#all the death symbolism surrounding the two of them ?

[shreddheir]

Mononoke Theory: the hexagrams= the types of Mononoke each medicine seller is tasked with exorcising.

I was doing some looking into Bagua, specifically the meanings of the Ri and Kon trigrams, for obvious reasons. And I found something quite interesting concerning the Attributes each trigram holds.

At first, I was hoping that they’d relate in some way to the personality or symbolism surrounding the medicine sellers themselves. But that didn’t seem to entirely be the case. Ri has the attributes “light-giving, humane, dependence”. The first two make sense, as he DOES bring metaphorical light (truth and understanding) by exorcising Mononoke, and he has been shown to express kindness towards the spirits that end up in these pitiable situations. But dependence? That makes…less sense.

Until I realized that Dependence is (in one way or another) a factor in the stories of all the Mononoke he’s exorcised.

Children aborted against the wishes of their mothers, the aftermath of a codependent incestuous affair, a battered woman who’s too afraid to leave the family she despises, an evil spirit desperate for the love of others, and a dead woman trying in any way she can to get the truth of her death brought to light….all of these Mononoke are spirits who were dependent on others, whether that’s their victims or the ones who wronged them. And all of them were exorcised by the wielder of the Ri sword—the sword of the dependence attribute.

Conversely, Kon’s attributes are “devoted/yielding.” Though we’ve only seen him exorcise one Mononoke so far, it was the spirit of a woman who was so devoted to her work it destroyed everything else inside of her. And since the other two movies in his trilogy also seem to be taking place in the Ooku, it seems like they will also deal with the consequences of letting your devotion to a cause destroy your personhood.

TL;DR: both Ri and Kon seem to specialize in spirits that have attributes of their respective trigram. Also, both their trigrams have associations with women: Ri is associated with the second daughter and Kon is associated with the mother.

[sugar-grigri]

Nayuta wasn't killed by Barem, she's his ally 

Poor fandom, you're disorientated just when your compasses should be working properly. 

Let's learn how to eat sushi properly, step by step. Or rather, how about reading Chainsaw Man in the right order? By calmly superimposing everything we know in the right order 

So let's not panic, let's get on with it. Dry your tears, clean your snot and let's get back to the introductions. 

First layer of sushi: Denji and Pochita are made for each other 

Who is Chainsaw Man? It's a question we've been asking ourselves a lot, but how about a simple answer - we're not here to mess around. Chainsaw Man is the combined result of Pochita + Denji. Do we agree? Why have they become so close? Because they look alike, don't they? Alone, hungry, in need of a little warmth and a little love. 

Second layer of sushi: birthday, despair, amnesia...

If we take the stories in outline, Denji meets Makima and then bonds with his siblings. A sibling who eventually dies, and whose final breaking point is his sister, cut in two. On top of that, it's his birthday, isn't it? Makima invites Denji to open the door that confined his traumas, including the death of Denji’s father? 

You see, I've already missed it, I went too fast. Let's resume calmly, birthday... Denji had forgotten it was his birthday, hadn't he? His birthday is the day you're born, it's one of the few pieces of information we don't really question, but Denji forgot it. But haven't you ever really wondered...

If Denji had celebrated his birthday? And why, how, he wanted to eat a cake? His father was violent and his mother died when he was very young, so is it really safe to say that Denji celebrated his birthday? 

I had another question, why does Fujimoto always seem to accentuate the cakes so much?

I really think that cake is one of the keys, because it's a tunnel of memories that resurfaces in Denji, the cake, his birthday, then Power's death, then his father's death. It's a sushi within a sushi (we're slowly taking things back in order), I think it's about layers that need to be taken back in chronological order, yes chronological 1) the death of Denji's father 2) the death of Power 3) Denji's birthday 4) the cake. Which brings us to this scene.

Was this scene shown not just metaphorical or symbolic, but actually happened? Denji having contracted with the control demon whose power is to control memory, in order to reshape him perfectly so as not to be happy and to do whatever she asks of him later. Why couldn't Denji open that door? Why does Aki's death sound so abruptly like Denji's absence, with a mini ellipsis that doesn't show us in concrete terms how Chainsaw Man killed him? I'm going too fast again, let's start again...

Makima hasn't made Denji unhappy, she's created a being made for unhappiness.

This scene refers to an anniversary, amnesia and despair, all ingredients that enabled Pochita to take complete possession of Denji and show us the most complete version of Chainsaw Man.

Which means Barem isn't lying, is he? Same here, I'm going too fast!

Third layer of sushi: the closer Denji gets to happiness, the more he doubts...

Denji manages to become himself again and succeeds in killing Makima, by devouring her. In a very simple and concrete way, Makima was devoured and this put an end to her existence. Keep this in mind. Nayuta is reborn, becoming Denji's little sister, lots of dogs surround them, Chainsaw Man becomes extremely popular and it's in this part 2 that Denji will feel the least like himself, the least like Chainsaw Man. Strangely enough, it's when he approaches a semblance of happiness that Denji pulls away from himself.

Barem really doesn't seem to be lying, does he? But once again, I'm going too fast, let's get on with it!

Fourth layer of sushi: Barem never lies 

This is something I quickly came up with, and it's so precise, I think his character is thought of that way, and it's his narrative role. Even though he's deceitful, manipulative and devious, the bro does NOT LIE. He didn't lie about the weapons attack, he didn't lie that he looked like a Chainsaw Man fan, and he doesn't lie in the last chapter. But same, I'm going too fast. 

Fifth layer of sushi: Nayuta betrayed by Chainsaw Man 

When Denji made the choice to become Chainsaw Man, the house, his source of happiness, was falling to ashes, his dogs, his cat were dying. Denji went through with his dream and abandoned the little sister who made him happy. Barem didn't impose misfortune on Denji; it was Denji who chose misfortune, despite Nayuta's fears. The happier he was with her, the more he lost himself. He left her in Barem's hands and provoked an existential crisis in her. Which made her reconnect with her old self. 

Sixth layer of sushi: an unblocked memory. 

The aftertaste that sticks to your palate is a piece of information I mentioned earlier. Makima has been devoured. What defines the Knights of the Apocalypse from the rest of the demons? Their memory. What if Nayuta had now understood how Chainsaw Man's power worked? 

Seventh layer of sushi: chapter 170. 

This explains Nayuta's severed head, a macabre mise-en-scène to make her brother lose his mind a little more. As for Barem, he doesn't lie to us and gives us instructions on how to read Chainsaw Man. He knows how to read Chainsaw Man, since he knows the two conditions for him to regain his full power because Nayuta gave them to him. For all this is nothing more than their death. 

Layer zero of sushi: the unknown. 

Now I'm entering the quintessential madness of my analysis. Makima contracted with Denji at a very young age, and gave him several orders: survive at all costs, remain miserable, and one day kill Power and Aki. Above all, she ordered him to contract with Pochita, hence Denji's reflex to hand his open wound directly to the demon. This misfortune, this amnesia due to the contract with Makima, this survival on his own, finally allowed a weakened Chainsaw Man to find a kindred spirit, a loved one. Believing in happiness, then destroying it, kept Chainsaw Man's power in check, those vain dreams only a human could imagine. Denji was a kind of Russian doll, holding back Pochita and his over-power. That's why these two conditions exist. 

To be unhappy, or to break this Russian doll. 

To be feared by all, or to be alone. 

Or kill Denji. 

To save Pochita. 

Layer - 100000 of sushi: did you think I'd finished losing my head? I don't think so. What if everything I've been telling you all along, taking things in order, were to be done in reverse? Take them out of order. I'll ask the questions so you can understand. Why is Makima so obsessed with Chainsaw Man? Why did the Knights of the Apocalypse fight Chainsaw Man in the underworld? How did they manage to retain their memories? Why start the story with a parricide? Why was Denji finely polished by Makima to welcome Pochita when Makima never saw Denji, the reason for her own death? How could she enter into a contract with someone she has never seen? 

Because someone is controlling the control demon itself. Just as it controls the way the story is presented to us. How can we trust an antagonist who controls memory? And an amnesiac protagonist? 

Why did Pochita do what he did in the underworld? Why this sudden fury? Why do demons hear chainsaws at the moment of their death? 

Because we've come full circle. More precisely, what you're reading is not part 2 but part 1, or to be more (MORE) precise, the end of Chainsaw Man will lead to its beginning. The desire to create a better world, to kill death, will lead to a temporal loop in the world that will never cross the apocalypse, blocked just ahead. 

Makima herself is controlled by her future self, which allows her to make references to the future and know the recipes for unleashing Chainsaw Man's power without understanding why, her future self knows Chainsaw Man, she loved him. So Makima also loves Chainsaw Man without really understanding why, amnesiac like Denji.

Denji doesn't kill his father, it's his old self who is killed. 

But another Denji tries to put an end to this... 

Spiral. 

Stuck between two worlds, two temporalities, morning (Asa), night (Yoru), someone is trying to put an end to this endless world, before dawn.

[toweringclam]

Something I don't think enough people talk about in Elden Ring lore is the usurpation of Marika by Radagon.

It's subtle, but the signs are all there. The most obvious are in their statues and portraits.

Marika is bowing her head and in shadow. Radagon is looking towards the Erdtree with his head held high. The choice to have his hand sticking out towards the viewer is a really odd one. He wants to emphasize that pose. The power difference between these two pictures is staggering.

Then there are the statues at the churches:

Marika is again bowing her head and her arms are up in the same crucifixion pose she's in at the end of the game, while Radagon is in a cruciform pose. Superimpose the two, and he's the cross she's hung on. Plus, behind him is the lattice that seals off the Erdtree. Her feet aren't on the ground, while his feet are and are surrounded by roots (a common symbol in statues throughout the Lands Between). And if these two statues were made by the same sculptor at the same time, then all the statues across the lands between were replaced at around the same time, replacing any possible depictions of Godfrey as well as older depictions of Marika.

And we know what those older depictions looked like! Look at the Stake of Marika (when it isn't broken, that is):

This is more likely an older depiction. Her arms are wide for an embrace, not suspended above her. She's looking down in benevolence, not defeat.

We see the same pose in the intro, her statue looking down on the dead Tarnished being sent home. Since this takes place outside the Lands Between, this must be the depiction that the Tarnished carried with them:

And then there's the Church of Pilgrimage in the Weeping Peninsula. This is where the Tarnished left from and were supposed to one day return. There's a statue of Radagon there, but Melina doesn't mention him. She just mentions Godfrey.

Then, after thy death, I will give back what I once claimed. Return to the Lands Between, wage war, and brandish the Elden Ring. Grow strong in the face of death. Warriors of my lord. Lord Godfrey.

Think about this. Really think about it. Why would she want them to come back? Why would she want them to wage war against her?

She refers to Radagon as "leal hound of the Golden Order" while dressing him down. To me, this implies that she is currently at odds with the Golden Order. And if you think about it, none of the Golden Order spells refer to her. Some of the Erdtree incantations do. But there's very little even mentioning her once Radagon is her husband.

It just seems really obvious to me that Radagon was the one calling the shots in the last days before the Shattering.

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 6 part 1

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1][2][3] ep7 [1][2][3][4][5][6] ep8 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9] ep9 [1][2][3][4][5][6])

ooh the "magick" mitzvah? I've been puzzling about the connection between william and billy, that's an interesting detail. I'll elaborate in a minute

I've seen a lot of irony about joe locke clearly not being 13 here, but the thing is, sometimes boys do suddenly hit puberty and have an insane growth spurt! and then you get the hilarious visuals of some guy sitting in a tiny desk in a classroom full of children.

my point being, they should have had joe dancing with a bunch of actual 13 year olds, it would have been so fucking funny

I love mama and papa kaplan, and it really gets to me that they lost their boy and don't even know it. I was worried about billy's episode because I thought it would be just a bunch of marvel tie-ins with no heart. glad to report I was wrong

lilia who hates witch stereotypes performing those very stereotypes in order to not fucking starve

william's reflection is billy reversed

lilia foresees william's death and billy's takeover, and she is SO sorry for him. patti as usual conveys so much, you can tell her heart is breaking but she's being kind and lying in order to not scare this poor kid. and this is exactly why being a Seer has always been a burden to lilia, how do you form any relationships, how do you love someone when you've already seen the day you're going to lose them?

“The Tower Reversed.” disaster, destruction, sudden upheaval. but reversed, it means miraculous transformation.

and there is something about lilia choosing this moment as the most representative for billy, a moment that symbolize both billy and william. this is future!lilia embracing her own strength and reclaiming the coven and the community she denied herself her whole life. and not only she includes billy in it, but also william as a fundamental part of billy, a kid that she protected and cherished despite meeting him only briefly.

not only lilia goes above and beyond for william, hiding the truth from him, inviting him to enjoy the party she knows will be his last. she hides the sigil on him so she can protect billy too, because she knows that another little boy is about to wake up in a strange reality and be so lost. she tells william he's a good egg, but she is the goodest egg.

I love the little choices here. wanda's voice on the radio, pretending she's in an idyllic sitcom marriage. and a real life marriage where wanda's 1950s tropes are reversed, rebecca is the one who drives and grabs her husband's hand to reassure him.

another great detail: the dissolving Hex reflected in the car window.

the parallels are taking my breath away. two moms, agatha and rebecca, fiercely loving and protective. both would blame themselves for their sons dying.

but sometimes, boys die. and to quote jac shaeffer, that is tragedy enough to fill the universe.

you can hear william's heart slow down and stop. then, when billy takes over, it starts beating like crazy.

and here's alice, who's also never met william (or billy) before, but she will unquestionably do her utmost to help.

I miss you so much, alice

he's so scared. the way he shakes his head and doesn't know where to look.

imagine being born yesterday, and suddenly you are in a different body and your head is cracked and you're surrounded by strangers. and your brother is nowhere.

that is the worst omelet I've ever seen in my life by the way

(also I know billy is used to instant growth, but imagine switching from child to teenager just like that, it's like going through puberty in two seconds. kafkaesque nightmare fuel)

and it's just so realistic and so moving that the kaplans are presenting a united front even though they are crumbling underneath. and they won't say any of it out loud because they are good fucking parents and it's their job to protect and worry without their kid ever feeling guilty about it. (billy does end up reading their minds because they're not equipped to parent a superhero yet. not that they wouldn't RAISE TO THE FUCKING CHALLENGE. I love you rebecca and jeff kaplan)

william liked classic movies, board games and magic tricks. there were budding hints at a goth vibe too, with dario argento quotes and creepy victorian posters. it doesn't seem at all incompatible with the person billy will eventually grow up to be, I know he had to settle into william's life, but he didn't revolutionize any of it, he kind of followed in william tracks. I think that yes, william died just as wanda dissolved the hex and it was a wrong place and wrong time kind of situation, but he also had to be a compatible donor - as similar as billy as possible, I don't know if genetically or soul-wise or what. they even look a bit similar, same ears, same nose, same eyes, same chin, same triangular face.

these guys really like doing mirror shots, don't they

by the way I will keep calling him Boyf because it's so damn funny, but I do know his name is eddie and I'm really really happy for the representation. there won't be any particularly deep meta about these two because gay boys are so, so far from my realm of interest or expertise, I'm sorry if you were looking forward to it. if you want to add context or ideas about them please do!

another possibility is that billy's soul, while not having any of wiliam's memories, was still shaped and conditioned by his dna and brain chemistry and past experiences, so in a sense william is still in there. you put software in a different hardware, it's gonna affect its performance.

I'll say this about boyf, he's very sweet. billy gives him this crazy story and he doesn't flinch, he just tries to understand and be supportive.

*cough cough* nerd

but look, he's pulling a detective agnes! he really is an agatha mini me.

ah yes, the future coven looking after billy even before meeting him. lilia giving him the sigil, alice being first responder on the site of the accident, jen saving his dating life by teaching him good skincare (he's a teenager! he's got pimples!)

you guys, I hope you don't mind me dedicating some time to billy alone, but I do like this episode a lot.

and tomorrow: it's the return of butch agatha!

go to episode 6 part 2

[zuzu-draws]

So after the spoilers for Chap 257 dropped, I saw some tweets clarifying the meaning of the Kanji Sukuna used in the chapter when referring to his mother, and the overall reveals in the chapter got me thinking.

I’m making this post as a way of gathering my thoughts, personal speculations and where I think all of this connects to Sukuna’s character and the information Gege has given us over the years. Nothing I say is by any means new information, but like I said, I’m just collecting my thoughts here. By the way, just a warning, this post contains SPOILERS for the JJK Manga! If you don’t like that, please don’t read this!

Something I’ve noticed is that the theme of “Hunger” and symbolism of “Cooking/Food” is heavily referenced with Sukuna throughout the Manga. Gege in a previous Fanbook has disclosed Sukuna’s favorite Hobby to be “Eating”.

This theme is again very much ingrained within Sukuna’s cursed techniques and even his Domain Expansion, the “Malevolent Shrine”. With his two main techniques being “Dismantle” and “Cleave” are cutting-type attacks. He is also able to use a Flame-Arrow, and Fire is essential for making Food. The Shrine in his Domain Expansion literally has mouths on all sides, looking eager to chew down anything in-front of them!

This symbolism also heavily influences Sukuna’s own manner of speech, and the way he speaks to other characters in the series as well. With his post-fight chat with Jogo before his death, Sukuna mentions Jogo lacking the “Hunger” to take control of his desires, preventing him from reaching the heights of Gojo Satoru. Before the Start of their fight in Shinjuku, Sukuna called Gojo a “Nameless Fish on top of his cutting board”, and that he was going to start by ��Peeling off the scales”(refering to Gojo’s infinity). There’s also further symbolism that supports this by analyzing the Kanji and meaning of Sukuna’s “Malevolent Shrine” but I’m not very educated on that so I won’t be opening that point here.

What all of this points to is that Eating and Food……is extremely important to Sukuna, to the point that it literally affects him in manners innumerable.

Eating is an instinct, a necessity for the survival of every single living being.

And In the face of extreme Hunger and starvation, even those with the strongest will could lose their Humanity and revert to the basic animalistic side of their existence. (The Heian Period also had a Famine, although I believe the timing to be a bit off, but do with this info as you see fit)

In JJK Chapter 257, it is revealed to us that Sukuna and his Twin were most likely starving in the womb of their starving mother.

On the brink of starvation, Sukuna had to consume his “other self”(his twin), so that he could survive.

Btw, this tweet and this thread gives additional characterisation to Sukuna:

Link to the original thread: Link.

More context (and reactions :P):

Link to original thread: Here

This reveals to us that indeed, Sukuna was born a twin. And as we all know, “Twins” are seen with extreme scrutiny in Jujutsu Society, they’re not well liked. This too in a period where Cursed Spirits and Jujutsu Sorcery was at its peak, it is not far-fetched to assume that his Mother may not have been treated very well by the people in her surroundings, especially as she bore twins.

When Kashimo asks if Sukuna was born the Strongest or if he made himself the Strongest, this is the response Sukuna gave to him:

When you think about it, how do you think the people around them would have reacted when the woman: who was supposed to birth two twins, gave birth to a single child instead? and that child had consumed his other twin in the womb itself?

No doubt people would’ve been horrified, disgusted and even revulsed. With the woman and her newborn child.

This would’ve led to their further ostracisation in the already very close-minded society. Unable to fend for herself and her newborn child, it must’ve been difficult for Sukuna’s mother to survive. I feel like somewhere along the line, Sukuna was left alone to fend for himself at an extremely young age. To protect himself from both Curses and Society alike.

This is why I believe Sukuna knows what true starvation, weakness and hunger feels like. Both in the emotional and literal sense. He was left without another person caring about him or his well-being, in a cut-throat period where it was “Fight or be killed”.

Powerful curses roamed all across Japan, nowhere was safe. Simply be strong, or you'll die. There's no room for weakness. And initially, a kid!Sukuna was weak, as anyone would be in the beginning when they're just starting out in this world. (and maybe, he didn't have much to eat, leading to long periods of starvation? :') )

I believe it is this debilitating hunger, and feeling of weakness that eventually led to Sukuna’s current Hedonistic mindset.

He’s essentially traumatised by it, and believes that it was his own weakness that led him to experience this sheer starvation. That he deserved to feel this way because he was weak then. Perhaps, the people around him were right, that as long as they have the power and strength to overcome anything, they’re free to do as they please; And there is nothing anyone else could do about it.

I feel like the irony here is that Sukuna himself, must’ve been a “weakling” before eventually rising the ranks to become History’s Strongest Sorcerer. This is also why he values Strength so much.

Ultimately, Sukuna has decided that there was nothing more important than being strong enough to fulfill your own desires. And “eating” is one of his most important desires. It’s his favourite thing to do, the one he derives the most pleasure out of. And like an animal, whose main focus is to consume, consume and consume. He too, simply consumes.

Most morals likely have no meaning to him. He doesn’t care who he hurts, what he does, as long as he’s able to get what he wants. And this isn’t limited to eating.

This is why people referring to Sukuna as a “Natural Disaster” is so befitting of him. Because Natural Disasters also don’t care about what or who they’re destroying, they just come and go, wreaking havoc appropriate for their nature and magnitude.

I believe Sukuna himself has said lines similar in nature, when talking to Kashimo:

Now I’m not sure how Sukuna perceives or even experiences this “Love”, because I think he has a rather very warped idea of it. I do think that this definition of love is similar to the one that Gojo also understands, but I don’t think he knows what “love” truly is. I’m not sure how I could comment on this, but I do think that Sukuna’s emotionally starved, whether he realises that or not.

Because, like Kashimo himself asked Sukuna “What is the point of dividing your soul into 20 different parts and then traversing across time if you’re satisfied with this?” we do not know the answer to that yet.

But many people have speculated that “Black Box” panels in JJK manga represent a curse (either self-inflicted or put by someone) on the speaker. Like, take a look over here where Sukuna reiterates the same dialogue, except it looks like he’s trying to reassure himself:

This once again shows that Sukuna has only ever strived for himself, in the same hedonistic fashion, to a very very extreme degree. It is possible that he's been lacking something, and he himself does not realise that he’s lacking it. Maybe it was this subconscious feeling, that led to Sukuna agreeing to Kenjaku’s plan of dividing his soul into 20 different parts, and to traverse across time as a Cursed Object.

Sukuna’s an incredibly complex character, and I’m excited to see where this goes. Gege has put extra care in the way he characterizes and depicts Sukuna, and again, I’m really sad that a lot of that characterization gets lost in translation. Still, I’m going to try my best to understand and get the most accurate feel of his character as I possibly can.

If you made it this far, Thank you for reading! And if you would like, please do leave a comment in the tags or replies because I would love to read what other people think of this and just Sukuna in general. I do not see a lot of people doing critical analysis of him, and a lot of his actions are seemingly swept under the rug. I don’t like that, so hopefully this contributes to people focusing more on Sukuna and his character. (/^v^)/ <3

[theresattrpgforthat]

Hello!! Do you know any TTRPGs surrounding translation or languages? 😊 (thanks for all your work btw!!!)

THEME: Language / Translation Games

Hello friend! As someone who studied linguistics in university, I absolutely love talking about all of the funky things languages do! I hope these recommendations tickle your fancy!

Dialect, by Thorny Games.

Dialect is a game about an isolated community, their language, and what it means for that language to be lost. In this game, you’ll tell the story of the Isolation by building their language. New words will come from the fundamental aspects of the community: who they are, what they believe in, and how they respond to a changing world.

Dialect uses a deck of cards to help minimize the amount of choices you have to make in character creation, by dealing three cards to each player and having the players choose one from just those three. You track the change of your language over a series of turns, using prompts to help you navigate the conversations that arise in your community as the world around them changes.

Dialect has been very highly regarded as a game that really delivers on the experience that it promises. The grief that accompanies language death really shines through this game, so if you want to combine the wonder of creation with the pain of losing something so integral to your sense of being, this is the game for you.

Tiny Frog Wizards, by @prokopetz

You have mastered the secret arts of sorcery

The very primordial energies of creation and destruction are yours to wield as you will.

You are two inches tall.

Tiny Frog Wizards is a game about tiny frogs, wielding magic using the power of words. When you want to do something magical, you will roll somewhere between 1-3 dice, and use the values of your rolled dice to determine how the range, magnitude, and control of your magic.

What’s important in terms of this game recommendation is the Control aspect, because how well you are able to wield your magic depends on how many words you are able to use to make things happen! It’s a lot easier to use a spell with precision if you have enough words to detail where you want a magical pen to write, or what you want to throw a tiny magic missile at. Not enough words? Then the GM has license to cause some humorous side effects, or, if you roll poorly enough, cause your spells to really go off the rails.

If you like games where you need to choose your words carefully, Tiny Frog Wizards is worth checking out - especially since it’s in free playtest!

Xenolanguage, by Thorny Games.

Xenolanguage is a tabletop role-playing game about first contact with alien life, messy human relationships and what happens when they mix together.  At its core, you explore your pivotal relationships with others on the mission as you uncover meaning in an alien language. The game gives a nod to soulful sci-fi media like Arrival, Story of Your Life and Contact, but tells its own story. It’s a game for 2-4 players in 3-4 hours.

In Xenolangauge, you play as a group of people bound together through a shared past with unsettled questions. Your task is to understand why the aliens have come and what they are trying to tell us. You will soon discover the key to understanding lies in your memories together.

This is definitely an in-person game, as it is meant to come with a modular channeling board that will provide you with alien symbols that you will use to help you interpret messages. This is more than a game about language, it’s about relationship, shared memories, and connection.

Xenolanguage was kickstarted at the beginning of this year, but you can check out the above link to pre-order the game if this sounds interesting to you!

Star-Spawned, by Penguin King Games.

One unearthly night, a ray of colourless light descended from the stars, and under its warping radiance, creatures unlike any the world has ever seen were born. They do not know the world, and they do not know themselves. Unfortunately for the world, they're quick learners!

Star-Spawned is a GMless, oneshot-oriented tabletop RPG in which you don't know what your own traits do when play begins. The names of each group's stats are randomly generated using morpheme chaining, and characters are created while having absolutely no idea what they mean; figuring that out forms the greater part of play.

Star-Spawned is more about self discovery than it is about language, but the use of morpheme-chaining in character creation is intriguing to me. You will randomly roll three pieces of a word, and then chain them together to create a unique Facet, available to the players as stats. These Facets don’t have a meaning when the game begins - you need to play to find out what they mean. If you like playing around with semantics - the meaning of words - this might be a game for you.

Degenerate Semantics, by Mikael Andersson.

Degenerate Semantics is a role-playing game for 1-5 players and one Game Master (GM). The players will each portray a character who live in Emmaloopen's poverty-stricken lower city. They are young, wild, ambitious, and independent. This way of life is threatened by other factions, and the players will need to have their characters work together to survive and thrive.

In the process of playing the game, the players and GM will define and flesh out a language called Bandethal. A collection of street terms and slang, Bandethal is used both as a way to talk openly about illicit activities without alerting authorities and to establish street cred. The terms are liberally mixed in with plain English, or when the language is mature enough, can be used entirely on its own. The characters' success is in large part based on how proficiently the players wield the language.

A friend of mine ran this game for me three or four years ago, and it’s been sitting in the back of my head ever since. Degenerate Semantics was created for a Game Chef competition in 2014, and has remained in the same state since then. I don’t think there’s any more work being done on it, but the game is there for anyone who wants to give it a go - and while there’s a setting that comes with the game, that setting is highly flexible, depending on what your group is interested in. Our group decided to use a lot of gardening metaphors, and undertook a plant-based heist as our act of rebellion! If you want a game about the power that language can give a tightly-knit group, this is the game for you.

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DROWWORD, by Ursidice.

[belphegorey]

⌜venom, barbatos⌟ it had been so long since you last spoke ships ⎯⎯ yandere-ish!barbatos x sorcerer!afab!reader tropes ⎯⎯ referenced death and murder, jealousy, love confessions, angst, vaginal tail sex, right person wrong time, tongue

Nothing could stop the anticipation — he was going to be mad. Dusts of chalk kissed the skin of your calves, ground mushroom powder rested on your hands. Runes and symbols surrounded your summoning circle, charm and latin words spewing protection. The old words so familiar on your tongue recited as easy as though it were your name. Warm wind surrounded your naked body, collecting the tributes and offerings you laid as well as the mushroom powder.

You opened your eyes to watch the ingredients spin around you. The colour teal laid hidden in the gusts of wind, glowing faint and ominously. The words continued to sing from your lips as you readjusted your kneeling form. The rune bracelets and flowers along your wrist jingled while you ran a single finger up the slit of your pussy. Wet. Just as he liked. The tremble up your spine was easily ignored in favour of the incoming form in front of you.

He was still as beautiful as always. It was your own fault for believing that one day when you rang for him he would arrive with disfigurements. Though, you were sure he would still manage to look handsome regardless. His pocket watch was tight in his hand, the engaging of your eternal words still haunting the front. It even looked recently polished and maintained. “I am sure that you are aware of the time?”

Barbatos was in his formal suit. Pressed and primped to perfection. His horns scratched into the roof of the room, tail near frozen behind his body. You remained on the floor kneeling, looking up at the demon. “Of course.”

He remained still in front of you with a stiff smile. Fury. You had known Barbatos long enough to understand how he displayed his emotions. His tail cracked at your words and returned to its place. “Then I would assume you understand what day it is?”

With the smallest of glances you flew your grimoire onto your lectern. It closed itself and the vines extended to lock it shut. Just what day was it? Formal attire, horns and tail pronounced and more anger than you anticipated. His eyes glinted with rage and a soft teal glow emitted behind him. “Yes,” that was right; Diavolo’s ball to celebrate the success of his exchange program. You still were curious why you had received an invite in the beginning — it wasn’t as though you accepted the student role he had offered.

“And yet, you still summoned me?” He still wore pristine black gloves, sleek and warm over his hands. You followed them with a subtle gaze, from the return of his pocket watch to the breast pocket of his suit to when he gently held his chin. He still had them, then. You assumed that Barbatos would have hidden the gloves many decades ago. “Have you no shame?”

Then again, he still kept the pocket watch you had also gifted him. At least the gloves did not hold as much memory behind it. You dusted your hands and stood up inside the summoning circle. All the chalk was gone, along with the petals and tributes you used to bring him to the human realm. “Of course not, you should know that better than anyone else.”

The thumb atop his chin grew tense from his clenched hand. “Many things can change in one hundred years.” Had it really been so long? Last you had counted it was only eighty-two. The idea of time has grown so irrelevant over the years. A hundred years was barely a day in your life. For Barbatos, it was far less.

It felt normal when he took in your body before him. Every scar along your skin marked times that he had been there with you. His eyes stopped on the long one along your hip — the first you had received and the one he openly favoured. Barbatos only glanced for a moment at your crotch, there was no care or surprise. You would have preferred he kept his eyes down, but instead he decided to watch your eyes directly. It made you shy.

Not shy enough that you hid the body you both were familiar with. Instead you glanced away from his strong eyes, illuminated in teal and black. Even after the many millennia that had passed, his presence still commanded parts of you. The glowing of his eyes in complete darkness was still a spark that illuminated fire within you.

“Let’s not waste anymore of your time, Barbatos,” his silhouette has grown to take over the whole room, extinguishing each candle you laid. His horns scratched further against the roof as he took a step closer to you. In avoidance, you turned and groped the desk for a vial. “You should know why I’ve summoned you.”

The whip of his tail gave you pause. It slithered around your leg and stroked at your ass. The scraping on the roof continued. A century without the touch — your body nearly succumbed in an instant. “I’m surprised it took you so long to contact me for more.” His point was far. Your last meeting had been strange, you hadn’t wanted it to ever end… so you ran. The memory of Barbatos haunted you each night in punishment for your cowardice.

You turned back to him, clenching your jaw to avoid reacting to the tail. Barbatos was barely an inch from you. Dusting from the roof rained down slowly as he angled his head softly, his same smile watching you. His tail coiled tighter around your leg while the tip slipped between each thigh. “I found someone else who offered me the same deal -“

“And price. I’m aware.” He took the vial from you with restraint. You nearly shivered at the touch of his gloves briefly against your hand. Hand-made just for him, well over five hundred years ago. His small smile the day you gifted it to him told you everything you needed to know. “I dealt with him accordingly.”

Your nod did little to distract from your small smile. Barbatos hasn’t changed. Your heart lurched in memory of the final words you’d spoken to one another.

I’m afraid I adore you.

…I’m sorry, but…

“Rumour was that he had lost a bet against Mammon.” He held the vial behind a sharp fang, allowing his venom to fill the vial. Its colour was shared with his eyes — glowing teal. You pressed a finger into your palm as the tail rubbed against your pussy. Each ridge and divot reminded your body of the lost flame Barbatos supplied within you. The one that only he could bring. “I assume that Lord Diavolo and Lucifer aided in that story?”

His eyes bore into you once again. You felt stuck in his web, much like it had been that first night you met. He had scared you so easily. You had never encountered a demon before, never practiced sorcery either. Barbatos had been surprised at your nativity to his word, even remarking so when the battle you called him for was won.

That night, covered in blood of the men you had begged he kill, was only the start of your alliance. “It would bring forth a bad reputation about the young Lord if people discovered that I slaughtered a demon out of pride,” his tail rubbed back and forth against you. Wet slipped against it and down your inner thighs. You supposed it was your own fault for the demon’s death. There were far easier ways of collecting his venom that didn’t involve sex. The relationship was bound to return to Barbatos eventually. You were surprised it had lasted the eighty years that it did.

Refusing to turn from the man in front of you, you placed the venom behind you on the desk. “I suppose it would. Though you did leave me with a few years of no venom at all.”

When it came to collection with the demon, it was far more frequent. You needed to visit him at least once a year to keep your supply. Though, it was smart that he had made numerous vials in anticipation for your last visit. Asmodeus had once mentioned over a manicure that many demons were allured by you. You blamed that on your status and the lack of pacts you made to get there.

None, to be specific. The closest one you ever got was Barbatos, and you refused to make it official. “Shouldn’t you have needed more?” With him, collection was more complex. The withdrawal of venom was easy and the strength of it lasted far longer than another’s. The sex that would follow was where it got complicated. You never wanted him to leave when it was done.

Though you were the one who left him the last time. “We had more frequent meetings than you and I.” His furious smile only got brighter. A clawed hand moved to your hips, digging into your skin. You hadn’t squirmed, hadn’t jumped, nothing when he touched you. It was all you had wanted for years. The tip of his tail dip up into your slit, circling your hole. “His was simply not as potent as yours, Barbatos.”

A growl vibrated in his chest. Behind your back he pulled each glove off, returning cold hands to your boiling skin. A century had done nothing to aid your need for him. After many lifetimes of constant encounters, shared murmurs and longing touches you would never be rid of it. “Could you say that again for me, little lamb? Your compliment… it simply feels far too nice to hear only once.”

The name gave you pause. Just how long had it been since he called you that? At least one or two thousand years. You’d grown out of the lamb wandering around a world of wolves. Barbatos, maybe one of the biggest dangers around, helped you to do so.

“What is this?” The demon materialised before you. He wore a uniform and vest, broken pocket watch hung in the breast pocket. White gloves tapped at his chin in curiosity. You shivered on the dirt ground of the forest, his glowing eyes were shifting back and forth. “A little lamb conducting a first ritual?”

Your cheeks were puffy from tears and your white gown torn in your hasty run. “Can you help me?” Your hands were shaking — the summoning circle worked. The women in the cabin were right. You tried to fix your hair and stand, wobbly legs made you fall. “Please, I need you to save me.”

Like you said, you had known Barbatos for many lifetimes.

“I haven’t heard that for a while…” you hummed and lifted a chin to look up at him. In the Devildom, your heights were more equal, but in your realm his monstrous species had more height. An inability to completely hide their true nature from humans. “I think the last time was soon after the brothers fell.”

His claws went to your cheek. Even with his fury of being taken from the ball, from your running away, his touch was as gentle as it always had been. His crooked finger caressed your cheek one and you leaned into it without fight. “You’ve always been my lamb.” There it was again; your fear. Even after so long with each other the softness he spoke with scared you. Pacts, love… you couldn't stand it. It was constricting. It was the lock that kept you strained. It was the marriage you had narrowly escaped with Barbatos’ help.

You cleared your throat and fixed your head. “The fact your venom is stronger is simply that. A fact. I am certain you already know that too.” His circling tail at your hole continued its torment. More slick showered down it and your thighs. His cheeks flushed pink and his claws held you tighter. “You have to return soon Barbatos. Would you prefer our usual deal or instead like something else as payment?”

His tail slipped inside of you without another word. You gasped in surprise at his haste. The curling of his tail around your thigh and down your ass was mimicked inside of you. “What I always want.” The hand along your oldest scar, his favourite, traced the wound with a fond softness. Your legs shivered as his tail dug deeper within you, his palm pressed to your gut to ensure your moan.

“Barb,” you huffed between each shallow breath he allowed you. The claw from your cheek teased down to your neck, tracing the rope marks from the witch trials centuries ago. You could remember that day. Once you'd been caught in the trap, Barbatos burned the whole town to the ground and saved you. “You… what're you…”

His thrusting tail grew in speed, halting your words. It had been so long, you clenched around the tail with an airy cry of pleasure. Barbatos leaned in and shushed you with his kiss. Messy and needy — completely unlike him. Even the first time you'd lain together, everything was proper and respectful. Even when he used his tail it was tame! His fangs locked with your teeth and his long tongue pressed in.

It was no secret that his tongue was long and forked. You had kissed him many times before and he had licked at your cunt even more. Yet again, it was different. Far less restraint. One of his arms grabbed your leg and folded it over while the other pulled at your hair. His tongue was deep in your throat. Air was limited. Your body shook in his hold and he only held you tighter.

The sloppy noise of his tail fucking you spurred you further. You never thought it would be something that made you aroused. He was always clean with you! Quiet even when you were babbling with tears in your eyes. You had long relied on passion through his gazes. Not his intimate actions.

You whimpered around his tongue and fisted at his hair in return. He moved you both against the wall, your back pressed against photos and diplomas. His actions had your hips gyrating right against him. His clothed erection against your cunt. A shiver ran through your back, imagining both his cock and tail ruining you.

The fire in you was successfully sparked by Barbatos once again. You thumbed at the base of his horns and he growled, chest vibrating against you. His tail curled down itself for girth and stretched you. Your hips lifted from the wall as you got closer. So close.

Only Barbatos.

His tongue left your mouth as you came along his thick tail. You cried and moaned together while tugging at his hair, rubbing your face against his neck. His claws held you tight and pressed into your skin without puncture. His dishevelled appearance looked glorious. His kiss and biting at your neck felt even better.

“That's it,” he whispered into your ear as his tail slowed down in its thrusts. When it left entirely, even undoing its coils around your body, you felt empty. The endings were always your least favourite part. You supposed you deserved it after how you had left things with him. What kind of person just runs away when someone confesses their love? “You did so well, my little lamb.”

Again with the nickname. You moved away from his warmth and looked up to your damaged room. Why couldn't you have admitted you shared the love he felt? There wasn't even a mention of marriage, pacts, anything. You had just left your mind to wonder about the horrid things you feared. “You haven't -”

“It doesn't matter,” he let go of your leg and gently placed you down on the floor. First, he collected his gloves from the desk while ducking his head to avoid ruining your roof further. He fixed his hair and attire that you had successfully dishevelled. “I have to return to the young Master’s castle.”

You hid your pout behind a stiff lip and turned up nose. Was this how he felt that night one hundred years ago? Was his soul also crushed at the sight of your back turned to him? “Of course. I'm sure he and all the guests are waiting for you.” He nodded and placed his gloves back on. Your heart clenched that he had kept them.

“Goodbye, lamb,” his pride was as high as your own. You should have known he would want you to suffer as he had. How stupid could you be? A single moment of love would not forgive years of agony.

“Goodb-”

You were cut off by him kissing you once more. His gloved hands held your cheeks as he pushed you back to the wall, teeth clashing with yours. Yet again, he had caught you off guard. Your heart thumped loudly, you were sure he could feel it in your chest. “I’ll return tomorrow night,” he pulled away and pressed his forehead against you. He… wasn't mad?

That was more like him. Barbatos was one of the most patient and proper beings you had met in your long long life. It was something you loved about him. But, as he disappeared out the door to his home, you couldn't help but smile at the venomous passion he hid.

Though, that was reserved just for you.

© belphegorey 2024 ⌜18+ banner from @/cafekitsune thank you <3⌟

notes ⎯⎯ i am in love with barbatos :)

[kamiimiya]

Latest self-ship: ran haitani ,,,, somebody sedate me he's been all i think about lately. unfortunately him in bonten has unlocked my daddy issues in the worst way possible and ive been making it everyone's problem whenever im online

Favorite self-ship trope: " i'll take care of you " " its rotten work " " not to me. not if its you. "

Longest running self-ship: the first official selfship i ever had was kai chisaki ( mha ) back when i first learned what selfshipping was in 2021.

The self-ship you never saw coming: naoya fuckin zenin. i hate that man, i hate that man. but oh, cara mia, how i love him.

The f/o you no longer self-ship with: him :(( i dont wanna name him because i feel bad but he was going strong until it just fizzled out.

open tags !! ♡

SELF-SHIP GAME!

Latest self-ship:

Favorite self-ship trope:

Longest running self-ship:

The self-ship you never saw coming:

The f/o you no longer self-ship with:

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

To Hunt a Silver Stag (I)

AU MASTERLIST || PART II

PAIRING: Knight!Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x F!Fae Princess!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 6.9k

WARNINGS: Arranged marriage, talks of childbirth, traditional views of women & men in medieval times, talks of war, death, heavy religious imagery/symbolism, etc.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You wore a crown of deer antlers atop your head. Charms were woven into the gaps between the tines, attached to golden thread; jewels of starlight strung like teardrops from the moon. Your feet, staying still on the hard stone of the Great Hall, are bare though attract no dirt or dust—it is as if the very ethereal aura that coats your gown of pure white repels any such thought of uncleanliness or corruption of this mortal plane. 

You are so very far from home.

Standing in the center of your soon-to-be husband’s court, your eyes seem not to be on the man himself, who watches you greedily from the throne of black iron, but instead behind him. Blank of any emotion, your long lashes blink in the direction of the stained glass windows with a horrible longing. Whispers from the multitude of court attendants go in one ear and out the other—useless to you. Their time would be gone in a blink, and yet here you would remain, immemorial. Their words were nothing, and their utterances would turn to dust faster than their bodies would.

You can’t help but wonder if those colorful depictions in that glass window, of God and his valiant angels, are mocking you as you blink at them slowly. Not only for what you are and where you now find yourself in the kingdom of your enemies but for being so full of the very qualities that would normally resign a woman of this age to the stake. 

Independent, confident, and curious, among others. 

A voice raises above the rest, and your eyes blink elegantly, the silver hue to them unnatural in all senses. Yet, you do not look away from the mighty white stag, its soldered bits of thin glass a patchwork of an overwatching Lord. Saint Eustace is there, staring at it, just as was told from generation to generation.

A pagan man converted to Christianity, the symbol of a cross set between antlers very much like the ones adorning your head. Humming under your breath, your eyes dip down, chin moving. Below the window, there stands a tall knight, and your gaze locks with his softly. 

“Today,” the King’s voice echoes over the crowd as brown orbs stare at you, blinking. “We are here to celebrate the joining of two great bloodlines!” He stands with a grand cape over his shoulders, falling to the floor as his boots stand at the top of the stairs to the throne. Yet, this knight holds your attention more than your Promised does as the cheering starts, loud; making your ears twitch.

At your waist, a golden belt is engraved with expert attention, stories woven into metal that even seem to move with the magic embedded into it. It seems to hum with an energy that makes your eyes narrow in confusion upon this stranger.

He had brown eyes, the knight, and the hues reminded you of brown that you could see in the trees of your home—those old beasts that grew still with the magic of your line and your gentle touch. Surrounding him, there was silver armor and a strip of red fabric that went over one shoulder, hanging beside the items of his station; a sword and a dagger on a brown leather belt.

Brows furrowing, your head tilts slowly, unblinking, as the eye contact persists. 

A bold man, it seems.

The knight’s eyelids slightly widen, as if realizing he had been staring, and his face swiftly moves to the side, his short hair close to his oval skull. You hear the faint clearing of a throat come into the shell of your pointed ears.

Sighing, your focus returns to the matter at hand, the crown’s adornments clinking together as your head rotates. The speech. 

King Michael spreads his hands out, a man far into his older years but still had the gleam of malice in his eyes. Those beady things. They remind you of a rat—a small creature, while intelligent, that cannot win unless through tricks.

“We all know that magic has slowly been disappearing from the lands,” the King utters, voice echoing off the walls. Your hands are holding themselves near your abdomen, grace embedded into your bones. Watching how he speaks, you can’t deny he was influential. But influence didn’t matter when you had no wife—no children. He has a dying line, and that means weakness…which is why you’re here, after all. “And in that time, our war with the Fae has fallen into a stalemate.”

Your expression sharpens, fingers twitching. Stalemate? There were humans in your lands—spreading their fires and swinging their defiling iron swords. There was no war here except the one that this King was perpetuating. 

But you held your tongue, even if your silver eyes narrowed in an ancient, bitter, anger. Your head raises itself higher, hanging gemstones swinging. The knight near the stained glass is back to watching you—his feet shifting from under him, hands behind his armored back with loose shoulders.

“...Today, myself and the King of the Fae have come to an agreement in confidence, and in the fashion of old, I am to be wed to his daughter, a princess!” Gasps, cheers, clapping. They spring up from all corners of the Hall, bouncing. Your body longs for nature, to be away from rock and metal, these suffocating walls that close in with the gaggle of wretched corpses walking. “Peace shall be beholden to all of us! Magic shall come back into my bloodline through our many children, and all will share in its wealth!” 

You had compared yourself to a broodmare when your father had given the news of your journey here. A womb to be filled until you could give no more; restrained to a bed—away from any privilege and right.

And you’d been sent here anyway. A price needed to be paid, your father had told you. A daughter to stop the war. A child to bring back mortal magic and keep the peace through generations. Was your head to be put to the block for that? Who was to say that children would bring peace? That there weren’t more conflicts to come?

This was a momentary sacrifice, and here you were wearing white.

You hum under your breath and feel shackles tie themselves to your ankles; tying you to this place. But what other option did you have?

Your ears listen to the loud rapturous cheering, the exclamations of love that mean nothing to you—you do not love these people, do not love their need for violence and their pride. You want to go home, to find where you can rest among glades and grass. Converse with the birds and the beasts to learn of their news of far-off lands; run your hands through clear streams and watch plants grow where you walk.

As your stone body stays still, silver eyes unblinking, the knight near the window is the only man in the room not gazing at you like he wants something from you. While Lords have their eyes filled with lustful envy of your age-less skin—your finery and wealth; the promise of strong children, the knight is the only one with an open expression. 

He only watches, handsome face holding the whispers of stubble and eyes that would make many moral women wish to be his wife. 

Admittingly, your attention keeps going back to him, just as his own is stuck on you even as he tries to look professional. Back straight, armor glinting, sword pommel fiddled with by long fingers. 

The King is walking down the stairs, one withered leg at a time. You don’t offer any help.

“My bride,” Michael licks his lips when he’s in front of you; but he’s more fixated on your stomach than all else. What it will hold for him. “My beautiful Fae bride. My wedding will be known through history for ages to come.”

My. 

The world holds its breath. The knight’s jaw clenches, though no one sees it. 

You take a heavy breath into your lungs to hold back your snapping tongue. As the words meet the air, they come out as unemotional as a wave at sea. Wind holding mist.

“Certainly.”

—

As it turned out, the castle itself was even less homely than the material that was used to build it. You walk slowly through the halls, hands behind your back and your crown glimmering—the trail of a thin and flowing gown making you look like a specter. One crudely carved window after another passes by your right shoulder, and you look out of every slit; seeing the silver shades of moonlight. In contrast, everything on your left was washed with firelight from the blazing iron sconces, your ears twitching to the pop of wood and fabric saturated in animal fat. 

Everything here was horrible.

A prison, you think, slowing near one of the larger windows in the hall. A cage.  

Staring outside, trying for only a moment to understand the disgusting castle and adjoined town you look at, there’s a faint noise from far down the corridor. 

Wasting no time, your head moves slowly to the side, blinking. There isn’t anyone to be seen, but yet again, your slightly pointed ears twitch. 

A firm heartbeat. 

Bump-bump, bump-bump, bump-bump.

Staring at nothing, you listen for a moment, taking it in as your visage fights with blue and red light, shadows littering the small cracks and the marks of stone—your hands slightly tighten, but you hold no fear. 

You refused to be afraid here; you would go to your spiritual death with a high head, and nothing less. 

“It’s unbecoming to stalk as if a wolf,” you call, voice smooth and even. A beat of bird’s wings. “Four-legged beasts have perfected it, yet, the same cannot be said of you.” 

There’s a lapse of silence—a swirling of slight tension that comes not from you but another. The heartbeat in your ear lightly skips. Startled. A shadow cusps one of the connected hallways, a gleam of silver armor. You blink slowly.

“Apologies, Ma’am.” The Knight. The one from the Great Hall. “I…didn’t mean to make you nervous.”

His lithe form doesn’t try to hide from your accusation, instead, his body moves to the middle of the stone floor and straightens—one hand going to his heart and the other behind his back; bowing. The darkness of his complexion seems to glow in the light, smooth skin besides the marring of small scars along the left cheek. Tiny things, only two lines.

For no reason at all, your body lightly turns towards him, watching.

“I’m not nervous,” you respond. “Please, stand straight.” 

He does so without hesitation, though his eyes are avoiding yours. A guilty pull is to his lips that you can’t help but quirk a brow at. Yet, you remain emotionless, and outside the shadows of flying birds shift past.

“What is your name, Knight?” You see his expression slightly tense at the question, but you continue easily. A test, perhaps, if this man was worth your time. “I recall your face.” 

“I can’t give you that, My Lady.” Brown eyes go to meet yours, and the silver flecks in your orbs glimmer. “My orders were clear.”

“And were those orders also to follow me?” 

He clears his throat, feet shifting. “...Maybe.”

You hum, moving your body slowly and walking forward to him. The man blinks in surprise, straightening even more but a firm set to his eyes. His attention never wavers, unless it’s to glimpse your crown and belt, perfect pieces of artistry lost to this section of humanity. No mortal craftsman could imagine making something as such. He liked them, you notice at the light impression of awe in his gaze.

Anyone with sense would.

Stopping just a few feet away, you tilt your head. 

It was common knowledge that you never gave your name to one of the Fae, your betrothed would have told everyone close to him to avoid doing so. Just as you would never tell your real name to anyone—not even under dire circumstances. Names hold power, and no person in this castle would make you even more of a prisoner than you already were. 

You know the names of beasts and plants, flora and fauna—they bend to you, let you manipulate them to your will, though you often find no need to. The animals from any land prefer your company, anyway. The castle’s hunting hounds have already become well acquainted, just as the messenger birds had. 

But mortals? No. No, there were no names that you knew besides the King himself, and even then it was a fake one. Second names and such, are common. 

“Your title, then,” you say to the Knight. “If you’re to be a constant face to me.”

“Gaz is just fine, I’d say.” He nods his head, a slow smile moving his cheeks. Your brows furrow. Strange fellow. “A pleasure. I really do need to say that I wasn’t following you for long—I was only concerned you might have lost your way.”

You stare. 

“Lost?” Owlishly, your head shifts.

Gaz makes a noise in the back of his throat, one hand coming up to rub at the base of his neck. “Yeah—lost. It’s, uh, it’s a big castle, My Lady—”

“Stag.” Wide eyes blink, this meeting is only awkward on his part and not yours. In fact, for how humans go, he was acting far better than most. Usually, there was iron being brandished by now.

“What was that?”

“My title,” you explain, your crown’s gems bright in the light. The fire crackles, popping. “Stag. I do not need my status stated. I know what I am, Knight.”

“Then I’d say the same,” your fingers twitch, liking the word game he plays. Inside of your sockets, the unnatural makeup of your eyes shimmers. 

“Very well,” you pause, picking your words. “Gaz. A strange choice to be sure.”

He chuckles, nodding in a very stoic-like way despite the nearly boyish nature of him. “Well, Stag isn’t exactly common, either.”

You hum in your throat, unblinking; staring. Your intrigue grows the longer the man talks. Just like in the Great Hall, his form attracts all of your attention to it, against all laws that you seem to know in your soul. 

“Pray tell,” you shift, moving back to the window with your feet not making a single sound. Gaz watches on, eyes flickering between the hanging gems and how you tread over the stone as if you had wings. Your form slips back to the window, and your focus once more goes outward. “Has the King told you to spy on me, Gaz?”

The title, even if not the one of his birth—not the one written on his soul like a brand—still made the air quiver with might. You were older than most of this kingdom, the Knight knew. Older than the oak trees of the nearby forest; older than rock and wind and air.

Power dripped off your tongue like water to a leaf. 

But it wasn’t your influence that made the man answer you. It was his own nature. 

“Yes,” Gaz says, taking a few steps to where you stand, watching a flock of birds dance above the courtyard, silver moon-drips illuminating white feathers. “But I wouldn’t call it spying. Officially, I’ve been put in place to keep you safe, Princess.” His dark brows crease when you don’t pay him any mind. “I take my job very seriously, yeah?” 

“I can see that,” you utter, eyes still on the birds. “The only thing I need protecting from is the iron ring on your right hand.”

He startles, blinking for a moment. 

“...Parden?”

Silver eyes pierce him, watching; waiting. 

Gaz looks down, locking on the hand that has been resting on the pommel of his sword. Cape swishing, he makes a noise in the back of his throat. His sigil ring—the one that had been given over at his dubbing ceremony sat on the first digit, the engraving of his King’s coat of arms glimmering back. 

A wolf; a snake caught in its fangs. 

Brown eyes dart back, and he sheepishly smiles, huffing a chuckle of sorts. 

“Comes with the job, unfortunately,” yet still, his other hand easily grasps and slips the thing off, tucking it away into the leather pouch swinging from his belt. “I thought that was a myth—the Fae being harmed by iron. Conjured up to give people something to cling to.”

“I can name a million things that men and women like you consider myth,” you mutter, starting at that pouch, deep in thought. You hadn’t expected him to give in that easily. Your shoulders loosen their rigidness, but your chin never drops its high pride. “Every story comes from somewhere—be it reality or wives’ tales. Who’s to say that the words don’t give them life in one form or another?” 

“Bloody hell. Not a discussion to take up with me, I’m afraid,” Gaz huffs a chuckle, smirking. While still hesitant around you, the conversation wasn’t anything that made him want to not be around you. Everyone deserved to have their character shown, and what he was seeing so far wasn’t ringing any alarms. “Sound more of a scholar than a Princess, if you don’t mind me saying.”

Your lips quirk. “I prefer philosopher.”

“And what’s a Fae philosopher doing out in the middle of the night, then?” A breeze wafts through the window, blowing on your dress and making Gaz’s cape flutter in its bloodish tint. The torches whip and dance. You take a low breath, bird chips coming closer. 

“Speaking with an old friend.”

A white dove lands on the stone opening of the window, fluttering wings coming to fold along its sleek form until it shakes and settles all at once. 

“Lysander,” you say in greeting, nodding your head. Gaz watches, barely moving as his lips part in astonishment. 

Your hand extends itself, bearing no rings or bracelets. All you needed was your crown. Tiny eyes blink as an angular head turns to the side, tiny coos sparking from a rounded breast. Pale feet grasp your perfect flesh, such a tiny weight settles before you lift effortlessly; wings flapping to keep balance. 

“What news, then?” You ask in a whisper, bringing the beast to your crown. Lysander settles on one of the tines, head dipping down as feathers puff. Into your ear, words take shape. 

You hum in answer, blinking at every clicked sentence; tapping talons. 

Gaz stares blankly, eyebrows pulled up on his head and unable to articulate himself.

So many stories about your people—he hadn’t thought half of them to be true. While he’d been stationed in many places during the duration of this war, he’d never actually encountered one of the Fae before. Gaz had been told they were like a plague; they came in when you weren’t looking, spoke magic into your ears, and forced you to come back to their home and live as mindless beasts. Cupbearers and entertainment. 

Of the countless knights he’d been in line with, he knew the true names of none of them. A precaution. Forethought. 

Yet…you don’t look dangerous. 

But the man is far from stupid. 

“He says the fires from your forges burn his eyes,” your voice snaps him back to you, and he straightens, fingers twitching. Gaz finds your face already turned his way, owlish in its movements. “The smoke makes his throat ache.”

“I,” he pauses, mouth opening and closing. Brown eyes dart to the sharp-beaked dove; the thing very much like you in the way it watches him. “I’m…sorry?”

Your lips pull in a frown, sighing with a shake of your head. 

I can never survive here, you find yourself thinking. I believed this is what I had to do, but if this is how I’m going to live…

“Tell me about your King, Gaz,” your body swiftly turns, feet carrying you down the corridor once more with long, even, steps. “If I’m to marry him, I will know of his nature.”

The man clears his throat and follows after, where you hear the clinking of silver and the scabbard against his thigh. He glances over at you, walking if not a bit behind yourself in proper fashion. 

“What do you want to know, Ma’am?”

Your unnatural orbs shimmer, and the bird on your crown hunkers down; puffed contently and eager to rest his wings from a long flight. 

“Everything. I will not be unaware of my fate.” 

“Well,” Gaz sighs, rubbing at his chin with his opposite hand. He licks his lips, mind running to answer the best he can. “You’ll not want for anything—finery and wealth will—”

“I do not care about mortal revelry. I need neither fine things nor wealth.” Your voice curtly moves along the open air. The Knight’s boots connect with stone while your bare flesh emits nothing. “His character, Knight. Is he fair—just?”

Gaz’s face tightens, glancing from you to the hallway as he takes a moment to think.

“My King has…become troubled with the turning tides of the war. I’m sure when your marriage is official, he’ll go back to how he was before.” He doesn’t seem certain, but loyalty is a trait that a knight knows well. You had been set as his charge, of course, not under the best of circumstances, but he would do his job how he believed would benefit all parties. Even if his guts were stiff at the thought of a forced marriage. 

“My Lady Stag?” He asks, and your heart jerks unexpectedly at the muttering of your title. 

Blinking in confusion, your hand coming up to rub at your collarbone like a willow branch, you almost miss the question entirely. 

“Where you come from, if I can ask, of course, what’s it like?” Your mind strays from marriage ceremonies and consummation—momentary peace slipping in on waves of this man’s smooth accent. 

Mouth opening, only to close once and open again, you decide to indulge this man with your answer. If only because he speaks of your home. 

“Green,” is the soft utterance of your answer to him. “It’s green. More trees and rivers than you can count in your lifetime. Animals each more fantastical than the last; all of which your people now call nothing but hearsay.” 

You can sense his attention, sucking up knowledge as if he had the years to know and understand it all. 

Lysander coos, shaking his feathers out, and you glance upward without moving your head. You chuckle like a blade of moving grass. 

Blinking, Gaz slowly begins to smile, cocking his skull to the side boyishly. “What’s so funny, then?”

Your high nose twitches. 

“He says you’re as if a Wyvern hatching. A curious thing.” Brown eyes drift to your companion, whose peaked eye pierces like black fire-stone. Gaz’s mouth releases a puff of a chuckle, chest jerking. 

“Hell, never thought I’d get insulted by a bird.” 

“Humans have not the ability to speak with beasts,” you ease out, walking on. “On that, I have to say you are at a sure disadvantage.”

“What?” Gaz’s amused voice is in your ear. “Minus the whole immortality thing?”

You side-eye him, visage calm with decades of understanding. “Not everything is built to last forever.”

A momentary silence falls between the two of you. Eyes locked, you both stare, legs carrying bodies across the unfeeling stone until the area Lysander had told you about takes form. You shift a slow right and exit into the inner courtyard, large stone walls making a small square of patchy green grass and dying plants. A fountain sits still. 

“If this is to be a game of equal exchange, Knight, I desire to ask the next question.” Your eyes take it all in, hand moving out to capture the blackened leaves of a Medlar tree. Frowning at the dead fauna, you hear Lysander take to wing, flapping until his ghostly form lands on the far-off fountain’s edge. 

“Alright,” Gaz nods, looking around at the dying place with a frown as well. He’d never come here before, but the state of things was…sad, really. “Ask away.”

“When you leave the castle—the town,” you let power move to your fingertips, and you feel the tingles of it running the lengths of your arms like ice and fire; taking a low breath. “What do you see? I admit, I’m not used to having company with humans. I know not how their souls feel.”

Gaz walks into the small enclosed space, humming as he taps the pommel of his sword. His shoulders shrug as his head tilts up, blinking at the stars. 

“I wouldn’t see it as you would, I gather.”

You look over your shoulder, amusement in your face mixed with a slice of intrigue. “That wasn’t my question. But, no, you would not.” 

“Figured,” he chuckles, nodding at you. Gaz articulates himself dutifully. “I see a place far more peaceful than the one here. Outside the stone and smog—it’s beautiful, truly. Calm. You can actually think above the noise, you know? I usually find myself wanting to get out more often, but my duty ties me here.” 

Your eyes soften slightly, thumb running the face of the leaf as you take in his words. Lysander stoops to take a sip of water. 

“You’re…” You lack the words, only humming and stopping yourself. 

“Why are we here, Princess?” Gaz asks you, gazing around. “I had only expected you to walk to the kitchens—the library, even. Don’t get me wrong, you can go as you wish, but I’m not sure this is the most…” He grunts. “Sightly place to end up. Everything’s dead.”

“Nearly,” you whisper, a tiny smile taking over your flesh. “Not quite.” 

Gaz’s frown is lost to you, as is his comment that he mutters, “Looks it.”

Leaning forward, you press your lips to the leaf you hold as if a precious object. Into its blackened and shriveled form, you whisper its name—its true name, one you had learned through years of patience and trust that bordered on an entirely trance-like state. A Medlar is a tough and stubborn thing, like the fruit it bears, it will hang on until all else is gone to dust. Its roots are strong, and from them, you had listened to the earth sing its songs one buzzing note at a time.

All things speak, you just have to know how to listen. 

There’s a surge of wild order, a dichotomy of will and freedom; the sing of an axe and the memories of young saplings just gracing their leaves to the sun. A circle of death and rebirth as old as the stars that still shone in a sky of black. 

You know many names, but those of the trees were the first to come to you, and it was only proper. Before anything, there were trees. 

The Medlar shakes, its leaves dropping down one at a time until they come in groups, in clusters—bare branches shiver like dogs do until creaking ballads move over the air. 

Starling, Gaz had taken a large step back, hand snapping to the handle of his sword, the blade half drawn. Lysander flies past his face, blunt talons skating the close-cropping of his hair before the bird grapples to your crown. Flinching, the knight watched with a mixture of horror and pure wonder.

The tree was sprouting new greens. 

You step back, and from your feet, the dead grass quivers, before the smell of groaning earth makes his nose twitch; fresh blades show themselves anew. The dove atop your crown jumps from one sharp tine to the next, dodging lines of gold—eyes glinting and wings flapping excitedly. 

Life is in the very air. 

You smile to yourself, silver eyes moving as a nearly ancient-looking spark flares to life in them—a long breath entering your lungs. 

Gaz’s face begins to heat as he watches, his heart pounding with something he can’t understand. He stares at your bright face before his fast-blinking eyes move to the grass growing all around; the bushes dancing, flowers opening up and turning to you. Birds gather on the edges of this verdant and fertile land, darting one by one to the fountain and to the trees. Singing.  

The knight steps back, feet dancing over the ground with an airy laugh stuck in his throat. 

“Holy hell…” he breathes, nearly panting. 

Wide eyes move back to you, expression open, innocent. This was a moment when you truly believed you’d never seen a face more bare than this; more giving. 

“You…” He laughs. “You’re tellin’ me you could always do that?” You chuckle, and it is a sound that could make roots grow in his heart, flowers bursting from his lungs. “I…I’m speechless, really. This is,” he laughs once more, turning a full circle, with his hand going to the back of his neck in shock. It was entirely new—all of it. Ivy climbed the stone, and the animals spoke and flew in the air; excitement something that transcends species. “This is extraordinary.”

You were something incredible. 

Chuckling, you raise a slow brow, feeling a foreign heat move over your cheeks. It’s a moment before you speak, taken aback by the reverency.

“My thanks, Knight,” your head nods his way, a simple dip of your chin and nothing more. “But this is only a small courtyard. A fraction. If I so wished, forests could grow from ashen ground.”

“How?” He asks you, eyes glittering more than the moon. 

Smaller birds join Lysander on your head, finches, perhaps, and sparrows. They tweet and chip, speaking their thanks. You reach up and let one move onto your finger, bringing it back to eye level as you move to softly connect your forehead to its own. Moving back, you hum and watch the bird fly off.

“Ages of practice,” you elegantly tip your head his way, careful of your cargo. “Quite verbatim.” 

Gaz is speechless, unable to recall something in his life that had made him feel so special to be able to witness it. Magic to humans was a dying thing—you’d be surprised if he’d ever even seen it in this magnitude before. 

“...Amazing,” he utters under his breath, smiling like a fool.

For all of your Fae trickery, your games, you had to be honest. “I don’t believe I thought you’d be this moved by it.”

“Really?” He blinks at you, a boyish twist to his face. “How could I bloody not be, Love?”

Your air gets stuck in your throat, eyes minutely widening. 

Gaz quickly comes back to himself, straightening and clearing his throat as your face suddenly blazes in a way that startles you. Heart pattering like a horse’s hooves not only at the…different title but his awe at your magic as well. 

“Forgive me, My Lady,” you choose not to correct him. “I overstepped.”

His body bends forward in a deep bow, hand to his heart, resting over his armor as the cape drapes its crimson fabric to the now vibrant grass. 

It had briefly eluded you that you were to be married soon. A comment like that could get the Knight and his tree-bark brown eyes put to the sword. You hold back a long sigh, eyelids fluttering shut softly. 

“Is he kind?” Your question is small, but it moves like a knife.

Gaz stares hard at the ground, once dead and nothing but a reminder of nature. He clenches his jaw, a worry swirling in his gut. The man knows who you’re asking about, and he holds the same dread he did in the Great Hall as you were led like a sacrificial lamb to the altar. 

Maybe the Knight was broken, but even if he’d never met one of your kind before, he knew that no person deserved to be bartered for the illusion of peace—forced to give children like they were only objects. But maybe he was also just a man not meant for this lifetime.

It was the way of things.

Gaz swallows the tension in his shoulders. He will not lie. 

“...No.”

—

This tall knight had become a constant at your side. Officially, he’d been placed for your protection, but you knew it was because the King didn’t want you to cut and run. 

But unless there was a very good reason to, he should have known that you were not the running type. It was a battle of wits, and even into your marriage, you would always come out on top.

It started easy enough—Michael would invite you for tours of the castle ‘making it a home’ he’d said in front of his court. It was a power trip. 

He’d talk about his wealth like it would make you swoon; like you cared at all. You could only hide your sneer for so many hours, even with your infinite amount of patience. Time had mellowed you like the rocks of the ocean, but even they cracked when the storm was strong enough. 

Yet still, you considered yourself too intelligent for baseline insults.

“My palace was much the same, your Highness. Our towers rose high—nearly gracing the clouds themselves.”

“Oh, lovely, my King. Pray tell, do you also have pet dragons? Oh…unicorns, perhaps? My, I had the most lovely unicorn companion when I was just shy of my two-hundredth birth year. A little thing—all legs and neck. Beautiful creatures.” 

“Gorgeous little trinkets. Tell me, do you have a coffer for fallen stars? They create the most magnificent illumination for late-night reading.”

Gaz nearly lost his composure at times, even if no one else could tell except for you and your pointed ears; twitching at every breath that was fought to keep still. The over-the-lip huffs and chuckles. In fact, you found yourself perpetuating the back-handed insults just to hear those noises. Such small and meaningless things, in the grand scheme. 

You took…enjoyment from it.

Seeing the effect it had on the King was also a bonus—his raging eyes, snapping tongue held back for only his reputation and little more. He wanted to take you by the arm and shake you, you knew, yell in your face. 

Kind, King Michael was not. Gaz had been correct. 

In the nights, you would discuss with the Knight—sitting in the dense and growing courtyard with your body comfortable on the grass; Gaz’s on the fountain’s edge.

You have much of the same confidence in one another as you do tonight. 

“Do knights marry for love?” Your voice wafts out, petting Lysander with a single finger in your lap; itching at his neck as he coos. “Do they get to choose?” 

Gaz fiddles with his cape’s clasp, fingers dancing over the silver make. He has made a motion to always take off his ring when it’s just the two of you, easily slipping it away until he was forced to put it back on. He doesn’t know if you feel it, but he believes the two of you to be well-off acquaintances—perhaps even friends. 

The man enjoyed speaking to you. He reveled in the limitless knowledge that spilled from your tongue, your stories and tales. Gaz, unlike so many others, enjoyed your company not for the power that it offers in a physical sense, but for the words that you freely give. Often your sentences were like honey to him, seeping into his head.

A princess speaking with a knight? Unheard of. A Fae princess? Blasphemy. 

It was easy to forget that you were older than many generations of his family line. 

“No,” he says, glancing over. “All knights take a vow of chastity when they commit to service. None of those alive in this kingdom will wed unless they willingly break their oaths.” 

Your head tilts, crown resting comfortably a small distance away on a rock.

“That sounds lonely.”

Gaz smiles, “Worried about me?” 

You stare, eyes traveling the little deaths on his face—the lines, the scars. “If it’s what you wish to do with yourself, who am I to tell you any different?” 

The man’s face softens, lips pulling as his cheeks heat under the moonlight. “Figured you’d have some opinion of it.”

You hum, raising a brow. “It’s your life—it’s so fleeting. Tread it as if water between your fingers. Before you know it, it’ll be gone.” Lysander leans into your flesh, shivering. “Live it.”

“For someone who says they don’t know humans that well,” Gaz grumbles, though his chest is light. “You sure know a lot about them.”

“Intuition,” your mouth twitches in a smile. “And a bit of reality.”

Delicate looks are shared. 

You do admit, you liked these conversations with Gaz. The long nights and the feeling of grass under your flowing dresses; the horrid contraptions that your betrothed had tried to make you wear stuck far back into the wardrobe of your room. Heavy items—suffocating corsets, unlike the simple but elegantly sewn one you wear now. You could feel it trying to sneak in when the days drew on. 

Control. 

It was all becoming more and more apparent. You did not want to live like this. 

Your face goes troubled as the calm silence moves over the Medlar with its reaching branches. Fireflies hang like miniature stars as you take your crown and slip it back on; to feel the comforting weight of antlers. 

The knight pauses as he slips his cape off of his shoulder, blinking over at you in a slow confusion. You look troubled. He’d never seen that expression on your face before.

“Stag?” Your head swivels, as if in another world.

“Just thinking,” your voice moves into his ears, making them hum with energy. Gaz’s brows furrow, a frown taking over. After a second, he stands, moving closer on quiet feet. 

You watch him as he goes to kneel near you, one arm moving over the bent nature of his leg while the other holds fabric—letting it cascade over the earth. Brown eyes narrow, and a joking tease moves with the undertone of slight concern.

“I’m usually the talker, I know, but when you look a bit like that it makes me nervous.”

You frown. “Look like what?”

“Like someone’s got a sword to your neck, Princess.” The air is cool here, the deep throws of night taking you by the breath in your throat. A smooth smirk. “It’s my job to make sure that doesn’t happen, yeah?”

If you leave, if you find a way out of this…the war will never end. It will go on until stone cracks like glass and generations forget why it even started in the first place. 

But why were you put to the axe because of it? Why must you take the blade to the stomach—an object of greed? 

Gaz’s amused voice moves lower at your immobile lips, going serious. 

“Hey,” a hand outstretched to your arm, hovering. “Really, is everything alright?”

“Gaz,” you pause, voice still level despite your heated pulse. It’s like a snake curls itself in your guts, roots growing in your veins. The courtyard seems to shiver all by itself, leaves curling into themselves from bushes and trees. Lysander’s feet shimmy, head moving about. 

This knight had been kind to you as well as honest about his intentions. Chivalrous. Such qualities are hard to come by anymore.

“I don’t believe I want this.” It’s a breath more quiet than a lapping of waves. Gaz stills, fingers above your flesh twitching. “I can’t live in a cage. I refuse.”

Silver meets brown, holding it firmly. 

“I will not be a prize to be chained to a birthing bed.” 

The man’s face pulls at that, tightening. 

You don’t know what to expect. It isn’t fear in you—no, nothing like this could make you afraid. Apprehensive? Perhaps. Age made you cautious. At any moment he might flip his tune; run off to tattle to a King he, seemingly, likes just as much as you. Which is to say, very little. But there’s still the possibility, the knowledge stacked over ages and ages of strategy and mind games. 

A knight of a tension-ridden kingdom, swearing fealty to a King whom you’re betrothed to. You’d just expressed treason, in a way. It could put you to the sword; to the rope. To irons. Your mind runs through the millions of possibilities, not able to settle on a single one before—

A cape settles over your shoulders, startling you. 

Hand snapping to grab the front, your head snaps up, eyes wider than you can remember them ever going. 

Soft browns meet you, a thin smile. Fireflies buzz about, and a dove sits under your still finger, watching with beady orbs intently at the scene. A Medlar quivers. 

A stag and a knight breathe the same air. A godly creation and a saint ensnared in a song far larger than they intend, as the world shifts past all around them. Silver starlight leaves long reflections breaking from the hanging glory of your gems, but the patches of light on Gaz’s face capture yours in that instant far more than they should have. 

Impossibly so. Unnaturally so. 

Does this mortal have magic of his own, perhaps? You have to ask yourself. There was no other possibility. 

And when he speaks…it’s like whatever ice has been layered over your antediluvian heart breaks into fire. There wasn’t even a fight from him.

“Then tell me what you need.”

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[raichett]

joel commits a hit and run

During the Watchers' debriefing after the end of Wild Life, Grian gets himself an unexpected - though certainly not unwelcome - ride home.

Content warnings: intentional vehicular violence against non-human entities who are not hurt by said violence, vaguely referenced character death, memory alteration, and being non-consensually trapped and made to play death games. This is unrepentantly crack.

AO3 version.

-

JOEL COMMITS A HIT AND RUN

The empty space between is desolate, as always. The others aren’t here, thankfully, too busy being other people in kinder places than this, even if they do remember. Only their own victory, of course, their one game, unlike Grian who is unfortunate enough to remember them all, and unfortunate enough to be held here and made to participate beyond the role of a player.

It’s possible he deserves this misfortune, of course. They have such power, see, and he is only one Watcher trying to stem the tide of many, all of whom are so eager to take delight in their newest game series. If he can’t stop them then maybe he can help lessen the damage, have a voice in the planning process, take part as recompense. Harm reduction, that’s what it’s called.

They’re talking, and he’s waiting, only half-listening to the post-mortem, the debriefing, as they chatter about likes and dislikes, review the experimental factors, reflect upon the latest game like they’ve just walked out of the cinema or the theatre, buzzing with glee. It’s offensive, this almost innocence, this lack of comprehension of the pain they’re causing, too caught up in the storyline, and the character arcs, and the symbolism. Sun, stars, moon, all the rest. Fuck them, absolutely fuck them.

Grian doesn’t speak. He’s just – too tired. He nearly won again, but not quite, and he doesn’t really begrudge Joel the win, his friend had worked too hard for it – but he had hoped that if there started to be double wins, then maybe they would start getting bored, their attention drifting away. A game is only a game if people agree to play, otherwise it’s just tugging people about and laughing when they stumble, when they fall, when they collide into the arbitrary rules and get tangled there, strung up to be laughed at.

There’s a sound, then, like cave noise, and for a moment Grian thinks it’s just a glitch, some piece of the Universe snagging and then setting itself to rights, but the Watchers’ chattering stumbles, grinds to a halt, and –

It’s low, rumbling, but getting louder. Getting closer. It’s not cave noise.

There are no doors in this place, but there is a type of barrier, some invisible division between the Void outside and this little space carved here. Grian watches, frozen, heart rabbiting in his chest, as – as a car smashes through it. He knows that stupid fucking car.

The car vrooms, revving its engine as it smashes into the meeting circle and runs over one Watcher, two Watchers, swinging around to shove to the nebulous ground a third and a fourth as it screeches to a stop right next to Grian. Watchers are damn hardy, they’ll be fine, but it puts Grian in mind of bowling pins and that’s just – it’s – it’s so insane, it’s ludicrous, and a laugh bubbles up in Grian’s chest just at the absurdity of it, the incongruity that makes everyone too stunned to react.

The window rolls down. “Hey, Grian,” says Joel, grinning.

“Joel!” Grian replies, loud and shocked, but somehow not surprised – who else’s car would it be? – which feels like the only thing he can say.

“Heard you needed a ride home,” Joel says, bright and vicious, his eyes still red. “Come on, this place is cramping my style. We gotta get back to Hermitcraft.” He turns his words now to the surrounding Watchers. “Sorry, folks! Me and Grian got things to do, places to see, honey shops to buy and sell at, all that good stuff. Later, losers, hah!”

The passenger door opens on the back, behind the driver’s seat, and Grian scrambles for it, diving in and slamming it shut behind him, barely getting his feet out of the way in time. There’ll be repercussions later, he’s sure, but right now? Right now, they drive out – nearly running over two more Watchers, but they get out of the way in time – and Grian hasn’t got a seatbelt on, doesn’t know how Joel got here, or why he knew to come, where to go, but that doesn’t matter: it feels good to do something to get one over on the Watchers, and Grian understands the power and importance of small victories.

“I can’t believe you ran them over,” Grian says, and at his own words he starts to laugh.

“They’re so cringe, Grian,” Joel answers, also barking out a laugh, as the car rockets into the Void like a comet. “What losers. Stupid idiots. Now come on, us winners gotta stick together.”

“Even Scott?” Grian prods, though his heart feels like someone just dunked it into a warm bath, liquid comfort melting in his chest. Us. Joel recognises an us.

“Ughh!” Joel bemoans. “Maybe not Scott. He can sleep on the sofa, maybe, or whatever. Dunno if there’s a winner’s sofa, but – yeah, something like that. Something like that.”

“You’re so generous,” Grian says, his smile irrepressible.

“I am a king of humbleness,” Joel assures him. “You have never met anyone as humble and generous and handsome as me.”

The laughter that punches out of both of them echoes inside the car like music. Outside the windscreen, a trail of stars leads the way back home.

[inotakumagf]

strange magic

✶ geto suguru x faerie princess! reader

word count ✺ 9K

summary ✺ you were supposed to marry your fiancé and take on the title of Faerie Queen, but somehow you ended miles from your kingdom, injured, and at the mercy of the Cursed Spirit King. oh how far you’ve fallen from grace.

warning ✺ fem! reader, hurt & then comfort and then hurt & then comfort, descriptions of injuries. i put mc through so much im sorry. very very inspired by strange magic, that movie altered my entire life trajectory. enemies-to-lovers, but they never end up kissing oops but the love is there. also i made a pinterest board to visualize the vibe im going for! reblogs & comments are very appreciated, i really want to know how y’all feel abt this one :D

You’ve never been more in love. The feeling consumes every bone and every crevice of your body. It leaves you a giggling, delighted mess, one that your servants can only roll their eyes at. But it pleases them to know that their darling crown princess has found a lover who cherishes her so much. Your love makes you careless, and it drives your personal guards mad.

Your guards, Shoko and Gojo, are dragged along behind you for each “secret” meeting between you and your fiancé. They have to listen to you read love letters aloud and sigh over your lover. But they are the only two people who can tease you about it. Their favorite activity is dramatically acting out your behavior, practically throwing themselves on top of each other as they laugh at you. You don’t mind. You prefer them and their teasing over the servants that can’t even look you in your eyes. 

As the crown princess of your faerie kingdom, there are innate responsibilities you owe to your parents and to your people. First and foremost, you are a symbol of strength against the bordering faerie domain. While your kingdom prospers thanks to the magic of the large willow tree at its center, the kingdom that borders it is a dark, decaying forest. You’re forbidden from going anywhere near it, and that is perfectly fine with you. Where your kingdom is full of life, the other brings nothing but death.

Your marriage is another responsibility of yours. You’d been opposed to it all your life. The idea of forfeiting your heart and your independence to a man and inevitably for children has been your greatest point of disagreement with your parents. You love them, and they’ve never pushed you into anything, but they’re never silent about how much it disappoints them. It made no sense to you, not until you met Naoya.

He had been enamored by you since the moment you’d been introduced to the Zen’in clan. You’d turned your nose at him time after time, but your proximity and his persistence had made you see him differently. And now, with your wedding only three days away, there’s nothing you would change. 

“Naoya!” You flutter down to where he stands by the base of the willow tree. Shoko and Gojo trail behind you, and if you could guess, they’re probably mocking you. 

Naoya turns at the call of his name. A charming smile graces his face, and he opens his arms to pull you into a hug. He takes your hand in his and places a soft kiss to your knuckles. “Princess,” he greets. Your heart flutters. You are undeniably weak to his charms.

He places a small rosebud in your hair and ushers you alongside him. “Come. I want to take you somewhere.”

He leads you to a field of colorful tulips. Garden faeries are working their magic on the surrounding land, but Naoya pulls you inside the patch of flowers. Sunlight reflects off of the flower petals, causing colorful light to shine around you. 

“I can’t wait to marry you, my beloved,” he says, leaning forward to kiss you. 

You pull away, a mischievous glint in your eyes. His eyes fly open, and he stares at you with furrowed brows. You tap his nose and fly backwards. “You have to earn the kiss. Let’s see if you can catch me, hm?”

You weave your way through the stems of the tulips, shrieking in delight as Naoya playfully chases after you. You’re good at running from him, but he eventually catches up to you. He twirls you around once he’s got you in his arms. You laugh and run your fingers through his hair.

He smirks at you. “So about that kiss?”

Gojo calls for you then from the respectful distance he and Shoko have given you. You turn towards them, just then realizing the council meeting you were meant to attend. Before you can move, Naoya pulls you closer.

“Meet me here after your meeting, okay? I want to see you again,” he whispers in your ear.

You smile at him. “My guards are going to hate you for the work you put them through.”

Naoya grins back. “Let them hate me. But…come without your guards. I want to be alone with you.”

You bit your lip at the thought of breaking Gojo and Shoko’s rule for you. But your desire wins out. “Okay, but if we get caught, I’ll blame you.”

The entire meeting, you can’t help but think about your promised plans with Naoya. Your hand constantly finds the rosebud in your hair, almost nervous at the prospect of being alone with him. You’ve almost always had a chaperone present, and if Naoya wants to see you alone…it makes you heat up all over.

On your way back to your room after the meeting, you think of how you can escape Gojo and Shoko’s careful watch. They have never let you out of their sight, and they would certainly never agree to let you out on your own. No matter how often you remind them that no one has ever or would ever try to hurt you, they take the matter of your safety more seriously than you do. Gojo is the fiercest soldier in the Queen’s army, and he’s proven himself time and time again with his loyalty and his skill. Shoko’s strength is gentler than her friend’s. She is the most profound healer in generations, and her ability to comfort you on such a personal level carries so much value for you. You trust the two with your life, and you feel so guilty for lying to them like this.

When you get right in front of your door, you pause and turn to face your guards. They stop just before bumping into you, and you want to laugh at the look of surprise on Gojo’s face. You lean back against your door.

“I’m going to be having dinner with Naoya later tonight, so I need to rest beforehand. Don’t wake me until then, alright? Thank you, bye!”

Once you’re safe inside your room, you start getting ready to see Naoya. You wear a petal dress in a pale yellow shade, because it has a peach orange center that Naoya loves. You paint your lips with a berry stain and rub fresh rose water over your skin. You stare at yourself in the mirror for longer than necessary before deciding that there’s nothing else to do. You place your pillows under your blanket and adjust it so that it looks like your sleeping form. Once that’s done, you fly straight out the open window, careful to avoid the sight of anyone who might be looking up into your chambers. 

When you get to the tulip field, your heart flutters when you see Naoya already waiting for you. Before you can fly down to greet him, a faerie you don’t know flies over to him and leaps into his arms. 

You jerk backwards, mind refusing to believe what you’re seeing. Naoya glances around briefly before pulling her closer. He twirls the faerie around in his arms, identically to how he held you this morning. You try to breathe in and out slowly, trying to keep yourself from crying. But it becomes impossible when he dips her and kisses her deep and passionately. You have to press your hand over your mouth to stop a gasp from ripping through you. You want to leave, but you just can’t seem to look away. 

She leans up and wraps her arms around his neck, tucking her face against him. “Naoya. I haven’t seen you in so long.”

He sighs. “I know, darling. But you know how impossible it is to be rid of that bitch.”

It takes you a moment to realize that he’s talking about you. 

The faerie pouts. “I don’t understand why you stay when you should be with me. You promised that you would.”

Naoya runs his hand down her cheek. “And I will. The wedding is in three days' time, and once she's dead, I will be king. Then, nothing will keep you away from me.”

You are suddenly very aware of your racing heartbeat and the weakness of your feet. Dead? This cannot be your fiancé. But it is impossible to deny the truth before you. You can’t stand to listen anymore, so you fly away before they can hear your cries. When you’re far enough away, you allow yourself to sob. You don’t care where you go, just as long as you’re far from Naoya. 

Your tears and delirium unintentionally lead you deeper and deeper into the forest. Farther and farther away from the safety of your willow tree. You hardly care or notice as sharp thorns and branches cut into your skin as you fly by. You don’t notice anything at all, not until several wasps begin flying along either side of you. 

These are nothing like the kind honey bees that live in your kingdom. These creatures take turns pushing hard against you. You do your best to weave and dodge their hits, and if they were faeries you would have out-flown them easily. But the wasps are too quick for you, and avoiding them grows harder as the forest thickens around you.

You gasp out in shock and pain as one of the wasps stabs its stinger through your delicate wing. You can hear and feel the membrane tear apart like thin paper. Your other wing folds at the pressure that it takes on with the damage to the other, and you plummet to the ground below. At least moss softens the blow, but the landing is still rough. 

You’re too numb to move. The weight of Naoya’s betrayal and the pain of your wings has you staring up at the dense tree top view blankly. Tears fall down your cheeks, but you don't have the energy left to even cry out. You just hope that the Earth will take you gently.

“Are you going to stay down there forever?” 

Your head shifts at the new voice. A faerie flutters down to stand before you. He has ebony black hair that flows in the light breeze, and he wears dark plum-colored leaves in a baggy pants style and a long sleeved top with edges that curl into a lighter pink hue. 

You sniffle and try to sit up, but your movements are stiff with the pain. “If I do, it’s none of your business.”

He smiles sharply. “Then should I leave?” 

He turns to fly off, but fear settles into your gut. You, the crown princess, are miles and miles from the willow grove. Stricken by emotional turmoil and torn wings. And worst of all, Naoya is about to destroy your kingdom, if what you heard was true. You need to do something to stop him, and you can’t do it alone. 

“Wait!” you cry out. He pauses, turning slowly to face you, a strange smug look in his eye. “I–my wings.” You try not to get emotional, but the crack in your voice is obvious. 

The man glances at your wings crushed under you and coos. “Aw, you must be in a lot of pain, huh, pretty girl?”

You’re too exhausted to snap at him for his tone. He flutters close and grasps your hands in his, pulling you up gently. Even as you stand, your legs feel weak. 

“I need to get to the willow grove.” you tell him. 

He hums. “Oh, do you?” 

You huff at his dismissive tone. “I am the crown princess, and I need to get back to speak with my court. Something terrible is going to happen.” 

His smile widens. “Oh, I know who you are, Princess.” 

Your nose scrunches up in confusion at the tone of his voice. “Can you help me?” 

He hums again. “I could.” 

Your heart thrums, and you have a strong sense that something is very, very wrong. “Will you help me?”

He stares at you for a long moment, eyes lidded as he regards you. “I won't.”

Your mouth drops open to ask why, when you notice two flitting creatures come up behind him. They’re the two wasps from earlier. They don’t attack, they just hover patiently behind the stranger, almost as if…

You gasp and try to take a staggering step back, but the man’s hands still hold yours. His grip isn’t painful, but it is strong. “You…they were under your control?” 

He smiles. “Attagirl, you’re starting to figure it out.” 

“But…why?” 

He tilts his head. “Does the Spirit King need a reason to do what he pleases in his own kingdom?”

You don’t want to believe him, but you know there’s only one faerie who can control creatures like this man can. And you know you left the boundaries of your kingdom miles ago. The reality of your situation makes you fight harder against his hold, until you finally manage to tug your hands free. 

The force of it sends you falling backwards and of course with your luck that just won’t stop, you land directly onto your broken wings. You can’t hold in the agonizing scream that tears through you when they fold the absolute wrong way. Your body is wracked with tremors of pain so white hot that you can’t suppress your sobs. You turn to lay in a fetal position, to relieve the pressure from your wings. You whimper and press your face to the ground, resigning yourself to your fate. 

The Spirit King is going to kill you, and Naoya is going to take over your kingdom. You wait for the fatal blow, but it never comes. Instead, you feel yourself lifted into strong arms. 

The Spirit King cradles you in his arms, face serious for once. He takes off into the air, heading farther away from your home. When he sees you looking backwards, he grins that stupid grin again. “The Faerie King will pay a heavy price to see you returned. Lucky me, that this opportunity fell right into my arms.”

You clutch your arms around his neck in fear that he’ll decide to just drop you. “You don’t understand. The willow grove is in danger.” 

He peers at you from the side of his eye. “Don’t you worry your little head, Princess. Your father will do anything for his precious little rose, so this ransom won’t last more than a few days.”

You slam your fist against his chest, and you nearly gawk when your hand just bounces off uselessly. “No. There won’t even be a willow grove to return to in a few days.” 

The Spirit King just ignores you and flies the two of you into a knot of a thick tree. Your frustrations grow. “You need to listen to me!”

His lip curls in disgust. “I don’t take orders, especially not in my own kingdom.” 

You huff in annoyance, but you’re too tired to argue more. Despite the way that your mind screams to stay alert, you’ve pushed your body too much as it is. Your head falls against the Spirit King’s chest as you surrender to your exhaustion.

When you wake up, you’re surprised to see that you’re not in a cell or discarded in a ditch. The room you’re in is dark, but comfortable. The bed that you've been laid on is not made of moss or rose like you're used to, instead it looks like it's made out of fabric. When you look around the room, you notice just how much stuff looks like it’s been taken from humans. You’ve seen some of this stuff from afar. Gojo has told you about the miniature furniture that humans make for their tiny handmade dolls. He’s also snuck human contraptions for you to look at, and your favorite are the glittering stones fused to metal bands that he finds in every color imaginable. There are some gems here in this room, but they’re a black-purple color that you’ve never seen before. 

They’re encrusted along the edges of a round mirror. You hardly recognize your reflection, with all the cuts and bruises that marr your skin. And you gasp at the sight of your wings. The left wing is limp by your side, and it barely twitches when you try to move it. The right one had been safe from the wasp’s stinger, but it had definitely been broken in the fall. 

You limp to the edge of the room to identify the outside surroundings. The bark wall has a small window cut into it, and you study the view. Your heart sinks at the sight of ink black trees. The decaying environment makes it obvious that you’re deep in the Cursed Spirit King’s domain. You yell your frustration and look around for something to smash. You settle on tossing the doll chair against the wall. It falls apart easily, and you sink to your knees in defeat. You pull your knees up to your chest, pressing your face into your knees as you cry.

“The dramatics are a bit much, don’t you think?” 

You glare up at the Spirit King with as much contempt as you can muster. He crouches down beside you, reaching his hand out. You flinch and scramble backwards. He keeps his hand extended, and that’s when you notice the salve in his hand. 

“You need to be careful with your wings right now,” he says. “Otherwise they’ll heal crooked.” 

“Why do you care?” You spit out angrily. “You’re the one who did this to me.” 

He doesn’t speak as he carefully massages the salve into your wings. Your spine tingles at the feeling, and you can’t help but shiver. “I didn’t intend for this to happen.” 

You scoff and pull away from his touch. “Yeah, I can really tell.” 

He stands and places the salve on the table next to him. There’s a large hand in front of your face. You look up, rolling your eyes at his faux-gentleman behavior. You stubbornly push off the ground and stand on your own, even though you know it would hurt less if you let him help.

“I’m leaving. And I won’t let you stop me.”

“There’s no need. You’ll be home safe just in time for your stupid coronation and the wedding. I’m sure your idiot fiancé is thinking himself a hero right now, searching the forest for you.” You think he may be trying to ease your mind, but the mention of your fiancé makes your blood boil. 

“Oh, I’ll kill him when I get my hands on that…that fucking weasel.” You kick the broken chair for good measure. 

The Spirit King holds out his hands to placate you. “Woah. Trouble in paradise?” 

You scowl, grabbing the front of his shirt. “You have to take me back now. Before Naoya is crowned king and he has his way with my kingdom.”

For the first time, the Spirit King is shocked by your words. “He–what?” 

His hands reach up to cup your elbows as you keep your fists clenching his shirt. “I heard him,” you gasp out. “It’s why I ended up on the wrong side of the forest. It was a ploy. His plan was to marry me and then dispose of me to become the Faerie King. And now with me gone, he doesn’t even have to get his hands dirty. It doesn’t matter that we’re not married. He’s going to be crowned in three days' time. I need to stop him. Please.”

There’s a long moment of silence from the Spirit King and if your wings weren’t fucked, you’d take to opportunity to fly right out the window. But you’re forced to wait, because you won’t get anywhere without his help. You try to give him your best puppy dog eyes and pouty lips (which work on Shoko every time without fail), but he just rolls his eyes and looks away.

“Don’t do that. Fine, I’ll take you back. But you still owe me a ransom reward.”

You nod eagerly. “Of course, whatever you want. But I have to get back before the coronation.”

He nods. “We’ll leave tomorrow at dawn.”

When he turns to leave, as if the matter is settled just like that, you grab his wrist. He looks down, then back up at you with a look of amusement. You scowl. “We need to leave now. I already wasted enough time sleeping.”

He sighs. “Princess, no offense, but you’re not exactly up for a journey right now. You need to rest, then we’ll go.”

You stomp your foot, and your fingers tighten around his wrist. “I’m not waiting. I’m going to leave this sad excuse of a kingdom today. You can come with me, or you can kiss that reward goodbye. It’s your choice.”

He stares into your eyes, and you match his gaze with your own unrelenting one. You don’t know what he’s looking for, but he must find it on your face. “Fine. We’ll leave today. After I’ve wrapped your wings. I don’t need you dying on me before I deliver you. You’d find a way to blame me for that too.”

“Fine,” you repeat. “But I’m wrapping my wings myself.”

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous, you can’t do it on your own. Let me help.”

You let go of him and step away. “Yeah, right. I trust you about as far as I can throw you, Spirit King.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, pressing his lips in a firm line. “Suguru.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“My name is Suguru. It’s much easier to trust someone when you don’t know them by such a terrifying title. Now, since we’ve been properly introduced, I’ll wrap your wings and we’ll start getting ready for the journey.”

You open your mouth to argue, but he quirks a brow and says, “You can try wrapping your wings on your own, but there’s no need to be so stubborn. If I wanted to kill you, I would have. There have certainly been many opportunities.”

You sputter, your annoyance makes it impossible for you to say anything, because you know it will just amuse him. “I beg your pardon? You can’t speak to me like that. I’m–”

“No one of importance in my domain. The flies here have more authority than you. Now, if you're done puffing your feathers and squawking at me, I’ll go get our supplies ready for the journey.”

You open your mouth to say something, but at the chance of sounding like you’re squawking, you snap it shut. For good measure, you turn away from him and fold your arms in as angry a manner as you can muster.

“Nothing more to say? Good. I’ll be back to wrap your wings in a minute.”

You so badly want to pounce on him and knock some sense into his arrogant self, but unfortunately he is the only faerie who can help you right now. It’s a shame, because you really want to hit him or pull his hair a little bit.

You’re left with your violent thoughts for only a few minutes before he returns with a packed satchel. You make it a point to scowl extra hard at him.

He jerks his head to the bed. “Sit.”

You huff. “You don’t get to order me around. I’m not one of your cursed bugs.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Your Royal Pain-in-the-Ass. Can you please sit on the bed before I make you?”

You turn your nose at his tone of voice, but you sit at the very edge of the bed. Suguru sits behind you, and you can feel the dip in the bed when he does. You sit as still as you can as you feel him stretch your left wing open. You wince at the sharp, pin-prick moments of pain as he stitches the tear closed. Then, he spreads more salve on before wrapping both wings in soft, silky strips of cloth. 

“All done,” he whispers against your ear. You shudder at his closeness and shove him away. He laughs and stands. “I packed some necessities for you, and there’s a change of clothes inside. We’ll leave as soon as you’re ready.”

You push him out of the room to rummage through the bag. You find the set of clothing, and your nose wrinkles at the sight. The fabric is soft, but it’s an ugly set of dark grey pants and shirt. But it looks like it should fit, and you suppose it is more efficient for the journey. Even though you’re the crown princess, and you should never be forced to wear such drab clothing. While changing, you stop to consider a very present problem. You can’t get your wings through the opening in the shirt that they are meant to go through. You scowl when you realize there is only one solution. You open the door to the room, and you hate that you’re relieved to see Suguru waiting against the wall.

“Done?” he asks, stepping forward. You extend your palm to keep him back.

“I can’t get the shirt on without hurting my wings. Can you…” you trail off, too embarrassed about the fact that you need his help for such a stupid task, “Can you help me?”

He grins. “Aw, of course, sweetheart.”

Before he can come any closer, you growl and close the door so that it’s only a crack open. “You know what? I’m sorry I asked. I’ll just do it myself.”

He presses his hand to the door so that you can’t fully close it, but he tilts his head away. “Come on, I’m just teasing. Like you said, you can’t do it on your own.”

You grip the edge of the door, and you can’t help the anger in your voice as you say, “I don’t need your help. I’m not weak, I can deal with it on my own. Sorry for asking.”

“Don’t be stubborn. Will you just let me help you?” 

You don’t budge, and it makes him sigh. “I don’t think you're weak, not for this of all things. Just…think of it as penance. For, you know, attacking you. Or whatever.”

You hesitate a moment longer, but you really do need help with your shirt. You let go of the door and turn. How many times are you going to turn your back to this man? It makes you feel vulnerable, to be half dressed, and injured, and so far away from home. You refuse to look back as Suguru slips your wings through the slits on the back of the shirt, more gently than you’d think of him. He pulls it over your head too, even though you could have done that on your own. You pull your arms through the sleeves before he can do that too. You turn to face him. 

“Can we go now? We could probably cover a lot of distance before the sun sets if we leave now. Depending on how far away you dragged us from my home.”

He lifts his hands in defense. “Well, sorry. How was I supposed to know that the Zen’in brat was planning a coup?”

You stare at him. You so badly want to smack him, and it takes everything in you to refrain from doing so. “Because I told you. Multiple times.”

He shrugs. “Eh, it's all a matter of perspective, and we’ll never know for sure. Come on.”

Suguru opens his arms to you. You blink at him slowly. Does he want a fucking hug or something?

You ask him as much, and he rolls his eyes at you. “You’re ready, aren’t you? C’mon, I have to carry you.”

You take a step back, shaking your head adamantly. “Oh, there is no way I’m letting you carry me. I don’t even know what kind of…diseases you carry.”

This is all so very amusing to him, and his grin widens. “Diseases, huh? That’s a new one. Look, we can’t make the journey in two days on foot, and in case you’ve forgotten you can’t fly.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” you snap at him. “But this is not going to happen.”

“You have to admit, this isn’t so bad.”

You lean your head farther away from Suguru. He’d said all matter-of-factly that a face-to-face carry would keep both of your wings intact. So here you are with your arms wrapped around his neck and your legs pressed to his right side. You try to ignore the feel of his strong right arm holding your legs secure, with the left arm wrapped carefully around your waist. 

You roll your eyes. “This is terrible. You stink, and your hair is everywhere.”

Truthfully—and you would rather die than admit this out loud—he’s easy on the eyes, and his touch is sweet. He doesn’t tease you about your position or the way your arms tighten around him when the wind makes you waver, and you’re grateful for it. You already feel so exposed, and bless the stars Suguru doesn’t acknowledge it or make it worse. 

You don’t know how long you’ve been travelling when Suguru flies down to the soft Earth. The sun is setting, and it will be difficult for him to see soon. You eat a simple meal side-by-side before tucking in for the night. You’d found an empty log, and Suguru instructed a large spider to watch over the two of you in your sleep. You pick a space as far as you can from the arachnid, because the memory of the wasps is still too fresh in your mind. 

You curl up with your cloth-wrapped wings drawn over your body. You blame your tears on your exhaustion, and you can only hope that Suguru has fallen asleep and doesn’t hear your sniffling. 

“Are you alright?” His voice cuts through the night.

You wipe your eyes uselessly. “I’m fine. I must be allergic to the air here.”

“Right, the air.” He doesn’t sound even a little bit convinced. “I guess you’ve gotten too accustomed to the magic that you’ve stolen, and the blessings that it's brought you.”

You wrinkle your nose in confusion. You shift so that you’re laying on your back, making sure that your wings are not pinned under your body. “What are you talking about?”

You hear him scoff in the dark. “Please, don’t act like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you don’t know.”

The urge to slap Suguru just gets stronger and stronger every moment around him. “Hey, Bug King. I have no clue what stolen magic you’re talking about, and your attitude doesn’t make it better, you know.”

“You really have no clue?”

“None. Will you tell me?”

There’s a moment of silence, and you think he might have fallen asleep. 

“My kingdom isn’t meant to be like this. It was beautiful, once. The decay of my domain is a curse of magic. For generations, your willow tree has been siphoning the life of my kingdom.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “That’s not possible. I think we would know if the willow tree was taking its power from your kingdom.”

He doesn’t respond, but it’s an answer enough. 

“Wait, you think we’ve done this? On purpose? That’s…that’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” He asks, and you falter. You can’t think of that reality. “Clearly, you have no part in this. Yet, at least. But when you’re queen, your father will probably let you in on the family secret.”

“No, no way. He wouldn’t…” you hesitate when you think of your father and what he is capable of, “I would never allow that.”

Suguru sighs. “Sure, Princess. You say that now, but a queen does what’s necessary for her people.”

“I’m serious. If our willow is causing this…decay of all of this land, then I have to put a stop to it. It’s a bastardization of everything that we do for Mother Nature.”

It’s quiet for a long minute. Finally, you hear rustling from Suguru’s side. “You should sleep. We have a long day of traveling ahead of us.”

Suguru refuses to continue your conversation from the night before. Why, you’re not sure, since it’s quite obvious that this will be the favor he asks as his reward for your safe return. You think it makes sense to discuss it now, because you agree with him. Clearly, he doesn’t feel the same way. He avoids the topic like it’s the plague. You tried apologizing in the morning, and the look on his face made it obvious that the topic was off limits. Still, you make the effort to be kinder to him, considering the fact that your kingdom has turned his own into a wasteland. 

He stares at the horizon as he flies, keeping an eye out in case Naoya’s search has crossed onto this side of the border. This task allows him to ignore you, much to your chagrin. You give up on trying to catch his eye, instead turning to look down below. Your eyebrows furrow as you consider Suguru’s revelation from yesterday. The trees you fly past are withered beyond repair, but the closer you fly towards your kingdom—your willow tree—the less dead they look. 

You can’t believe that you’ve been misled your whole life. How many people hold this secret? How many people know the truth—that the bordering faerie kingdom does not cause its own decay because of its people’s use of dark magic, rather it is because of your kingdom. It makes you feel sick.

A high-pitched call pulls you away from your thoughts. You squint into the distance, where the sound had come from. There is a bird flying towards you. Your eyes brighten. This must be one of the search party’s birds, come to take you home. You lift a hand to call for it, but as it gets closer, your heart drops. 

You turn to face Suguru, who is watching the bird with narrowed eyes. “You don’t happen  to know that particular bird, do you?”

He doesn’t answer the question, but you don’t need him to. The bird, which you can now identify as a black kite, does not look friendly in any capacity. 

Suguru glances at you. “Hold on tight, Princess.”

You don’t need to be told twice. You wrap your arms around his neck, and you can feel him wrap his arms around you in response. As the bird approaches, he dives sharply. It shoots above you as he weaves through the treetops in hopes of it losing your trail. You scan the sky above for sight of it as Suguru focuses on the view ahead. There’s no sight of it above, which you find awfully suspicious. You open your mouth to say as much, but the bird suddenly slams into the two of you from the side. The force is so unexpected that it knocks you out of Suguru’s arms. He reaches out to grab you, but the kite has other plans as it nips at him with deadly intent. You can only watch in horror as it attacks him, unable to do anything as you sink to the ground below. Again.

This time, you land in an icy stream of water. The force of the fall steals your breath away. Your wings are like dead weight as you struggle to the surface. You do your best to swim to shore, fighting against the strong current. It tries hard to knock you off balance. You scramble for purchase, grabbing out desperately for something to stop your movement. Finally, your grip closes over the stem of a dandelion, and you haul yourself to solid ground. You cough up water and try to catch your breath. At least Suguru had made you wear pants, otherwise you never would have made it to shore. Your body jolts to attention at the thought, and you're surprised at the amount of worry that courses through you at the thought of the Spirit King. Your teeth are chattering and your shoulders are shaking, but you stand and examine the skies above for any sight of Suguru or the kite.

You desperately want to call out for him, but you don’t in fear that Naoya is still out searching for you. You look around, desperate for a glimpse of him anywhere. Yes, you’re worried that you’ll be lost and unable to return home, but if anything happens to Suguru, you will feel responsible. Even though you’ve been unsuccessful, your eyes swipe over the treetops once more. Still, you have no luck. 

“What are you looking for, Princess?”

You gasp and turn at the sound of the voice. It’s Suguru, hair ruffled and body scratched up, but alive.

“Your ride is here,” he says sarcastically, as if to diffuse your worries. You grasp him in your arms and pull him into a tight hug. His hands hesitate, but then he wraps his arms around you, careful of your limp wings.

You rest your head against his chest as you look up at him. “I thought you were dead.”

He gives you a sharp grin. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.” But his smile weakens as he says, “When I saw you fall and then disappear, I…I’m glad you’re not hurt.”

You bury yourself against him to steal his warmth, still shivering from your swim. Suguru notices, because he presses his mouth into a firm line and says, “We should make camp for tonight. I’ll build a fire.”

You want to protest, because you’re so close, but Suguru doesn’t relent. He builds a quick fire to sit you in front of it, and then he disappears. You don’t worry for long, because he returns and drops warm fabric over your shoulders. You clutch it to your chest, looking at him curiously. 

“Spider’s silk,” He explains. 

You nod and nuzzle into the comforting fabric as he adds to the fire. “Do you control the creatures, when you tell them what to do?” You ask. 

Suguru tilts his head. “Do you control your people? It's much the same. They do what I ask, because I am their king.”

You snort at the thought. “They hardly listen to me. Gojo and Shoko only do what I want if I ask nicely and only if they feel like it.”

At his questioning glance, you continue, “My personal guards. Well, they’re my friends, really. They’re probably going mad with worry because of me.”

You feel guilty all over again at the stress you’re putting them through. You stare into the fire, pulling your legs up to hug them against your chest. You hide your pout against your knees. 

“They must have…interesting personalities, in order to keep up with your antics.”

You scoff and reach an arm out to shove him. “Shut up, I am perfectly tolerable!”

He evades your touch easily, grinning at you. “Tolerable? If you say so. But if you give them half as much trouble as you give me…”

You can’t help but laugh at him. “Please, they’re so much worse than me. You should see Gojo when they bring out sweets at any event. He’s like a vacuum. And he always teases me like it would kill him not to make fun of me. And Shoko! Oh, you’d think she was an angel compared to me and Gojo. But the things she says under her breath would make clan elders keel over and die at the vulgarity. She knows exactly what to say to tear someone apart.”

You pick at the material of your pants, which have dried from the warmth of the fire. “I think you’d like them.”

“They sound fun. You really care about them,” his voice is soft, but it carries in the night.

You sigh and peer up at the night sky, as if they will appear from thin air. “I’m not very good at showing it. All I do is make them worry about me. I make their job so much harder.”

It’s silent for a moment, and you really wish you hadn’t said anything. Then, Suguru’s large hand is on your shoulder. You look up at him, and he gives you a small smile. “From what you’ve told me, it seems like they match you very well.”

“But like you said, I’m a lot of trouble.”

He sighs. “I didn’t…that’s not what I meant. I like that you give me a hard time.”

You raise an eyebrow at his words. “Really?” You say incredulously.

“Really. Maybe it’s weird, but I like riling you up. I like to argue with you, and I like that you argue back.” 

“You are weird,” you agree, grinning at him. Your breath catches when you realize just how close the two of you have gotten as you talked. You try to ignore it, but the heat of the fire just intensifies the warmth in your stomach and the fast beating of your heart.

Suguru looks down, eyes flickering from your lips to your eyes. The way his dark gaze sweeps over your face makes you shiver. The two of you lean even closer, and you nearly brush against his mouth. You can feel his warm breath tickle your face as he says, “Is this alright, Princess?”

Something about the way he uses your title makes you pause. It makes you think of Naoya. And once you start thinking about him, it's hard to stop. It makes you overthink this moment with Suguru. You pull back quickly. Suguru looks into your eyes with a soft expression on his face. “Are you okay?”

You laugh in disbelief. Are you okay?

“I’m so stupid,” you mutter. You stand suddenly, stumbling away from the faerie next to you. 

Suguru lifts a hand towards you, but you slap the hand away. “Don’t touch me,” you warn him. “Don’t.”

His eyebrows furrow. “What happened? What have I done? Let me fix it.”

You rub a hand over your face. “You’re just like him. I have something you want, and you’ll do anything to secure it. You don’t have to butter me up, I’m already going to give you your ransom, your kingdom’s magic, whatever you want. Do you have to be so cruel? Just leave my heart alone,” you beg.

Suguru sucks in a sharp breath. “You think that’s what’s going on? Princess–” 

You shake your head and reply coldly, “This was a mistake. I’m going to sleep, to prepare for our journey tomorrow.”

You don’t stop to hear him out, because you know just how weak you are. He’ll easily convince you that you’re overthinking, but you don’t want to think logically about it right now. Not when your thoughts have been overrun with Naoya’s betrayal. You find a spot far from the warmth of the fire and Suguru. You sleep facing away from him, curling into yourself for comfort. This whole trip, you’ve been foolish to trust him so easily. You’ve allowed yourself to crave something you can’t have, and you’re determined not to make the same mistake again. 

Ever since you landed in Suguru’s kingdom, you’ve been nothing but a weak, useless thing. You’ve given him too much control over you, and you cannot give him your heart on top of everything else. Even as you avoid him, it is his spider silk fabric wrapped around you, his clothing that you wear, and his handiwork that has mended your wings. He surrounds you, and you hate it.

You ignore him the next morning as the two of you eat a quick meal. You ignore him during the rest of the flight, and you ignore him even as you arrive at the willow tree on the day of Naoya’s coronation. 

You want to be more offended by your parents for giving their power to Naoya after only three days of being missing, but you know they have very little choice. Today is the Spring Equinox, and without an exchange of power now, your kingdom will produce a very barren Spring bounty. You've been preparing for this day since you were old enough to understand the duties required of you, and Naoya is about to take all of it away from you like a gull snapping up fish. 

You storm down the halls inside the willow tree with Suguru hot on your heels. You can hear him jog to keep up with the vicious path that you’re on. The closer you get to the grand hall, the better you can hear the singing of faeries, and it makes your anger bubble hotter and hotter.

As soon as the oversized doors of the hall are in your sight, you extend an arm out, causing the doors to fly open with the force of your power. You’ve been trying to conserve your strength ever since the injury of your wings, and the rush of magic through your veins feels so, so good.

The loud bang of the door turns all the attention on you. Hundreds of eyes bore into you, and you can hear the gasps of shock and the whispers that run amok. But your eyes are locked on the figure standing proudly on the dais. His grin melts away oh-so-fast when he sees his fiancé back from the dead. Your grin widens, and you tilt your chin downwards. You hadn’t thought it would be this satisfying to see Naoya staring at you with such horror.

You take your time stalking towards him.

“M-my beloved! You’ve returned to me!” He’s dedicated, even now, which is quite impressive. Maybe he doesn’t yet know that you know of his betrayal.

The platform gives him height over you, so you step onto the dais and circle around him. The closer you step towards him, the more he steps back, until he stumbles down the steps of the dais. You smile, looking down at him. 

“Are you surprised to see me? It would have been so easy for you, if I had stayed missing so you wouldn't have to kill me yourself.” As you expect, gasps ripple around the hall at your statement.

Naoya falls to his knees before you. “Darling, how could you say such a thing? I have been searching for you faithfully.”

You laugh carries in the room. “Faithfully, hm? Were you faithful when you took a lover during our entire relationship? I heard you that day. I know exactly what you intended to do. Did you think you would get away with it?”

His carefully expressed face breaks as his lips dip into an ugly scowl. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“No? Am I not the bitch you courted?” You throw the insult back in his face.

You feel powerful, with him on his knees before you and all your people. You’re so distracted by this success that you don’t notice the way his hand wraps around the handle of his rapier. 

Suguru does notice though, somehow, because as soon as Naoya pulls out his blade and stands to cut you, Suguru has already moved. He grabs a rapier from the sheath of a guard and blocks Naoya’s weapon. You stare up at his back with wide eyes, almost shocked by his speed. 

He turns his head to you slightly. “Princess, you should get out of the way now.”

You blink to attention and step off the dais as Suguru easily presses his strong arm down, forcing Naoya to exert twice the amount of strength. So many guards surround you, yet they all watch the fight, entranced. You understand why. Suguru moves effortlessly, as if he’s merely putting on a show for the crowd. Every movement is smooth and intentional, and it doesn’t hurt that his muscles ripple beautifully. 

In contrast, Naoya scrambles with each of his strikes, barely managing to keep up with Suguru. It’s pathetic to see him like this, and you can’t believe that was the man you almost married. Maybe he did you a favor by trying to orchestrate your assassination. As you watch the fight, you vaguely register the fact that they’re moving towards you. Unfortunately, Naoya notices this fact too, and he reaches out desperately. He manages to grab you before you can evade him, and he holds you in front of him. His sword presses against your neck, and you wince at the feeling. 

“You should step back, fiend. Before I cut her throat,” Naoya taunts, which is definitely a mistake on his part.

You can feel the point of his weapon drawing blood, but Suguru moves so fast you nearly miss the look on his face. He stares at Naoya with so much murder in his gaze that you’re certain he’s seeing red. Naoya is knocked down before he can hurt you any further, and Suguru is before you before Naoya hits the ground. The anger in his face has melted into concern. He reaches out, cradling you gently. His palm presses against your cheek, and you lean into the touch. 

You only get one moment like this before you can hear Gojo and Shoko call out for you. The sound of their voices pulls you back to reality, and you suddenly remember where you are, and who Suguru is to everyone in the hall.

You pull away from Suguru to greet your guards. They bow their heads in greeting, and Shoko starts saying something about how they were worried about you, but you lean forward and pull the two of them into a tight hug. Your arms curl around them, and you’ll admit that your eyes tear up a little bit. You can feel both of their arms hover over your back before they relent and hug you back even tighter. You don’t have to guess the moment when Gojo notices Suguru behind you, because you feel his arm stiffen around you.

You get pulled behind him as he pulls his rapier from its sheath. He extends his weapon with one hand, and the other spreads out protectively.

“Drop your weapon,” he tells Suguru, ice seeping into his words. You step forward, but Suguru is already surrendering. 

Gojo pushes Suguru down to his knees and Shoko is immediately beside them, lifting her sword until it presses under his chin. She uses her blade to tilt his chin upwards, staring down at him with disgust.

You beg them to stop. “Don’t, please.”

“Highness, this is the Spirit King. Don’t worry, he won’t be able to hurt you anymore.” You groan at Gojo’s loyalty.

You rush forward, placing your hand on his bicep to calm him down. “Satoru, don’t. He saved me, he brought me back home.”

Gojo clenches his jaw. “Why were you in his domain to begin with? Why are you hurt? I can’t—I won’t let him go.”

“It was my fault, I ran because of Naoya, and I got myself hurt and lost. He saved me. You must stop this at once. Please.” A little fib never hurt anyone, especially because Gojo would never stand down if he heard the truth.

Gojo glares at you for a moment, but he finally releases Suguru. “Fine. But you’re in a lot of trouble, Highness. Sneaking out of your room? What were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t,” you admit. “But you can scold me later. There’s someone else that you can imprison.”

You jerk your head over to the pathetic form of your ex-fiancé, who is moaning and groaning on the ground. You can tell that your guards don't want to leave your side, but they turn to deal with Naoya, giving you a moment alone with Suguru.

 “Thank you,” he says softly. “I should leave, before they change their minds.”

Your heart freezes. “Leave? But I haven’t given you your reward yet.” 

He shakes his head. “Maybe at first that was all I cared about, but now it's different. I know you don’t trust me, but I never want to use you, or make you feel like I might. I don’t care about your magic, or your wealth. I just–I care about you, Princess.”

“You…” You don’t know how to respond, but you grasp his hand before he can even think about walking away. “Why would you leave then, before I can tell you I feel the same way?”

His eyes widen slightly, but he shakes his head. “You can’t. You have a kingdom to lead, and I have mine. Our paths are not meant to cross.”

But they already have, you think.

The words rush out of your mouth before you can second guess them. “I want you to be part of my council.” 

Even as they’re out, you don't regret them. In fact, you mean them even more, when you see his surprise.

It seems like all you can do is shock him. He laughs in disbelief. “They will never allow or accept that.”

You shrug. “I don’t care. I’ve learned a lot from you these last few days, and it only makes sense that you have a seat at my council, when families with weaker titles have positions they don’t deserve. Besides, I need your help to figure out how the willow tree has been taking your kingdom’s prosperity, and how to return it.”

You’ve found a way to surprise him yet again. “You can’t…Your kingdom would not prosper as much as it does now, if you did that. You must think of your people.”

You hum in thought. “Well, I guess I’ll have to find ways to strengthen my allyship with the bordering kingdom, then. You wouldn’t happen to know how I can send a message to the king? I am meant to be crowned queen, you know.”

Suguru looks at you, and it makes you want to say anything, if it will make him stay here, with you. He leans forward and cradles your head between his large palms. He stares at you through heavy lids. “I think I can get him to agree.”

[velvetvexations]

I’m. So baffled by that one dude saying that trans men being able to pretend to be women is a privilege, because in his tags he says that it’s a thing specific to transmascs. Does he mean pretending to be cis as a means of safety is a transmasc specific thing?? Because uh, I’m… pretty sure that’s something that can be done regardless of a trans person’s gender? There are transfems and nonbinary people who can also pretend to be cis [whatever their agab was], too?

Its also not a privilege. Having to hide what you are out of fear isn’t a fucking privilege lmao

strangely people understand that when it's about trans women

just saw a post on my dash saying "'infighting' is a dogwhistle which frames transfems as aggressors". i really hope the tide is turning like you said, bc this shit is getting exhausting and im still seeing it from random people i follow who otherwise gave no indication that they drank the koolaid.

they make me out to be the aggressor all the time!

Nazi imagery anon here

These are the pics I was referring to.

As you can see it’s posted on the verified border security account and you can see two different nazi symbols on him :(

yeah it looks like standards for what they allow soldiers to adorn themselves with are low and the person taking and posting the pics aren't paying good enough attention because that guy also straight up has a naked anime bitch on his knife sheath

as I said this is an individual thing and they need to start knocking their heads together like the Three Stooges and sending them into trenches first

You know who saying that th**fab is actually a storied term that trans fems have been using to identify transmisogonists is fucking insane like girl that's such obvious lie give us nothing

they aren't even trying

It’s crazy how almost every other day on this site I see a new post with like 50k notes talking about how absolutely NOBODY deserves to be harassed, sent death threats or be put on blast yet once again I’m seeing people trying to justify the harassment of another transmasc teenager. Honestly people should just start openly admitting Tumblr is becoming increasingly hostile towards trans masculine individuals, I don’t see clownery on this level on any other platform-

Tumblr...is really bad.

I think the reason why this whole headcanons discourse bothers me so much is that is really is just fuelled by petty spite. Like all these characters are cisgender in canon. We make headcanons because it’s FUN to expand on characters in ways that reflect our different life experiences in whatever form that may take. Intentionally going after transmascs, especially young transmascs, for doing this with characters like they like and accusing them of all these different things genuinely does just feel like bigotry. Who cares if a head canon may not make the most amount of sense? It’s a cisgender fictional character we’re playing around with! Why does it have to be some grand act of activism to say blorbo number 3 is transmasc? We have much bigger fish to fry here.

exactly it's such dedication to not letting anyone else have anything

So sick of people acting like trans men are the same as cis men under the patriarchy and moreso im really sick of the "you're privileged to not be surrounded by men". Like, for lack of better phrasing, saying that about a group of people that is generally perceived as "failure women" pre transition (and sometimes during and post) is a little tone deaf. All about acknowledging how women and people perceived as women are harmed by misogyny until the ones perceived are men. Gender essentialism is ugly and tasteless and nonsensical. Please feel free to delete this im just rambling without a point

rambling is okay anon <3

„wow ur so privileged to not fear men”

i fear the fucking everyone asshole, i just realized that isnt everyone elses fault so i should still treat them with respect !!!!!

that woman called me a "self-hating doll" and I hate the second part a lot more than the first

[romaevelizz]

Venus ˖ ࣪⊹

Severus Snape x Wife!Reader

sum: Over 15 years together. Their love was never second guessed or had changed, but was destroyed by something bigger than them.

warnings: Angst, cursing, mentions of children(their parents), character death. not proofread.

“I’m tired Severus..”

His eyes looking up at the women, his wife. He knew she was tired that she wanted this all to be over. She wanted to feel safe, she wanted for their children to be safe. He wanted nothing more than to make that possible for them, for his girls. But life’s not as simple as taking his family far away from the dangers of hogwarts and The Dark Lord.

The Darkness of their private chambers surrounded them, the only light coming from the fire, he hated seeing her cry. Her gentle hands whipping away the tears that ran down her face, the golden ring on her left hand that glistens. A symbol of their love, their trust, their devotion. As Severus made his way close to her he reached out his hands, them cupping her face carefully.

His eyes watched her carefully, part of him wanting to hear her thoughts, but they were still, just like he taught her. She was tierd her dark features showing the circles under her eyes the wrinkle in her brow become more profound, she was washed out her warm undertone now cool. His thumbs gently brushed her tears away, his hands pulling her close to him. Severus placed soft kisses on her temple, “I’m so sorry my dear..” he whispered into her hair placing another kiss.

He wanted to go Home, he wanted to take his girls home away from her but he couldn’t. She couldn’t ask him either because she knew, she knew that this was asked of him. That’s this was expected of him. He held her close as close as he could.

She couldn’t stand how the students were getting treated how her children’s lives were threatened if Severus didn’t follow through with the plans. Yet as plans proceed, things became more dangerous. Dangerous to the point of war, “They can’t stay here, if war were to break out who knows what would become of the castle.” Her hushed tone argued with her husband.

“If our girls leave from his line of sight god knows what he’d do, they’re safest here.”

“Zhuriya can stay, she’s the one he’s most fascinated with yes? She strong and able to protect herself, she had already planed on fighting alongside her classmates if things were to happen.” She hissed, “But Sa’diya and Elani can’t, for gods sake Elani is mearly months old and Diya is 5.”

He shook his head “They’re Safest her, please. Please don’t take them or leave them with someone else.” He spoke his tone begging for her to trust him and to not do anything rash that could put her in danger let alone their babies.

Moments of peace weren’t common by any means but even in the dark of times he could feel at ease. The dark of the night the cries of the newborn could be heard, yes at first it can cause worry. Hushing his wife back to sleep he spotted his 5 year old curled against her mother, kissing her head he slipped out of bed to retrieve the youngest. Her soft cries nothing out of the ordinary, just her vocally sharing her discomfort and hunger.

He hummed picking the baby out of her crib, the hushed tone of his voice immediately calming her down. By no means was another child apart of their plan of the dark lords take over nor a new born at that, a new born that was a bit more difficult than their other two. “hmm hello sweet girl… what causes you such distress..” He cooed craddeling Elani in his arms.

As he walked into the living room there sat his eldest candle lit by her side and book in her lap, her body curled up on the couch as she read. “I was going to get her.” Zhuriya spoke her gaze not leaving her book.

He hummed “There’s no need, hoping i don’t have to wake your mother to feed her,” he paused for a moment whispering a quick spell lighting the fire place. “reasoning to why your not in bed?” he asked standing next to the arm of the couch she rested on.

“no classes tommorow, and simply couldn’t sleep.” she spoke her tone flat, just as his always was.

his brows frowned, Severus knew his eldest and knew she could sleep in any situation. She was having nightmares again, at least that’s what he called them, to her they were types of visions in a way showing her things in the future. Sometimes, actually almost all the time they came true even if they were just close calls. “You want to talk about it?”

She looked up slightly “Their just nightmares right?” shifting in her seat she closed her book and sat up “They don’t mean anything.” she finished placing her book down walking past him into the kitchen.

“Zhuriya..” He called them nightmares to comfort her in a way or at least tried to comfort her, but in the end these dreams were always right. He watched as his eldes daughter grabbed a bottle that just needed heating up, quick wave of her wand it was perfect.

“You can go back to be dad i got her.”

Severus took the bottle form her, “I have her, now please. Tell me what you’re seeing, your mind is to still to invade it.” he spoke his tone a bit teasing at the end.

Ushering her back to the living space they both sat down, Zhuri next to her Father as he fed the baby. She played with her fingers as she built up the courage to say something, she looked just like her mother when she worried. Her dark curls covering her face as she looked down, “The Elder Wand.” she spoke softly.His attention was on her, what about it? what about the elder wand kept her from sleeping?

When her gaze met his he saw her waterlines building with tears, “When Draco, well when you disarmed Dumbledore, the elder wand no longer belongs to him. The master you could say is the person who disarms the last holder..” she spoke her voice shaky, “Now The Dark Lord has it. But It will never truly fully obey him unless.”

“Unless I’m killed.” he finished for her. He watched her lip quiver as she nodded.

Severus pulled her close to him, baby still in arms. There wasn’t anything he could say to comfort her because with that simple explanation it was inevitable. “Shh, My sweet girl..”

“I saw That snake sink it teeth into you. He didn’t even spare you the suffering, god.” her she spoke in a muffled cry. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head his arm still holding her close.

“Zhuriya, Baby what’s wrong?” the worried voice of her mother causing them to look up. ‘Don’t tell her what you told me, please my dear i need her to rest easy..’

He felt her nod against him “Baby what’s the matter?” she asked again now closer bending down infront of their daughter.

“Just stress of school, wondering if Draco is safe..” She muttered. Y/n held her daughters face kissing her daughters cheeks softly. The two exchanged some words he kinda shut down, He’d die? No, he couldn’t not while he’s still active he couldn’t leave them, He couldn’t leave Y/n.

“Severus.. Sev baby?” Y/ns voice broke him out of his trace.

He hummed “Let’s go to bed.. Elani is out and Zhuri is going to head back to bed. I put Diya back in her bed but don’t be surprised if she’s in yours Z..” she hummed.

Zhuri shook her head a small smile tugging at her lips “She struggling to stay in her own bed?”

His wife nodded “She’s just at the age and with everything going on…”. Zhuri nodded“right.. Goodnight mama, night Daddy. I love you guys.” Zhuriya said before heading towards her room.

As she left to room His wife looked at him, “what was that?” she asked. She knew that her daughter had lied to her.

Severus shook his head as he approached her, his hands falling to the side of her arms. With a kiss to her temple he whispered “Tis nothing my love, let’s return to bed..” his works comforting as he hugged her and the baby in her arms. The hug lingered Severus closing his eyes tightly as he embraced her.

He spend every day since that night taking in as much as he could with him girls but knowing when he’d be taken from them. Showing them his love for them in affection he never really displayed, kissed to the temple, constant I love yous, hugs. Everything he could.

Y/n knew something was wrong but nobody would tell her, she was left in the darkness of his affection. How cruel of him to keep this but, he couldn’t just tell her, his wife that he’d die in days time. That soon it would be the last time he’d kiss her and embrace her, after years of being by her side. She’d lose her mind knowing that he’d die as some point and end up trying to prevent it.

Severus felt his heart stop when that moment the dark lord started explaining to him the reason of his wand now fully working for him was because of him. He knew that this was that moment. He knew that morning was the last time he’d see his girls and by gods they weren’t even fully happy. He wouldn’t get to see them happy again and it’s his fault.

“Promise me, by killing me you won’t touch them. You wont hurt my family.”

Laying on the cold ground, the taste of his own blood sickening to him. Potter was the first to find him, “Just hold on professor, please just hold on.” He spoke. Harry’s trembling hands left his throat as he got up.

“Y/n… i’m so sorry..” his voice soft as he cried out for his wife.

He would die here alone, maybe it was better that way. He could feel his heart to slow down, the difficulty of breathing becoming harder. He begun to close his eyes, just as he did, just as he was about to let himself take his last breath.

Her voice. “Severus! no! No, no, no..”

The cry of his name leaving her mouth. opening his eyes he saw her rushing towards him.

No, don’t do this. His heart begun to break watching as she fell to her knees her hands immediately falling to his wound. He couldn’t hear was she was saying her voice muffled as she could only watch her, his weak hand finding her face as she sobbed.

Her beautiful features covered in tears, dirt and blood. Even as distraught as she was she was still so beautiful, His heart heavy as she trembled her touch becoming shaken. With the strength he had left he brought her close to him, her hands never leaving their spot.

“I’m sorry.” he whispered.

Her heavy cries begging him not to leave yet. That she needed him, that his girls needed him still. Her hushed tones say that this wasn’t fair, “You’ve only ever done what’s asked of you..” she said lifting her head looking him in the eyes.

“They’ve done nothing but set you up for your own death. It’s not fair….” she cried her fire heat touching his, he felt her tears on his own face.

“You didn’t ask for this life..” he rasped , “This wasn’t the life i promised you… I love you so much.” he cried softly.

“you’ve done more that enough for me, for us.”

with a heavy breath she begun again “I couldn’t ask for anything more from you..” she could feel his touch become softer his hand falling from her.

In this moment was their love was destroyed by The man everyone feared.

She couldn’t do this, she couldn’t bear losing another one of her boys, the lose of their first and only son, her father and now him. the most important men in her life always dying off like this with her begging from them not to leave her. Them always calling out her name before she could save them.

She couldn’t lose him too, but perfect could keep this love alive his death was inevitable. wasn’t it. this was always the way he’d be taken from her. She couldn’t tell him how he couldn’t have lister her vetted that he was always the man she asked for. But in the end they were always ment to say goodbye.

Severus became cold to her touch. “Thank you.. Thank you for loving me, loving me better than anyone ever has.” he spoke, his breath horsed.

“I love you so, i love you so much Y/n.” He said his finally breath in play.

He could bear it, But in this moment was the best way he could’ve died, in her arms, her weight on him. With her his death could be peaceful. He wasn’t alone, she wouldn’t ever let him be alone. Not in their years of hogwarts, Not when his parents died, not when he first got his mark, not when he begun to close him self off, not now. He promised her no matter how long he’d have to wait, in every universe in every timeline he’d wait for her. Even if he died alone. Cause how could such a women be left by her self, how could he love another women as he did her?

Even in death he still looked so gorgeous, but god did looking at him make this harder. But she had to accept it she couldn’t save him, Not with out her taking her own life and even then who knew if it be sucssesful, She couldn’t leave her children orphans.

He was still holding on, she couldn’t imagine the pain he was in the sharp sting of venom in his body. “Fuck..” she cursed shaking her head.

“I know… I know it’s time for you to go.. it’s- It’s okay.” she cried softly, her permission letting him close his eyes.

Letting go gently she fell into his chest, his heart no longer beating. He was really gone. Covered in his blood she held on to him for a bit longer.

All severus as done was do was was told on him, he never did anything not asked of him. Dumbledore and Voldemort i’d be planing his death for years. For years the only light and care he’d experience was with his girls. Now he’s never see them again.

Even though he was.. well dead his brain wasn’t he could still feel her presents, hear her voice. surrounded by Darkness the last thing he heard was his eldest. Her blood curtailing scream, That was was last thing he had to remember hearing. His first daughter and his wife screaming his name, their cries together unbearable to his heart.

Just one last chance, that all he wanted, he couldn’t leave them.. he could put them through that pain. His heart ached.

“Severus…” His name was called out, Y/ns voice ringing trough his headspace.

“Severus, my love..”

He felt his eyes open, his body sitting up quickly his hand falling on to his chest quickly his hands touching his throat.

“Shhh, Shh it’s okay…” she hushed her hand falling or his chest and back, her body sitting up already.

His Eyes fell on her, her brows frowned, quickly he brought her into any embrace.. “Sev it’s okay.. It’s been over.. Your okay. You’re safe now you’re here with us.” she whispered her arms hugging him back.

“how long..”

“5 months..” she said.

He nodded him still holding her. Opening his eyes he notices the were in their private chambers at hogwarts. This bc had gone back to normal, he was at work again, he knew his two youngest were in their rooms sleeping soundly. His eldest away Exploring and studying in Russia.

Pulling back he looked as he in the eyes “Were safe, our girls are safe.” she reassured again.

“I know i just.. Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Everything.” he spoke simply kissing her lips.

[suguslve]

‧˚꒰🍷꒱༘‧— ECHOES OF A LOST LOVE

synopsis: the bond you shared with Draco was unbreakable, a love that grew deeper than anything to the point where nothing could ever sever it. but what would happen to you and your relationship once Draco was compelled to follow his family’s dark path?

♰ pairings. draco malfoy x gn!reader

♰ genre. fluff to angst

♰ warnings. major character death, a little ooc...(i think!) pet names included (love, doll, dear)

♰ word count. 2k

♰ a/n. this was set during the deathly hallows aka during their sixth year at Hogwarts. reader is from a diff house. inspired by the famous "congratulations, my love!" to "please, my love..." lines from rioagatha. enjoy reading and lmk your thoughts!

The world around you seemed to fade, the cheers and shouts dimming as your gaze fixed solely on him. He had done it—he had caught the snitch that secured Slytherin's victory. As you watched him celebrate with his teammates, your heart swelled with an overwhelming sense of love and pride. You knew how hard he had worked for this, all the late nights spent on the pitch was worth it. His eyes swept the crowd, searching, until he found you.

He grabbed his broom and made his way toward you in the stands.

"Did you see me, love? I finally did it! We won!" he exclaimed, his voice full of excitement.

You chuckled softly as a smile tugged at your lips. "Congratulations, my love! You were incredible up there."

Your heart swelled as you gazed at him, full of love so fierce, and so overwhelming. As he closed the distance between you, pulling you into a kiss filled with fervor, the cheers of the crowd grew louder around you two—but you didn’t care about them, because in that moment, all that mattered was him and you. And it was then when you realized that loving him would be your kryptonite.

You carefully tucked the polaroid photo from that day into the pocket of your robe. It was a memory from your fifth year—one you would never forget.

As you stepped off the train, he kissed your forehead as you both bid each other goodbye. He then started fumbling through his coat pocket and pulled out a small box. Looking up at him in confusion, you asked him softly, "What's that, my dear?"

He opened the box with a smile, revealing a ring adorned with small (fav color) gems surrounding a larger green one, the colors that had come to represent both of you. With a gentle smile, he took your hand and said, "It’s a promise ring. This will do for now, until I can give you a proper engagement ring—one far better than this. But this, for now, is a symbol of my love and commitment to you. Trust me, once we graduate, I’ll marry you. I swear my own life on it."

He slid the ring onto your finger and kissed it gently, his eyes filled with unwavering sincerity. “I love you, Y/N and very much so to the point that my heart is so full of you I can hardly call it my own.” 

Your eyes welled up with tears threatening to fall. Godric, you really did love this man. “And I love you, so much, my dear. I’ll be holding onto that promise of yours, Malfoy.” 

A soft laugh escaped both of you, the bond between you unspoken but so deeply understood.

If you had known that that would be the last happy memory you two would share, you would’ve stayed there a little longer. Because when you returned to Hogwarts for your sixth year, everything had shifted. 

You sat beside him the entire train ride back, like always, but something was different. His responses were distant, his touch absent, and the love that once radiated from his eyes were gone. Something had definitely happened over the summer, you thought, but whenever you asked him, he merely brushed you off and went back to staring at the view from outside the train. And in the days that followed, the distance between you two only grew.

The spark, joy, and love you both had shared seemed to have fade into nothingness. He doesn’t talk to you anymore, much less acknowledge you. He doesn’t send you letters during class. He doesn’t hold your hand under the table of the Great Hall during breakfast or dinner. He doesn’t hold your waist when he escorts you to your common room. And he doesn’t kiss you when bidding you goodbye anymore. He had become a shell of the man you used to love—the man that loved you so greatly. And so you had accepted the painful truth: that he was no longer the same, he was no longer the Draco you once knew and loved. It broke you, greatly, but there was nothing else left for you to do.

After Dumbledore's death, it was as if Hogwarts died along with him. The school that once radiated life and warmth now felt broken and changed into something darker and more ominous than ever before. You learned along the way that Draco had become a Deatheater, a sharp pain lodged in your chest. You knew this was bound to happen, considering the family he grew up in—but you still trusted him. Believed his promise that he won’t follow his father’s footsteps; but promises are always meant to be broken.

And then it came, the war that you so longingly dreaded. Everyone fought desperately for their lives, and the Hogwarts you had once cherished was now a shadow of its former self.

You and Harry were racing through the halls, searching for the Room of Requirement while Hermione and Ron worked to destroy the other horcruxes. Suddenly, a wall in front of you began to shift and change. "Harry, over here!" you called out, but he kept running ahead, unaware. “POTTER!” he flinched at your voice and made his way towards you. “The Room of Requirement..." he murmured as the door fully materialized. "Come on." he said, grabbing your arm and pulling you inside. You both immediately began searching for the diadem. 

After a few minutes of searching, you asked, "Is it in a box or something?" 

"I dunno, okay?" he replied quickly, his voice tinged with urgency. 

"Just keep looking." He said, his attention fully on the search as well.

You heard soft footsteps approaching, causing you to pause and look around. When your eyes met his, you were frozen in place. There he was, the man you loved. The man who held you close to him whenever you had a bad day, the man who whispered “i love you” when he thinks you’re asleep (you aren’t), the man who promised that he won’t be anything like his father, the man who still holds your heart in his hands no matter how bruised and broken it already was, the man you still love. He stood there with Blaise and Goyle, all of them pointing their wands at you and Harry, yet his eyes never left yours. 

Oh, how he missed you.

“Well, well. What brings you here, Potter?” Draco asked smugly as his attention shifted to Harry.

Harry stepped in front of you, instinctively protecting you. “I could ask you the same.” he shot back. Draco’s gaze drifting between you and Harry before he spoke again. “You have something of mine. I’d like it back.” he demanded. You looked at Harry, confused. “What’s he talking about?” you whispered softly.

Your voice. Oh how he missed your soft voice. The voice that would softly wake him whenever he’s having a nightmare, the voice that would scold him for being too reckless, the voice that would softly whisper ‘i love you’ before drifting off to sleep, the voice he craved to hear say his name once more.

“I took his wand from him that night at the Malfoy manor.” Harry answers you. “You knew it was me didn’t you? But you didn’t say anything.” he continues as he turns to Draco.

“Come on, Draco. Don’t be a prat, do them both.” Goyle whispers to Draco, he hesitates—his eyes wavering as they finally settled at you. No. He could never. He would rather kill himself than you. Anyone but you.

You look at Harry who slowly picks up his wand from his back pocket. “Harry. Don’t.” you warn him nervously. “Don’t worry.” he assures you. “Expelliarmus!” the spell being thrown at Goyle, and then all hell breaks loose. Blaise and Goyle quickly retaliated with curses aimed at Harry. 

“Oh fuck it.” you think before grabbing your wand as well. “Fiendfyre!” you cast the spell at Goyle to which he dodges swiftly. 

“Crucio!” 

You fall, pain coursing through your whole body. Draco’s eyes widen with fear and Harry looks at you for a brief moment before running after Blaise and Goyle. In that moment, Draco felt as though his whole world came crashing down. Without hesitation, he rushed over to you—his love, his heart, and soul.

"Hey… hey…" he whispered urgently, his cold hands trembling as they gently cupped your face. His voice filled with panic and desperation, and his eyes welling with tears before they fell softly on your face. You looked up at him and tried your hardest to smile through the pain. 

“Hi, my love.” He sobs at that, despite all the pain you’re feeling right now, you still managed to give him the sweetest smile ever.

"J-just wait a bit, my dear, okay? I’ll—I'll figure out a way to help you. Just wait, for me hmm?" His voice cracked as he pleaded, his tears falling freely. You shook your head lightly.

“Y–you finally looked…at..me…missed you so much Dray…” his heart breaks at that. How could he have been so stupid? How could he treat you like shit just because of what happened? You didn’t deserve him—didn’t deserve to be treated like that.

“I know, my love. I missed you so damn much too. I never meant to hurt you. I just wanted to protect you from all of this—I thou– I thought I was protecting you but instead I hurt you. I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry for being such a dickhead to you.” he admitted, his voice full of regret. All he wanted was to keep your bright soul safe from the darkness that swallowed him whole and the guilt gnawed at him knowing he was the one who caused you so much pain.

“Y–yeah…you were so mean Dray…so so mean. But it’s o–okay.. I forgive you now..” you whispered, your voice growing faint as the strength to stay awake slowly slipped from you.

With the last of your strength, you reached into your coat pocket and pulled out the polaroid, your hands trembling as you handed it to him. "Do you remember that day, love?" you whispered, your voice weak. "You were so happy, so proud of yourself... I was so proud of you then, still am." you said softly, offering him a weak smile. 

"’Course I remember," he replied, voice thick with emotion. "You were the only one who mattered at that moment. You almost knocked me off my broom that day, you know?" He tried to joke, a futile attempt to ease the tension, to make you feel better.

You could slowly feel the edges of your consciousness slipping. The pain was overwhelming, but what hurt more than anything was the thought of leaving him—of leaving him alone.

"I... I can't anymore... it hurts so much, Dray," you whispered, tears filling your eyes as you spoke.

“No! no don’t say that, don’t say shit like that doll please…” he pleaded, his hand trembling as it gently caressed your face, just the way you liked.

"I'm so sorry... love..." you murmured, feeling your strength slip away with each passing second. You reached up and held his face for one last time. 

"I... I love you, 'kay?" He gripped your hand tightly, shaking his head in frantic denial.

“N–no. No don’t do this to me Y/N…Please, my love…please.” his voice breaking as he called your name over and over.

So this was what it was like to be on the brink of death. It wasn’t as bad as you thought it’d be. Because at least you got to be with him one last time. Loving him really was your kryptonite.

Then, your eyes closed, and your hand went limp in his. It was then that Draco's tears broke free, falling uncontrollably as he clutched your lifeless body to his. He shook his head in disbelief, as if trying to deny the crushing reality that you were truly gone. He hopes that this is was all just a dream, a sick cruel dream that he’d wake up from, and you’d be there, alive and smiling brightly at him. But as he felt your hands grow cold—the painful truth sank in. You were gone, and now he was all alone—utterly and completely alone—left with only the remnants of his broken heart and a small velvet box with a ring inside, tucked away safely in his coat pocket. The ring you told him you wanted if you were to get married, the ring he bought the summer of your fifth year, the ring he was planning to give you after the war had ended, the ring he was wasn’t able to give you.

all rights reserved to © suguslve.

[praisethegabs]

REQUIEM FOR A DREAM

leon s. kennedy x reader

synopsis: life found death, knowing they couldn't be together. life wasn't ready to give up, so he craved desperately for something human: love.

warnings: small drabble, an AU to let you guys know i'm still alive. mostly fluff.

word count: 663

a/n: small one shot to compensate all the time i was absent from here. love y'all ❤️

He doesn’t remember exactly when he was born or how long it’s been. Maybe since the Earth’s first day? Perhaps he was there at the creation? Who knows? It’s been a very long time, and he’s sure he’s old enough to remember how he ended up here.

Of all the names he has, his favorite is Leon. He doesn’t know why, but it suits him, and he likes it.

His touch is like gold. Whatever he touches, he can bring to life because he *is* life. He creates things, giving them their first breath. At first, he enjoyed being responsible for such an important job, but Leon felt something was missing.

He loved observing human life progressing in its own way. But after so many centuries alone, he started to feel bored. He had the power to create life, but it wasn’t enough. He felt a void inside his chest, craving something he couldn’t understand. Deep down, he wanted to experience love. He wanted to be loved.

He wanted to be human.

Everything changed when Leon discovered he wasn’t alone. And you weren’t exactly like him; you were his opposite. While Leon was life, surrounded by light, you were death and the darkness that followed. While he created, you ended.

The moment his eyes met yours, it was instant. But there was a huge problem: you two couldn’t be together because life was the beginning, and death was the final destination. With a feeling he couldn’t understand, he knew he needed to let you go.

But Leon wasn’t ready to give up. He started creating things just for you. The symbolism of his gifts made you fall in love with him, even though you both knew it was impossible. At first, you felt guilty for accepting his gifts, but he wanted to show you he didn’t care. They were yours because he loved you, and if this was the only way to be with you, then he wouldn’t mind doing it until the end of time.

Every time he sent you a gift, he imagined how it would feel to touch you, to feel you against his fingertips, to taste your lips. Maybe this was the human experience he had always longed for.

The feeling became so intense that you two couldn’t stand being apart; you hated the fact that you couldn’t touch him. How could you love something without being able to feel it? Why couldn’t the two of you have what humans had?

One day, however, something happened.

Seeing the two of you suffer, the Universe itself decided to bless you and Leon. There was a specific day in the year when you two could actually be together. The first time Leon touched you, he froze. He never expected you to be so soft, so kind. And when your lips met, it was like everything else made sense.

When you both tasted each other for the first time, it felt like the universe could explode. But that night, unfortunately, had to end, and when the day arrived, you had to be apart again.

One day wasn’t enough because you both had the overwhelming need to be together, and this could bring imbalance to the universe itself. It could cause the destruction of everything. For many ages, you only had one day with him, and there was nothing you or he could do.

But it wasn’t enough. You both wanted more.

Upon seeing this pain, the Universe decided to bless the two of you again. This time, however, was completely different. One day, you were no longer surrounded by darkness. Your touch no longer brought death.

You were alive, just like him. You were human. You had given up your immortality to live a human life with him. Leon was willing to give up his own immortality to be with you, and the fact that you two would someday die didn’t scare him.

He had you, and that was all that mattered.

[venerawrites]

hi! could you write a naruto x reader fic where reader just moved to konoha and saw naruto being bullied and decides to help him? maybe they become friends after and naruto develops a crush on reader

thank you thats all!

author's note: my exams are getting near and I have not been super active lately, but writing this was a nice break for my brain and actually gave me a chance to recharge. I absolutely love Naruto and I am so happy I finally got my first request for him! I really hope you enjoy! x

warnings: none, but what was supposed to be fluff did turn into some light angst? (sorry, can't control myself); also gn! reader and characters aged to be over 18 towards the end;

"It should've been you, freak!"

The words were followed by a shove to the boy's chest, but it didn't hurt nearly as deep as the statement said. In a way, Naruto agreed with what the other kid was saying - maybe it shouldn't have been him buried deep underground, instead of the dozens of innocent lives that were taken by the demon sealed inside of him. Maybe death is indeed the better option compared to his life filled with loneliness and being hated by everyone in the village.

"Just leave me alone!", his voice came out weaker than he intended to and caused nothing but laughter by the five boys surround him.

"Or what, whisker boy?"

Naruto opened his mouth to reply, but quickly closed it again, once no good comeback came to his mind.

What was he going do?

He could try and fight them like last time, but with five versus one, he was bound to lose again. He could also run… but with 3 of the boys being a few years older and already training at the Academy, they would surely catch him. Alternatively, he could just sit and a hope for a miracle to happ-

“Get lost.”

The little pebble you held in your hand flew toward the head of one of the boys, forcing him to turn around with annoyance written all over his face. It took a few seconds for Naruto to locate where the voice came from, but once he spotted you, his breath hitched in his throat.

Just like an angel, sent straight from Heaven, you stood in the middle of the street, eyeing all of the boys with an unimpressed expression and with one of your hands playing with two more pebbles between your fingers. You must have been just a visitor since the blonde boy was sure he would have remembered you if he had seen you before. His eyes fell down towards the front of your vest, where a small scorpion was embodied in gold.

A clan symbol, that's for sure. But which?

"Who the heck are you?", the boy you hit yelled, his palm still rubbing the sore spot at the back of his head, "Go away before we make you go away."

A loud scoff escaped past your lips and before he could react, you threw a second stone at him, this time successfully hitting his left eye.

"Ow!", he screamed, and a few of his friends immediately rushed to his side, checking if he was okay. Moving their attention to you, their bodies tensed, instinctively taking a fighting stance. Naruto, on the other hand, stood behind them, still unsure of what was going on.

"I give you exactly ten seconds to run before I make you go away", you mimicked their earlier words, a note of challenge in your voice. Your threat was met with nothing but laughter and you narrowed your eyes at them, your fingers reaching to the little pouch attached to the side of your waist.

"Ha, like you can scare us aw- OW!", with no chance to finish, the boy, who you assumed was the leader of the gang, was hit again, this time in his other eye, making him stumble back. Calculating the distance between you and the other males, you expertly threw the rest of the stones in your hand in their direction, hitting each one without a miss.

Before he could realise what was happening, Naruto found himself facing you alone, his bullies now running quickly down the street. They kept shouting some curses and threats back at you, their words mixing together and making it impossible to actually understand what were they saying. You didn't look too bothered about it either, your eyes boring into the blonde boy.

"Heh, t-thanks for that...", Naruto nervously murmured with a crooked smile, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. He was not sure if you were going to attack him next, but judging by your more relaxed stance now, he hoped not. Your face remained stoic, your eyes tracing his face and dirty outfit, the corners of your mouth twitching in disgust.

"You need a shower", was all you said, before turning around and starting walking towards your house. It took a few seconds for the blonde boy to assimilate your words, his head shaking once he realised that you intended this to be the end of your conversation.

"Hey! Wait!", he yelled, his feet hurrying after you, "What's your name?"

You did not stop, but your steps did slow down. Casting him a side glance, you raised an eyebrow at him in question.

"Why do you need my name?"

"Well, you know...", the boy trailed off, but your facial expression remained unchanged. Clearing his throat, he shoved both his hands in his pockets, while still walking next to you. He stayed silent for a minute, wondering how to word his thoughts. Did he actually need a reason to ask for your name? Was there even a right answer to that?

"So we can be friends! I assume you are new here, but that's okay because you can't have a better guide around Konoha than me and-"

"I don't need new friends", you immediately shot him down, your focus moving from him to the road ahead. The feeling of his curious stare burned at the side of your face, yet you refused to elaborate further.

"Well, I...", his movements stopped and he remained frozen in his place. The way you turned his offer down so quickly hurt more than he expected from someone he didn't even know. There was something cold and unfriendly about you and he couldn't decide if it was directed toward him, or if it was just who you were.

Have you heard about him and the demon inside of him already? You didn't look scared of him, but it was also clear you wanted nothing to do with him. Maybe you thought he was weak because of the way he let those kids talk to him?

"It's Y/N", your voice took him out of his thoughts and he lifted his gaze up to you. After seeing the confusion in it, you clarified, "My name is Y/N."

A small smile formed on his face and he closed the distance between you once again, reaching his hand toward you.

"I am Naruto", he shivered at the feeling of your smaller hand placing itself into his, "Naruto Uzumaki."

You nodded your head, despite already knowing well enough who he was. It has been only a week since you moved from the Village Hidden in the Rain to Konoha, but your parents had already made you aware of the rumours going around the village of the so-called "fox demon boy". Looking at the whiskers on his face, it didn't take long for you to realise it was him.

"The gates in front of the academy. Eight o'clock tomorrow morning. Don't be late", you instructed calmly, pulling your hand away from his grasp.

"Huh?"

You rolled your eyes at his dumbfounded look.

"I could use a guide around the village", you shrugged your shoulders, before turning around once again, "But if you are even one minute late, I would leave."

Needless to say the next day was the first time Naruto actually showed up for something on time.

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

Two years have passed since the first time you met Naruto. Surprisingly for him and many of the other villagers, an unlikely friendship formed between you despite your contrasting personalities.

Naruto was like the sun - bright, positive, bringing light into everyone's life. Despite what others have put him through, he remained dreaming big, eager to prove himself as the strongest ninja in Konoha. While he still encountered unfriendly stares and was avoided by the majority of the kids, he radiated optimism and never shut his mouth about how one day everyone was going to admire him.

You, on the other hand, were... well, you.

Raised as the oldest daughter of the Doku clan, one of the few wealthy clans in Amegakure, your life drastically differed from the one of your blonde friend. Moving to Konoha after the political tension in your home village threatened the influence held by your father, your parents made sure to continue your comfortable life by purchasing a large compound in the outskirts of the Leaf Village.

Too busy to climb the social ladder, your parents have left you in charge of looking after your two younger sisters, thus never really giving you the chance to enjoy a carefree childhood. Sure, you were aided by the many maids who helped around the house, but having to constantly keep an eye on your siblings made you mature way quicker than expected. It was no surprise that even since your early childhood you developed a moody personality, your state of mind shifting only between annoyance and boredom.

Nothing really impressed you, nor could make you sad. Interactions with people were draining the little energy and patience you had left and you avoided them as much as possible, preferring to sit in your compound's garden by yourself, immersed in one of your many books about nature, plants and poison making.

Despite that, you were not heartless. So when you saw Naruto for the first time, being cornered by these five boys, you knew you had to intervene, despite having no intention to get to know him. But the moment you saw his expression after you made it clear that you were not interested in forming friendships, something inside you stirred with guilt and despite your better judgment, you decided to give it a shot.

You often wondered if that was a mistake, especially in moments like this, when Naruto was loudly complaining to you about the team he has been assigned in, pieces of the food he was chewing falling out of his mouth while talking.

"Can you believe it? Me and that teme in the same team together! This has to be a joke!", he moaned, stuffing his mouth with more ramen, half of which flew towards you, while he kept trying to talk and eat and the same time.

You looked in disgust at the small piece of noodle that rested on your sleeve, carefully picking it up and throwing it away.

"Can you stop talking with your mouth full?", you asked in annoyance, rolling your eyes. Naruto hummed under his breath but showed no signs of following your request. At this point he was so used to your grumpy comments, that often they went in into one ear and came back out of the other.

"And Sakura doesn't even pay attention to me, too busy to fawn over that duck-butt looking jerk!", he lifted the bowl in his hands to his mouth and obnoxiously slurped the remaining food at the bottom. You quietly chewed your chicken while you listened to his complaints.

The relationship between him and the Uchiha has been confusing, to say the least. Before being assigned to a team together, they rarely interacted, showing no real interest in each other. Since Team 7 was formed, however, they were constantly clashing with each other and turning even the slightest things into a competition.

"What do you think?", he asked you, face leaning towards yours, while his hands moved to grab the second bowl of ramen.

"About what?", you asked with a sigh, your chopstick twirling your food in a bored manner. Naruto rolled his eyes, stuffing a large piece of pork into his mouth.

"About Sasuke, duh!", he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world, "I don't really understand how girls are always after him!"

You shrugged your shoulders in response.

"I don't think about him", was all you said, returning your focus to your food. Naruto glanced at you, his mouth opening to ask you something else, but his cheeks suddenly flushed red, and he closed it again. You noticed his weird reaction, but did not comment on it, leaving him to be the one to break the silence once again.

"What about your team? Are they nice?", he cleared his throat, surprising you with the sudden change of topic. While Naruto was extremely kind, he usually preferred to talk about himself and what was going on in his life, rather than show interest in someone else.

"They are alright", you put the last bit of chicken into your mouth, before pushing your plate away. Having only two other students in the whole class who were not natives of Konoha, it was no surprise they decided to pair you together, thinking that this was something you could bond over.

Luckily for you, both of your teammates were just as uninterested in forming friendships as you. Hisa, the oldest one in your group and originally born in Suna, was an excellent swordsman and pretty good in taijutsu, making him the front fighter of your team and in some way the self-proclaimed leader of it. He rarely talked, unless he was sharing battle strategies, preferring to rely on actions rather than words.

Mako, the other boy in your team, was the most timid and shy one in the team, yet somehow the most sociable. Born in the Village Hidden in the Mist as part of the Yuki Clan, he moved here when he was just an infant. He was the only one in your team that possessed a Kekkei Genkai, and while not master at it in any way, he was an extremely valuable addition to your team and probably the best sparring partner out of you three.

You, on the other hand, were the long-shot weaponry fighter of the team. Specializing in poison making, just like the rest of your clan, your skills lay in ambushing and immobilizing enemies from far away with the help of your poison needles.

While you still could handle yourself pretty well in hand-to-hand combat, even against opponents like Hisa, you rarely had to do that, your expert aim almost never missing your targets. You were also the only one in the team who knew basic medical ninjutsu, a skill which your sensei often encouraged you to pursue further, but you refused.

"Kami, sometimes it's exhausting to be your friend, you know?", Naruto groaned, unsatisfied with the short answers you kept giving him. He expected you to give him an annoyed look or even slap him on the arm, but was caught by surprise once your melodic laugh reached his ears.

This was the first time he has EVER heard you laugh.

"Could say the same about you", you shook your head, stealing a piece of tomato from his bowl.

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Everything changed once Sasuke left the village, including the friendship you had with Naruto. His unjustified (to you) determination to bring him back completely baffled you and forced you to completely lose your temper once he told you he was leaving the village in order to get stronger.

"You are delusional", you hissed, crossing your arms in front of your chest, "You are leaving your whole life behind for what? To bring a traitor, who wants nothing do to with you, back home?"

Naruto's eyes hardened and his hands shoved the last bit of clothes into his backpack, not caring if they were about to be wrinkly. He had invited you to his place to share his decision with you and while he knew you were not going to agree, he did not expect you to react that harshly.

It was not a secret that you did not harbour warm feelings toward any of Naruto's teammates. The Uchiha was a skilled and powerful ninja, but too blinded by his own emotions and ego, to be able to appreciate the reality of his life. He thought he was better than everyone else and seemingly this also included you since he never missed a chance to jab at you or Naruto when he saw you together. You, on the other hand, also did not hold back, giving him the cold shoulder and making him feel just as small and pathetic as he was making everyone else around him feel.

Naturally, Sakura did not like you since you were treating Sasuke that way, but that hardly bothered you since in your eyes she was both weak and annoying. And while there were dozens of girls, just as obsessed and in love like her, there was something about her that made the ugly feelings of rage and jealousy burn inside your chest. Maybe it was the fact that Naruto always talked about how pretty and confident she was, or maybe it was the fact that you were more than convinced she did not deserve even a minute of attention from your best friend... you did not know what it was exactly, but there was a reason for you not liking her.

"It's not just that...", he sighed, taking a sit next to you on the bed, "I just... I need to get stronger. Even Kakashi-sensei agrees going with Jiraya would help me improve my chakra control and makes me a better ninja. One, that deserves to be a Hokage."

"What does Kakashi-sensei even know?", you countered, "His whole life he has always been here."

Naruto looked at you with his eyes full of regret and disappointment. His arm tried to reach out to you, but you quickly pulled away, standing from the bed.

"You are never going to be strong, Naruto."

"What?", he furrowed his brows, your words taking him completely off guard. The way you said that through gritted teeth and your narrowed eyes made you look like you were facing your biggest enemy.

And Naruto did not like that.

"You are never going to be strong!", you repeated, this time your voice raising, "Because you keep wasting your energy and efforts on stuff that don't matter. You keep chasing people like Sasuke and Sakura, who don't give a damn about you! You keep overlooking the people that actually care about you! People like me!"

You ended your rant with panting body and teeth biting into your bottom lip, stopping you from saying anything else that you knew you were going to regret later. You hoped that like many other things you said, Naruto wouldn't actually register your words, but unluckily for you, this time he was carefully listening.

"You care about me?", he repeated, his eyes boring into yours. Unable to face the consequences of your words, you stared at him for a whole minute, before slowly nodding your head.

"I...", he loudly gulped, a light rosy colour covering his cheeks and ears, "Like... Like a friend? Or.. like something else?"

The silence that followed his question made you both fidget uncomfortably in your places. You kept biting your lip, the metallic taste of your blood soon filling your mouth.

What was going on? Where has the control you usually had over your thoughts and words gone? You didn't know how to answer his question, without utterly and completely destroying your friendship.

"I...", for the first time since he had known you, Naruto saw you speechless. You turned your head, the pressure of his gaze too intense for you to handle. Taking a breath, you managed to gather your thoughts together and carefully proceed:

"Like someone who I want to grow and hopefully spend my life with in the future...", you explained, your voice carrying an unusual softness and vulnerability, "I... don't make me actually say it, Naruto."

You didn't know what you expected. Maybe for him to stand up and embrace you in a hug, telling you that he shares your feelings. Or for him to storm off, his normal reaction when he feels stressed and cornered.

It was a surprise, however, when you heard his voice right behind you.

When did he even got up from his seat?

"Y/N...", your name rolled out as a broken whisper out of his lips and you already knew that nothing good was about to follow.

"Don't!", you tried to stop him before he could put the final nail into your already cracking heart.

“You have no idea-“

“Don’t do that!”

“..what your friendship means to me”, he finished his sentence, laying one of his palms flat on your shoulder, "But I... I just don't see you that way."

You flinched away from his touch, eyes still refusing to meet his. Your heard him take a breath and it sounded like he wants to say something else, but thought better of it. Both of you stayed silent - him, because he was too scared to hurt you even more, you, because you desperately tried to control the building tears that threatened to spill out on your cheeks.

"There is nothing I can say to change your mind about staying, is there?", you finally said, the question sounding more like a statement. Naruto did not reply, instead taking a step back and returning to packing his bag.

Without another word, you bolted towards the door, promising yourself that this was to be the last time you allowed your heart to be vulnerable.

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Naruto found himself surprised once he came back to the village.

Sakura was now an extremely strong kunoichi, the best student of Lady Tsunade. His friend, Gaara, has become the Kazekage and many of his classmates have already been promoted to the rank of Jonin.

It seemed everybody was growing and starting to cave their own path. And while he managed to catch up with pretty much everyone and everything during his few weeks back, he was yet to see you.

The blond Uzumaki would lie if he said he hadn't thought about you during his time away. He had... a lot. Your last conversation kept replaying in his mind, your bored face appearing in his mind every time he closed his eyes, sometimes even blessing him with one of these rare smiles he knew were reserved just for him.

Your words that day shocked him. Never had he imagined he would be the subject of someone's affection, let alone yours. You were always so reserved and composed around him, that it took him years to crack your personality, and even then, he was not sure you were fully letting him in.

Naruto was a confident being, which included his feelings. He was always sure of what he felt and why he felt it. Yet, he couldn't explain why you haunted his thoughts way more than his other friends, including Sakura. The crush that he thought he had on his teammate was now shadowed by the big question mark of who were you to him.

On one hand, you were his closest friend. You were also grumpy and pouting the majority of the time, but for some reason, he found that cute and often took it as a challenge to make you smile. You were very blunt, which sometimes hurt his ego, but he appreciated your honesty. Also, unlike Sakura, you never physically hurt him, even though he had to admit just your glare was often enough to stop him from doing whatever he was about to do.

On the other hand... well, he couldn't really think about something bad about you or your personality. Other than the fact that you reminded him too much of Shikamaru, by being constantly bored and finding yourself lacking the enthusiasm to do stuff.

"You can take Y/N out of the Hidden Rain Village, but you can't take the Hidden Rain Village out of Y/N" - Naruto often joked about you, saying that he finds your moody personality reminding him of these comforting rains, that makes you want to stay in bed all day and do nothing. You were never sure if that was a compliment or not, but with your friend having a more unique way of thinking, you never really asked him to elaborate.

After a few more weeks of not seeing you, Naruto decided it was finally time to knock on your door. Were you avoiding him? He has been out every day asking his friends about you, but they couldn't provide any information, saying that they rarely see you anyway because of how many missions your team was taking.

The door to the Doku compound opened and suddenly Naruto was tackled by two giggling girls. He landed on his bum and with a wide smile, he hugged them back, supporting their weight while both of them just hung on his neck.

"Naruto!", they both screamed in unison, "You are back!"

Chaya and Kaya were your two younger sisters, who were also Naruto's biggest fangirls. From the first time they met him when they could barely walk, they were constantly clinging to him, admiring him and even getting jealous if he had to leave them to hang out with you. The blonde ninja also enjoyed spending time with them, feeling them as close as if they were his own siblings.

"Hey, easy!", he laughed, carefully untangling their hands from his neck and crouching in front of them. He ruffled both of his heads, chucking once they whined he was ruining their hairstyles.

"Are you going to stay for dinner?" "I have this new ninja doll - do you want to see it?" "Are you going to tell us some stories of your travels?"

The two children bombarded him with questions and he kept looking between Chaya and Kaya, unsure who was asking what. Almost like she knew he needed to be saved, your mother showed up at the door, pushing the two girls back and giving Naruto an apologetic smile.

"Naruto, glad to see you! It's been a while."

"Lady Doku", the boy greeted, bowing his head, "It is good to see you too!"

Your mother stepped aside, a silent invitation for Naruto to enter and he took it without a second thought. Looking around, he was glad to see that your home was the same as he remembered it. Despite being somewhat scared of your parents in the beginning due to their reservations based on the rumours going around Konoha, your whole family has welcomed him and made sure he had a full stomach on more than one occasion. They also have paid for his ninja uniform in the past, as well as provide him with a warm bed in the spare guesthouse during the coldest months, when his apartment was freezing.

"Are you going to stay for dinner?", Lady Doku asked, leading Naruto to the dining room, "Y/N and Hisa would be here soon. They are just giving their mission report to the Hokage."

Ah, so that's why he hadn't seen you around! You were on a mission!

"Can't wait to see her!", Naruto smiled brightly, taking a seat at the dinner table, "I have been wondering where she is! I was going around the whole village trying to find her, heh!"

He took the glass of water in front of him and gulped almost half of it at once. He was nervous and he was sure your mother could tell by the way he was rambling and his voice went higher than normal. Still, she said nothing of it, instead turning towards the door, once your father entered the room with a huff.

"Are they here yet?", he grumbled under his breath, looking at his wife with an annoyed expression, "They have been giving this report for an hour. Are they writing it now or something?"

Your mother cleared her throat and gave him a scolding look, her eyes briefly moving to Naruto to show him that they were not alone. The man stared at her with confusion for a few seconds, not understanding what she is trying to say.

"What, woman?", a movement at the end of the table caught his attention and he finally turned around, only to see your childhood friend sitting awkwardly, giving him a small wave. Your father suddenly smiled, his mood improving drastically, and he went round the table, patting the blond boy on the back.

"Ah, the Uzumaki boy!", he laughed, squeezing his shoulder, "We were wondering when you are going to show up. Dinners without you have been dull, you know?"

Naruto smiled at his words and bowed his head to him as a sign of respect. Your father started asking him questions about his time away with Jiraya and what he had learned during this time, and the boy enthusiastically started to explain all the new jutsu techniques he mastered and all the adventures he had with his sensei.

Soon Chaya and Kaya ran into the room, almost tripping in their hurry of who was about to sit next to Naruto. Chaya, however, being the taller one, managed to beat her sister, which resulted in loud bickering and dramatic cries from Kaya. Naruto looked at them with a smile but was quickly brought back to the conversation with your dad, once he asked him about his future plans as a ninja.

"Girls, stop!", your mother sighed and rubbed her temples, "Kaya, just sit next to Hisa today."

"I don't want to sit next to Y/N's boyfriend, I want to sit next to Narutooooo!", she moaned, crossing her arms in front of her chest with a huff.

Hearing the word "boyfriend", Naruto's head suddenly whipped in her direction, his throat tightening and making him choke on his own spit. He started coughing and his fist made its way to his chest, hitting it a few times in an attempt to help him swallow. Everyone's eyes went on him and your father's heavy hand went to his back, slapping him so hard he was thrown forward, almost banging his head on the table.

"Hit him one more time and he may fly through the wall", your monotone voice sounded next to the entry and Naruto immediately lifted his eyes, his mouth opening slightly once he saw you leaning on the door frame.

You were taller and leaner than the last time he saw you, your long hair now sitting in a high bun on top of your head. A golden bracelet in the form of a scorpion, the symbol of your clan, shined on your wrist, partly covered by your long sleeves.

What didn't change, however, was the unimpressed look that you currently gave him. The blonde tried to offer you a small smile, but you had no reaction, other than sighing and taking the seat opposite him. Closely behind you was Hisa, your teammate, and what Naruto learned to be your "boyfriend".

"Naruto is here!", yelled Kaya, taking her seat on the table, not even acknowledging Hisa.

"Really? Wouldn't have noticed", you said flatly, your eyes boring into his. Naruto shifted uncomfortably under your gaze, suddenly feeling like a nuisance by coming to your house. Sensing the tension, your father decided to shift the focus on you.

"So, how was your mission? I thought it was supposed to be only a week and you were gone for a few", he lifted his eyebrow, motioning the maid in the corner of the room to bring the meals to the table.

"The mission did indeed finish in a week", Hisa finally spoke, his face stoic, "But I wanted Y/N to meet my family back in Suna. They are excited about a potential future union between our clan and the Doku."

"I bet there are", your father mumbled under his nose, rolling his eyes while taking a bite of his salad.

Naruto, who has been sitting silent the whole time and drinking his second glass of water in an attempt to calm his nerves, now spat the liquid forward, showering both you and your partner in water.

"A union?", he asked, his voice loud and squawky, "What? Between you two?"

"Why is that hard to believe?", you asked, your eyes narrowing at him.

The truth is you were anything, but happy Naruto was here tonight. You've heard from Mako that he was searching for you and that he grew up a lot, no longer the silly boy anymore, but a man. And you had to agree - laying your eyes on him tonight, a sudden rush of your old feelings hit you like a wave. The love you thought you buried deep inside of you, suddenly resurfaced and it made you angry.

Angry, because it was not fair to you, or to Hisa, or even to your family, who seemed so excited and glad that the blonde ninja was back into your lives. You couldn't help but feel betrayed by them, especially since both your mother and father knew how broken you were once he left the village.

"Well, I don't know...", Naruto's combative personality woke up in the face of your challenging words, completely forgetting he was surrounded by other people, "Maybe it is hard to believe because both of you are completely incompatible!"

"Naruto, you need to calm down!", Hisa's voice was stern, carrying a note of threatening in it. The blonde boy, however, completely ignored that, instead furrowing his brows.

"I am calm!", he grumbled, fixing him with a glare.

The whole idea of you and Hisa was just... wrong. How did you two even fall for each other? Both of you were introverted, silent, and cold individuals, who, by what he could observe tonight, had zero chemistry between each other. Even the way you sat with almost a chair distance between you was weird in his eyes, especially since he knew you had no problem with physical contact, his own arm resting on your shoulder countless times before, even in front of your mom and dad.

"Don't be mad, because I was there to pick up the pieces you left behind!"

Silence.

Everyone looked at Hisa with surprise, even you. Never, for all the years you had known him, have you heard him be so aggressive and arrogant with his words. Naruto, also seemed shocked, but he quickly regained composure, a fire of rage burning behind his eyes.

"Shut up! You don't know anything!", he shouted, pointing his finger at your lover, "Hell would freeze before I believe she is with you because she likes you! Did you force her?"

His gaze shifted towards you, both of his brows lifting high.

"Did he threaten you? Blackmail you?"

"Don't be silly!", you scolded him under your breath, your cheeks now crimson red from embarrassment by the fact all of this was taking place in front your family members, who seemed invested in the little row by now, "Can we just eat our food in peace?"

"No!", it was Hisa who spoke first and you tried to elbow him, unhappy with his sudden confidence and eagerness to fight, but he paid you no mind, "Me and Y/N like each other. And Naruto needs to take his nose out of our relationship, before I make him to!"

You buried your head in your hands, casting a pleading look toward your dad, who actually seemed to be finding the whole thing amusing, judging by the small smirk on his face.

"Like each other?", Naruto scoffed, now glaring daggers at the other male, "A piece of cardboard has more personality than you, how could anyone like you?"

"Ha!", Chaya laughed with her mouth full, "That's true! Hisa IS boring!"

Kaya hummed in agreement, while both your parents tried to stifle a laugh. Your boyfriend, however, seemed anything but impressed by the comment and he looked at you, expecting you to defend him. You let out a sigh of annoyance, shrugging your shoulders.

How can you defend him from a fact that was true?

"Me and you. Outside. Now!", Hisa commanded, pushing his chair back and standing up. Naruto seemed to be about to do the same, when your father's voice boomed around the room.

"Sit down!", he said and Hisa reluctantly followed, his eyes still boring holes into Naruto's head, "Enough of your silly boy fight! Dinner time is family time, it is not an opportunity for you to show off in front of Y/N! Show some respect to this household!"

"Daaad!", you whined, wanting nothing more than the ground to open and swallow you. Both boys, seemingly hit by realisation of their behaviour after hearing your father's words, mumbled an apology before focusing on eating their food.

The whole dinner continued in silence, cut only by your mother who was desperately trying to lighten the mood by talking about some new market shops that opened in the village, but everyone else seemed to lack enthusiasm, choosing to remain quiet instead. Even your two siblings, who normally did not have their mouths shut, were now communicating only with glances with each other.

What was once a warm and welcoming home for Naruto, now felt weird for him to be in. So as soon as he finished his meal, he said his thanks and goodbyes, eager to get away from you and your boyfriend. Dozens of questions filled his brain and soon a headache started to form, making him rub his forehead in frustration.

What the hell has happened during these three years while he was away? He knew he hurt you that day when he said he did not return his feelings, but was it really that bad, that you felt nothing but resentment towards him now?

He was almost by the gate of your garden, when he heard your voice again.

"Why did you come?"

He turned around, finding with relief that you were by yourself. Your body language, however, was stiff and unwelcoming. You were ready for a confrontation.

"I wanted to see you", he admitted, not shying his gaze away from yours, "I... missed you."

A dry chuckle left past your lips and you shook your head. Making a few steps towards him, your sharp stare was focused on his blue eyes, searching for any signs of lies. You stood there quietly observing him, trying to gather your thoughts and clarify your own feelings.

Did you miss him? Of course, you did, every single day. Were you about to tell him? Absolutely no way.

"I am in love with you", he suddenly blurted out, catching you off guard. You took a sharp breath, unsure if he really said it or if you imagined it. Using your moment of shock as an opportunity to close the distance between you, he cautiously took one of your hands in his.

"I know I hurt you and I was dumb for not seeing what I had all along... But during these few years away, only one person haunted my thoughts. Only one person motivated me to do better, to grow into the man that they deserve, and to finally get the courage to admit in front of them and myself that I am utterly, hopelessly and crazy in love with them."

His hand rested under your chin, lifting your head towards him once you tried to look down, hiding your now blushing face from him.

"That person is you."

You let out the air that you did not even realize you were holding, his close proximity and the feeling of his touch on your hand making you feel almost like you were floating. You had the gather all of the courage you had left, in order to pull away rather than smash your lips into his.

"I can't."

Naruto looked at you with confusion, taking another step towards you, making you step back in return. He stood still for a few seconds, before pushing his hands in his pockets and looking down at his feet.

"You... You don't feel the same way?"

You stared at him for a minute, wondering if it would be easier to just lie and say "yes". Yet your heart begged you to tell him the truth, eager to be free of the weight of the feelings you have been carrying for years.

"The feelings I have for you would never go away. I have been loving you since we were children and I would love you till we are both old sacks of bones", you chuckled at your own words and suddenly the atmosphere between you felt lighter, almost like the old days. Naruto looked at you, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"But I am with Hisa...", his smile quickly turned into a frown, "And things have changed. I changed... and I know you did too. No matter how bad I want to believe you, I think you need to really listen to your heart."

"But I have, I do lov-"

"Were you about to say that to me if I was not taken by somebody else?", your words were harsh and cold, but also true. Naruto closed his mouth, looking down. It is true his confession came out as a result of his jealousy tonight, but he was also confident in the fact that he did had feelings for you.

Or he thinks he does.

"I want you to be sure of what you feel", you said, now with a gentler tone, "Not telling me what your temporary emotions are leading you to believe you feel."

With slow steps you moved toward him, grabbing his face in your hands and pressing your lips against his cheek. He closed his eyes at the feeling, instinctively leaning towards the warmth radiating from your touch. He almost groaned when you let go, wishing it did last further.

He watched you walk back to your house, his own heart a mess. He knew he was feeling something for you, but perhaps it was not the right time now.

He still had to deal with the lingering crush he had on his teammate, which he couldn't even tell if it was there or not. He also still wanted to put all of his focus on bringing Sasuke back, something he knew you were not on the same page as him. And perhaps, he had to also accept the fact that he did miss the chance he had with you, and it was unfair for him to meddle in your new relationship.

There was no doubt that fate was about to bring you together someday, he had a feeling about it.

But now, it was just not the right time.

cc artwork: Raja Nanadepu