from the alcohol. “Oh, this is good! What is it?”

“Raspberry cocktail,” he answers, way too proud of his creation. “I perfected the recipe today, as well as a few others. You should try those ones too.”

You laugh, downing the rest of your drink. “Sure, sure, go ahead. I’m almost never here anyway.”

Wooyoung practically vibrates in excitement, moving around the kitchen in a dash to prepare your next drink. You’re on your third drink and too busy laughing at Wooyoung’s antics to notice the presence behind you. When Wooyoung slides you your next drink, you ask, “Which one is this?”

“This one is your last drink,” a firm voice speaks up and you snap your head around, startled, to come face to face with San. “You still have work tomorrow, YN, you can't get too drunk.”

“Hey, Sanah,” you beam up at him, unbothered by his close proximity. You blame it on the alcohol. His eyes soften as he looks down at you, a smile tugging at his lips. “I was just talking about you!”

“Oh, were you?” San leans down, pressing his forehead against yours. “All good, I hope. Come on, finish your drink and let’s get you home.”

Without much further prompting, you down the rest of your drink and wave at Wooyoung, who is watching the two of you with an amused expression plastered on his face. “Bye, now,” he sing-songs, “get home safe.”

San rolls his eyes good naturedly, nodding at Wooyoung and sliding some money over to pay for your few drinks. “Have a good night, Youngah.” He wraps an arm around your shoulders, helping you stand and pulling you out of the inn. “What am I gonna do with you, huh?”

You hum, turning your head to press your face into his shoulder. “I dunno,” you mumble into him, breathing in the smell of his soap. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do if I end up out of a job. You’re too perfect, I can’t drag you down.” You don’t mean to say all this, but the alcohol is still coursing through your system and the courage still sits in your stomach.

San intakes a sharp breath. “What do you mean by that?”

You shrug. “You have a job, a life here. I’m here temporarily. When my contract ends next month, what am I supposed to do? I don’t want to go back to the city and leave you here, but I don’t have any idea what I’m supposed to do here.”

San sighs, letting his head sit atop yours, his cheek pressed against your hair. “Well, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. I wouldn’t mind if you went back to the city if you visited. I wouldn’t mind if you stayed with me until you get back on your feet if you decide to end your contract. Hell, I’m sure Mr Takeru would be happy to employ you on his own dime, or someone else in town would take you on. But I’m glad you came to me, okay? I want to help you.”

You can feel your eyes stinging, and you curse yourself for drinking so much that it makes you too emotional for your liking. “Okay,” you concede with a soft voice. “Thank you, San.”

He presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “Of course, YN,” he smiles, and although you can’t see it, you hear it in his voice. “Now let’s talk later, okay? You need to go to bed.”

“Later sounds good,” you sigh, letting your body weight lean even more against San’s broad shoulders. “See you later.”

“Not right now,” San chuckles. “We’re almost home, come on. As much as it’s safe on the island, it’s chilly tonight, and I think you’d probably prefer sleeping in a bed.”

“Hmm, bed,” you repeat, yawning. “I like the idea.”

“I’m sure you do.”

The rest of the night is mostly calm, save for San convincing you to go to the bathroom to change, and not undressing in front of him. As he helps you brush your hair as you sit on your bed, you can’t help but to reach up and put your hands on his waist.

“You know, I really like you,” you mumble. The alcohol has almost faded, but the tiredness has hit and you’re just as loopy as if you were still drunk. “I hope you know that.”

San chuckles, his hands slowing to a stop in your hair. “I do, YN. I do.” He leans down, pressing another kiss to the top of your head. “Get some rest, okay? I’ll see you in the morning.”

He turns to leave, but not until you grab his wrist. “Wait! What about here?” you pout, pointing to your lips, and San arches an eyebrow, a smile toying at the corners of his lips and a laugh threatening to escape.

“Maybe tomorrow, if you ask me, okay? Good night, YN.” And with that, he leaves you to sleep, a smile plastered onto your face as you dream of his touch.

When you reawaken, you feel fully rested, yawning as you slip out of bed quickly and easily. A quick glance at your clock tells you it’s almost noon and you curse yourself for drinking so heavily. You’re never letting Wooyoung talk you into such a thing again.

As you make your way out of your room, you find Mr Takeru sitting on the couch. “Miss YN, come sit with me, okay? I want to talk to you.”

You pause, heart freezing. “Ah– sure, Mr Takeru. Nothing bad, I hope.”

The older man chuckles, waving his hand. “Of course not. This is something both Wooyoung and San have come to me about.”

You blink. “Ah.” You’re going to kill Wooyoung, and think about killing San (You’re too attached to him to follow though).

Mr Takeru laughs again. “I said it wasn’t bad, child, don’t look like you’re about to faint, please. San had expressed his affection for you to me, and Wooyoung has talked about how, in his words, ‘both of them are dumb as rocks and won’t date yet’. I’m quite aware that your contract with me is ending soon.” He pauses to take in a breath. “I would like to offer you a job with me off contract. That means you won’t be with your agency anymore.”

You blink at him. “I…I’m sorry, it’s a lovely offer, and I’m quite inclined to take it, but can I ask why? I mean, it would be cheaper for you to hire from the agency, and I’m sure I could figure something else out.”

“Miss YN, I’m sure you’re well aware I am not in much need of money. San runs the farm beautifully, and even though he is paid generously, the earnings far exceed what I need. And, as I have talked to Mayor Gil, Seonghwa, and Hongjoong, the clinic is happy to contract you so that in the case that I no longer require your services, you may work with them.”

You blink at him, your lower lip quivering. It takes you a moment to compose yourself, and Mr Takeru waits patiently. “The offer is so generous, and I would be a fool to decline it. I really do appreciate it, Mr Takeru.”

Your boss smiles. “Don’t worry about it, okay? Think of it as a favour to San as well. He’s worked for me for so long, he’s like one of my own grandchildren.” He pauses, letting out a yawn. “Now, go find him and tell him the good news, okay? I’d like to take a long nap.”

With a moment to compose yourself, you stand from the couch. “Thank you again, Mr Takeru,” you repeat sincerely. “I’ll prep lunch and put it in the fridge for when you wake up, okay?”

He waves you away, already getting ready to lay down on the couch. “Don’t worry about it. Mayor Gil is coming around to have lunch with me, and he’ll bring me something from the inn.” With another yawn, you know your conversation is over, and you spin on your heel and race out of the house, only one thing on your mind.

“San, are you in here?” you call out as you reach the ajar barn doors. “I need to talk to you.”

“I’ll be right down, just filling up the dispenser.” You can hear San’s voice from the loft and you look up, squinting through the sunrays filtering through the holes in the roof. The carpenters have been working on fixing that before the next rain.

Your gaze is drawn away by San climbing down the ladder, an extra bale of hay perched on his shoulders. As he turns around and you catch a glimpse of his face, your breath catches in your throat.

There wasn't ever a time where you thought sweat and grime on a person could be attractive…at least until right at this very moment. Sweat is glistening on his face, dripping off his cheekbones and chin, and all you can think about is swiping your tongue over his lips to taste it. The sight of it only serves to remind you of your drunken request to San, and his one condition that you ask him about it the next day.

“YN? Is there something you wanted to ask me?”

You blink up at him, eyes wide. “Can I get my kiss now?”

That was not what was supposed to come out of your mouth, but it’s too late to rectify it, so you’re left looking up at a dumbfounded San. The silence goes on for just a tad too long and you’re too embarrassed to face him now, so you turn on your heel and start to exit the barn, hopefully to drown your sorrows and yourself in the hot spring.

Before you can even step foot onto the threshold, however, San grabs your arm and gently tugs you into his warm chest. “Now wait just a moment,” he hums, chest vibrating against your back. His smell fills your mind and you tilt your gaze up to see him looking right back at you with such warmth in his eyes. “I didn’t give you your kiss yet.”

“Oh–” is all you manage to squeak out before San’s lips are on yours and you immediately melt into the kiss. His arm pulls you even closer against his body, his lips soft and inviting. “San–”

He doesn’t give you a moment to speak, his mouth capturing every sound escaping past your lips. You can feel every breath against your lips, his tongue pressing against the seam of your lips. Slowly, you part your lips for him and he wastes no time to map out your mouth, taking the air out of your lungs at how desperately he kisses.

As you fall deeper into his embrace, your arms come to loop around his waist, resting by his hips as your hands grip onto his shirt. His own hands roam up and down your sides, gripping at your waist and keeping you pulled against him. One of them finds its way to your face, cupping it with a gentleness that rivals the roughness of his mouth.

You could stay here like this for hours, but your lungs disagree, and after they scream at you for some air, you finally pull away, gasping softly as you lean your forehead against San’s. “San,” you call his name again, although this time your words aren’t interrupted by his lips but your lack of air. You take in one more breath, San waiting patiently as he looks at you like you put the stars in the sky yourself. “San, I like you. And I’m sure I’m just stating the obvious, but again, I do. I want to stay here with you, and just this morning Mr Takeru has offered me a personal contract with him. That’s what I wanted to tell you.”

San laughs, his hand on your waist moving up to stroke your cheek. “I know, YN. I asked Mr Takeru to make you the offer. Or, to be more precise, I implied that he should make you the offer, and I did that because Wooyoung implied to me to do that.” He tilts his head to press a short and sweet kiss to your lips again, chuckling to himself at how you follow his lips when he pulls back.

“Of course he did,” you roll your eyes good-naturedly, nodding as you lean up on your tiptoes to try and steal another kiss. “Nothing will ever be kept secret with his big mouth. Can we go back to kissing now? It’s easier.”

You can practically see the eagerness shine to San’s eyes. Instead of an answer, he tilts his head down to meet your waiting lips. This time, though, your makeout session is sadly cut short.

“So you two are finally together?”

You’re not too embarrassed to admit you shrieked, jumping out of your skin and burying your face in San’s chest. You can hear both San and Seonghwa chuckle, San’s arm tightening around your body. “Thanks to you, Seonghwa,” San hums. “We both really appreciate your role in this.”

“It’s no problem whatsoever. And as surly as Hongjoong can be, he’s happy to have someone else on board. But I’ll let you two get back to…talking. I was just passing through to have lunch with the jeweller. Have a good day, you two.” With a wave that you see out of the corner of your eye, Seonghwa leaves.

“I’m never going back to the town hall again,” you mumble against San’s shirt. “I can’t face Seonghwa again.”

San rubs your back with a comforting hand, although you can feel his chest rumble with quiet laughter. “I’m sure he understands, YN. Plus, look on the bright side. At least he didn’t walk in on a more intimate moment.”

Your head snaps up, heat blooming in your cheeks as you slap his shoulder. “San! We’re in the barn!”

A smirk is the only warning you get before San wraps both his arms around you and hoists you into the air, ignoring your squeal. “My house is just across the creek, you know. We don’t have to be in the barn.” You swear he can see how flustered you are just by your expression, and it only seems to egg him on. His one hand moves down to hold you up by your thighs, and you don’t think your face could get any hotter. “Shall we celebrate?”

“San–” you start to decline, but then you pause, casting a glance over your shoulder. Seeonghwa is long gone, and you’re sure Mr Takeru and the Mayor will be talking for a good few hours. “...All right. But put me down!”

Laughing, San happily sets you on your feet, leaning in to press his lips against yours again. “I really am glad you decided to stay, YN. Thank you for choosing me.”

“And if given the chance, I would choose you over and over San.” You smile up at him, reaching up to cup his face and pull him in for yet another kiss. Although the future seems uncertain, you’ll be happy to navigate it with him by your side.

[naomikozura]

Love of My Life: Part 2

Heian Era! True Form! Ryomen Sukuna x Sorcerer!Fem!Reader

A/N: I want to put an actual paragraph warning in here. Remember this is Sukuna’s story during the Heian Era, using bits and pieces from what I've researched on JJK and him during this era.

This chapter shows INTENSE GRUESOME SCENES including torture, psychological torture, abuse, massacres, and burning buildings. This is a DARK THEME story, it is meant as a work of FICTION and its 18+ ONLY MDNI!!!!

Warnings: strong language, violence, mention of mass murder, angst, generational trauma, complicated family dynamics, family abuse, murder, emotional turmoil and abuse, manipulation, sadistic tendencies, corruption of power, dark themes, burning down villages, murder, masochistic tendencies, sadistic behavior, decapitation, prostitution, sex scenes (in a brothel), torture, psychological torture, (lmk if I missed any!)

WC: 10.2K Series Masterlist

Part 1 || Part 3

The night was quiet, the aftereffects of your fight still lingering in the air. You hadn’t spoken to them for the rest of the evening, letting yourself sit with the hurt of your father’s words.  Your eyes were red, puffy from the silent tears you shed in the past hour. 

Defective. Wasted potential. Disgrace. 

Why has this been your life? Why were you born into one of the Four? Did you live a cruel existence in a past life, were you paying for the sins of your ancestors? Your father despised you being his daughter, hated that his claim was weakened because you were a daughter instead of a son, that you would never be as powerful as the sons of the other Families. You did everything to bring honor to your family. You studied, you trained, you focused on your inherited technique, you brought peace between villages with your kindness and political intelligence, you tried for the better part of your life to mold yourself into what your father wanted. You obeyed his demands, agreed to his greedy power tactics, even believed you were okay marrying Zetsubou  Zen’in when deep down you didn’t want to. You were more than just a pawn in his game, more than means to an end, more than just something to solidify your family name in the realm and create a greater power. 

Little did he know he was slowly pushing you to your brink. You believed you controlled yourself well, keeping composed in even the worst of situations but your composure slowly started to crumble with every new task he had for you. The pressure slowly built up and you couldn’t take it anymore, you didn’t want to sell your life away just for someone else to gain all the power. 

What a cruel life you were given. 

“Y/n”, you felt your heart skip a beat, a low rumble vibrating through you as your bones became hyper aware of who called your name. You turned around, your eyes meeting his deep red ones as he stood in your bedroom. You didn’t even begin to wonder how he got in, he was a gifted sorcerer, he could do anything.

“Ryo..”, you called his given name, not remembering when you had started but when he showed no distaste in your doing so, you continued to call him by name. 

“Come.”, it was all he needed to say as you nodded, slipping on your night robe and your shoes before following him through the back door of your home. You stayed glued to his side as he led you through the woods, suddenly realizing he was using his technique to hide both your cursed energy. He’d put a veil over the both of you to camouflage from any scouts patrolling the woods. 

Silence fell over the both of you, walking for about a half hour before reaching the end of the woods, a blue lake illuminated by the moon at the bottom of a slight hill. The water was bright, the moon reflecting beautifully to light up the water in a serene and breathtaking way. 

“The ground here is loose.”, he said blankly before grabbing you, picking you up in his arms as you sank into him, letting your head rest in the curve between his jaw and shoulder. He had a musk to him, a woodsy smell that brought comfort over you and let you relax into his touch. 

You wondered if you were the first person he’d touched like this? Deep down you knew he’d probably indulge in the company of concubines, he was a man with needs and one many couldn’t refuse. You were certain many of the women would jump at an opportunity to have the King of Curses in their bed. A sting grew in your chest at the thought. 

Once he’d reached the bottom, he set you down on the grass, your body small in comparison to his. He stared at you with curious eyes, the dichotomy of your existence in contrast with his was a wonder to him. He was grueling, sadistic, had the body that would make anyone recoil on sight, and held no remorse in his actions towards others. Meanwhile, you were kind, intimate, beautiful, and gifted. You had three of the most powerful names in this era asking for your hand in marriage, every man in surrounding towns having heard of the L/n daughter who was the heir to the L/n bloodline and being gifted with the Eye of Aurora. He knew your ability was powerful, strong enough to possibly even go head to head with him once you’d reached its full potential. Deep down he already knew you’d be considered one of the strongest sorcerer’s in the Heian era once you reached your full ability. 

He hadn’t come to terms with his reasoning for letting you live, for helping you, for feeling intense amounts of cursed energy at your distress. He wasn’t a man of emotion nor empathy. He saw emotion as a weakness, mundane, meaningless. He hated weak humans, despised the sight of overly emotional lackeys and often killed them on sight or elongated their emotional distress with mental torture. Emotion was something he disregarded and found useless, and yet it was the very thing that kept him from even thinking of bringing harm onto you. 

Was this punishment for his track record of horrific slayings? Were you sent by some being to punish him with your existence?

“Why are we here?”, your red eyes met his gaze, something in his chest burning at the sight of your defeated stare. He could tell you’d been crying, he felt your distress from across the realm and it burned him alive. He’d almost crossed across the entire woods just to show at your home and end your father’s life for laying a hand on you. 

“Your father.”, he started roughly. “He’s a pathetic excuse of a man, an insolent waste of human flesh.”

Your tired eyes widened at the hatred dripping from his lips, the words filled with venom as his eyes darkened. You’d heard about his anger and wrath among the scribes in your village, it was enough to wipe out an entire population and he’d done it multiple times before. You knew if he truly wanted to, he could end your father’s life with no hesitation.

You looked down at the water, watching as the water moved and the ripples distorted the moon, your chest hurting as it contracted. “He…”, you choked on your words, the break in your voice creating a rise of energy in him. “He thinks I’m defective, a disgrace to our family.”

His eyes looked over at you, the burning in his chest growing larger. 

“He threatened to get the elders from the Zen’in clan to exorcize my ability and… let me die without our ancestral guides”

He wasn’t much for believing in spiritual practices, but you’d grown up believing you needed your ancestors to guide you to the next life. it was a common belief within the families especially when you came face to face with cursed spirits constantly. They’d always been exorcized and seeing them cry out as you did knowing they’d just die, you wanted to believe there was a place where your soul could rest easy in the after. 

You felt a whirl of his cursed energy, feeling the rage boiling inside of him. A part of you feared what could happen to your father if Sukuna really wanted to get rid of him, but another sadistic, cruel part of you that you’d never encountered before told you that your father deserved whatever he had coming to him. After years of his grueling expectations, you started to hate your father for his greedy and selfish ways. You knew deep down in the hidden depths of your heart that you couldn’t bring yourself to feel remorse if he died. 

The exorcism of cursed energy was painful, you could easily say that due to how spirits cried when they would get absorbed. The exorcism of an inherited special ability was far worse. You’d heard stories of Yu L/n. He’d been exorcized of the Eye of Aurora and executed after he’d wiped out an entire village because he couldn’t control his technique. It was a horror story, a gruesome tale, it scared you to no end at the possibility that the same could happen to you. An exorcism of a special technique meant death. It was the most grueling way to torture and kill someone, leaving them alive meant they’d be a shell of a human, struggling and living at a lesser quality of life. No humane person would allow someone to live in such agony. Inherited techniques were bonded to the inheritors soul, binding together to make the energy and the human soul one for whatever lifespan the sorcerer had. It was the reason manipulation and control was easy for those who inherited special abilities, because it was connected to them in every way down to the genetic makeup of their bodies. 

You stood next to him in silence, your body numb of emotion as you recounted everything your father had said to you. Were you really wasted potential? Were you really defective? 

“I’ll kill him.”, his voice vibrated, your eyes staring at him while he focused on the body of water in front of the both of you. “I’ll make him suffer, perhaps exorcize his cursed energy to give him a taste of his own ignorance”

“Ryo, please.”, your soft voice sent a wave of warmth through his body. “I don’t want unnecessary bloodshed.”

He realized then why the realm considered you the Princess of Peace. You wanted to fight for your rights to life, fight for what was fair to the realm without bloodshed. Every gathering you’d been to had always swayed in your favor and he knew deep down it wasn’t because of your family name. You were just logical and intelligent to showcase why your outlook was necessary in the development of the Jujutsu world. You truly believed deep down there would be ways to save jujutsu sorcerers and regular humans without having to create an all out war. 

A part of him whirled in anger, another not understanding your stance. He disregarded human emotion at all costs, thought it to be weak, pathetic, unbeneficial, and a waste of energy. When he looked at the way people reacted first instead of thinking it made him recoil in disgust, when he’d see sobbing mothers or angry fathers at the villages he’d consumed he laughed, feeding off their distress and growing in power. He thrived off the negative emotion, yet he couldn’t bring himself to care for anything except gaining his right to the realm. He believed he was the pinnacle of jujutsu sorcery and everyone else was simply a lackey and weak. 

He’d consider you one of them had you been anyone else, but there was something about you that made him hold you at a higher regard. You held every characteristic he despised of humans, of lesser sorcerers and yet he couldn’t bring himself to put you in the same category as them. It was like you had all immunity from his hatred, his wrath, his disgust. He didn’t know why you were different from the rest, he just knew you were and he couldn’t bring himself to figure out why. He didn’t want to. 

“What do you suggest I do then? Sit around and feel your energy get more distressed every time he talks to you like you’re worth nothing?”

For some reason, his confession of feeling your distress made your heart skip a beat. You knew he could feel all the energy around him, the powerful, the weak, the unstable, the murderous, and he cared most about yours. He felt your distress and it made him angry. Something about that undeniable truth made you feel warm inside. 

“You know what they tell you is true.”, he said, void of emotion. “I’ve killed hundreds of people, consumed their energy and left them to rot in the ground.”

Why was he saying this?

“I know.”

“I have no remorse, no morality, no human left in me”

“I know.”

It was all you could say, you couldn’t deny the painstaking truth. You knew he was immoral, dangerous, a murderer, you knew and still you ignored it. 

“So why do you choose to stay?”, he bit out. He’d never wanted nor cared about the opinion of anyone but he wanted yours. Why after the past two months did you choose to keep his company? Why after two months did you find yourself enamored with him? 

“Because you don’t care”, you confessed. “You don’t care about what others think, or what they say. You’re free to pass through every inch of this realm without any regard to what anyone has to say or what they think. In the end, you know you’re stronger, you go through life knowing your worth and position and… If I stay around you long enough maybe I’ll learn not to care either.”

Silence. 

He had no words to say as he listened to your voice grow slightly louder. “I want to leave, I don’t want to be the heir to my family’s claim, I don’t want to be held to this impossible standard that my family has for me. I just wish I could’ve been born just a regular human being. I might’ve been weak, ignorant, and blindsided but I would be free of the torment of my family’s expectation of me. I would be nobody and that would be enough.” 

That was just it. You could never be a nobody. You were forced into this life, born into a family of inherited techniques and forced to bring honor to your family no matter the cost. You were shackled to your prison for eternity and with no way out, you accepted the consequences of your position. 

To him though, it was different. You could never be a nobody. Not when he saw you as everything that brought out a sliver of humanity from his black soul. He saw you as everything everywhere all at once. You were kindness and empathy, strength and resilience, he felt it in the energy he absorbed and saw it in the woods he wandered through. He felt your presence in every fiber of his being and he hated it. You consumed him in a way not even the strongest in this realm could even graze him in. 

“He wants me to stop training in the fields and stay in the inner territory. He’s having the elders oversee my training.”, your mouth twitched slightly. “In the end, I'm still forced to develop my domain for him.”

A surge of annoyance whirled inside of him, forcing it back down in order to remain in control of his veil. He could be annoyed at the mundane anger of your father, but he wouldn’t put you at risk of being seen with him just because he wanted to rip your father into shreds. His thoughts seemed normal to him, but he knew if you’d heard his tactic of gaining your freedom you’d surely feel disgusted by him. 

“We should go back.”, you whispered, another tear streaming down your cheek. You looked down as you swallowed a sob, the feeling of his hand wiping the tear away warming your skin. You leaned into his hand, your lachrymose eyes meeting him in a gentle gaze. 

He stayed silent, grabbing your hand as he led you back through the woods and to your home. Your focus was on your intertwined hands, wondering if he’d ever let someone else touch him like this before. Has he ever been so gentle with others or were you the only exception to this? 

When you arrived, you lingered outside for a moment, the silence occupying the space while you tried to find the right words for him. You couldn’t quite place how you felt, but you felt a pull towards him, an uncontrollable feeling that you wanted to get off your chest. 

“Thank you”, was all you could say. He hummed in response before grabbing your hand, his skin rough and his touch gentle. You smiled through your hurt, a piece of your heart breaking at the fact that your freedom to roam had been stolen from you. A piece of you hurt even more than you couldn’t see him anymore. 

You gave him one last smile before walking away, your hand still in his grasp as it slowly untangled itself from his hood and you walked inside your home. After you’d reached your bedroom, you felt the veil of his cursed energy release and his presence disappear. 

Another single tear falling down your cheek while the pain in your chest overcame you, forcing you into a slumber just to escape from the agony. 

Over the past few days, Sukuna came to visit you in your home, concealing his energy and yours in the process in order to keep you from being sensed by others in your family clan. After so much time, he created a body double of you to take your place in bed so that you’d feel more comfortable leaving your room empty in the middle of the night. 

The nights were the only time you had with him now since your training was supervised by the elders, leaving you little room to actually train to create a domain and instead your time was consumed with training your ability. Every night you spent with him made your heart warm, everything about him made you feel whole, made you feel seen. It wasn’t often he’d speak fondly of anything, but he’d express himself to you in a way he’d never let anyone else hear. He preferred hearing you talk, preferred hearing your dreams of a future and a life that wasn’t surrounded by inheritance and power. He’d often disagreed, believing that power was the best thing in any lifetime that someone could obtain, but he found himself understanding your stance more and more every night. 

The two of you would spend every night with each other, staying within reach of your home in case you needed to return quickly, visiting the lake every night. You didn’t know at what point you started to return to his home with him, but you had found yourself in his bed more times than not. You would spend all night wrapped in his arms, his gentle touch on your skin, his fingers running through your h/c hair, breathing you in as you slept in his hold. 

He’d never expected a single thing from you. Your relationship with him was never carnal, he’d never let it get to that point because to him, he didn’t care for physical release anymore. 

Before you, he’d spend the better parts of his nights in brothels, a different concubine each night and drunk on wine and letting himself dip into his pool of women whenever he wanted. A harem waiting to jump into his bed at the snap of his fingers and yet, when you came around it was like all carnal desire evaporated from his being. His sudden disappearance from the brothels left even the concubines in shock, wondering where he’d gone off to not knowing of his infatuation with the L/n heir. 

Your emotional and mental capacity exceeded his beliefs and he found himself going against everything he once swore his life on, finding himself seeing you in a different light in comparison to every other living being. He respected you on a godly level, a level he never regarded anyone else in. You saw the world through a lens of profound clarity and grace, something he’d never wasted time on, something that made you connected to those beneath you but also made you so profoundly unique. You had embedded yourself so deeply into his being that even those around him started to notice the shift within the King of Curses. He found himself in awe of your perspective, mesmerized by the way your heart navigated through everything. 

He felt utterly pathetic. 

But you were content with him in every way. Where you held empathy and grace in your heart, he held control and selfishness. You were gentle and kind, he was merciless and heartless. Your eyes looked at the world with curiosity and he saw it as a kingdom to overtake, a kingdom where he would ultimately rule. A kingdom where he wanted you to serve next to him. To be his till his heart stopped beating and even beyond that.

You were a dichotomous pairing: heaven and hell. 

Still, you felt content when you laid in his arms at night. You felt secure laying in his bed, sleeping next to him, existing in the same space he occupied, looking into his deep red eyes that the rest of the realm were too scared to look into. You loved the way he touched you, his hand gentle as it pushed your hair back while you laid next to him. You loved the way he held you while you breathed against his chest at night before inevitably having to return home before the sunrise. 

That same morning you had returned home, you were preparing for a bath, undressing as you heard the group of maids outside the room. 

“You don’t think he will have heirs, do you?”, one of them asked in a whisper. 

“Someone like him has to have heirs. He wants to rule an empire, surely he’ll find a way to get them.”

“I wouldn’t mind giving him some.”, the final one spoke, making your ears ring in shock as she continued. “Have you seen him? He has to have a harem of women waiting to get into bed with him, not to mention he looks like he would be completely wild in bed.”

You felt your gut turn inside of you. 

“I wouldn’t mind jumping in bed with him, even if it is only once. Just to know what it’s like to get fucked by a real man.”, the maid laughed as their voices disappeared down the hall, leaving you standing in your shock as you let her words sink into your bones. 

You felt… insignificant. Insufficient. Inadequate. 

Later that night when he came for you, a wave of silence covered the both of you. You knew he could feel your energy, the doubt bubbling inside of you as you moved through the woods. Once you’d reached his home, you stood in the middle of the room, waiting for him to break the silence. 

He turned to meet your gaze, the emotion glossing over your eyes as he moved towards you. His hand reached up, pushing your loose strands of hair behind your ear as he caressed your cheek. 

“What’s wrong?”, he breathed. 

“Why?’, your voice shook, leaving him questioning why you were like this tonight. “Why me?”

He stood in silence, waiting for you to continue, knowing you weren’t done with the amount of energy he felt radiating off of you. 

“Why me, Sukuna? You could have anyone, any woman you wanted, hell all the women you wanted. I know you’re far from being a saint, and I accepted that fact a long time ago because I couldn’t care less about who you’d been with before me. I don’t care about your past or how many women you’ve been with… I just need to know.”, you looked up at him with tears in your eyes. “You have so many women, so many concubines at your fingertips. I’m sure you’ve slept with some of them in the past few months, hell maybe even weeks. So, why?”, your voice broke. “Why me?”

Were you not good enough? Sufficient? Worthy?

His silence ate at you, making your gut fill with dread as he stared at you with a blank stare. You could guess that he’d probably taunt you, play with your feelings before delivering his ultimate blow. You wanted to believe that the past few weeks meant something to him in the same way they meant everything to you. You wanted to be enough for someone. Enough for him. 

When his voice broke the silence, you felt your eyes gloss over with tears again.

“I haven’t been with another woman since I met you.”, his voice held the truth, reaching up to cup your cheek.  “Since the first time I saw you, I stopped visiting brothels or entertaining the thoughts of other women.”

A shock sank into your bones at his confession. His eyes bore into yours with truth, with honesty. What he wanted to know was how these thoughts even entered your mind. 

“Who put these thoughts into your mind?”, he asked in a deep growl. 

You hesitated, swallowing the lump in your throat. “One of our maids… She..”

He let out a quiet shush, grabbing your face with both his hands as his thumb grazed over your lips, “You…”, his eyes darkening with what you could only place as lust and possessiveness, “are the only woman in this life and the next, the only woman in this realm and the hundreds of others that I desire.”

And hell did he want you. He wanted every part of you. heart, body, and soul. Down to the simple way your eyes looked at him to the way your cursed energy spiraled into immense power when fighting cursed spirits. He wanted every strand of hair, every piece of your soul, every inch of skin, every minute of your time. He wanted you to consume him in every way and he couldn’t care less about the gravity of your effect on him. If you didn’t exist to be with him, he didn’t want to exist either. He saw himself as the pinnacle of jujutsu sorcery, the king of this realm, and he wanted you to be the one and only thing that could bring him to his knees. If he was the most powerful sorcerer in the existence of humanity and jujutsu, then you were far stronger. You brought the King of Curses to his knees and he couldn’t stop it even if he wanted. He wanted you to have power over him, it meant you belonged to him in every way that mattered. He'd burn the world down if you asked, kill an entire nation to prove his undying loyalty to you, he’d stop his spread of cursed energy to know a moment of peace with you. 

He didn’t know when he’d become so wrapped up in you, but it was too late for him by the time he realized the hold you had over him. 

He was yours with the entirety of his being, with the intensity of his soul, and the remainder of his existence in this life and continue to let you consume him in every lifetime after this one. 

His soul called your name in a way he’d never experienced in his entire life. For a man who didn’t believe in indulging in mundane emotions, he indulged in you and that’s all he needed. 

Your lip quivered, a sob choked out of your lips as you looked at him in a deep admiration. You lifted your hands to wrap around his wrists, sinking into his touch as you whispered to him. 

“I want to see you, Ryo.”, your hand on his face, your gentle lachrymose eyes meeting his hardened ones. “I want to see the real you.”

He would’ve denied the request had you been anyone else, but he was at your mercy, allowing his body to morph into his true being. The very form that left the realm fearing his presence, left them in agony from the overwhelming rush of cursed energy. His true form alone was enough to make an entire nation buckle under his presence. It was gruesome, wicked, twisted, ugly, and macabre. It was something so terrifying they’d used it in stories to children for them to be good for their parents. His true form was something heard about across all of the realm and left nations training for years in hopes to one day kill the King of Curses. And despite all of that wickedness, gruesomeness, and fear, you looked up at him with gentle eyes. 

He showed his true form to you, waiting for the recoil of disgust, the shock of horror and yet none of it came. You looked at him with the same gentleness you had for anyone else in this realm. He had a deformed stomach, four arms, multiple sets of eyes and a plate on his face, teeth sharp like daggers, and body covered in scars and marked in black ink. 

Yet, the only thing that flooded your eyes was admiration. 

Why weren’t you disgusted by him?

Why weren’t you running in fear?

Bowing at his feet?

Why?

“Why do you hide your true form around me?”, you cocked your head slightly. “Everyone in the other families always say you show your true form to add to your dominance over the realm, yet you disfigure your body and make it different when I’m with you… Why?”

Who created you in such a way that you empathize with him instead of cursing him to hell? 

Princess of Peace. 

“Does it bother you?”

“I just don’t see why you have to hide it. You don’t have to do that. Not with me.”

You couldn’t explain the connection to him. 

Was it an invisible string? 

Fated soulmates? 

You didn’t know what it was that his form didn’t frighten you or leave you in shock. You welcomed every being with open arms, perhaps it was your special ability to see cursed energy and gauge its threat to you. His energy never reached levels of threat when he was near you. You’d seen it around other sorcerers and the level grew astronomically. It was almost too much to wrap your mind around and yet when you saw it in the solace of his bedroom, it never pushed you away. 

Inside these walls, no cursed energy existed to harm you. In fact, it was the complete opposite. His cursed energy manifested in a protective veil, ensuring you were guarded completely when you were with him. 

You felt every question swirl in your mind, trying to pinpoint why he had you feeling so alive. 

Was it the desire to leave your family out of spite?

The desire to know what being unhinged was?

The desire to not live within the bounds of the jujutsu code and live freely?

You couldn’t quite place it but you felt envious of his freedom and lack of care. You were always being watched, always monitored, the only moments of peace and freedom you got were when he would sneak you out of your home at night.

You grabbed one of his hands, rubbing soft fingers on the back of it and meeting his gaze. You’d grown to admire the depth of his gaze, the way they watched you with a calm intensity. You have laced his hand on your cheek, his massive palm warming your skin as you sank into him. 

His body lowered to your height, bending over as he brought you closer to his chest while your heart pounded inside of your own. You knew he could feel your infatuation, your intrigue, your heart racing inside you. Your gentle eyes met his darkened ones, the closest thing to desire that he could get to while holding you. You felt his lips meet yours, the roughness of his mouth as he claimed you as his. You melted into him, your hands on his chest as a pair of his landed on your waist and the other held your face, deepening the kiss. 

He lifted your body, placing your frame on his lap as he laid against the headboard of his bed. You felt the burning of his skin as his grip tightened on your waist. Your skin ignited under his touch, running a hand through his hair which caused him to groan against your mouth. You could listen to him all day, forever. 

If your father or the realm saw you right now, what would they say? What would they think? Would they accuse Sukuna of brainwashing you? Imprisoning you? Did you need saving? 

No. 

You didn’t need saving; you were far beyond it for anyone to consider it. You were too far gone in him and you didn’t want to turn back. His muscular arms picked you up, laying you on your back against the sheets as his overwhelming form covered yours. You were tiny in comparison to him, your hair splayed out in a halo as his eyes stayed focused on you. A hand brushed your stray hairs back, rubbing small circles against your temple. 

You focused on his body, admiring every muscle, every ripple of skin, every scar, every black marking. You admired his form regardless of the fact that most would consider him a devil. It never occurred to you in any sense. 

An angel entrapped by a demon, an angel falling in love with the devil, an angel stolen from heaven and dragged to hell. 

You didn’t give a damn anymore. You wanted him, needed him like you needed oxygen. He helped you feel free, helped you escape the confines of your familial name, helped you feel worthy. He helped you see life in a new light, in every way that you couldn’t before because of your father’s controlling ignorance. You didn’t care about the opinions of the village or the families, deep down they were only looking out for themselves even if everyone else denied it. 

The King of Curses completely ruined you: the Princess of Peace. The two of you were a dichotomous pairing, chaos and peace, yet still found balance in each other. It was the balance of life and existence and the both of you knew exactly how the collision would end: one of you would gain everything and the other would lose it all. But neither of you would have anticipated the depth of your connection, the intensity in which he consumed you and you him. You no longer cared about the consequences of being with him. Your father could disown you, exile you, have the entire village and the other families against you, but as long as Ryomen was at your side you didn’t care. 

His rough lips made their way down your neck, kissing and licking every inch of your skin as your hands held into his arms. The sound of your muffled cries made him feral, making his instinct and possessiveness kick into overdrive. He needed to feel you, needed to taste you, to breathe you in and have you take over all his senses. 

Your hands gripped his arms, your toes curling against the bed sheets as he continued to kiss down your neck and swirling his tongue around the delicate skin. You tasted like a heaven he never believed in, made him feel euphoric in ways beyond comprehension. 

Your body was on fire at his touch, you wanted more. More of his touch, his kisses, his groans, his everything. You just wanted more of him. 

You wanted to give yourself to him in everyway you could. He knew you were still a virgin, he wanted to be the one to wreck you, to be the only one to know your body so intimately, wanted to be the only man you’d ever end up with. His hands gripped your hips as you felt his buck slightly against you, your moans filling his mouth as he kissed you sloppily. 

He forced himself to stop, gaining a small whimper from you. His eyes met yours, his voice deep but low as he pressed his lips against yours once more. 

“Not like this.”, he muttered, his tone vibrating in every bone in your body. 

You knew what he meant with just a simple phrase, Your body relaxing against the bed, letting him collapse next to you as he wrapped you into his arms. You soaked in his warmth, letting your body be held by him as you fell into a slumber. 

This was all you could ever ask for. 

It was all you wanted.

One Week Later 

You woke up just before the sunrise, your body sitting up as the bed sheets fell from your form. You looked next to you, seeing Sukuna in his sleep while his arms were lazily thrown over your torso. Another night with him in peace left you feeling content, feeling a soreness overtake your body from the training you’d done with him last night. You felt his arms tighten, your body almost bare against him only wearing one of his oversized wool shirts. 

You pushed yourself out of his embrace, swinging your legs off the bed and looking out the window. You still had time to get home before everyone woke up, though you needed to head home soon. You felt his energy shift as he woke, raising a hand while still laying in the sheets and looking at you while caressing your cheek. 

“I have to get home.”, you whispered as you melted into him. He grunted in response before sitting up and cracking his neck to relieve the pressure he’d gotten overnight. You follow his as he stands, letting him help dress you in your clothing as you felt his lips along the side of your neck. 

Both of you walked out of his home, walking through the woods until you reached your room, his veil keeping you hidden and camouflaged both of your energies. You gave him a final kiss, smiling at him before he turned and left, leaving you alone in your room. 

During mid day, the sun held its highest position and the food was being prepared for lunch, you heard mention from your father that the Zen’in would be joining your family for lunch. 

Everything was fine at first, everyone coexisting together, talking about family matters and everything normal, atleast it seemed normal at first. 

You looked up to see Zetsubou Zen’in walk in the door, one of the maids accompanying him to the table as she bowed and walked back to her post at the front door. He was the heir to the Zen’in clan. A remarkably talented sorcerer with the gift of the Ten Shadows technique. Everyone was sure he would soon manifest the shikigami Mohoraga, making him the first to manifest it since the family’s establishment to the realm. 

“Now that everyone is here, there is some news we must share.”, your father spoke as he stood, watching as Zetsubou’s father also rose to stand next to his son. Everyone else remained seated, you included as you cocked your head in confusion. 

“Y/n, come stand.”, your father motioned towards you, your gut churning in suspicion before you stood next to him. You watched your father before turning to Zetsubou and his father, his dark eyes staring into your e/c ones. 

“We are to celebrate the new union, the meshing of two family names into one great clan.”, your father spoke, your mother and the Zen’in wife staring in silence. Even the maids seemed to be on edge of what your father was saying. “Zetsubou, Your father and I have agreed in accepting the conditions of betrothal that you both have given to our family.”

Betrothal?

“Y/n, you and Zetsubou will meet in union in two weeks' time. Two Clans becoming one in matrimony.”, your father smiled as he shook hands with the Zen’in leader, smiling at Zetsubou. 

You stood in silence, your energy growing grimm at the declaration your father just made. Your body overwhelmed in shock, your heart racing in your chest, your mind swirling with a million different possibilities. The chatter around you blurred into a jumbled mess, nothing comprehensive due to your anger radiating from your body. 

“I look forward to getting closer to you through our marriage, Y/n.”, Zetsubou smiled at you, your eyes staring at him mindlessly. “Y/n?”

“I’m not marrying you.”, you said silently, almost inaudibly but you knew he’d heard you since you saw Zetsubou’s eyes darken. 

“What?”, his voice came out clipped, sharp. Dangerous. 

“I am not marrying you.”, you repeated, your eyes void of any emotion as you held 

“Y/n!”, your mother let out a warning call, but you ignored her. You didn’t care about anything other than making it entirely clear that you were not going to be wed to the Zen’in Clan. “Forgive us, she doesn’t realize what she’s saying.”

“I know what I’m saying. I am not marrying you, Zetsubou. Not even if you held my life at sword's edge.”

You suddenly felt the energy that radiated off of your father, his anger growing tenfold as he glared at you with intense disappointment and resentment. Your father already hated you, and already felt disgraced by your presence. Why not give him another reason to see you as less than good enough. 

“I think there needs to be some time to process our agreement. Surely we can come to a suitable agreement that will benefit both of our clans.”, your father forced out, his voice clipped. “Our maids will clean up, let me walk you out.”

You watched as both the Zen’in leader and your father walked out, your eyes glancing back at Zetsubou, holding his glare before he scoffed and followed behind his father. You heard the lowered voice of Zetsubou’s father, his voice full of annoyance. 

“Get your daughter under control or else we will take care of her for you.”, and with that, the Zen’ins left your home. You stared blankly as your father walked back into the room, his energy radiating in waves like a tsunami. He walked up to you, your blank stare meeting his eyes as you felt your head snap to the side, the sting burning your cheek as he snarled at you. 

“You are a disgrace!”, he screamed, your mother gasping at his sudden burst. “How dare you embarrass our family name in front of the Zen’ins!”

You raised your head, looking at the pure fury displayed in his eyes, still not saying a single word as he continued to berate you. 

“Why can’t you just do your duty and save yourself the embarrassment. Save our family the dishonor of having you as its heir.”, he bit out, each word dripping with acid. “You’re to marry Zetsubou Zen’in in two weeks' time. For once in your pathetic life, do something honorable for this family.”. He left the room, your mother following closely behind as the maids started to clean the dining room. 

And still, you stood in the middle of the room with no emotion behind your eyes, just the sting of your cheek and the emptiness in your chest at your father’s words. Your life, your future, your dreams, it all was reduced to being the wife of a man you did not love. A man you did not care for and despised. 

You were reduced to nothing. 

The night was silent, the wind howled softly in the background causing the trees to move, leaving nothing but a tranquil aura in the air. You stared blankly at the wall as you laid against Sukuna’s skin, the warmth flooding your body as you felt his arms wrap around you. You felt the growing pressure in your chest, an unavoidable truth you couldn’t keep from him anymore. 

“Kuna…”, you whispered gently. HIs body moved, looking at you as his eyes fell on your heartbroken form. “I..”, you choked. 

How could you possibly tell him this?

“What is it?”, his voice was deep yet soft, the words ringing in your ears. 

“I… My father..”, you sucked in a shaky breath. “He arranged for me to marry Zetsubou Zen’in.”

“He arranged for you to marry Zetsubou Zenin.” he repeated back to you, the lingering darkness hanging in his tone. 

“He says it’ll be good for our families. That I have a responsibility as heir, as does Zetsubou, to continue our bloodline and make our abilities stronger.”

“Do you love him?”, the question made your blood run cold, even kicked you in the gut, but you knew why he asked. You could read in between the lines and hear the unanswered question he truly wanted to ask. 

“No.”

A hum was all that escaped him, the silence casting over the both of you causing a small blanket of tension to rise. 

“I can kill them.”, he replied finally. “I can give them a reason to call off that sham marriage.”

He could do it easily, there was no question about it, the only thing keeping him from carrying out his plan was his loyalty to you. He wouldn’t do something you asked him to not do. You had that power over him to stop him from doing anything. You heard the hidden meaning in his words. You weren’t ignorant or naive. You knew who he was and what he was capable of and yet, you lay in his arms falling deeper into what he was, or rather, who he was with you. 

“I don’t want bloodshed. Besides..”, you sank into your sorrow again. “I don’t think there truly is a way out of this.”

“Do you really believe they could possibly keep me away from you?”, he asked in a serious, deep tone, his question full of every emotion he’d never said out loud. He didn’t know what kindness was, what admiration looks like or what love felt like but to him… you were the closest thing to that that he’d ever felt and seen in all his life. 

You brought out what little humanity he had in him, he showed it only for you. the tiniest sliver reserved for you but disappeared when it came to anyone else. You were the only one who deserved that small minuscule part of him. He had little regard for human life, he believed himself above all beings all gifted, cursed, and boring. 

Then there was you. 

He didn’t believe himself above you in any regard. 

In every way you were his equal and he’d burn the world to ash to prove it to you. 

“I can’t deny them… My father… he already hates me.”, you muttered against his skin. Ryomen slowly sat up, his arms helping you move with him as he brushed your hair back, tucking a strand behind your ear and letting his hand rest against your cheek. Your eyes glossed over, a hurt in your heart flooding every vein in your body. You didn’t want to be forced into a life you had no interest in, why did this have to be your life’s path? 

You wish you could just speak to whatever greater being ruled over your world and beg them to change the prophecy known as your life. Beg for a time where you didn’t exist within the confines of your familial name, your duty to pass your legacy through your bloodline, your fear of disgracing your family, who could ever change the end result for you? 

“I’ll find a way.”, he whispered before leaning towards you, pulling your lips against his as he let all of his emotion pour into the kiss as the tears fell down your cheeks. He was gentle even in his destructive touch, he let himself completely off guard with you. Your lips moved gently against his, soft and delicate, making his other hands wrapped around your waist as he kissed you deeply. You felt weak at his touch, your heart openly his without regret or second thoughts. 

“Ryo..”, you whispered, your voice shaky as he kissed you again, this time more possessive and full of desire. His teeth nipped at your bottom lip, pulling it before letting it go as it swelled. 

You let yourself sink into him, his arms wrapping around you in a secure embrace. You fell asleep to the sound of his heartbeat, it was even and strong, proof of the life inside of him. 

He watched you carefully, his gut churning in a whirlwind of emotion and suppressed energy. He needed an outlet and soon, he’d spent the better part of the past month with you in his embrace and presence. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone so long without releasing his cursed energy, it was starting to make him twitch at all the pent up power he had. He’d waited until you fell asleep in his arms before lowering you into the sheets, your body laying perfectly in his bed as he covered you with the blanket. He pushed the curtain away, closing it as his eyes lingered on your body, the blanket laying over you as he moved out of the room. 

He found himself wandering through the woods late, moving to the outskirts of the village territories and making his way deeper to territory he knew a little too well. He sensed an energy that stood out to him, his focus moving towards the waves radiating towards him until he reached his location. His veil did good in keeping him hidden, but he released a small wave of energy to send a flood of chills through every being in town within his proximity. His body moved through the homes, the worn down tavern, and the trader booths until he found exactly what he was looking for so late in the night. 

The sound of moans echoed in his ears, the energy he was tailing radiating from inside the brothel at the very end of the town, hidden amongst the trees for a more private ambiance. He knew exactly what was taking place inside the brothel, but it wasn’t that that bothered him, it was the person inside that did. He sensed Zetsubou inside with multiple women, all of them taking their place in his bed, taking turns pleasuring him or even doing it all at once. His grunts sounded out as the moans that escaped the concubine echoed through the walls. The other women were touching him, their hands on his body as one of them rubbed their body against his while another kissed him in a sloppy manner. 

He would be lying if he said he’d never been in a similar, compromising position. He’d visited these brothels long enough to know exactly who and what he wanted every night he visited. His lust filled ways long gone, no longer causing a rise in him, especially after meeting you. That was the exact reason he was here. For you. 

An anger rose inside of him seeing your supposed future husband laying in a bed being pleasured by concubines just weeks before your wedding. His groans sounded out at the pleasure he was receiving, the moans of the concubines filling the air as he fed into infidelity. He knew all too well that men were never loyal to their wives, always frequenting the brothels for a good time. The sound of Zetsubou slamming the headboard against the wall as he fucked one of the concubines, his curses filling the air as her moans ripped through the night, it all made Sukuna’s anger run deep inside of him. The lack of respect, the complete disregard Zetsubou held for you made him want to snap his neck in half. It would be the perfect way to get you out of the betrothal. 

Even the sounds of the whores in bed with him drove Sukuna mad. They had to know the great Zen’in heir was to be wed to the L/n heir, yet they still chose to lay in bed with him, to be absolutely and disgustingly fucked by the son of a bitch. He listened to the sounds, letting the anger grow inside of him, allowing himself to plot every way he would maim Zetsubou Zen’in alive for ever treating his betrothal as disposable. Something to be disregarded. Disrespected. 

After a while, the moans and the slamming of the headboard stopped, Zetsubou’s voice ringing out as he laid in the sheets with his whores wrapped around his naked body. 

“You ladies definitely know how to show a man a good time.”, he breathed as he let them touch his body, his muscled flexing under their touch. 

“Of course, always special treatment for our best man.”, one of the whores said in a sultry voice. “It’s good to get a good fuck while you still can.”

“Trust me, even in a few weeks I’ll be back. Don’t you worry.”, the sound of Zetsubou kissing one of the women made Sukuna fill with disgust. “You have the best of the best here. Can’t stay committed to some virgin who doesn’t know how to please a man, let alone know how to fuck one.”

His energy spiraled, shoving it down as he continued to listen. 

“That’s right, you need real women, not some uptight spoiled brat.”, another woman spoke out. 

“You can get all the good pussy you want here, baby.”, another called. “We know how to treat a man right. Make you feel everything.”

“That’s all I want.”, his voice vibrated as he kissed the woman again. “C’mon baby, let's go for round two.”

And just like that, the sounds of moans and deep grunts rang out again. The knocking of the head board and the panting of hot breath filling the room. Zetsubou Zen’in was scum. Bottom of the barrel. A fucking no body. 

Sukuna bided his time, waiting deep into the night as he watched the Zen’in heir leave, heading back in the direction of his clan’s territory. Sukuna’s red eyes watched him from the shadows, his anger rising into flames around him, waiting long enough for the worthless son of a bitch to be far enough away before letting the release come. 

Fire consumed the village, everything burning into ash, the smoke filling the air as the sound of screams echoed into the night. The taverns, the trader booths, the homes, all of it catching on fire and burning every single person to a crisp. He saved the brothel for last, waiting for the sound of panic cries to ring out before walking inside and seeing all the concubines who were with the Zen’in heir trying to get out of the burning building. He forced them to stay in place, his presence overwhelming them into fear. He watched as the panic settled into their eyes, their lungs begging for air, their bodies getting burned as the flames licked the walls around them. One of them tried to run out past him, but never made it as he blew her head off in one swift slice. They screamed out, begging him to let them out, crying as he watched in emotionlessness. It wasn’t until their lifeless bodies collapsed on the ground that he left, leaving the burning village behind him as he wandered into the night. He’d burn the whole world down for you. 

Even if it meant starting with those who wronged you first.

“Our entire livestock was burned! We have no more land to grow food in!”, the sound of the Zen’in leader’s voice ringing out during their meeting with your father rang out. You listened in silence, letting yourself sink into the reality of what they were discussing. A small part of you laughing internally at their misfortune. 

Another village burned into flames just two days ago, and last night, the Zen’in’s lost all of their livestock, fertile soil, and sustainable crops. They were all burned to nothing, not even the soil or the seeds were salvageable. 

“We need to get this monster under control. We have to speed up training with our sorcerers and find our strongest men to be put into units to take him out. We cannot let him roam so freely anymore, especially not now that he’s making hits closer to our clan lands.”, the Kamo Clan leader spoke out, his voice soft as he marked the map where Sukuna made his last raid, your eyes peeking in through the slit in the door. That village.. It was right outside the Zen’in borders, it was where Zetsubou frequented the brothels. 

Ryo..

You stepped back, moving back into the hall before making your way to your bedroom, closing the door as you sat on the floor. Did he burn the village down in some act of honor for you or was it just a coincidence? 

The thoughts spiraled in your head, letting yourself undress and change into your dinner clothes, the silence still filling your home ever since your fight with your father almost three days ago. You were a week away from your marriage to Zetsubou, a gnawing in your gut as you stepped out of your room and faced your father. You stood in the doorway before making your way to the dining table and sitting in your regular spot at the very end while your father and mother sat next to one another. 

Then, a rush of energy consumed you all at once. The sensation floods your senses as you feel your body tense. You look at your father, noticing his sudden change in demeanor as one of the maids let out a cry of fear, her shaky voice barely audible as you could hear her motion towards the dining room. 

In all his glory, Sukuna stood tall and unmoving, his body adorned with fine robes and his true form showing as he occupied the space. Making the air impossible to breathe, making everyone except you suffocate in fear. 

Your eyes widened at the sight of him, why was he here?

You watched as your mother raised her hand to her mouth, covering her quivering lips. “What is the meaning of this?” she asked in a shaken tone, your eyes filled with worry as you watched your father fill with anger. 

“Sukuna”, he bowed before the King of Curses, before lifting his head and asking his question. “What brings you into our home this evening?”

Sukuna stared your father down, his true form standing tall and in overwhelming sense of dominance that made your mother cower. Although you showed no fear towards him, you could see why everyone else in the realm did. He was massive, muscular, deadly, his body taking form of a cursed entity. It was no secret that Ryomen Sukuna held an energy that defied all existence, he was far above all beings. 

You tried to stay focused, holding your shock at his sudden appearance back, not wanting them to see your reaction. 

What was he doing? 

“F/n L/n.”, Sukuna’s deep voice echoed. “Leader of the L/n clan. For such a highly renown sorcerer, you sure don’t seem to realize where your greatest assets lie.” He walked further into the room, your father’s jaw clenching noticeably. “You’re ignorant and naïve, choosing to force such a gifted sorcerer, your only daughter and heir into a marriage of mutual gain, of political power.”

“Our family and Clan matters shouldn’t interest you. Now why are you intruding on our home?”. You had to applaud your father’s boldness, asking Sukuna such a demanding question. 

“You’re too mundane, worldly, pitiful.”, you watched as he moved and sat at the table, in between the head where your father and mother sat and the opposite end where you sat. He sat with his legs crossed, leaning his head into his hand before speaking again. “Why arrange for political gain when you could have real power, L/n?”

“What are you talking about Sukuna?”, your father’s words shook slightly. 

“Look at the bigger picture. L/n may be a part of the four families, but in comparison, your poor judgment and lack of support is the reason your family will fail. You seek what humans want. You’re greedy over mundane things”, Hid deep red eyes held your father’s gaze intently, overwhelmingly. “What if I told you that you could have the power of gods?”

“Power of gods?”, your fathers hands fisted in his lap. 

“Yes”, you noticed Sukuna’s red eyes glance at you, softening only when he met your gaze and immediately hardened and dropping when he met your father’s. “You could have real power, real influence, real claim to the realm. It would put you far above the rest of the families, perhaps make you greater than the Gojos.”

You didn’t miss the glint of intrigue in your fathers eyes. Of course bed listen or spare a moment for someone like him. Anything for power, anything for more claim to the realm. Your family wasn’t weak but any means, but your father had slowly started losing connections thanks to his selfishness. It truly would be the end of the L/n family if he didn’t get it together. 

“And how would I possibly gain that? I have nothing to give you in return.” , your father smiled weakly. 

“Simple”, Sukuna leaned his head on his hand, staring at your father blankly before extending a hand and pointing at you. 

“I want Y/n as my bride.” 

[the-music-maniac]

I've never been able to get over stories where the abused becomes the villain. True of any media that has this trope, really, but especially true of Sephiroth. He makes my heart hurt.

Created to be nothing but a weapon, abused and manipulated and experimented on from childhood. Sent to go fight Shinra's wars for them, desensitized to killing from a young age, but still managing to hold onto his kindness somehow. They made him into a legend larger than life for their propaganda, while simultaneously de-humanizing him in the worst ways, isolating Seph to the point where no one around him, not even his closest companions, even realized that he needed support. There's hints that no one around him really knew his background by the things they say - the only one who was aware of the extent of his mistreatment was his abuser. He was a high functioning individual - who would be arrogant enough to assume that The General could need help? Who would dare?

And I don't blame Angeal or Genesis or Zack for not realizing. Along with them simply not knowing there was an issue that needed addressing, Sephiroth probably kept it from them on purpose - whether by choice or necessity or outside influence or self preservation.

Sephiroth just wanted a normal life too. He didn't like having his picture taken, but endured because he had to, and because other people wanted it of him. He didn't really care to compete for the title of hero with Genesis, even though Genesis didn't seem to believe it. He took care of his troops, and we see in that one cut scene where he failed to save a soldier, that he still got upset over stuff like that. All those years of killing and losing his men to Shinra's missions and he hasn't truly become numb to it.

And then nearing the end, after first being told he's a monster by one of his former friends, and then later spending a week in that library not eating or drinking or sleeping, left alone to his devices because who would assume that the most competent general of their time can be in a vulnerable state, and shouldn't be left alone right now?

After learning the "truth" about his origins, and after a lifetime of systematic abuse, no longer believing he's even human anymore. And then the only person offering him a hand in his darkest moments is the one he shouldn't have taken. But at that point - could you blame him? Whether or not the post nibelheim Sephiroth is truly him or just a puppet for Jenova I'm uncertain about, but the end result is that from start to finish - Sephiroth never manages to break free from the whims of those who wanted to use him.

And because he gave into his worse demons - he won't receive a happy ending. He won't be saved. There's no comfort for him, no opportunity to rest and heal and grow. His childhood wish to live a normal life will never come to pass.

Watching Sephiroth's story unfold is like watching someone drown in front of you while surrounded by a crowd of people. And the one drowning doesn't even scream for help because he's been conditioned to believe that the suffocation is normal.

I will NEVER get over him. It doesn't excuse what he did after Nibelheim, I'm aware of that, but I can't help but remember that people only ever had praise for him while he was burning villages down in Wutai on Shinra's behalf.

It doesn't excuse his actions. But I will NEVER be able to forget all the ways the world failed him first.

[sunshine-singer]

Reminiscent | Sukuna x Fem!Reader

Characters: Sukuna, Reader, and a mention of other concubines briefly

Warnings: Mention of killing, brief mention of family trauma, set in the Heian era - it is alluded that Reader is a concubine and was taken (kidnapped) from her village (anything I've missed, please let me know)

Word count: 600

You're quiet tonight, like always. You lay in Lord Sukuna's chambers on your stomach, facing away from him. There's distance between you and your lord, which he finds himself not being able to breach. This was your life now. You were now far away from your village, a distant memory of smoke now replaced by silk sheets. You just calmly lay there, feeling the breaths in your chest as you gaze out towards the night sky. The stars are pretty.

"Little one, what is it that keeps you away from me?" He asks, voice laced with irritation for others, but for you the underlying insecurity rings through.

"Nothing much my lord." You mindlessly say back, staring out the window.

You hear his huff of irritation.

"The others. They pester me." He spits out, voice full of venom, "But you remain still as always, why?"

"I know my place my lord." You simply answer back and turn around to face him.

He goes quiet as he studies your face. He finds nothing he wishes to see. He pulls you in with two of his arms, settling you into his chest on your stomach. You just let him do so. He brings one hand to pet your hair - just the once.

"Sometimes I think I can still smell the smoke in your hair." He simply states, voice even but quiet.

You just remain quiet for a moment. You know what he's referring to. You're not sure if you want to breach that topic right now. You know what he's talking about. The day he came into your village, and then burned it all down and took you.

"...I sometimes can too." Is all you say back quietly.

Your eyes are cast down. It's painful to think about. You feel sick. It's like there's acid in your mouth as you're overtaken by guilt.

"I knew that day you were different." He utters, voice strong.

You flinch a little at his words. You start tracing random patterns in his chest to distract yourself.

"Different?" You timidly ask.

You're scared of his answer. You don't even want to ask, but deep down you know he won't leave this alone.

"I remember the relief in your eyes when I killed them." He tells you simply, as if he's not shattering your being with his words.

You flinch again and just bury yourself in his chest more. You know who he is talking about, of course you do. You'd grown up disconnected from the people who took you in, and called themselves your 'family'. They didn't treat you well, to say the least, but you're not sure they deserved their ending. Sukuna lifts your head, and forces you to look at him.

"You were beautiful then. I knew I had to have you. There was something so perfect about your reaction to what I did." He tells you, and you feel tears pick at your eyes.

"Stop." You weakly mutter back.

You don't want to hear any of this. He practically growls at your reaction and his hand tightens his grip around your face.

"Don't tell me what to do woman." He angrily spits out at you, "I compliment such a lowly creature like you and this is the response I get."

"I'm sorry, my lord." You apologise as you snap back into the detachedness you had before.

He sighs as he watches your demeanour glaze over once more.

"Rest woman. I've grown tired of this." Is all he says as he releases your face.

He shuts his eyes and you promptly do the same. He'll try to please you again tomorrow.

[turtletaubwrites]

Numbers Game ~ Chapter 32

Make Your Bets Now!

Pairings: Cross Guild Polycule x Shanks x Fem!Reader x ???

Numbers Game Masterlist

Word Count: 12,614 😳😳

Ao3 Link

Ongoing Series Playlist: Youtube Music Link | Youtube Link

Chapter Tunes: A Forest ~ The Cure | Burn Your Village ~ Kiki Rockwell

Summary: The White Stag is chased through the woods. The hunters begin to show their true colors, while the prey just tries to survive. You might not be the only one running away.

Recap: The banquet is underway, and you were dressed as the White Stag. You met your nine suitors, some of whom came as a shock. You gave each hunter an arrow, a symbol of their right to claim you. Uncle Cedrick just gave you a ten minute head start.

Author's Note: Hi!!! Thank you so much for your patience while I've been dealing with all the things! I've still been writing, as you can tell by the word count! 😬 Lol, I did a poll way back when Shanks first arrived asking if y'all would prefer two regular size chapters with no smut in one, or one giant chapter with the smut. So here ya go, lol, you asked for it! 😅🤭

Content Warning: There's not much dark content to warn for this chapter (besides the usual Numbers Game shenanigans & Buggy's POV on the Dr. Vorsan visit), but I wanted to give a heads up that there is a flashback of the 14 year old reader having a crush on an adult. Nothing occurs, but there is some very mild creepiness that could be interpreted as inappropriate. I WILL NEVER write about minors in that way, so please know that this is just a teenage crush! In case you would like to skip that, I'll bracket it with these ~~~⚫~~~

Fic Updates & Questions:

I will be retroactively adding titles to all chapters. I prefer to have titles for every chapter of a fic, but decided not to add them when I thought this was going to be a one shot 🤦🏼‍♀️ (We're getting closer to the end, and outlining will be way easier if I can remember which chapter things happened in, lol.) I'm going with quotes/lines from the chapters for the title theme. Also, I only used "part" instead of "chapter" on tumblr for formatting space, but I always call them chapters so 🤷‍♀️

Since this is a reader insert fic (that I thought would be a one shot 😅), I've tried to keep as many personal details as vague as possible so that we can all hop onto that lovely, green couch. I'm not planning to state the reader's age within the fic, but as we get further into the story, some of you numbers girl's may be able to figure out the math based on the flashbacks and such. I have a whole ass timeline graphed out, so if anyone is interested in knowing the specific ages and dates of related OP canon and Numbers Game canon, I'd be down to make a separate post just for that.

Alternate POV Symbols:

🌲 ~ Reader | 🐊 ~ Crocodile | 🗡 ~ Mihawk | 🤡 ~ Buggy | 🔴 ~ Shanks | ⏰ ~ Flashbacks for listed POV | ⚫ ~ Scenes depicting Dark Content as listed in Author's Notes

!!! SPOILER WARNING !!! Fic currently contains spoilers for the end of the Wano arc. As we get further into Egghead Arc, there will be some spoilers (mainly from manga cover stories or SBS questions for minor characters' motivations, such as what the Vinsmoke's and Charlotte's have been up to since Wano, and why they'd want to marry our lovely heiress.)

Rating/Warnings: Author May Choose to Exclude some Warnings to Avoid Spoilers for Certain Chapters, Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Use of Y/N, Dark Content, Blood & Violence, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Dissociation, Mental Illness, Grief, Toxic Family, Swearing, Alcohol, Cigars, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Guilt, Drama, Jealousy, Manipulation, Pet Names, Power Imbalance, Cross Guild boys are VILLAINS, Pain Kink, Possessive Behavior, Teasing, Blowjobs, Threats, Relationship Drama, Anal, Doctors, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Shameless Shameless Smut, Uncle Cedrick Has Become His Own Warning, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

“I told you to run.”

Uncle Cedrick wet his lips after he hissed at you again, smirking while you transformed for him, and for his silent hunters and cheering guests. 

The white stag. The hunted. The prey. 

You’d never felt less human than you did right now, and the sense of danger in the air sent you racing toward the trees. 

It was disorienting to move in this fumbling body. Some foul magic must have stolen your hooves, your graceful limbs, your fur to fend off the cool breeze of the night. 

All you had left were your antlers, but they couldn’t help you flee. You escaped your heels, kicking free from the tight shoes as though they were traps meant to hold you still for the hunters to find. The dress made you panic, the weight of it wearing you down like trash left to suffocate creatures too helpless to free themselves from human garbage. You tried to lift the heavy skirts while you ran, but the train dragged behind you, catching on roots and branches as you fled. 

Logic started to break through the adrenaline in bits and pieces, but the forest had pulled you into a dream.

“This isn’t a dream,” you panted to yourself, slowing down to lean against a tree. 

That wild panic had left you with no idea how long you’d been running, but your heart was trying to escape from your body, and your lungs struggled to catch up as you let yourself stop. 

That should be enough drama for Uncle’s show. Why should I care who catches me first? I have to date all of them anyway. 

And the fear was back. 

Nine men were about to stalk you through the woods at night, and you’d just run deeper into the darkness, like a fucking idiot.

Though you doubted that staying closer to the courtyard would have made you any safer. All of those leeches were here to watch the show. They’d probably already placed bets on which hunter would get his greedy hands on you first.

Don’t cry. 

You almost did. Every time you thought you could accept your fate, Uncle Cedrick found ways to make it more torturous, more humiliating. 

Apathy tried to protect you, a welcome friend that lulled your emotions to sleep until you stared into nothing, your logical mind reciting your thoughts on a loop to distract from what you were putting away.

I already gave the leeches a good show. It doesn’t matter who catches me first. 

Useless rage replaced your apathy in a flash at the memory of the traitor touching your skin. Shanks was the last man you wanted to catch you, but Uncle’s threats felt like hidden traps, like suffocating trash, like this stupid dress that snagged on every branch. 

I won’t give them anything else to hurt me with. 

Crashes and yells entered the forest like a storm, and you were the white stag again.

You ran. 

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

Shanks had only been gone for a day, but the clown found himself aching for him in a way he hadn’t in years. 

Letting Shanks back in had opened the door to all this shit he’d tried to stuff away, but he didn’t have room for all of these feelings right now. Not when his star was slurring her words, her voice high and distant while she tried to convince this fucking doctor that all their time together had meant nothing.

“It was all pretend. I was bored. I know it was risky behavior, I s-see that nn…”

“I’m glad you’re expressing that awareness, Y/N,” Dr. Vorsan’s voice bore down even through her frantic heartbeat, “but you still haven’t talked about the clown. It’s important that we understand our triggers so that we can prevent future episodes.”

She’s not breathing!

“You don’t want to have any more episodes, do you, Y/N?”

“No,” she agreed, though Buggy barely heard her over her now ragged breath. 

“Good. Part of staying well means cooperating with your treatment,” the slimeball purred. “Why did you go with the clown?”

“He was sweet. And funny... I liked him.”

Buggy looked to the ceiling, unknowable emotions pulling his face into a grimace. 

“You just told me that it was all pretend. That you were bored.”

“I, yes…”

“Clarity, Y/N,” the pompous creep scolded. “We can’t make changes if we don’t acknowledge our patterns. Why did you go with the clown?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Buggy growled.

The next words he heard had to be from her lips, but it sounded wrong, as though she’d been possessed by the concept of emptiness itself. His star was hollow. 

Gone. 

“I used him. I wanted to run. I’m selfish.”

No, baby, don’t say that.

The fucker didn’t say anything for too long. He couldn’t hear any rustling, only his empty star, breathing just enough to keep her alive. 

“Your family was very worried for you. That extreme, self destructive behavior—“

“I know,” Y/N snapped, then Buggy heard the sound of skin against skin, as though she’d slapped her hand over her mouth. “I’m s-s-sorry, doctor, I…”

“It’s quite, alright, Y/N,” the man fucking chuckled. “You’ve just experienced an episode that must have caused some additional trauma, but you’re safe now.”

Buggy hadn’t taken notes, and he looked down to find a shredded notepad on his lap, his shaky hands clenching into the paper. 

“Do you want to be safe?”

“Yes, doctor,” Y/N stated, the gravity of a black hole in her voice. 

“Was it safe to run away with pirates?”

What the fuck is he doing to her? 

“No.”

“Good. Now, tell me about the clown.”

Circles and circles of this talk spun through Buggy’s mind, and it seemed like nothing was said, yet he could hear his star break a little more with every word. 

“I’ll rip his tongue out, baby. Make him eat it for you. Don’t listen to him.”

“Excellent work today. Self reflection is difficult, but it’s the only way to heal.”

“Thank… Thank you, doctor.”

“There’s no need to thank me. You have the power to stay well all on your own, as long as you put in the work to take care of yourself. Just try to remember the kind of life you wish to have. You don’t want to lose yourself in another episode, do you, Y/N?”

“No, doctor.”

The clown laid in silence for hours while his broken lover did the same. Somehow Y/N built herself up again, preparing to head to dinner with her sister, and her voice was almost as clear as it had been before the session. 

She keeps all of this inside… I didn’t even—

“Come on, little clown. Don’t eat dinner on the floor again.”

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

The Emperor of the Sea followed an usher to his seat, feeling high as he twirled the decorative arrow in his fingers. He was lucky to have made it in time, and luckier still that Y/N had looked at him like that. Shanks was sure that it wasn’t really lust in those magnetic eyes of hers. Buggy’s fallen star was difficult to read, but it had to be a message. An opening. 

I’ll get you out of here, Y/N. 

Even Benn’s smirking face couldn’t diminish the flames she’d warmed in him, his first mate pulling his seat out while he approached. The last few tables at the edge of the courtyard seemed filled with guests that were either late or large, the nearest competitor being the two story tall Prince Fukaboshi. 

Before Shanks could greet his rival, Sylvad’s voice carried through the night air, testing the Emperor’s ability to fake a smile. 

“Thank you all for joining our family as we celebrate the hunt for a new member! I am honored to help strengthen the Sylvad legacy by making sure that my enchanting niece finds the most loving, and of course, the most profitable match,” he admitted with a smug laugh. “Just as this marks the beginning of a new era for our family, I’m sure that most of you have sensed the shift in the waters.”

Cedrick paused for effect with Y/N posed like some pretty doll at his side while his guests murmured in agreement.

“For generations, the Sylvad’s have stood in enthusiastic support of the Marines. Although I still pay them an exorbitant amount to show up when I call, their many recent failures, and acts of overreaching, have shown them to be nothing more than expensive, and exceedingly annoying guard dogs.”

The laughter he drew was mixed, both nervous and pleased, and Shanks was sure he wasn’t the only one to catch the threat in those playful words. 

“The world is changing, and I intend to keep my family strong, even if we have to shoo the seagulls away,” he vowed with enough humor to keep the mood light. “But enough about all that, we’re here to enjoy ourselves. Let’s welcome in the New Era together with a good old fashioned hunt!”

Confusion was clouded by the applause Cedrick had demanded with his gestures and tone after he offered Y/N a hand. Watching that man touch her had Shanks’ jaw clenching, holding himself back while she truly looked like prey under his smirking grin.

“I think our white stag is feeling a bit skittish, but that's nothing a little chase can't fix. The first hunter to catch her claims the first date!”

Shanks watched in horror as Cedrick led his niece to the edge of the courtyard, speaking to her too softly to hear before she ran toward the trees, stumbling in that fucking costume he’d stuffed her into. 

Benn nudged his ankle, stopping Shanks from finishing his movement. Gryphon was on the ship anyway, and he wasn’t sure what use his sword would do other than to comfort his helpless soul.

I’m a villain now. Maybe I should just kill everyone here. 

He chugged the glass of wine in front of him, as though swallowing the liquor could help him swallow the layers of guilt that made no sense to him.

The bright light of that wounded star disappeared into the trees, but there was no reprieve. A large, white canvas was rolled out over the side of the manor walls while servants pushed a massive transponder snail on a wheeled cart up the path. The courtyard was silent until the snail’s eyes flickered, its mouth open as sounds of heavy breathing and snapping twigs came through before the live feed was projected. 

Two images appeared on that blank wall, bringing gasps and applause from the guests while Sylvad preened.

“In ten minutes,” he announced, doing a flourish as a timer popped up on the frantic screen, “the hunt for the white stag begins. The man that touches her first wins the hunt, and will earn the first private date tomorrow evening, as well as the pleasure of dining with the lovely doe tonight.”

The lovely doe in question was panting as she kicked off her heels, running barefoot through the woods. On the left was a jostled scene of darkness and trees, but as she looked down to lift her skirts, it was clear that a cam snail must be on her head, maybe hidden in those antlers. The second image continued to flip, showing her running and struggling through the brush from endless angles. 

Does he have a surveillance snail on every fucking tree on this island?

“What a strange courtship custom,” Prince Fukaboshi noted quietly, although his size let the words carry enough for Shanks to let out a sharp laugh, smiling up at the merman to cover his anger before Sylvad continued.

“You may woo my niece however you like, so long as it doesn’t cause her unsalvageable harm, or remove her from this island. I won’t have my vacation home turned into a war zone, so do watch your violence. I know that some of you have had disagreements in the past, but let’s keep the fighting to a minimum unless it’s part of a game, alright lads? We wouldn’t want to spoil the fun for everyone.”

Leeches…

Servants came around to all the tables to take bets from the guests while the courtyard followed the white stag’s every, panicked step. 

Hawk was right, this security is something else.

“This isn’t a dream.”

“Aww, isn’t she a darling,” a diamond-studded, older woman crooned, inspiring more guests to make noises about how precious she looked while she caught her breath, eyes blank as she leaned against a tree. 

“You’re gonna catch that little bunny, aren’t ya, Captain?”

Shanks let out a breath, finally breathing, when he met his first mate’s gaze. Benn was steady, the curve of his lips and shine of his eyes hiding the intensity from those that didn’t know him, but his captain recognized the look. 

It’s time to get serious.

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🐊🤡🗡️~~~

Easy silence wrapped around the three men during dinner, interspersed with deep, hushed voices, and the scratching of Buggy’s pen while he doodled. He couldn’t help but feel thankful for the less noteworthy hours that had passed since his star had met with the doctor. 

“Zala checked in,” Crocodile reported between bites. “Guess she wasn’t suited to the restaurant business after all.”

“That’s Miss Doublefinger, yes?”

“Not anymore,” he sighed at Mihawk’s question. “Zala used to work well with Daz Bonez, and she’s investigating Dr. Vorsan. Refused to help without bringing Marianne along though… Ms. Goldenweek.”

“The child,” Mihawk questioned, giving a gentle tilt to his head. His lover seemed to get touchy when his old organization was brought up. 

“She’s eighteen now,” came the curt answer, although the larger man almost smiled at those damn, golden eyes. 

“Uncle ChodeTick’s talking to her, taking a walk,” Buggy reported, guilt cutting them off before they could get too flirty. The clown scribbled his notes, the easy silence less easy now. 

Mihawk’s lifetime of dedication to becoming the strongest did nothing for him now. All he could do was watch every subtle, pained expression on Buggy’s face while he suffered, the bravest of them all. 

“The agents are infiltrating the asylum the doctor runs when he’s not fucking with our girl,” Crocodile shared, his voice hushed. 

“Sending a teenager to infiltrate an insane asylum? You are ruthless, aren’t you,” Mihawk flirted lightly. He was learning this man, and for the first time he wasn’t making excuses about why. His tone paid off, and he smirked at the playful look on that scarred face.

“Marianne‘ll be fine, I’m sure she’s looking forward to art therapy. Plus, Zala will— what’s wrong, Buggy?”

The clown gestured for silence while his face went red with rage, listening to the rules, and the threats that her monster of an uncle was caging his star with. 

“FUCK!!”

The nearly empty plates and glasses went flying as Buggy flipped the table, his body shaking in every direction, unable to sit with himself for another second.

“I’m pathetic! I can’t help her. I can’t fucking do ANYTHING!”

Crocodile and Mihawk caught as many pieces of him as they could, and wrapped themselves around Buggy until he breathed again, holding most of his body between them. 

“Don’t say that, Buggy.”

“Shh, little clown. You’ve done enough.”

“He’s gonna make her…” Buggy barely managed to choke out the sound, glad that the asshole had left her alone already. One more word from his lips would have made the him explode. 

Her words were worse though. 

“She said she’s gonna fuck the ones she…” He cried out between their now stiff bodies. “He threatened her with… She has to…”

“She has to do what, Buggy,” Crocodile asked, amazed at how steady his voice was while he knelt down to meet the clown’s tired eyes. He kept his hand stroking along his side, that body slumping instead of flying apart now. 

He couldn’t say it, exhaustion making the clown sway against Crocodile’s touch before he floated his hand toward the mess he’d made of the table. Mihawk caught the notepad, his eyes going apocalyptic as he read over Cedrick’s “rules” for the games.  

The swordsman wanted to fly into violence and rage, to turn to ice, and make everything in his path disappear. 

But Buggy’s eyes made him pause, the words on the page having too many consequences, too much weight. 

“Buggy, she said this in anger, did she not? I doubt she’ll really—“

“You didn’t hear him,” Buggy snapped, starting to float and pace while Crocodile read the notes. The clown snatched the notepad off the floor after the scarred man dropped it, his hand shaking with rage. 

“He’s twisted,” Buggy continued.

“He’s dead,” came a rough voice, the fury of a sandstorm barely contained in that vow. 

“Yes, he is,” Mihawk promised as he reached for Buggy. He pushed that lovely, blue hair behind the remaining ear, almost smiling at the ear plug he found. “We will get her out of there, but we need you sane. If our little rabbit needs to take care of herself, we’ll find a way to keep you—“

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Buggy floated just out of reach, glaring down at the swordsman as though he’d started speaking some alien language. 

“You shouldn’t have to listen to that, little clown,” Crocodile soothed, resting his own rage when he realized what Mihawk was saying. “If it happens, we’ll make it loud over here so you can’t hear, or you could—“

“You want me to shove my fingers in my ears while her screams echo through the halls,” Buggy hissed. His anger was building up around him, heating the air, strangling any sense of peace from the room as those old words hit their mark. 

The two monsters under his glare froze, shame stunning them into silence. 

“You think I said I’d rather watch you fuck my star into oblivion just for FUN,” he seethed, his eyes going manic while he floated above them. “I’m a sick fuck, and ended up having flashy, old time, but that’s not why I had to watch.”

He was that frightening showman again, and they were drawn into his act. 

“I’m sorry, Bug—“

“I made myself watch while you took her from me,” he recalled in an almost sing-song voice that chilled the other men’s blood. “I watched and watched, because… I have to listen because…”

The crack in his own voice made him waver, dipping in the air a bit while he stared at the pained faces of these terrifying men. 

“What if they hurt her?”

Silence clashed with the cacophony inside their minds until Crocodile reached toward the clown again, gripping into his shoulder, and sending fear flashing through him while their faces grew closer. 

“We’ll kill them.”

“B-but–”

“Come on, brave, little clown,” Crocodile breathed over his trembling lips. “Why don’t you show me all your toys, huh? How many Buggy Balls would it take to blow up that whole fucking island if we need to?”

As they sighed, falling into the relief of distraction together, Mihawk sank against the wall, becoming nothing more than a threatening statue. He could have tried to grab onto the lifeline his lovers had just created, that comforting moment of camaraderie in violence while the clown indulged in and shared one of his favorite topics.

Yet, the swordsman couldn’t let it go. 

His little rabbit, forced to bed her captors again. 

She’s strong. She’s wicked. She’ll enjoy herself. Then we’ll get her back.

The fear that Y/N might enjoy herself enough to not want to return left Mihawk sick. He had to step outside, wandering down to the garden he’d barely thought of since she was no longer there to smell it on him. 

He found himself fisting into the dirt in that walled garden, huffing a laugh when he smelled the faint, sour scent on his fingers before wiping them on his pants. Red flashed in his mind, and the ex-Warlord sat in the dirt, wishing that love and trust were as simple to cultivate as the garden he’d been too preoccupied to plant. 

“I trust you,” Mihawk whispered to his red haired lover across the sea. The thought of how insufferable Shanks would be if he ever uttered those words in front of him brought a soft smile to his lips. “Please, bring her back. I need her by my side.”

~~~🐊🤡🗡️~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

Time was a human construct, and as your ungraceful body ran like the prey he had transformed you into, you couldn’t tell how long it took for the yells and crashes to race toward you. 

Eternity. 

One fucking second.

A clearing appeared before you, but as you stepped into the open space, an impossible man filled up your world. He knelt down, still towering over you, and all the sounds of chaos in the forest faded while his crimson eyes asked for permission.

Katakuri reached for you, his massive hand outstretched, but he didn’t grab you. 

There was no way you could describe the subtle shift in those stunning eyes when you lifted your hand to take his, but they went wide before you made contact, his hand shooting out impossibly fast behind you. The giant of a man wasn’t fast enough, and cold fear poured through you before you had a warm body wrapped around yours from behind.

“I’ve got you, bunny,” Shanks purred, breathing a little hard as he pressed his lips against your ear. His arm was wrapped around you, holding you tight, as though you were a prize the others would try to tear from his grip. 

You wished they would.

“If we were allowed to wear our raid suits we would have–”

“Don’t complain, brother,” a taunting voice floated through the trees while Shanks looked you over, never taking his hand off of you while he guided you through the trees. “We’ll have plenty more chances. Our little bride likes being hunted, remember? You heard what the old man said about the Cross–”

A strange noise left your throat when Shanks bent down to wrap his arm under your thighs, lifting you up over his shoulder before running too fucking fast. Running until you saw the lovely lanterns again, until the courtyard came into view.

Your own bedraggled image was spread across the outer wall of the manor, the huge snail showing two screens that flashed through replays of your pathetic race and capture. It showed a few highlights of the hunters, including Shanks smashing through what looked like a wall of giant crackers, and Iceburg crawling on the ground in the wrong direction. Now they displayed various angles of the winner carrying his prize.

Shanks was surreal. No one cheered for the slab of meat he’d claimed, not when the Emperor of the Sea looked like some dark god of the forest, a hero bringing home a feast to his starving people.

The image had you closing your eyes, playing into the exhaustion so you wouldn’t have to look at him anymore. 

“Red Haired Shanks, everyone,” Uncle announced as he slowed the audience’s applause, and you opened your eyes to find him beside you, leading your captor to the head table. “The emperor has earned the first private date tomorrow evening, as well as the seat of honor tonight. I hope everyone worked up an appetite.”

I’m not here.

Both men had their hands on you while they propped you up between them, and you faced the courtyard to find the ravenous guests practically drooling over the sight of your torn and dirty dress. Thankfully your back was to the screen, so you didn’t have to keep watching yourself stumbling through the dark. 

The stragglers made their way back, and your mind kept spacing, floating while your torturers chatted, until dinner arrived. 

Servants carried a long stretch of table over the stone path, “ooh’s” and “aah’s” making you more nauseated the closer it got, until they laid out the mythical beast before you. 

Your uncle had caught a white stag. 

He had caught it, killed it, and was laughing while its dead eyes stared at you, its useless antlers like some tragic centerpiece. Uncle Cedrick ordered its flesh to be passed to every plate, so that each of his friends might share in his auspicious meal. 

“Here’s to those with the heart of a hunter,” he toasted. “May your arrows always hit their mark.”

Every bite they took tore through your own skin, the slow prey gone still while the pack of wolves enjoyed their meal. An animal again, your mind was incapable of reason or words, but even the soul of the deer could feel this truth pulsing deep within the bones that the monsters hadn’t yet picked clean.

You would not survive this. They were going to devour you whole.

~~~

“Y/N? Sis? Are you okay?”

Some part of you that only existed for your sister reacted to the worry in her voice, blinking up at her while she carefully pulled the antlers off of your head. Another image of the deer’s mutilated body flashed through your mind as you watched her hold them to her chest before turning away, hurrying toward the door. You stared, thoughts thankfully leaving your mind while she threw the cursed antlers down the corridor.

“Are you okay,” she checked in again when she returned her gentle fingers to your hair.

“Yeah,” you cleared your throat, voice coming out raw. “Where is everyone?”

“I’ll get you cleaned up,” Kat assured. Her sharp eyes were wider than normal, but your urge to comfort her couldn’t break through your exhaustion, your delirium. “I didn’t think you’d want all the servants around.”

Gratitude swelled with the lump in your throat while Kat’s soft fingers transformed you, bringing you back to humanity. 

“I’m sorry he’s still such an asshole to you,” your sister breathed, starting to clean the scrapes that littered your legs and feet. “Running through the forest like… You’re getting married, not hunted. He didn’t need to make it so… I’m sorry.”

“Married,” you gave a tired laugh, closing your eyes before you went down the spiral. A hiss left your lips, your body jolting when she dabbed at a particularly unpleasant scrape.

“I’m going to call Dr. Gilli,” Kat announced, stopping you from digging your nails into your thighs. “No one else, and I’ll stay with you, okay?”

“No pills. No shots,” you ordered, too frantic to care about holding it in. 

“Of course not,” she sighed when your breathing started to calm. “I just don’t want to be responsible for your legs falling off from infection. Is that alright with you, sis?”

“Fine.” The slight teasing Kat had managed to put in her tone made your lips twitch, but that hint of relief took all of your energy. Your sister stayed with you, holding your hand while the family doctor looked you over.

Dr. Gilli had always been sweet to you, but the sight of your blood on her gloves while she gushed about how beautiful you looked, and how lucky you were to have such a romantic engagement, made you want to kick that sweet face in. 

“Thank you, doctor,” Kat frowned, shooing the woman out just in time before you punched her in the throat for asking you about babies. 

Kat helped you into bed, crawling in beside you like you were kids again. 

You used to be the big sister. Four years had always felt like such a big gap, especially with everything you had tried to protect her from. 

Until you couldn’t even protect yourself, and Kat had to become the big sister. 

Gratitude and guilt over that fact could never balance out, and as much as you loved her and needed her right now, you ached for her to leave so you could break down. 

Instead, slow tears stained your pillowcase while her comforting presence held you in a quiet cage. 

“It’s only a month,” she whispered while she stroked your hair. “We’re going to find the best husband for you, and then you’ll take over the company. I know it’s scary, but I believe in you, Y/N, just like dad did… I know you’re ready, and I’ll be right here with you.”

Kat’s misplaced trust froze you for what felt like hours, but somehow you fell asleep. Your name echoed through a storm while you watched the wolves tear into her flesh, helpless to keep your sister from the starving beasts.

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

For a split second upon waking on the morning of the banquet, Buggy’s first thought hadn’t been panic for her absence, but a hum of pleasure at the warmth surrounding him. 

Guilt sent him flying into pieces to escape Crocodile and Mihawk’s arms, and they blinked up at him as though they’d forgotten her too. Buggy only relaxed when he saw the reality of the day harden their faces. 

Another day full of hushed voices, and waiting. Scribbled notes, and stifled comfort. Fear, and an unsteady hope that Shanks would be the hero again. 

~~~

“What’s this,” Buggy growled at the wide eyed, young pirate that had set down a bright blue cocktail on Y/N’s desk. He’d found himself sitting there tonight, updating the other men while the suitors were introduced, and he closed his eyes to stay focused on the muffled voices. 

The clown had started to panic earlier when his star was told to leave her locket behind, almost losing her because his gift didn’t fit the “theme.” She must have stuffed it into her dress from the way her heart thumped even louder within him, and he coughed to fight the heat in his throat.

I’m here, baby. I’ve got you.

“You like sweet drinks, don’t you?”

Buggy jolted, pretending that surprised squeak hadn’t just left his throat before he met Crocodile’s eyes across the room. 

“Y-yeah,” Buggy frowned, but he avoided the collection of garnishes and tiny umbrellas to take a sip from the curly straw. He found the taste of pineapple, coconuts, and sooo much sugar, covering up the rum that he most definitely needed. “Thanks.”

The scarred man raised a brow, and Mihawk’s soft chuckle from his own desk added to the shiver going up Buggy's spine.

They’re trying to distract me… 

“Thanks, daddy,” Buggy corrected, almost smiling at that frightening, but pleased face until her voice filled with hope.

‘Mr. Iceburg?’

“Mr. Iceburg,” he repeated while her heart went wild. 

“Iceburg,” Crocodile asked quietly, looking at his own notes. “From Galley La? He wasn’t on the list…”

“She knows him already,” Buggy reported. He tried to let it mean nothing. “She likes him.”

“Of course, Sylvad’s has had ties with Water 7 for generations,” Crocodile nodded, rubbing his hand over his face. 

“She may like him, but she loves you,” Mihawk startled him as he appeared beside her desk. “Don’t forget.”

“I’d never forget that,” Buggy snapped, sighing when wicked fingers teased over his tense shoulders, helping him focus.

He focused on her breath, her heart, while she met all the men vying to touch her, to take her. He focused on trying not to freak out the longer the night went on without hearing that familiar, heroic voice. Their best chance.

“Something’s wrong,” Buggy rasped, hardly hearing Crocodile's chair thump onto the new carpet over the deafening silence of his star forgetting to breathe. It seemed like her heart had stopped beating, until her uncle’s grating voice came through, and then it pounded like a bird smashing itself against a window to try to escape.

“The clothes suit you well, Emperor.”

“I had no idea that fashionable friends could be so generous,” Shanks charmed, his voice a miracle. “Or that I’d have the pleasure of meeting such a gorgeous, little bunny again so soon. Sorry, you're a gorgeous, little doe, aren’t you?”

“It’s Shanks,” Buggy shared, almost jealous of the relief that washed over their faces before he closed his eyes to the world again.

Shanks played the roguish pirate to perfection, and Buggy had no notes for his performance. Even muffled, Sylvad’s voice was clearly satisfied, eating up the Emperor’s words. 

“Red Hair made it? He’s a suitor?”

The soft questions ripped Buggy’s eyes open, and the relief he still saw there made him sick. 

“She hates him.”

“What do you–”

“Who does she–”

“She HATES SHANKS!” 

Buggy didn’t notice when he’d flown into pieces, but he floated erratically before them, trying to understand, trying to explain. 

“How… She didn’t say that out loud, did she,” Mihawk asked after a pause, studying his movements. 

“Why would she hate him,” Crocodile mused. His silver eyes stripped him down as he stepped too close.

“How the fuck would I know,” Buggy yelled, horror filling his veins at the way her heart seemed to fight itself in its cage. “This is how she sounds when she’s with Uncle ShitFuck, or that fucking doctor! She hates Shanks. She HATES HIM! What are we gonna do?”

“Shh, shh, darling,” Mihawk breathed, catching Buggy’s face in both hands while his body still flew through the air. “Y/N thought he was going to steal you from her. If she hasn’t forgiven him, then we’ll just have to find another way.”

“But she–”

Every floating piece of him stuttered in the air when cruel lips kissed his so sweetly. 

“I am long overdue for a hunting trip,” the swordsman teased over his skin, twisting those wicked fingers into his hair. “Having all three of us here is a waste. I’ll go thin out the competition.”

“No.”

The refusal was deep, yet gentle, and that scarred face towered over them both while Crocodile tugged at Mihawk’s chin. 

“We’re not doing that. We can’t go against her wishes, not until we know why she’s doing this.”

Buggy felt pain searing behind his eyes while he tried to listen to two things at once: Cedrick Sylvad’s speech, and the moral dilemma of these ex-Warlords.

“I agree,” Mihawk said evenly, barely sparing a glance while Buggy brought his body back together beside him. “But these men want our little rabbit, and her illustrious name for their own reasons. If it’s possible to convince the worst of them to drop out, then we should try.”

“Are you running away again,” Crocodile sighed, the pressure in the air making Buggy want to sink to the floor.  

“Don’t worry, daddy,” Mihawk purred, expertly slicing through all the tension in the room. “I have a spare earpiece snail, so you can scold me all you like while I’m away.” 

‘Did you hear me,’ Cedrick seemed to hiss at Buggy, swimming in guilt for falling into the distraction of the men before him. 

“Chase?”

“What is it,” Mihawk checked in, scanning his face. 

“No,” the clown paused, more endless horror pouring into him. He had to step away, the sounds of her panic while she raced through the woods sending him into helpless rage. The other men let him feel into it, until he rounded on them again. 

“They’re hunting her like an animal,” Buggy seethed, flinching at the sound of his star falling, panting, pushing herself on. “She’s terrified, she’s– Fuck this!”

A wave of sand hit the door before Crocodile blocked his path, only fueling that need to protect her. 

“Marines on call. Germa Kingdom. Big Mom Pirates. Fishman royalty. And we still don’t know what kind of security forces Sylvad keeps on the island, not to mention whatever the Concealer keeps around him, or the President of Galley La,” the larger man listed, his voice firm, but going soft when he touched Buggy’s cheek. “The second you hear our sweet girl ask for help, or say that she doesn’t wanna be there, I will drain them all to dust… but we still don’t know what he has on her. She told us she wanted to go.”

‘This isn’t a dream…’

In a trance, the clown let the other men lead him to that flashy, green couch, his notepad and fruity drink set up on the new coffee table while he slumped into her spot between them. 

“Shanks got her,” he reported, unable to share in their relief with the sound of her strangled breaths so loud in his head. He could barely hear a thing in her world now, the muffled voices beyond theirs were too difficult to make out, especially when another heartbeat filled his mind. His old friend must have been carrying her, and the sound of both of their hearts pounding so close made his gloves damp when he rubbed at his tired eyes. 

“Don’t worry,” Mihawk tugged at him gently until Buggy curled in against his exposed chest. The swordsman didn’t recoil from the faded paint, or the hot tears that streaked down his skin the longer the clown let himself stay there. “If our little rabbit doesn’t trust our hero, then we’ll just convince the rest of the suitors to give up the hunt.”

“Try not to start any wars, little prince,” Crocodile hummed, setting his massive hand over Mihawk’s where it was resting on Buggy’s thigh. 

“War is tedious. I am looking forward to a peaceful life,” Mihawk vowed, stroking Buggy’s hair while the man let exhaustion relax him deeper into his lap. “We just need to retrieve our lovers first.”

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

“Oh sweetie, you look so–”

“Take a bite.”

Mom’s too shiny smile hardened slightly before she tasted your oatmeal, avoiding the servants that hovered around you in clouds of makeup and hair spray. 

“You’re about to have brunch with your suitors,” she reminded you when you snatched the food from her, practically inhaling it before more pencils or brushes could touch your lips. “Don’t you think it will look strange if you don’t eat with them?”

“You don’t seem to care how strange it looks to sell off your own daughter,” you laughed, noticing a servant’s eyes widen just a fraction when they took your empty bowl. “I’m cooperating, but I will not be leaving my food or drinks unattended until I feel safer. You want your child to feel safe, don’t you, mother?”

“I found some,” Kat beamed when she barged through the door, waving a deck of playing cards above her head. She tossed it to you, and you gasped, surprised that you caught it from the air before it could hit one of the staff. Thankfully, the full skirted dress you’d been stuffed into this morning had pockets, so you tucked your little game away, forcing your mom to taste the rest of your breakfast before the brunch dates began.

But Kat was making that face. Little sister face. 

“What’s that,” you gestured toward the item she had tried to conceal when she sat across from you, tucking it behind her body.

“Just some trash I found in the hall. Do you want some more coffee?”

“Give it,” you ordered, giving her big sister face.

“It’s nothing we didn’t already know, okay? So just…”

“At least I’m not the only one being used,” a sharp laugh left your throat. “How much berry do you think he’s making off of this game?”

Mom ordered the staff to leave before leaning toward Kat, and didn’t whisper quietly enough on her way out.

“Brunch is about to start. Make sure she looks presentable.”

“Can’t sell me off if I'm not pretty, can you?”

“Y/N,” she started, looking convincingly hurt, but Kat got her out of the room before either of you could make it worse. 

You stared at the “trash” in your lap, the crisp scent of expensive ink and paper filling your lungs while you examined the brochure. 

‘Which Hunter Will Claim Her?’

That tantalizing question was scrawled across every page, while the nine suitors each had their own section, their profile, their face, and a stupid little quote about winning you. This barbaric game was disguised behind a snooty font spread over images of dappled sunlight through Sylvad trees, and decorated with arrows and leaves.

Cedar leaves.

You wanted to tear it to shreds, but you were pulled in, studying every detail.

~~~~~~

~~~~~~

Giberson

Age: Couldn’t Recall

Height: Misplaced Measurements

Birthday: August 14th

Title: “Warehouseman”

Favorite Food: Rye Whiskey

How he plans to win: “I’m sure the lovely lady and I will have a delightful time. You don’t get to be my age without learning a few tricks.”

~

Ichiji

Age: 21

Height: 186 cm (6'1")

Birthday: March 2

Title: Prince of the Germa Kingdom

Favorite Food: Strawberries and Whiskey

How he plans to win: "I’m a Vinsmoke."

~

Niji

Age: 21

Height: 185 cm (6'1")

Birthday: March 2nd

Title: Prince of the Germa Kingdom

Favorite Food: Blueberries and Scotch

How he plans to win: “She’s coming with us. If I don’t win, there’s two more Vinsmoke’s.”

~

Yonji

Age: 21

Height: 194 cm (6'4")

Birthday: March 2

Title: Prince of the Germa Kingdom

Favorite Food: Green Peas

How he plans to win: “I wouldn’t mind ending up with a woman like her, so I’m gonna turn her into a princess.”

~

Iceburg

Age: 40

Height: 199 cm (6'6")

Birthday: January 3

Title: President of the Galley-La Company, and Mayor of Water 7

Favorite Food: Curry Made by an Old Friend. A Drunk, Old Friend.

How he plans to win: “Mm, well... I suppose I’ll win because I know her best.”

~

Fukaboshi

Age: 24

Height: 604 cm (19’10”)

Birthday: February 4th

Title: Prince of the Ryugu Kingdom

Favorite Food: Abalone Steak

How he plans to win: “I hope that she carries peace in her heart. If she does, I will stop at nothing to earn her love.”

~

Cracker

Age: 45

Height: 307 cm (10'1")

Birthday: February 28th

Title: Sweet Commander of the Big Mom Pirates, and the Minister of Biscuit

Favorite Food: Biscuits. Dislikes Kimchi and Carbonated Drinks.

How he plans to win: “Easy. I’ll outdo them all.”

~

Katakuri

Age: 48

Height: 509 cm (16'8½")

Birthday: November 25th

Title: Sweet Commander of the Big Mom Pirates, and the Minister of Flour

Favorite Food: Doughnuts. Dislikes hot ramen.

How he plans to win: “I will win because I must.”

~

Shanks

Age: 39

Height: 199 cm (6'6")

Birthday: March 9

Title: Emperor of the Sea

Favorite Food: Kimchi Fried Rice and Lobster. Dislikes Blueberries.

How he plans to win: “Just gonna show the cutie a good time.”

~~~~~~

‘Make Your Bets Now!’

Kat was right. You knew that the audience was enjoying the game, gambling while you just tried to survive, trying to secure the least abhorrent future that you could. 

“Venison…”

“Heeyyy,” Kat fumbled through positivity as she pulled the brochure from your white-knuckled grip. “At least we know how tall they are now!”

“I love you,” you thanked her, amazed that you could still laugh.

~~~

“Such pretty, little fingers… I hope I pass your test.”

“It’s not a test,” you lied, shuffling cards instead of tearing the old man’s eyes out. “Just a game.”

“It has to be the Queen of Hearts,” Giberson winked over his Bloody Mary.

“It’s the Four of Diamonds.”

“So you are choosing the next winner,” he scolded lightly when your prediction was revealed.

“How could I possibly choose when I have so many charming options,” you reminded him as you pushed the deck across the table so he could shuffle for himself. You weren’t ready to pick and choose between these hunters. There’d been no time to feel them out. 

So they had to guess.

The lighthearted brunch felt anything but with so many eyes on your skin, especially with Uncle’s giant projector snail that blew up your image across the building again. All the smaller snails circled around you, their slow, unreal eyes reminding you how trapped you were.

Always trapped.

“That’s alright, dear. Making decisions is tough, isn’t it? I’ve been hearing about what a smart girl you are though! So, what’s the card?”

The old man’s condescension was so typical, you were contemplating rooting for him, just so you could end up with a predictable partner.

“Jack of Hearts,” you smiled after counting down twenty two cards out loud, yet again.

“Whew, that sure is something,” Giberson waved the Jack of Hearts he’d revealed, making sure the rest of the guests could see while he bragged about you, as though your skills were somehow reflective of his own talents. 

As though he already owned you.

“You shuffled,” you teased, guiding him to set up the trick one more time. “Can you guess the card?”

“Queen of Hearts,” he winked again.

Gross. At least he might die soon, that’s a plus.

~~~

“You look beautiful this morning, Y/N,” the firstborn Vinsmoke brother purred when he took Giberson’s seat. 

Every moment was on full display for the other suitors, and for the guests that had stayed on the island for the entertainment. It seemed that the courtyard was to be your new realm, with plenty of space for your much taller dates to join you at your little breakfast table that was set up on a slightly elevated platform. 

A stage. 

“Thank you, Prince Ichigi. You’re looking quite well yourself.”  

Fuck.

It wasn’t a lie, and your pulse sped at the smug smile he gave when he tilted his head down to examine you over his dark, red glasses. 

There was something dangerous in that smile, and the fact that he didn’t even try to hide it made you pause, not sure how best to deal with this entitled prince.

“What does our lovely bride enjoy when she’s not being chased,” Ichiji purred, already claiming you with his words. His sunglasses did little to hide his eyes as they raked over your skin. 

“I enjoy numbers. Mathematics,” you almost squeaked. Heat rose up to your cheeks while you started to shuffle the cards, noticing the number “1” embroidered on his maroon cloak while you explained the goal of the card trick. 

“Seven of Clubs.”

“I’m sorry, Prince Ichiji, you’re wrong again.”

You had to risk a small sip from your untested water glass to fight the dryness on your tongue.

“That’s alright,” Ichiji teased, nodding at the sound of bells marking his time. “That’s why my family always brings numbers.”

“My turn, brother,” the blue haired prince announced as he clapped him on the shoulder. 

“Be nice to our little princess, Niji,” he ordered, pressing your knuckles to his lips before heading back toward the rest of his family. 

“Of course,” your new date smirked, leaning back in his chair with his hands clasped behind that blue head of hair. 

The large spikes and swoops of his hairstyle covered one of his eyes under his gold sunglasses, hiding one of the eyebrows that you kept trying not to glance at. The three brothers shared an odd curl to the ends of their brows, You couldn’t tell if it was a cosmetic choice, but didn’t want to risk insulting such powerful men in case they were sensitive about it.

“Don’t tell me my brother already wore you out,” he clicked his tongue, snapping you out of your memories. 

“I’m so sorry, Prince Niji, I must still be tired from the banquet. What were you saying?”

“Fetch our little bride some coffee,” he snapped at the nearest servant, banging lightly on the table until the dishes rattled.

His harsh tone was almost enough to make you forget your precautions, but you had enough to worry about without the uncertainty of who prepared your drink.

That curly brow raised with satisfied surprise when you rested your hand over his, his lips parting while he ate up your act.

“Would you mind sharing your coffee, Prince Niji? I’d hate to waste any more of our time waiting to wake up.”

“What’s mine is yours, princess,” Niji purred. He caught your hand as you pulled away, and you let him hold it while you drank from his mug. His coffee was unbelievably sweet.

Stop. Don’t think about…

“Thank you,” you hummed, swallowing the heat in your throat while you tried to not to look at his blue hair with that practically syrupy coffee still on your tongue. “Will you help me with a little trick?”

~~~

“It’s up to you, little brother,” Niji reported when his time ran out. 

“Don’t worry, I’ve been watching these pretty hands,” Yonji assured him, kissing your fingers before he sat down. His dark eyes seemed fierce without colored glasses to hide them, and his green hair was slicked back instead of swooping up and out like his older brothers. He wasn’t hiding his interesting features.

“So you think you know the trick,” you challenged, giving him a chance. 

“I think I’ll win your heart,” he swooned, and the sappy look on his face made your hands fumble while you shuffled the deck. 

He focused intently now as you laid them out, and revealed certain cards, counting down to the guess. 

“What card is—“

“Three of Spades,” he blurted out. “What’s your guess?”

“Three of Clubs.”

“Again.”

The youngest prince refused your small talk, avoiding your gaze until his final guess.

“King of Hearts,” Yonji beamed, puppy dog eyes finally on your face again. “What’s your guess, princess?”

Would it be weird to marry Kat’s favorite?

You didn’t glance at your sister, but knew she’d be watching while the green haired prince scored the first point, hearts practically floating around his head when you revealed the card. 

“I told you, princess,” Yonji vowed as he stole a quick peck to your cheek. “I’ll be the one to win your heart.”

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~⏰🌲🌲🌲⏰~~~

~~~⚫~~~

The man that had won your heart beamed when he saw you gazing up at him. His blue hair seemed to glow in the sun, but nothing could gleam like those strong arms, slick with sweat while he climbed down the ropes to meet you on the deck of the ship.

“Oh my, look at you,” Iceburg hummed, tying a bandana over his hair to catch that salty water before it dripped down his face. You stared at those gorgeous, purple tattoos that crawled down his shoulders and arms before he patted the top of your head. “Where’s your dad hiding?”

“He had to take a call, but I helped him write this proposal, so he said I could bring it to you,” you squirmed, handing him the file.

“He’s got you working at thirteen,” he whistled, taking the document while he shook his head. 

“I’m fourteen now,” you declared. 

You couldn’t keep yourself from rolling onto your toes a bit, lifting your chin in hopeful challenge. 

“You’re gonna be running things soon, huh,” he smirked.

Mind going absolutely blank under his attention, you just gaped at him like a fucking creep.

“This ship’s almost finished.” Iceburg leaned close, knocking on the railing behind you. “Would you like a tour? It is your family’s wood that makes it so strong, after all.”

“I– Are you sure? I’ll be fine waiting if you need to get back to work. You don’t need to watch me.”

The desire to follow him around like a puppy was overpowered by the distaste at him feeling the need to babysit you, but the look on his face made you laugh, forgetting it all.

“I don’t wanna go back to work,” the handsome shipwright complained, scrunching up his face in a pout that rivaled your sister’s. “I’d rather show you around, and grab some lunch when your dad gets here. Can we?”

“Okay!”

~~~

This gorgeous, lovely man knew more about Sylvad wood than most of dad’s executives. Listening to him talk about it always made you happy, knowing that your family was part of something so important, so loved. 

Iceburg led you through the ship, telling you how he had worked each piece of lumber, how it all moved with the wind and the waves, even guiding you to slide your hand along the trees your family had grown, smooth and silky to the touch after he’d treated them. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it,” he praised softly, watching your hand against the wood before pulling a pen from his toolbelt. “Well, let’s go get some food, girlie. You can tell your dad what a great job you did presenting your proposal.”

“But you didn’t even read it,” you blurted out, shocked when he pressed the document against a wall to sign his name.

“You and Arbo are good people, plus you’ve got the best lumber in the world,” he laughed while he led you up the stairs toward the sound of footsteps. “I trust you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Iceburg… but you just agreed to build a small fleet to expand our shipping operations in the East Blue. Are you sure you’ll have time for that while you help Tom finish the sea train? Hi, daddy!”

“There’s my girl,” your dad grinned, kissing your temple when you joined him on the deck. “Make any deals without me?”

Iceburg handed the document over, waving his own copy in your direction. Your skin flushed with heat again when he snuck you a wink while your dad glanced at his signature. 

“She’s very convincing. You’ll be able to retire in no time if she keeps this up.”

He was the perfect man. Strong, kind, silly, sweet, and so painfully hot, it drove you mad. You’d had a few crushes on your classmates over the last couple of years, but nothing compared to the way you felt when Iceburg looked at you like that. 

“I don’t doubt it,” your dad praised. He wrapped his arm around the shipwright’s shoulders, nodding his head toward the docks. “Is Kokoro still making that delightful curry?”

“I’ll never let her stop,” Iceburg laughed while he led the way. “Tom should be over there too, let’s go grab some lunch and catch up.”

“Sounds perfect. Do you want to come, sweetheart?”

~~~⚫~~~

~~~⏰🌲🌲🌲⏰~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

He’s not who I thought he was. He’s a creep. Another leech trying to latch on and drain as much berry from me as he can. Don’t forget. 

You were pathetic, getting flustered while he watched your hands, his calm voice taking away all your caution. 

“I have to apologize,” Iceburg hummed while you shuffled.

“Why is that?”

“Mm, well,” he looked down at his striped jacket while he patted his pocket. “I left Tyrannosaurus with my secretary. I didn’t think bringing a pet would be… I should be more focused on you.”

“What do you— oh!”

The cards scattered across the table when you jumped, laughter sneaking out of you. 

“This is Velociraptor,” Iceburg announced as a field mouse crawled out of his breast pocket. “I found him during the chase, I hope it’s alright to have pets during our stay. Are you okay, Y/N?”

“I’m fine, sorry,” you recovered from losing yourself in that laughter before gathering the cards again. Your eyes were still watering when you watched the cute creature dive back into his pocket after a few soft pets from his strong fingers. “Can you guess the card?”

“Oh my,” his brows furrowed, watching your waiting hands. “I really need to pay attention, don’t I? I’d love to spend some more time with you.”

He leaned forward, his height making him tower over you at the little table, and you found yourself blinking up at him.

Forgetting.

“I…”

“Is it the Seven of Clubs?”

“No, Mr… No, Iceburg.”

~~~

Prince Fukaboshi was led through the courtyard by a few attendants, both fishmen and mermen featured amongst the group. He looked down at you, mouth opening to speak before Uncle’s voice carried over.

“Why don’t we give our hunter a closer look?”

Grabbing onto the edge of the table took all of your focus, and you knew that your fake smile fell when you started moving through the air. The ground flew away, the wooden platform beneath you rising up toward the prince, gentle surprise on his face.

The snails on the table didn’t seem phased by the change in elevation, and it was hard to pretend they didn’t exist while they slowly shifted positions to better capture you and your date for the audience below. 

You decided not to look down to determine what kind of contraption had lifted you so high, instead looking at the prince before you. Fukaboshi took up your entire field of vision, and it was easy to see the concern on his expansive face.

“Are you alright, Miss Sylvad?”

His teeth look so sharp…

“Please, Prince Fukaboshi,” you trembled, focusing on the cards as much as you could, “call me Y/N. Can you guess the— oh, I’m sorry, are you familiar with these sorts of playing cards?”

You were barely hanging on. He spoke, he guessed, and you could feel the rumble of his voice even though your mind wasn’t quite letting it in. Your body performed without you, your lips reciting words that carried no meaning. 

“This courtship custom is unlike any I have seen before,” the prince frowned while you set up the cards for the last guess. “Since it is all strange to me, I couldn’t be certain, but…”

The pause was long enough for you to meet his eyes, so large, and filled with what looked like compassion. 

No. 

“Miss Y/N, I am seeking your hand so that my people can gain protection and resources so that they never suffer the cruelty and humiliation of slavery again,” Fukaboshi declared. The snails on the table lowered their eyes, but his voice boomed too loud to hide. 

Bells. 

“That is—“

“I never want to see anyone treated the way my sister was by those monsters at the Reverie.”

“Monsters?”

The dangerous question barely made it past your lips before the platform jolted, slowly bringing you down, away from his determined face while the bells kept ringing. 

“Are you being held against your will? I cannot abide another moment of this if you are being used like a pet for their amusement.”

“N-no,” you panicked, craning your neck to see him while you shook your head, hands pleading, voice dripping with lies. “You are so kind, thank you, Prince Fukaboshi! I’m sorry, I must seem scared, but I’m just nervous. This is all a bit overwhelming, but I promise I am glad to be here!”

“Your turn’s over, Prince. You heard the girl.”

Cracker’s manic smile appeared as the table sank to the ground. It felt like your frantic heart had been left in the sky, floating up there with those huge, concerned eyes. 

“Thank you, Prince Fukaboshi,” you beamed, feeling forever selfish at the temptation. 

I can’t risk a stranger, a whole kingdom. I’m not worth it. 

Neither of us would make it out alive anyway. 

“It has been my honor,” he said evenly, though his eyes were scanning the crowd now, a new tension held within his enormous, warrior’s body. 

The snails woke up, those slow moving eyes reminding you that the show must go on.

“You’re a good girl, aren’t you?”

“I’m sorry?” 

Cracker sat down, and the platform probably should have lifted a bit as the shirtless man was closer to your reality, but he was still even taller than… 

You had to stop comparing these men to your daydreams. 

“Eight of Diamonds… Damn,” he brushed off his loss before looming over you. His dark, brown glove was softer than you expected it to be when he cupped your cheek, almost the whole side of your face. 

“You understand family duties, don’t you?”

All you could do was nod under the wild look he gave you.

He’s fucking unstable.

“That’s good. Family is everything.”

Is he flirting? 

A dangerous giggle almost escaped, but you kept it in, smiling sweetly while he failed every guess.

The bells finally rang out, but they couldn’t save you from his last words, his promise.

“Our family needs you, Y/N. I don’t care if you’re my wife or my sister, I’ll protect you with my life.”

~~~

This time you were grateful for the moving platform, a reason to look away from Cracker’s confident face. The true reason for the movement came into view, his brother waiting patiently for you to settle just below his eye level. 

Those eyes… 

Charlotte Katakuri was too fucking tall. Too fucking scary. Crimson eyes assessed you, his arched brows and sharp nose not nearly harsh enough to distract from those thick, dark lashes of his.

He’s too fucking pretty.

Now that you were this close, you could see scars on both of his cheeks. They led down toward his mouth, still concealed by that massive scarf. Prince Fukaboshi’s sharp teeth came to mind when you wondered what he could be hiding, so you shuffled and shuffled, trying to think about anything else.

“It’s good to see you, Y/N,” his polite voice made you shiver, seeming to vibrate the elevated stage you were perched on. 

“Same to you, Katakuri,” your voice shook. You couldn’t afford to show this much fear. Predators always looked for weak prey. “Would you mind helping me with a little trick?”

“If that’s what you wish,” he agreed. There was no way to tell if the hint of a smile you heard in his voice was truly hidden beneath his scarf, but it set you on edge, nonetheless. 

“Can you guess the card?”

“It’s the Ten of Hearts.”

He stated it as if it were true, as if he were simply remarking on the weather around him.

And it was true. You’d known it before you revealed it, this simple math trick like the comforting rhythm of a familiar heartbeat. 

“You’re right,” you breathed when you turned it over. “Care to go again?”

Katakuri nodded slowly, but his eyes never left your face, ignoring the cards on the table until you asked for his next guess.

“The Queen of Hearts.”

“Yes. Have you seen this trick before?”

“In a way,” came his cryptic response. “Shall we go again?”

He definitely wasn’t paying attention to the cards. Those stunning eyes were so fucking intense as they bore into your skin that you almost forgot to do the math before you asked for his next guess.

Then you wished you had forgotten.

“What’s the–”

“Shuffle again.”

“But you haven’t–”

You stopped breathing when one of his giant hands shot toward you, his fingers sooo fucking big when he laid them over yours. 

Delicate. This giant was gentle when he covered your hands, covered the cards, practically covered half the little table.

“This card makes you sad,” he whispered, though there was no point with all the surveillance, and with his booming voice at the center of attention. But still, he whispered. “Why don’t you shuffle again?”

Fuck. fuckfuckfuck. Stop. 

There you go. Just smile. 

A small miracle let you slip out of your body, out of your mind, while you shuffled the unrevealed Six of Spades back into the deck. 

Katakuri was still quiet, still watching. So polite while he guessed the right card, letting you pull yourself back together.

Hiding all the struggle behind your Sylvad smile.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he touched your hand again when the platform started to lower. “I’m looking forward to our next meeting.”

You hadn’t noticed the bells.

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🐊🤡🗡️~~~

“When are you leaving?”

“There’s no point in waiting,” Mihawk avoided the larger man’s eyes. “The sooner I convince the competition to back out, the sooner Y/N will be free of them.”

“Yeah, but how,” Buggy sighed from his lap, the swordsman’s skilled fingers nearly dragging him down to sleep already. “How the fuck are you gonna convince these assholes that they don’t wanna marry her? She’s perfect! Plus, they get in on that stupid company, and get whatever other bullshit DickHole is selling. What can you do besides poke ‘em with your fancy stick?”

“That’s what I plan to find out,” Mihawk smiled, though the finality in his tone was enough.

“Come on, Buggy,” Crocodile nudged his legs aside, offering the clown his hand while he stared at their determined lover. “Let’s remind our little bird why he should fly back home when he’s done pecking people’s eyes out.”

Buggy let out an exhausted giggle while Mihawk shivered, his eyes rolling back just a bit. Just enough.

“You thought you could run away that easily, huh,” Crocodile threatened with his words, and with the tip of his hook below that sculpted chin.

More guilt almost tore the clown away while he watched them, but Buggy chugged his sugary drink, grateful for the quiet of faraway sleep. He started to pull the swordsman up by the collar of his frighteningly fancy jacket, and that arched brow was an instinctual warning.

The clown heeded the warning, loosening his grip on the jacket, only to yank the man off the couch by his hair. Crocodile joined in on his smug laughter, roughly pulling Mihawk against him before he’d stopped moaning from the unexpected pain.

“You’re not leaving tonight.”

Heavy. 

Whatever they held between them felt heavier than either had expected.

“I’ll go get the bed ready,” Buggy sighed as he half floated toward the door, “but I’ll need another drink if you guys take too long.”

~~~🗡️🤡🐊~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🗡️🐊🗡️🐊~~~

“Are you alright?”

Mihawk laughed at the question, and Crocodile wanted to shake him. He was sick of seeing his lovers fall apart right in front of him, with nothing he could do, or even understand.

He ached to understand this man. They had faced each other in battle just a few years ago, but that Summit War felt like a fever dream now.

Not that this new life didn't feel like a dream.

This man…

Crocodile kept getting him. Meeting him in ways that both surprised, and soothed him. 

Mihawk laughed again at the thought of new vocabulary, but Crocodile pulled him close.

“I’m not ready to lose my business partner,” Crocodile confessed, the words too heavy for the smirk he tried to give. 

The words were enough.

Mihawk laid his deadly fingers along that silk vest, silently asking for a kiss while he stared up at the taller man. 

The swordsman felt like a fraud. 

How could someone like him that had carried nothing for so long be filled with so much? He didn’t want to lie anymore than he already had. 

Crocodile gave him what he wanted. A heavy kiss.

“Let’s not keep our clown waiting,” Crocodile rasped, tracing his thumb along Mihawk’s sharp features. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

~~~🗡️🐊🗡️🐊~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🗡️🤡🐊~~~

They’re holding hands… 

Crocodile and Mihawk had called through the door, all of their hands occupied until Mihawk handed the slack-jawed clown another cocktail. 

“Nice room service,” Buggy tried to recover. 

“Come here, little clown.”

The scarred man let go of one lover to reach for another. Cupping his hand along Buggy’s jaw, with those large fingers combing into the hair at the back of his neck, Crocodile breathed down on him until he was nodding, red lips still parted.

“I haven’t been giving you enough attention,” Crocodile purred, squeezing his face lightly when Buggy tried to argue. “But it looks like we’re gonna have plenty of alone time soon. Plenty of time for me to spoil you.”

“Y-yup! Lots of…”

“Is that what you want?”

“Sure, whatever you say, bos— Yes, daddy.”

“Good boy.”

Buggy disconnected at the ankles to float up into Crocodile’s deep kiss. He nearly spilled his drink before the larger man lowered him down again, eyes dark and satisfied while he watched his clown. 

“You deserve more attention, but you handled him so well. Help me remind—“

“Let’s fuck him up, daddy!”

Buggy downed his drink with one hand while the other snuck past Crocodile’s body to wrap around Mihawk’s throat. 

“You do know that I’m still Dracule Mihawk, don’t you?”

Wicked fingers dug into the floating hand, dragging it down his own chest while he resisted. 

“Whatcha gonna do, Hawkeyes? Stab me? Slice me,” Buggy laughed, setting down his glass before sending his other hand. 

Crocodile started to undress, chuckling softly at his boys. 

The air shifted as danger, delicious danger, poured from the swordsman while he leaned into Buggy’s touch, forcing his floating hands closer to his own body with every taunting step.

“I’m going to play.”

Mihawk’s golden eyes seemed to flicker with his threat, and Buggy felt a flash of fear, a glimpse of a beast. In that moment, he almost gave in, almost let the beast win.

Wherever his burst of confidence came from, Buggy went with it.

“Why don’t you play with daddy’s balls then, huh, crybaby?”

One of the clown’s hands broke free from that hold, and Mihawk couldn’t fight the moan that tore through him when gloved fingers ripped into his hair again, forcing him to look at Crocodile. The larger man was so very large, stroking himself while he sat on the edge of the bed. 

Gods, that fucking cock.

Buggy took advantage of Mihawk’s wonderment by kicking the backs of his knees until he hit the floor, and wrapped himself around the swordsman’s back to leave lipstick-stained bites along his neck. 

“Don’t lie. You wanna get fucking wrecked, don’t you?”

“I don’t like liars,” Crocodile teased, circling his thumb over his tip, taking in a quick breath of satisfaction at the desperate look on Mihawk’s face at the sight. “Do you want us to wreck you, little prince?”

Mihawk melted as that lovely hook pressed into his throat. Buggy rubbed himself against his back, and the swordsman laughed, feeling entirely fucking spoiled. 

“Please, daddy.”

What a fucking sight… 

The scarred man still couldn’t understand how these lovely men were somehow his, not after everything he’d done, everything he’d felt before. Watching Mihawk beg so sweetly while Buggy stripped him made Crocodile’s cock so hard it almost hurt, his rough fingers easing up against that sensitive flesh, until wicked fingers, wicked lips, replaced his own grip. 

“Fuck. Such an evil little mouth you’ve got– Shit…”

Buggy realized his own mouth was hanging open as he undressed, but he couldn’t care to close it while he watched Mihawk swallow more than looked humanly possible.

“Help me out, Buggy,” Crocodile groaned while he gripped Mihawk’s hair, his hand bobbing up and down with that pretty face. “Stretch out our filthy prince for me. No way he’s leaving here before I ruin that perfect, little ass.”

Sloppy, muffled whines escaped him, and Mihawk’s eyes rolled at the daunting threat. Buggy was there, lubed, and ungloved fingers fucking into him until he shook with need, with pleasure. 

“Get over here,” Crocodile growled, stepping back to yank Mihawk toward the bed by the hook around his neck. Buggy helped him along, floating hands lifting that moaning form into place. 

Mihawk’s place was on his hands and knees in the center of the bed, and he lost himself there in the tender and vicious touches his lovers showered him with. In their praise and teasing, pleasure and pain. In the taste of Buggy’s skin as he shoved his cock down his throat. 

He absolutely fucking lost himself when Crocodile lined himself up. He was the world’s greatest swordsman, and he enjoyed pain a great deal. Yet his former enemy was about to pierce him so thoroughly that Mihawk whimpered around Buggy's length, almost afraid. 

Then he felt nothing but that heavy cock, stretching, and claiming, and filling him until tears streamed from his golden eyes.

“So good, so fucking good for me,” Crocodile grunted. He dragged his hook down Mihawk’s side, still not believing what he was seeing. 

Dracule fucking Mihawk, moaning around a clown’s cock while his pretty, little hole sucked him in again and again. 

“Let’s give our twisted prince what he wants, eh, Buggy? Make sure he remembers where he belongs.”

Buggy stuttered in agreement, nearly gone before he obeyed. He tore at Mihawk’s hair while his other hand scraped brutally down his back. The twitching that his rough hands caused forced his cock even deeper until he spilled his pleasure down that desperate throat.

Crocodile sliced his hook around the swordsman’s body, pouring red from that perfect chest while he stuffed his little prince full. The overwhelming sensations had Mihawk coming harder than he’d thought possible, and the sounds he made were unreal. Pathetic. 

Music to the ears of his sated lovers. 

The clown didn’t need to be ordered or asked, Buggy just helped Mihawk stay steady while they pulled out of him. So many praises showered them both while the swordsman just breathed, assessing his every, vicious ache. 

Crocodile hated to leave for even a moment, but he didn’t need to worry. Buggy’s hands had already flown to the bathroom to wash themselves, spilling a bit of soap on the counter before grabbing what he needed. When Crocodile returned from the shower, Buggy was still wiping the other man clean, humming while he trailed gently over that perfect skin. 

Mihawk’s skin was littered with scars of battle and lust, of trust, and he had just enough energy for a weak smile as Buggy’s fingers danced over them all. He moaned, twitching in those gentle arms while his lovers washed him in the shower, no way to recover this soon. 

“Don’t whine, crybaby,” Buggy mumbled, too focused on cleaning and bandaging his wounds while Mihawk melted into the burn. “We’ll slice you up some more when you get back.”

“He’s right,” Crocodile hummed. Seeing these lovely boys taking care of each other gripped something deep within his chest. Whatever it was sparked fear in him, so much so that he had to pause while they laid Mihawk on the fresh sheets between them. 

I can’t lose them. Can’t lose any of them. 

“We’ll be waiting, little bird,” he pressed a kiss to Mihawk’s temple. Contented, sleepy sounds filled the air, and he tried to trust that this lovely new world wasn’t about to end. “Fly back home, alright?”

He couldn’t shape words, but Mihawk hummed his promise before he drifted away.

Home…

~~~🗡️🤡🐊~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

“Morning, Y/N— well, afternoon by now, isn’t it?”

You shuffled just to have something to focus on while you simpered for him. 

The traitor. 

“Good afternoon, Shanks. I’m looking forward to our date this evening. Since you already won, I’m afraid you’re out of the running for the next date. We have to give everyone a chance, of course.”

“Of course.” 

You couldn’t fucking believe the charm that oozed off of him when he beamed at you. 

“I’d still like to try your little game though, if that’s alright, gorgeous?”

Shanks stayed quiet while you laid out the cards, some face up, some face down, before you counted down twenty two from the remaining deck. 

A comforting rhythm, the answer already dancing in your mind. 

“It’s the Eight of Clubs,” Shanks purred, touching the back of your hand. Lingering against your skin.

He looked so fucking smug. 

A sick stillness went through you before you revealed his answer. 

Of course, he knows this trick. He probably learned it before the first time he betrayed—

“Let’s go again,” Shanks ordered, the heat in his voice sending shivers across your shoulders, crawling up your neck. 

The eyes of his competition were on you, but the Emperor looked at you like you were already his. Like you were spread out before him, venison for the skilled hunter to devour. 

“Shuffle,” Shanks threatened, catching your chin in his dangerous fingers. 

Just smile. Just pretend.

“I’m not done playing with you yet, little bunny.”

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

Likes, comments, and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you!!

Author's Note:

Oh my goodness. Thank you so much for waiting, and for reading that giant chapter!! 🥰🙏🏼 I hope you enjoyed it, I've been going bonkers waiting to hear all your thoughts on this big ol' mess!

Let me know in the poll if you'd be interested in a separate post of my OP canon + Numbers Game canon timeline. It would give away reader's specific age, so I don't want to share it if people don't want to know!

Note on the Brochure: All of the character details included in the brochure are from Oda, except for the quotes and the missing details for Giberson. I found them on the One Piece Fandom Wiki if you’d like to go check out more about the characters' history. I live on that site, and have to give those fans the credit for compiling all those details! I already spend hours searching for specific parts in the anime for things like lines for speech patterns and such, I’d be lost without the wiki!

Note on the Card Trick: I must confess, I am not as skilled with numbers as our Numbers Girl. This is the same trick I had Buggy use during the flashback of their first night together, and I have no idea if this 15 year old youtube video is full of shit or not, but if you'd like to try it out, here's the tutorial!

Note on this line from the beginning of the chapter: "The White Stag. The hunted. The prey." Kiki Rockwell's voice has been living in my brain, and I realized this line is similar to hers in Burn Your Village "You do not dance everyday with the fear Of living in headlights, the hunted, the deer"

That song is so good, and fits so well! 🦌😭

Anyhoo, I'm off to try to catch up on all of your wonderful comments! Y'all mean the world to me, thank you so much!!! 🙏🏼💜

Tag List: @shewrites02 | @caniseethefourthsword | @hey-august | @chaoticqueen33 | @destinationmars | @novakitten0901 | @h0n3y-l3m0n05 | @dorky-birdie | @szired | @pinejayy | @laws-wife-things | @jadeddangel | @gingernut1314 | @urlocaltwink | @blue-rae18 | @bontensbabygirl | @bbnbhm | @0-sparkling-lace-0 | @ihearthazuki | @mikisspeak | @djloveyou3000 | @mercymccann | @horse-and-writer97

Part 33

Operation Olive Branch has compiled a working spreadsheet of ways to help families fleeing from the genocide in Palestine. If you enjoyed this fic, and are able, please click the link to find a list of GoFundMe's, as well as other ways to help.

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[theobsessedcookiefan]

Oh oh I have a good one what if y/n cookies was lover of the five beast and they see them get corrupted as how is they reaction seeing them crying broken heart saying please please please PLEASE give him/her back give me back my beloved cookie of volition/ knowledge/change/ happiness/ solidarity I want them back to me I’m will do anything just please turn back to normal

NOOO.. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO... Alr, I'll do it bc I like to torture myself and y'all need to suffer with me 😠😠😠

I'm going to make different names for the pre-corrupted beasts!! Bc I seriously doubt they were named that way before 😓😓

I read somewhere that Burning Spice was called Warming Spice before?? I'm not sure tho- but I'll use that name!! I'll try to be original in the names but if it gets too close to other names that other people give them then I'm so sorry bc I probably saw it and don't remember 😓😓😓

Ohboyitendeduplongerthanexpected

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Life is a bitch sometimes, it can give you everything you ever desired and take it back in an instant, were you too egotistical? Did you broke the universe balance by being too happy? Maybe it wasn't fair, you lived happily with the best Cookies you've ever met, compassionate, heroic and righteous, the whole package if you could say so, and they loved you oh so much, so much that they would sacrifice everything for your well-being and happiness, to protect your smile; the prettiest smile they've ever seen.

You remember when it started, the first warning came that damned week, you, Blueberry Milk and Saccharine Sugar were helping the locals to make a new orphanage, having a gift exchange game for the kids, at one moment the adults had to bring the food from the first location and left the kids with both of you, they were quite the handful if you were being honest but what could you expect from little cookies? You decided that maybe a little game would calm them down, but you were so busy, not noticing that your partners were getting stressed, when you came back with everything to play you saw half the kids laying down in the ground, obviously you panicked, trying to see if they were breathing or not but thank the divines they were only asleep. When you found the other you saw quite the scene, Saccharine Sugar was playing a melody with her harp and Blueberry Milk was helping the kids to lay down more comfortable in the floor, once he saw you she shook her a bit, she blinked and the music stopped, making the kids wake up, it wasn't that bad but you still told them not to do that again. If only you could've been there when they got the idea..

The second warning came at a perfect afternoon in White Flour's temple, it had been a busy day for her, many cookies came searching for her to make their wishes reality, she seemed extremely tired after all that work so you offered your lap for her to rest her head on, she ended up telling you about how greed changed some of them, how many of them wanted money and gems, it was disappointing really. If only you reassured her that that money could be used for helping people..

The third sign was the fights between Sea Salt and Warming Spice, those two had always been close and used to spar to improve their fighting skills so you were used to it, but that day it ended up with both of them badly injured, you remember running to stop the reddish cookie from using the sharp end of the blade, your worried expression and tone of voice seemed to snap them both of some kind of trance and so you told them to go directly to the healer of the village. If only you were there with them when they fought again..

Then it all faded to chaos, maybe they realized they held all that power or grew bored of the routine? Either way you remember standing in front of a destroyed village, cookie's screams sounding everywhere, it was such a horrible vision, you couldn't even start to comprehend what happened, that was until you heard that melodic voice, it was Saccharine Sugar! Was she hurt too? The virtues were the heroes of the village, they obviously fought against whatever destroyed right? Right..?. Without other thought in mind you ran to where her voice could be heard and what you saw was horrifying, her wings were creating big gusts of wind that were destroying the houses around and she was laughing at it.. She was actually enjoying it. It couldn't be! She was the most gentle of the five, she couldn't find pleasure in hurting others could she? No, not your Saccharine Sugar, not her. You ran towards her extending your hand to try and reach her, she didn't expect you to appear so the wind stopped and you were able to hug her, thing that surprised her.

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"Please.. Please stop, we can find a solution for this, just stop, we can rebuild the village, I know they'll forgive you, just stop please."

It was a desperate plea more than anything else, but she didn't respond, her face expressionless and soon everything faded to black for you.

When you woke up you didn't recognize the place you were in, that was until you looked up, it was night time already? You could've sworn it was afternoon before.. Before.. Oh no, without thinking it twice you got up as quickly as you could, starting to run, trying to see if you could identify the place you were in, you ran for a while until you found one of the villagers hiding behind a barn, a barn? Oh! You were on that area, you got closer to the Cookie hiding and they told you how the virtues started to destroy everything they saw, how many of the villagers didn't survive the chaos and how the remaining were trying to escape but every entrance to the village was guarded by one of them, that was good, at least you knew where your partners were now, you thanked the villager, telling them to hide inside the barn instead and that you would stop the virtues. Oh how wrong you were.

You found them? Yes of course you did, they were guarding the entrances like that villager said, but they were different, not only their appearance but their personality, you remember trying to get to each one of them, pleading for them to stop this madness;

"Please, don't you see you're hurting others? You're supposed to protect them! We can still fix this!"

"If you continue with this you'll only get far away from yourself, please come back, I'll talk to everyone and try to make them understand what happened!"

"I know you care about them, you're not as apathetic as you act, I promise we can solve this together! Just please.."

"Come on.. This is just cruel and you know it! Your plays are supposed to bring others joy, not pain!"

It didn't work, at the end they just looked at you as if they didn't had any idea what you were talking about, as if this was what they were meant to do. Maybe they couldn't be saved? Maybe they were supposed to end like this? Probably, maybe this was what the witches wanted all along..

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[idyllcy]

there's no difference, i adore ya

word count: 6.5k || Medieval AU || Photo by Antibia

warnings: major character death, childbirth, non-explicit smut

summary: beginning too late, ending too soon

"Do you live waiting for something to happen?"

The question from your friend causes you to blink, confusion written all over your face as you pause in picking the fruit at the market.

"What?"

"I don't know. I heard that witch ask the question the other day, so I always wondered if we were supposed to do something instead of waiting for something to happen to us." She frowns. "That apple's too soft."

You grimace at the way it dents under your fingers, placing it back down. "Madam, you got any other fruit?"

"Unfortunately, the batch lately has just been bad." She shakes her head.

"And the prunes?"

She shakes her head. "The castle took all the good harvest to welcome the soldiers back from war."

"You must be relieved, madam. Your son and husband should return." You smile. "I heard the knights this year were exceptionally capable and there were no men dead amongst ours."

"Yes." She laughs, chest rumbling as your friend remembers something.

"Oh, goodness! That cute neighbor of mine is returning!" Your friend gasps.

"The one you've taken a liking to that your parents refused to wed you to?"

"Ugh, it's not my fault his family is gone! Instead, I am stuck with my good for nothing husband at home." She grumbles. "If only I was still available as you."

"How awful." You find a single good apple amongst the soft ones, asking the madam if you could take it. She nods, letting you go without a coin in her hand, somewhat happier now that her husband and son should be returning. You place the apple in your basket, wandering back home with your friend, festivities being put up as the two of you are pushed to the side, eyes wide and blinking in mild surprise as the knights march down the town. You glance at the men in armor, raising a brow at your friend when she squeals her neighbor's name, the man turns to stare into your eyes instead, your breath stuck in your throat as the sun goldens his blue eyes.

"He's looking this way!" She squeals.

"That is your neighbor?" You force yourself to look away from him, balancing yourself as she pretends to faint into your arms. "Was your neighbor not the village boy we met so long ago?"

"Yes, he had been promoted to our family knight at the time before the war, so he was by rule, our neighbor. It seems the king will promote him to something better instead now that he has come back from war victorious with the princess." She gushes. "Oh, good heavens. If only my parents had waited as I instructed them to! Look at how attractive of a man he has become!"

You turn to look back at him, surprised to see him stopped and still staring at you.

"Oh, goodness. It seems he is fond of you." Your friend mumbles, squealing as she smacks your arm. "Darling, talk to him!"

"He has just returned from war. It is not something I can fathom him doing."

As you say, the knight gets back to moving from the yell of another knight, his blue eyes burn into your mind as you wonder just what had you looking so lovely for him to be staring at you as that. You are not attractive. Your friend had been wedded immediately upon growing to marriable age, and your parents had tried time and time again to set you up, only for it to be dropped. You were not suitable. A better candidate had appeared. A woman more suited for their son had been suggested. It was never you. You had never been picked in the end. You do not find that it should be a problem. After all, you are still young, but there is a fear that gnaws at the back of your head that you will be unmarried by 20 and then too old for everyone else. No man covets an old woman.

Yet, you were a late bloomer anyway, so it is unsurprising that you had not been allowed to be wedded by the church until you had started bleeding.

Then, by that time, most of the men were already off to war, leaving you very few men, most of whom had already gotten married. Most other girls were wedded to the noblemen who did not need to fight in the time. You had not been a first choice to many of them because of the way you carried yourself. You could not be sold as an obedient wife out of a fear that your family would be condemned to death by your would-be husband's.

You are not wealthy in a land that only adores the wealthy.

"How was the parade, child?"

"It was alright." You smile at your mother. "I saw the knights return."

"Well, now that they are back, surely you can be wedded off." Your father sighs, tapping the table as your mother places down dinner.

"I got an apple from the madam at the market." You hand it to your mother, who rushes off and chatters about a pie, leaving you with your father.

"Is there a man you would like?"

"No." You pause, blue eyes flashing in your mind as you answer, causing you to stop.

"You do not look of such."

"Shame." You mumble. "I met eyes with a young knight today, but considering he is the leader of the group, surely he will be wedded to the princess as an excuse to hand him a title and some land."

"And if you are the second wife?"

"We are not the east, father." You thank your mother as she hands you a bowl, and your father starts eating.

"Did he stop to stare?"

"Yes."

"Oh, then surely he'll request of you from the king." Your mother laughs, placing her own plate down as she eats. "It is the same as your father had done. You would be surprised to know how certain your father had been that I was to be wed to him."

You entertain your mother's words, sure that such will not happen. Any man with their right mind would not choose a woman over a title, yet you are sure there are men as your father. Lovesick fools, your mother calls them. Your father had been so enamored with your mother, and despite the words of everyone around you insisting that your mother was plain and average, you thought of her to be lovely. Your mother was lovely. It was a sight to behold — your mother had been loved from the moment your father laid eyes on her, and you knew it well. It was rare, you think. Perhaps that is also why your father complains only verbally, never actively looking for a man for you. They had wedded late. Later than your current age. They had worried not, so neither should you.

"Good news will befall you soon." Your mother insists.

"I hope my husband at least received a title."

Your friend comes knocking for you to shop for food with her a week from then, arm hooked under yours, lips curled upwards as it only means she has some groundbreaking news to let you know of.

"Pray tell, what is this news this time?"

"Oh, you know me so well." She grins. "That knight from our house? Promoted."

"Promoted? To what? Has he been wedded to the princess?"

"No, the princess was married off to a neighboring nation. You know, the king has a young son now, after all." She waves her hand. "The title of viscount was bestowed upon him by the king."

"And?"

"And?? That means he is of marriable age, unwed, and attractive! You should have your parents suggest of you to him!"

"He's a noble now. There is no chance that he will go searching for someone not of noble background." You hum. "Why wed in a pool of the poor when the rich are options."

"You know, he is a new noble after all. There is little chance that he will wed with someone of the nobles."

"Surely that face of his is good for something." You purchase pears this time around, humming as you hand the woman a dozen eggs for the basket of pears.

"Look!"

"At—" You tense up when you notice your friend is no longer behind you and it is a man, and you turn slowly, taking a step forwards as you do, blinking at the knight that has so kindly decided to appear out of nowhere. "Sir."

"Mistress." He places his hand on his chest, bowing gently as you muster a smile.

"Pray tell, knight, if there is something that I could be help of?"

"Your parents, mistress."

"I am not of noble descent. There is no need to refer to me of such name."

"I assure you, there will be soon." He nods. "Unless you have complaints?"

"There are none, I assure you. I shall bring you to my mother and father."

Your friend had run off long ago, and when you finally glance up to look at her, she is far down the road on her way home, waving at you dramatically as you sigh.

"You are tired?"

"No, knight. My friend is just full of life, you see." You nod at him to follow you, stepping down a set of stairs as you arrive at your home, your voice meeting an empty home as you have him follow you to the yard.

"I am back with the pears... and a knight."

Your father looks up, raising a brow at the knight as he laughs.

"Sir Leon, was it? Matthew of York was gabbing of the new squadron leader. It must have been you, considering those blue eyes of yours."

"Honored, sir." The knight, Leon, follows your father as you take over his work with the chickens, chasing one down and grabbing it by the wing, flipping it upside down as your mother claps.

"That one will do for dinner." She hums. "Let's feather the bird."

"Yes, ma."

You are to be wedded to Leon. It was hard to turn down a man who was higher standing than both of your parents, and despite your father being his superior previously, there was no argument or complaint raised from you, so it was fine to proceed with the arrangement. You have no complaints if you are marrying... noble, or whatnot. It is not of your concern. You are just grateful that you are no longer unwed. At least the wives with no better to do will stop sneering at you.

Though, they would start sneering of how you seduced the man with your figure. Truly, there is nothing you can do that would satisfy the mouthes of the bored.

"If there is any one who does not will for the couple to be wedded, speak now or forever hold your peace."

You blink at the way your to-be husband holds your hands, his calloused ones from the sword against your softer ones. Your hands are no better, still rough from the livestock, slightly bruised from the work that you had been raised to do. You had only stopped once your father realized that you'd be wedded better if your hands had been well kept. Rough hands on a woman meant that she was of lower standing in class. Your father didn't care, but it also mattered that you would marry well. To be wedded to a bad man was enough to age your father too many years. The end of his life was approaching, after all. It's surprising that your mother had even survived childbirth of you. Your father almost didn't— you're surprised they did not have more to tend to the livestock. Something about your mother suffering too much while having you to have another. You suppose if love is a concept, then it would be your mother and father.

"I pray he shall take care of you the same way your father does me." Your mother tells you, wedding clothes draped over you as you are wed at the chapel, exchange and officiation of the ceremony done by the priest, your bowed head and an exchange of rings that are surprising quality from a knight. The gold band slid to your finger and to his, the gold glistening against your skin as you stare up at Leon. Your husband, now. The man whom you barely knew would be the man you are to spend the rest of your life together with. However long that life of yours would be.

"And the consummation." The priest nods.

"We shall deal with such in our abode. Come on."

You follow Leon as he brings you, fingers entwined with yours as he leads you through the paths, lips curled upwards once you arrive at his residence, stopping to stare at all the maids and aides that you're sure Leon isn't any more familiar with than you. How does one manage wealth after living their whole life as a commoner? You are sure there is a servant for that, but you are also certain that you will need to watch everything to make sure the wealth is built and not squandered. Does your husband know of such? There is too much to think of.

"Overwhelmed?" He smiles at you, and you sigh.

"I will have to grow familiar with it." You follow him as he leads you to the bedroom, standing to the side as you blink at him and then the bed, preparing to strip.

"If you do not—"

"It is my duty." You continue, cutting him off. "I bed of you to be quick. I have heard it can be painful."

"If you are not prepared." He steps towards you, letting you sit down on the bed, kneeling as you drop the inner layer.

"And how are you to have child with me if you are on the ground?"

"I will not hurt you. I could not dream of it." He has you sit, undressing himself as well, spitting on his fingers.

"Do the men of the battlefield know of this?"

"They are the ones who taught me, despite my status as commander." He pries your legs open, staring up at you, waiting for a nod.

"And the brothels?"

"You learn much just by observing." He pauses. "It is a sin, is it not?"

"There are so many worse sins out there. As long as it does not hurt."

"I would not wish of it."

Marriage consummation is supposedly painful, but Leon puts the skills of the battlefield to good use, visits to the brothel with his soldiers long engrained in his soul, your body thoroughly spent as though you had been tending to the livestock, mark of your nails raked down your husband's back with a red previously unknown to you, your exhaustion much more apparent when the maids wake you the next day — your husband missing, and you are tended to and bathed, the maids whispering amongst themselves of the visible bruises left on your neck. Abuse or adoration, they wonder. Is their master as cruel as to bring back a woman just to abuse her? You know the answer, yet the embarrassment stops you from speaking up.

You meet your husband in his garden, the man with his sword out, swinging and training with the guards of his new residence, years of heavy armory apparent in his stature, body glistening under the sun, breathless blue eyes bright under the morning rays. You do not speak or move, waving the maids off as they scatter, and you take a seat on the side, blinking slowly as you take in the sight of your husband. Do you love him? Will you love him? What is love, truly? Does father have truly so much faith in you as to fall in love with a man you had only met once? Is it truly better to marry a man who adores you than to marry a man whom you adore?

"Wife." He brightens at the sight of you, forcing the knight's sword away with his own, rushing over to you as though he were some overgrown hound, lowering himself onto one knee as he checks your skin, asking you of your morning — are you alright? are you growing accustomed to the life in his residence? do you require of anything? how about a new gown? a visit to your companion's? how about a walk? He is an overgrown docga, you find. You wonder if it was normal to equate your husband to an animal, but as you find yourself running your hand through his dirty hair without much a second thought and ruffling his hair, you wonder if you had accidentally wounded your husband's pride.

Instead, you are met with a laugh, his cheeks red as he leans his head further into your touch.

"Should we fetch a hound, dear wife?"

"My apologies, Sir Leon." You cough, pulling your hands away from his hair. "It was—"

"Leon is fine, dear wife." He hums. "I am your husband now. There is no need to be formal."

"Do excuse me, for we barely know each other."

"I am most certain you are the one."

You are not sure how he is certain, but the way he beholds you with such fondness in his eyes leaves no argument for your futile thoughts.

You are certain that there would be nowhere else where a man could behold you in such light.

"Surely?"

"You are sent by the Lord himself." He rests his forehead on your hands, humming. "There is no larger grace than that of the moment I first met eyes with you."

You give him a laugh that can only mean you are only half-convinced. Yet, you do not make mention that you do not believe him. There is only so much that you can experience before you pass. Your husband will be sent to war in time again as his role of knight, and you will have children and possibly pass before you get to see him older with age. You wonder if you will bear him a son at the very least. An heir to carry on the name that has so mournfully ended with your birth because of your father's choice to protect your mother.

"Rest here. I shall return in a little time." Leon offers you a smile. "And I shall bring you around the garden when I do."

He offers you a kiss to the bone by your eye, calloused fingers against soft skin as he smiles.

You leave him with silence, eyes back to watching the way he continues with training his own guards. He prefers to do many things on his own, hands laboring out in the fields of the garden, pruning the trees and asking for your opinion on what flowers sounded pretty. He does not expect you to know which ones will be pretty since he does not either, but he includes you, letting you sit on the stone bench as he discusses with the hired gardener, listening intently as he's told which flower combinations work best.

"And you, wife?"

"Roses are fine, Leon."

Leon nods, continuing his conversation, and you wonder if this is a man hurt by war and worn down by years of fighting. It is a valiant thing — to be kind even after war. It is an effort to choose to be one way when it is much easier to be another. You fear that you are too plain to stand next to him. When the sun shines, does everyone not flock to bask in the glow of gold? You bask in it on your own, your husband far too attached to you to even consider basking someone else in the shine of his light. It is reserved for you and you alone, and you find that there are women who dream of such warmth.

"Shall we share a chamber, wife?"

"It is not customary not to, no?" You raise a brow. "There is no reason to, Leon."

"Is it so wrong to wish to be by my wife?"

"You spoil me rotten."

"If not me, then who?"

You move into Leon's room, your closet moving alongside you, maids whispering amongst themselves of how strange it is that the master would mention residing with the mistress if not to have a child. Yet, when it is night and Leon pulls you to the balcony with a duvet wrapped around you as he kneels by your feet and shows you the stars, you wonder if there is some way you can love him back. Will time make the heart grow fonder? Will you learn to love Leon the way he deserves to be adored by the time that you both have children? You do not want such a curse to befall your children.

"And that one is Vega."

"The merchant the other day told tales of her and Altair."

"So in love that they neglected their duties, was it?" You stare up. "How I wish that were me."

"Am I not loveable, wife?"

"No, you deserve far more affection than that I can offer to you." You hum, pulling him up to have a seat by you.

"We have all the time for such."

"Once an heir is born, then we will have less." You hum. "There is always a chance I will pass during childbirth, after all."

"That will not happen." He hums. "I assure you. I shall not bed you until you are comfortable with me as I am you."

"It will take a while, then. Neither of us are young anymore, husband."

"It is alright. If we pass without an heir, then I shall return everything to the princess in my will." He smiles. "There is no rush, beloved."

"I fear that while you do not, I will."

You fall into a mundane life with Leon, taking a stroll in the garden in the morning to check on the roses and their growing progress, eating with him in the hall, and then the two of you separate for you to continue your instrument lessons while he trains the knights. You meet again at night before bed, making use of your time by engaging in conversation, making mention of all that you had done in the day. Is there truly anything new? You do not know. Just what does your husband see in you to spoil you to extent?

"I shall be heading to town." You pull for your old clothes when you were a commoner, refusing the maids' aide to at least make you presentable, and you palm the dry dirt, shaking it into your hair. You look like how you did a long time ago. You nearly do not recognize yourself. You have grown used to the artistry of your day to day life and forgotten your roots.

You meet up with your friend, smiling as she is in her commoner clothes as well.

"So? How's marriage?"

"It is alright." You hum. "Not much has occurred."

"Truly?"

"Truly." You glance at the apples on display. "He refuses to bed me until I can love him."

"How could you not? He has such a charming visage."

"Perhaps something holds me back." You glance at the witch on the street. "Oh, yes, whatever happened to Adaline?"

"Oh, it seems she had been wedded off to the neighboring estate." She taps her chin. "The duchy of Wellesley, if I remember correctly."

You wonder how she is doing. No, you should not wonder over such. The two of you are long gone. It had been gone the second she decided she would be the one rather than you. The king has promised your husband a life of retirement now that Leon is wedded to you. Until you are with an heir, he is not allowed to leave the walls of the kingdom. Something about how Leon needed children or else one of the greatest knights in history would go down as a knight without lineage. You're sure your children would love to hear of their father's achievements in war.

"Do you want children?" You glance at Leon step by you, wine handed to you as you stare down at the garden.

"Why would I not?"

"You do not bed me, insisting that I must love you before have children. We have our lives for the love you crave for me to feel." You press the drink to your lips, staring out. "I will age, and soon, I will not be able to bear children for you."

"That is fine." Leon insists, leaning on the railing. "Children or not, you are more valuable."

"What value do you find in me? Truly, I am none more than your wife. I do not beg, whine, nor give affection to you. What do you see in me to cause you to believe that I am deserving of all of this love?"

"Is it so wrong to love someone?"

You finish the last of your wine, blinking slowly. "No, just not me."

Leon is infatuated with you. Do you know why? You could not care less. All you are to do is bear a child for your husband and move on with life. If you pass, then you pass. If you stay, then you raise the child with your husband — it is that simple. That is what you are to do. The thought of it makes you seem plain and unwanted, eyes blinking slowly as you stare at the witch across from you in the square, raising a brow when your friend yells out an all-too-familiar name.

"Adaline!"

That gets your attention.

"Adaline." You breathe the name as though it's second nature, fingers twitching by your side, heart hammering in your chest.

Yet, she disappears back into the crowd, and all chasing is futile, your legs stuck in place as the clouds of rain brew over your head, looming over both your heart and soul as you rush back to the estate, clothes soaked through and muddied with the dirt from rushing.

"Wife." Leon calls for the servants immediately, drying you up by the fire as he leans against the wall behind you, eyes stuck on your figure as you speak not. "Shall we rest?'

"You not need to be so considerate of me, husband." You stare at the fire, warm colors burning in your eyes as you wave the servant off. "I know you are curious."

"I am fine with you leaving the estate. I only wish that you would be slightly more honest with me when you do."

"I miss an old friend despite her betrayal. It is that simple." You turn around to stare at him. "It is complicated, my heart. Please take a seat."

"Will you tell me?"

"If I collect myself first."

The fire crackles in your eyes, ashes burning and shattering as you stare, words tumbling out of your heart, eyes weary with an age that should not be possible to you. You look both wounded and aged. Leon has only ever seen those eyes on the men who live til sixty, white visible in both their hair and eyes, old age consuming them until they are a shell of their previous self. You should not be capable of such emotion. Leon wonders if that is what stops you from loving him how you wish you could.

"It seemed you shared quite the bond."

"Dare I say it, I believe I had loved her." You sigh. "How heretical of me."

"The bond you establish with the one you lose can not be broken, beloved." Leon hums. "Do visit her, will you? I assure you, she misses you."

"How can you be so sure?"

"The heart knows what it does."

You return to the market, stuck staring at the new woman in red, lips and cheeks rouge with blood, blinking when you remember who she is now.

"Witch." You smile.

"Ah, dearest. What brings you to me? Your friend visited last, not you." She tilts her head. "Concerning your husband?"

"You asked my friend once."

"Do you live waiting for something to happen." She hums. "And?"

"She asked me, and surely, after that, I was wedded despite not doing anything." You hum. "Let me treat you at the pub, I insist."

"And what do you have to treat me for?"

You lower your voice, humming slowly. "Is there a reason to treat an old friend to a drink?"

"I am afraid—"

"Adaline." You call her by name, watching as she tenses under your grip. "I beg of you, speak to me."

"What is there to speak of?"

"How is life? Why have you decided to return? Is it true that your husband has fallen ill?"

"I do not care for that man. I took the scar for you. It is that simple."

"So the rumors were true." You reach out for her forearm, squeezing as she grimaces. "He had sold you."

"It was not something I could not handle."

"There was no need. Mother could have rejected on our behalf." You whisper. "He would not have won against father's blade."

"I had to. I could not let the others take the hit in our village. Everyone raised me, so it was only fair that I would pay them back with the same love."

Your expression falls, eyes hurt as she lowers her voice under the moon.

"I sent your husband your way." Adaline swallows. "He had visited the brothel, ending up in my hand, and for that moment in time, all I could imagine was how... sweet and loving he would have been if he met you. I told him of a girl with breathtaking eyes and brilliant features, telling him all that you had always adored. I had prayed earnestly that he would find you and you would be the one. I wished that you would not have to suffer the same fate as I."

"Why did you take the marriage in my stead?"

"I could survive being sold off, you could not." She whispers. "Your hands only know the warmth of your loved ones and the livestock in your home. My hands have become rough because of the blade. Beloved, it was for you. It was always for you."

"Then return to me. Return to me if I am your beloved."

"Your husband could not allow such a thing."

"You do not know that." You mumble. "I beg of you. I shall kneel if needed. Return to me, my moon."

Adaline shakes her head, offering you a gentle squeeze of your hand instead, taking two steps back before retreating into the shadows where you can no longer find her. You stay standing, eyes trailed on where she was last in the shadow until Leon finds you in the dust, hands sliding over your shoulders as you stand there and let out silent tears.

"Beloved."

Leon does not answer, so you try again.

"Husband, beloved."

"Yes?"

"Let us return home."

"Of course."

You heal after that, affection easier at your fingertips when you reach for Leon, lips curled upwards when you rub your eyes at waking.

"How are you, wife?"

"I am alright, beloved." You smile at him, lips pulled up at the edges, sun glowing against your husband as he covers your eyes. "my apologies you had to tangle yourself with my mess."

"That is quite alright." He whispers, mug handed to you as you blink up at him. "Do you feel better?"

"Yes." You whisper. "I promise."

"Good." He mumbles. "Shall we dine?"

"Yes."

The mess of strings doesn't untangle immediately. Leon notices that you are more gentle, fingers kind against his while the two of you walk in the garden, hand tucked around his arm as you let him tell you how the flowers have been. You tell him you can deal with the garden now that you have fully settled into the role of his wife, and he tells you he is alright with it. There is not much to do, and even when you watch jousting with Leon and enjoy dinner with the king every now and then, life is simple.

You're not too sure if you're content with living like that.

"Shall we try for child?"

Leon takes your offer this time. You insist that you must bear him a son, and you seem to be anxious of time. His hands are calloused against yours, bruises of purple on your skin, the sound of your cries echoing down the hall of the residence, quiet prayers that you would be with child spreading through the hall through rumors, and the day that the alcohol finally reacts, you exhale. Leon takes extra care of you during the time, listening to the priests as they pray for you to be with son, but Leon does not care. He asks for prayers for your safety instead. There is always a sense of forbearing because you shake your head when he requests for your health.

"Beloved, you love me."

"I do." You hum.

"Then why do you not let me love you back?"

You do not answer, staring out at the flowers instead.

"If it is a daughter, I do earnestly hope that I get to braid flowers into her hair." You mumble. "And if it is a son, then I have served my purpose."

"I do hope that she is a daughter. That way, you will still think you are use to me."

"And then?"

"And then, I would still lay bare with you, skin soft against mine."

Your remaining days are spent walking with your husband, pregnancy heavy on your body as your back is sore, eyes distant as Leon seems to ponder over what is on your mind. His hands are gentle with your feet, callouses rough against your fingers as you continue staring at the sunset.

"We should prepare for a grave."

"For whom?"

"I do not know. Where do you think it would be nice to be buried?"

"And why not the garden?"

"At the center of the maze?"

Leon gets the sense that you have made peace with the idea of death one day. You seem to be prepared to pass at all times, and you refuse to share whether or not it is pregnancy-related. Instead, you tell him of how you would like to prepare your grave, telling him of flowers that he should plant by them, and he tells you not to worry. You will survive, he tells you. He tells you that you will live, and in the case that a decision must be made, it must be you saved over the child.

You offer him a sad smile in response.

When the child arrives, you are tended to, Leon praying quietly outside of your room, managing the household's affairs from the outside of your door at all times, ignoring the desk that he has, settling for a chair outside of the room you are in. The sound of your agony rattles the walls of the estate, and Leon furrows his brows, pacing back and forth, growing restless when the cries of a child is heard, the nurses opening the door as you offer Leon a sad smile.

"You must use the wet nurse." You whisper.

"Of course I will." He mumbles, forehead pressed to yours as he rests his hand on the child's blanket. "It will be for you."

"No." You whisper. "It will be for the child."

Leon furrows his brows, blinking at you as you offer him a sad smile.

"It is fortunate that it is a son."

"No." He mumbles. "No, no. Beloved, do not say that."

"I have lost too much blood." You whisper. "It is a son. It is your son."

"I do not want him if it means the loss of you." He mumbles. "Beloved, no. no. No."

"It is unfortunate." Your voice grows weak, the nurses trying their best to clean you up. "I would have enjoyed being your wife for just a little longer."

Leon yells as the nurses dive in to try and help you, and Leon watches in horror in the corner of the room as you close your eyes, body relaxing, There is a slight smile on your face, and Leon watches in horror as you look so peaceful, the child crying for your warmth as death steals it from him, and Leon's warmth replacing your stolen one as he holds the child to him. The crying does not stop, but neither does the horror on Leon's face as the nun shakes her head, offering a look of pity to Leon as he gasps for air.

The boy cries in his arms, a child's cries ringing in his ears as the news of your death rings as well, and the wet nurse taking the child as Leon steadies himself with the chair, blinking slowly as he processes the news. The world has ended. The battle has left him with nothing, and he is back in the war. It is a flood of memories, flushing down his system as he stands there, numb with the thought of you having passes, his steps heavy as he walks to you, taking your hand in his, ring on your finger as he blinks slowly. The news must spread.

He must tell your parents that he has killed their beloved daughter for the sake of his son.

He must tell your friend that you have passed to bear him a son.

He must tell Adaline that you have passed.

He must live with the guilt that he has caused you to pass because he had not been a good husband — that the heavens must have struck you down because he had been unfaithful, that he had not loved you as he should have the way God ordained. Instead, he now bears the responsibility of a son, small hands delicate against his, your cold ones returned to the ground in the garden.

You had known. Unconsciously, you had known.

Leon had picked it up too. You had been preparing to let him down slowly — gently, dare he say it.

But you have passed, and he is left where you have left him, hands calloused compared to yours, fingers rougher than yours would have been. He is not fit to raise a child without you. Instead, the bundle of what should have been joy is just a bundle in his arms, and when he finds your features on his son, he is full of the same bitterness he is sure you felt when you had been left behind. You would not like that.

He tries to imagine what you would do.

Your hands would be gentle while tending to the baby.

You would watch as Leon teaches the child to wield the sword.

You would scold the boy for poor courtesy — you would reprimand him for being unkind to others.

You would watch as he falls in love and weds, bands on his fingers, hair like yours fluttering in the wind of the chapel as he gives his heart to her.

And, he's sure you would have been proud when Leon is buried next to you in your garden of love.

Perhaps, then, he shall find you once more.

[pseudoartistpostsstuff]

Heyo! May I request platonic yandere chain with reader? But instead of isekai like normal the reader is actually a destructive spirit or deity that was reawakened by either Dark Link or Ganon? Anywhoooo I hope you’re having a great week- mine was filled with exams lmfaooooo

Thanks for requesting anon! I really hope you had good results from those exams!

Notes: My week was okay, thank you for asking!!

I really let out my imagination out on this one, hope you'll like it.

BTW, take this as a part on the back for getting through your week.

I feel like I made the yandereness on this one so light, I'm sorry

-> Reader can't bring themselves to remember anyone's names so just remembers their most striking characteristics in their opinion.

-> It's been a while since I've read the comic, so Time keeping FD's mask on his belt for safety measures (since it's the most dangerous one and he can't lose it) is merely a headcanon of mine.

-> Reader is a menace who has questionable intellect (AKA a chaotic, pyromaniac, destructive entity being forced to be nice to others by the good guys™).

-> I left the end ambiguous, so you guys can decide if reader was either truly tamed or is still a menace who Time has to keep on check so they won't be too cruel on their "pranks".

-> Reader also magically rearranged Time's ocarina so each hole would play different a different sound at some point, so he literally had to re-learn where each note was so that he could go back to playing his songs again.

-> Reader slept for more than Time and Wild both and doesn't know a thing about the Zelda lore other than the Golden goddesses.

TWs: Light platonic yanderism, mention of burns, mentions of fire and arson, mentions of loud noises, basically just reader being an absolute hazard to anyone and everyone.

Platonic yandere! Chain x Reader

Debt to pay.

People from your time used to say that one could sooner move a mountain from it's resting place rather than tame your natural ways.

You wouldn't say you were a deity, per say, you thrived on chaos and setbacks, a living annoyance to the poor living things that breathed the same air as you, and roamed the earth by the same time you did.

It was in your nature to be destructive, yes, but you never wanted destruction, at least not full extinction. The darkness and the light were both two sides of the same rupee, they were one just like the other, beings of both sides would react the exact identical way to having their butts lit on fire. So, of course, you weren't one to pick and choose who you'd go after each day.

Thing is, most people didn't understand that —if anyone at all— so everyone just assumed you were a being of pure darkness, even if you actually saw yourself as more of a dark gray entity from a moral chart perspective.

And that was how you got yourself “killed”, if that's even the right thing to call it.

Somehow, no one seemed to care much when you lit whole villages on fire and made all of the walls of full-on castles start dissing out pure electricity, but they almost dislocated their jaws the moment you decided to do a silly trick and turn all of their lovely goddesses statues upside down for a day.

As if those same goddesses hadn't just ignored all of their prayers in the last hundreds of years you spent freely making their lives miserable.

You were stored in a vase. Not even a cool cool one. A plain clay vase deep within a temple under the ground. If you could choose, you'd have preferred something more majestic and up to the level of your power, but then again, it wasn't like you were in place to say anything in your defense.

Sometimes you just wondered how your small group of worshipers were. They probably weren't the best people out there, if you could say so yourself, but you were still curious if they ended up having similar fates to yours.

A long, long time later, you were "revived", for the same reason you were "killed".

Not the best choice on the part of whoever went through the trouble of doing all that, but who were you to judge? Or even to complain?

From what you could get from the boring evil monologue the guy in front of you was giving after having just woken you up from the longest nap you've ever had —since you couldn't really die— the guy wanted you to aid him in his quest to kill some other guys and take over the world or some boring nefarious plan like that.

You couldn't recall any of the names he just said, though, so you could only guess that you had either slept for a pretty damn long time, or you were in an entirely different world on itself.

Before you could fully decide on one of the two possibilities, the red guy sent you to fight against that group of guys he was talking about, seven men with varying shades of blonde hair along with two guys who weren't blond at all.

Perhaps you could have admired the strength of the red guy's magic, to just bring you out of your sleep like that and already straight up teleport you.

Thing is, you didn't really care enough to do that, you just did whatever you wanted the moment you realized you were fully conscious and in a physical body once again.

Were you chaotic and very much possibly evil? Yes. Were you stupid, however? Kinda No.

So the moment the opportunity presented itself, you followed those guys around, gathering information. Taking notice also of that one shadow looking dude, who was following them around just like you, seemingly with the intention of making their lives hell.

Maybe he'd be an interesting being to interact with, if he wasn't as prickly as a damn cactus. You swore you couldn't even approach the guy without him reacting like a startled cat, pointing his flimsy sword straight to your face. You swore to yourself you'd break that thing in half one of these days.

And so you set your sights fully on the blond —and the not so blond— guys, taking your time to also play around with the villages they went to and toy with the monster camps they passed by.

Of course, you couldn't just ignore the massively ominous aura drifting from the masks that one of the taller blondies carried around. Your hands itched to get a grasp on those things, whatever was sealed inside it was magical and possibly powerful, and the possibilities sent your mind on quite a dangerous frenzy.

The thing that made you a bit disappointed, however, was how long it took for them to notice your presence.

At some point you decided to start giving them some more obvious hints that what was following them wasn't friendly.

They seemed to really like bomb bags, which wasn't exactly safe for them when you could randomly activate those at will.

Also, you couldn't control the rain or storms, of course, but you definitely could attract lightning, especially since they all seemed to enjoy carrying around those identical metal swords.

Sometimes you just liked to pull on their hair and make knots on them, given that some had really long hair.

The wolf guy had a horse, one you could just startle really easily. Although you didn't have the result you wanted, since the wolf guy wasn't sent flying the moment his horse went crazy.

You caught him later, though. Making loud, high pitched noises to absolutely blow away his senses the moment he turned into a wolf to try and chase you down.

The fire that the short guy was using to mend a weapon randomly became overly strong, enough to have burned his whole arm, if he hadn't pulled away quick enough.

The scarf of the other one just one day became a bit too hard around his neck. It's a good thing for him that he was quick enough to pull it off his neck before he suffocated.

You watched as the one with pink hair almost had a breakdown, as all his colorful, shiny little trinkets and accessories having become dulled, turning completely pitch black, no traces of their original colors or magic left.

The kid tried to control the wind, only to have it blown straight back to his face, bringing leaves and sand with it.

You made sure their cook accidentally poured a bit too much pepper in their food, or salt, even sugar, if you felt like it.

The brown haired one suddenly lost control of his magic, what was supposed to heal their wounds ended up dyeing their hair blue for days on end.

That other guy who always overslept felt his pillow being pulled from under his head at random times through his nights.

And the tall guy's masks have all suddenly decided to disappear.

“Okay. Something is going on here. And it's not something natural.” Time sighed, looking around the camp, tired and worried, concerned.

Wild’s hair was an absolute mess and seemed to have caught on fire at some point, Warriors was glaring at his scarf, keeping it as far from his —almost purple— neck as possible. Wind had his hair almost as messy as Wild's, full of leaves and dirt, he was pretty sure there were also some bugs around it, his cheek had a thin cut from a sharp little rock.

Twilight was occupied comforting Epona, although the both of them seemed quite shaken up by something.

Four had some burns around the tips of his fingers, his hair usual blond hair now stained with blue, Hyrule sitting beside him with a frown, bandaging his hands rather than using his healing magic like he normally would.

Sky wasn't far from the two, almost dozing off despite the migraine that had settled behinds his eyes, which were now dotted with heavy bags from sleepless nights. Legend's terrible mood did not seem to disturb his need for a nap.

“Oh, really?” Legend almost growled back, positively fuming with barely contained rage gleaming in his eyes.

“Vet, I am not your enemy here, but once we find out who is doing this, you can direct your anger towards whoever they are.” Time shot a look to the other.

“That is, if it's even a person doing this. It might be some kind of monster.” Warriors commented.

“One thing we're sure of is that there's magic involved in this.” Hyrule spoke up, finished with the bandaging.

“I don't even know why you're so mad, Leg, you were possibly the least affected by this.” Four complained, eyebrows furrowed with stress. Even as a blacksmith, he was never a fan of getting burned, especially not being caught off guard like that!

“Agreed.” Wild was the next to speak, not bothering to brush the soot out of his hair. It wasn't quite the first time he almost been exploded, after all, even though the experience didn't get any better no matter how many times he went through it.

“You're really saying that, even though the kid only got a burst of wind to the face.”

“Ay! Mind your own business, Legend!” Wind sprung up in defense of himself, already looking to be tense prior to the attack, as the two began arguing.

While the group was in quite the mess, you took your chances to go ahead and approach stealthily to attempt to take the mask you were so curious about. Said mask being the last one you hadn't stolen borrowed yet, since the tall guy seemed to have noticed his other masks disappearances and decided to take extra means of protection towards that one.

In your opinion, your risks were all carefully thought out and calculated, however, you seemed to have completely forgotten about a certain wolf guy at the edge of the camp, standing beside his horse and looking straight at you.

You managed to grab the mask from the taller guy's belt! But at what price..?

Before you could even manage to turn around and run away with it, a hand shot out, hooking on the back of the collar of your shirt, pushing you to the ground in a second. And in another second, there was a blade shoved right in front of your face.

Goddammit.

You barely paid any attention to all the yelling, too occupied hugging your newly acquired possession tightly to your chest.

“Hand me that mask. Now.” A voice right behind you demanded, yet you still didn't move.

“No.”

The sword in front of you seemed to inch just slightly closer to your neck.

“At least tell me what it is, first!” You asked, a bit more squirmy, not at all comfortable with the vulnerability you had right now, since it seemed like that long sleep left you with a bit less power than you used to have, clearly a precaution, should you ever gain you body back. It was smart from your captors, but very much annoying for you.

“None of your business, now give me back my mask!” The tall guy —now in front of you— stressed. You could tell that his restlessness was hinting towards just how near he was to the end of his wits.

“If this piece of porcelain is as powerful as it seems, then yes, yes it is my business!”

It wasn't, not really, but you were too curious to just give up on information just like that.

The tall guy went quiet for a second before he finally replied, going with a question instead of actually giving you an answer like you were expecting from him.

“How do you know how powerful it is?”

“None of your business.” You threw his own words back at him and now the dull side of the sword was suddenly pressing up pretty uncomfortably against your skin, burning you. “Okay, fine, I'll tell you.”

And that was how you met the Links, and also how you became chained to them, unable to leave. After all, you did have to pay them back for all that you did to every single one of them.

But, for some reason, that simple dept seemed to only to get bigger the longer you spent time with them, despite the fact you weren't doing anything entirely wrong…

At least, that was the excuse they gave to you, yet something in you made you feel like that wasn't the full truth.

Extra (This happened)

Time: give me back my shit

Reader: nuh-uh

Time: fym nuh-uh

[jungle-angel]

The King and His Queen (Admiral!Bob Floyd x Reader)

Summary: You and Bob are excited as ever to know that your family will keep growing, but some days, you just need a little rest

Bob entered the house in the Admiral's Village, fresh from a long day at the base and ready to relax with you. All day long he had thought about what he was going to do the minute he got home, the deeply intimate moments he had craved day after day with you and the kids and especially the new baby that would soon be entering the family.

"Sweetheart?" he called as one of the dogs approached him. "(Y/n) are you down here?"

Bob wandered into the living room to find you sitting in the old wingback chair that had belonged to his great-grandmother, your head in your hands and sniffing away the freshly fallen tears that marked your face.

"Sweetheart?" Bob asked, gently stooping to his knees. "(Y/n) talk to me, what's going on?"

You pulled your hands away and wiped away a few tears as Bob tilted your chin up to meet his eyes. "I'm so sorry Bob," you croaked. "It's just been a really overwhelming day."

Bob's face fell a little before he drew you in for a kiss. "Baby what happened?" he asked. "You can tell me."

"I tried really hard, I really did," you explained. "Getting the kids on and off the bus from school was hell, two of my fifth graders ended up puking in the hallway and I ended up dropping a plate in the kitchen."

Bob chuckled a little before kissing you again. "My sweet pea," he said. "Believe me that's not the worst thing that's happened around here."

"Oh Bob," you croaked again.

"Ah-ah, before you say anything my sweet," Bob gently warned you. "Do you remember years ago when we first started dating and you made me dinner?"

"A little."

"And you burned it to the point where the whole apartment filled up with smoke?"

You laughed a little upon suddenly remembering. "And that's exactly why I'm afraid to make any kind of Italian food ever again."

Bob laughed with you, drawing you in for another kiss that drew a little moan out of you and made the baby in your belly kick like crazy.

"I love you Mrs. Floyd," he whispered. "No matter what."

You leaned into his deep hug, grateful for his warmth and the softness that came from years of pure love and devotion. "How's the baby?" he asked.

"He's finally settling down," you told him. "I think everything else is bruised from all the kicking."

Bob smiled and laughed a little. "Then what do you say we settle in and see if he calms down?"

You couldn't argue with that. You made your way upstairs with Bob, your older children finally having settled into bed and deeply asleep, unaware that their father was home. Bob snuck into their pitch dark rooms and kissed each of them on their little heads, tucking them into bed a little more before coming in to your shared bedroom to settle down.

"You get some sleep Mrs. Floyd," he told you, pulling the covers over the both of you. "You're gonna need it in the next few weeks."

You hummed happily as he snuggled in beside you, his hand curling around your waist and rubbing gentle circles all over your bump. Your little one had begun to settle down just a little as well, eager as ever to enter the world and fully become a part of yours and Bob's lives.