#and not to mention the rest of their dynamic

[luvether]

MUCH LOVE, YOUR GUARDIANS ! In which they go from bodyguards to companions who you would crawl back home to, as they go through the thick of thins of what it’s like to love you intentionally and ardently.

jiaoqiu and moze x gn!reader (ft. feixiao) fluff and heavy (?) angst content. petty jealousy and overprotectiveness. mentions of self-deprecation, self-sabotage, low self-morale. heavy yearning. hurt with comfort. heavy found-family dynamic, platonic and romantic implications. politics. might be ooc. massive spoilers for the events on version 2.5. [12.6k wc]

sequel to a guardian or two ノ trying to dabble back into angst. tagging @bladism <33 love you and sorry for the atrociously long fic!! hoping to revive the jq and moze tags for this one (art by zassyoku_DD on twt.)

IN THE YAOQING, WHEN YOU THINK OF HAVING LUNCH you think of a small table crammed with four people, the strong scent of spices pricking your nose—making it all runny, the ruddy-cheeked Feixiao slurring between liquor lips, her vice arm wrapping unapologetically around the reluctant and defeated healer and your secret alliance with the shadow guard as he sneakily takes the button mushrooms in your bowl when Jiaoqiu is not looking, too busy being the General’s victim to her drunken affairs.

You and Moze exchange knowing glances, it was a deal that was recently established since he had lost a bet and dreaded reciting poems in the next festival.

Moze grumbles about a poem recital in front of strangers? You came to his aid.

You disliked the mushrooms Jiaoqiu gives you every lunch? He comes to your aid.

“You should come to the Luofu with us during the Wardance Ceremony.” A drink-addled comment gets thrown into the mix of everyday lunch atmosphere. You had almost missed it completely, had it not been for Moze who nudged you and you realized it wasn’t the delusional voices in your head speaking your wanton.

“Going to the Luofu for the Wardance Ceremony?” You echo Feixiao’s statement with perked up enthusiasm, food caking the insides of your cheeks, trying to push the words between your chewing.

“Finish chewing before you start talking.” There’s a mischievous smile on Jiaoqiu’s lips, tail flicking left and right in glee. He always finds every reason to tease you, this moment was no different. You shoot him a fond glare, pausing to finish a piece of rich meat in your mouth, licking the flavor between your teeth.

“Are you certain you want me to follow you to the Luofu?” You ask again, just in case it was Feixiao's drunk thought overtaking her senses.

But she straightens at the content of your tone, sobering. The expression on her face expresses her clear agreement.

“Why not?” She rests her cup on the table, her fingertips teetering towards the pitcher to pour more. “You have not visited the other Xianzhou ships before, it will be a good change of pace for you.”

A bright smile graces your lips, then it collapses. “I appreciate the invitation, but I cannot ignore the mountains of paperwork on my desk. I barely have time for leisure, much less go on a vacation somewhere.”

“Have you forgotten?” You turn your attention to Moze who speaks casually from your side, arms crossing over his chest. "You are looking at the Yaoqing’s lacking General, lacking in worries, regrets and…”

“Lacking in rivals.” You finish his sentence with a chuckle.

Moze’s lips tip upward, almost a smile.

“No one would dare say anything if a certain scribe vanishes from work and accompanies the General to the Luofu.”

Jiaoqiu adds. “Besides, we want you to come with us.” There’s a fond smile on his face.

“That’s three rebuttals against one.”

The atmosphere lifts at Jiaoqiu’s nostalgic tease, it all reminds you of the first time Jiaoqiu and Moze became your bodyguards, how time flies.

You chuckle then, “alright.”

“Now that it is settled,” Feixiao cheers. “Let us rejoice with—”

Jiaoqiu grabs the pitcher before your sister does, a sharp look of warning on his smiling face. “General Feixiao, please refrain from drinking anymore. And Moze,” He turns his head, you both stiffen. “Stop being an accomplice and let them eat their mushrooms.”

Moze tsked and a laugh bubbles in your chest, nothing can escape Jiaoqiu’s eyes now can it?

Despite the constant bantering that quickly fit into your routine with the three of them—you were extremely grateful for their existence in your otherwise very lonesome life. Aside from the excitement of the trip, you had been ruminating about their departure since you accidentally overheard them talking about it when you were slumbering.

The next couple of days, your enthusiasm never ceases until it’s the day to depart for Xianzhou Luofu.

The ship is already waiting by Yaoqing’s docks when you arrive, as your feet guide you there you double check your items before boarding: extra clothes, personal bathing essentials, wallet, notebook files, some medicines…yup. Everything you need for the trip has been accounted for, and even if you had forgotten something, you are certain the Luofu will provide you with it. You had heard a thing or two about Luofu’s dozing General from Feixiao herself, their generosity to foreigners have even touched the strings of your heart.

You are enthused about your first journey, being able to meet other people and seeing other sights outside of the usual IPC-styled architecture the Yaoqing has to offer.

You hear someone call out your name from a distance, you lift your head and see Jiaoqiu waving at you, already nestled on the ship’s seat cushions. He softly pats the space beside him,

“Come sit beside me.”

A Verdant knight allows you entry and you approach the smiling healer, doing as he had asked of you after loading your bag on the overhead bin. You allow your body to sink within the cushions with a contented sigh slipping between your teeth. Your arm touches Jiaoqiu’s and you cannot help but lean in and flop your head on his shoulder, soft strawberry cowlicks tickle your cheek and he reaches out to brush wild strands from your forehead.

“Didn’t get enough sleep?”

“I just had to finish files for a couple of IPC shipments that will be arriving in Verdant harbor.” This earns a light-hearted chuckle from the pink. You feel his weight on your head, his cheek pressed onto your crown.

“I thought you got an assistant?”

“I did.” You answer. “I need to make sure things are accounted for and queued in the proper order before I hand the management over to her.”

“Well, aren’t you a kind boss.”

“When was I not?”

Jiaoqiu grabs his red fan, small puffs of wind settle softly on your face due to his fanning. “I didn't say you were anything but.” Then a brief silence, his tone containing fondness.

“You are slowly trusting others again,”

You lift your head, unaware of how your face is close to his. From here, his butterscotch eyes are a gentle pool of honey and orange.

His lips tip up. “I’m proud of you.”

Your heart soars. Jiaoqiu winds his arm around you, tail flicking and his fan continues to draw air. “If you want to sleep, sleep.”

Your weight is leaning heavily on his, he doesn’t seem to mind it, his fingers coming to rub soothingly, almost lulling you, constellations of sleep blinking beneath your eyelids.

“But I wanted to wait and see the stars outside.”

“I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

“Promise?” You yawn, this makes Jiaoqiu cradle you closer into his inviting warmth.

“Promise.” He says. “Now get some sleep. This will be a long trip.”

It has already been a couple of days since your arrival to the Xianzhou Luofu. Feixiao had left immediately to go sightseeing, leaving you, Jiaoqiu and Moze to announce your arrival to the Arbiter Generals at the Seat of Divine Foresight.

Meeting General Jingyuan was such an enlightening experience, his deep baritone faint in your ears, his gentle mannerisms and just as enthusiastic tone when talking about grueling papers constantly on office desks or wanting to travel more, it allowed for smooth conversations between the two of you, having so many things in common.

You had liked conversing with the General,

A certain two did not.

But your two ‘bodyguards’ knew better than to let their moods sully on such a simple thing.

It wasn’t strange for General Jingyuan to show a warm and respectful disposition towards you—he has, after all, heard of your astounding achievements in the Yaoqing, despite the nasty comments thrown at you, you prevailed, and Jingyuan admired that aspect of you, especially with your label as the Merlin’s Claw kin and the lack of swordsmanship practice.

Moze and Jiaoqiu understand that, because they hold the same amount of admiration towards you and your efforts.

But what they considered ludicrous was when you three had bumped into a Knight of beauty whilst trying to find for a certain General with white ears—you haven’t seen Feixiao in a long while and during your ventures of trying to find her, Argenti greeted you and you both clicked.

It was merely a curious exchange at first, trading words of greetings, introductions with a mix of interest for the other. Moze lags behind the group, preferring to keep to himself during this conversation which was understandable, he’s a man with few words much less sharing friendly words with Argenti—who was the complete opposite of Moze—radiant under public lights, forthright in his syrupy cadence, his eyes sparkle just as bright like ruby rose petals and succor violin strings.

Jiaoqiu could do nothing but smile politely at the interaction, happy that you are conversing more with others outside of your little circle.

But then Argenti picks up your hand, placing a gentle kiss on your knuckles.

The friendly gesture made Jiaoqiu crack like stone and Moze stiffen.

The whole atmosphere takes a polar turn of frigid that feels harsh on your skin.

You’ve noticed it only briefly. Now, Jiaoqiu’s smile is no longer polite—but it’s still there, it just seems more…malicious and cynical than friendly. Or how Moze’s neutral stare sharpens as it follows the crimson hair of Argenti as he bids you all farewell.

When the knight turns the corner, Jiaoqiu places both his hands flat on your shoulders, a conflicting look in his amber eyes.

“I implore you to reconsider your choices.”

Your brows crease in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“Jiaoqiu’s right. He’s bad news.” Moze inquired from your other side, adding spices to the already boiling pot. You can only flicker your gaze back and forth between the two, unsure why they are saying this all of a sudden.

“But Mr. Argenti seems sweet to me.”

You merely stated the obvious, Jiaoqiu jostles you softly like you’ve gone insane.

“The reputation of the Knights of beauty are fastidious. They don’t have time for such affairs since they travel all over the galaxy to pay patronage and share the gospel of their God all across the cosmos, so don’t even think about it.”

Think about it? Affairs? “Have you both eaten something funny today?” You ask instead, shaking away from Jiaoqiu’s firm grip.

Maybe they just ate something weird, their behavior will lessen in a couple days time, that is your initial conclusion on this matter. However their petulance only seems to metamorphosis the more days spent in the Luofu.

A day or two passes, and your run-ins with Argenti are few and far in between.

Two times, you’ve only bumped into each other two times after your first encounter. The Xianzhou Luofu is surprisingly a small place and with the current festival ongoing, it’s easy to bump into a familiar face among the streets.

But everytime Argenti perks up at the sight of you, calling you his ‘dear Yaoqing friend’ the air surrounding Jiaoqiu and Moze seems to freeze over, and you were semi-glad Argenti doesn’t take notice or offense to such looks pinned on him.

He’s quite the character.

You sigh again for the millionth time today when you parted ways with the red-head. You turned around, “Jiaoqiu.”

“Yes?”

“If you won’t stop glaring at him, the passersby will assume he jumped you in an alley and robbed you of your riches.”

“You’re just seeing things.”

“No, I’m quite sure of myself. What’s with the face, Jiaoqiu. Did he do something to you that I am not aware of?”

Jiaoqiu’s manners exude reluctance, his mouth open then close, as if unsure of what to answer you. “...Not in particular.”

You tilt your head. ‘Then w—” Before you can finish your sentence, the fox rips a part of his pastry and gently pushes it between your lips to hush you.

“Try this for me.” He says instead. “Is it to your taste?”

You lick the flavor from your teeth, nodding your head. At your response, Jiaoqiu pushes the remaining pastry on your hand and pats your head.

“Take it, I'm not really into sweet things.”

“Okay…”

As you watch him, you’ve taken note of how either of the two behave, which was a new experience on your part, you have not seen this side of them before. Like Jiaoqiu’s tendency to hide his nasty displeasures beneath his red fan, occasional amber eyes scrutinizing and ears twitching.

Or Moze that seems to have the tendency to either vanish into thin air mid conversation when something displeases him, tug his hood down and refrain from any eye contact or he would glare down at you with those magenta eyes of his, just like right now.

“Where are you going?”

You startle as the tall, brooding man materializes in front of you. You pause, looking around for any imminent danger for him to act like this.

“I was just gonna check out the stalls I haven’t stopped by in Aurum Alley.”

He blinks. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not.” You defend yourself quickly, too quick. “I wanted to buy something but haven’t found the right place to custom make it, this is my second time trying to look around.”

Moze ponders upon your excuse, he melts immediately after thinking it through. “Okay.” He uncrosses his arms, shaving his stubbornness away. “I’ll accompany you,”

“Wait a second.” Your brows furrowed in confusion. “You…you cannot come with me, and aren’t you supposed to be in an important meeting in the seat of Divine Foresight with Jiaoqiu and the Madam General?”

He responds by shaking his head. “It’ll be alright, Jiaoqiu’s enough to handle it and I’m not fond of the limelight either way. It’s also protocol to—“

You try to sidestep him, he moves to block you again.

You scowl at him. He ignores you.

“It’s protocol to keep watch over you here more so than normal since this isn’t the Yaoqing, there might be others here that are out to get you.”

“It’s a festival, Moze.” You narrow your eyes.

He nods his head. “A great distraction for people to come and take advantage of the situation. So try—“

“To enjoy the celebration—“

“To stay alert since it is a celebration.”

You cannot help but sigh. “Let loose a little, will you?” You start. “If it makes you feel better, I’m heading there with a companion. They’ll be able to look after me while you are busy, better?”

Moze’s frown seems to deepen, not necessarily easing his worry like you’d hope. “Who is it?”

“Mr. Argen—”

“Absolutely not—“

Before Moze could finish his demand, you take his hand in yours. The complaints on his tongue die and his heated stare is on you. The folds of his worried expression only creases further, you had to squeeze his gloved hand.

“I have always been grateful for your companionship, so never think otherwise that I’m trying to cast you aside.”

“So why can’t I…” Moze bites his tongue when you shake your head again.

“Well if I mention anything then it wouldn’t necessarily be a surprise now will it?”

When his response is nothing but silence you finally drop his hand, trying to swerve around him yet again to leave. “Thank you for your generous services, Mr. Shadow Guard. Then, I’ll see you—“

A firm grip on your hand stops you dead on your tracks. You turn your head to look at Moze, there was a complicated expression on his face, his brow pinched more than usual, frown deeper and velvet pupils simmering.

“…Moze?”

He snaps out of it in an instant, “I do trust you, It's just I’m—” He blinks, reconsiders his words, then releases your hand. “Nevermind. Have fun, come find us if anything happens.”

You watch your companion turn to leave, his familiar purple hood disappearing around the corner. You cannot help but sigh, now you feel guilty for pushing him away like this.

“There you are.” Argenti greets you from behind as he taps your shoulder.

“Hey, Argenti.”

He takes notice of the look in your face, tilting his head. “What’s with the morose expression, my dear friend?”

“Oh.” You turn away. “Sorry, I just brushed away a friend just now and I feel terrible about it.”

Argenti hums, patting your head gently. “I see. Well, if it eases your worry, I am here to announce that I have found a stall that can help you make your requests. However, they are not in Aurum Alley.”

You perk up. “That’s great news.” You smile. “Thank you, can you show me where they are?”

“Of course,” Argenti smiles at you, “The craftsman I stumbled upon usually hangs around Exalting Sanctum, come with me.”

Before you take a step, you dare to look over your shoulders at the place where you saw Moze disappear, then turn to follow Argenti down the road.

When Moze returns back to Jiaoqiu and Feixiao with a sour expression on his face—they didn’t need to piece together the cause of such sullenness for the assassin. A laugh cannot help but slip from the lips of their General as she quips,

“You know, if the both of you are jealous due to lack of attention just say so. I can’t have two of my retainers looking especially like kicked pups in front of the Luofu’s and Zhuming’s generals.”

Jiaoqiu cannot help but grumble. “Don’t tease us like that, General.”

It was a brief feeling, and the first that you’ve felt in years: the fear in your skin, grief in your chest and the pain woven in your brain. Smoke dresses your veins and you choke on the exhaustion, knees hitting the bloodied grass beneath you.

Your heart is pounding in your ears and instead of the familiar Luofu inn—you remembered being back in that particular field of massacre, bodies of your people falling like weeds as Borisins cut them down, one by one, their screams of pain piercing through you.

More specifically, the bloody screams of your parents as they pushed you to continue running. Don’t look back, their words echo. Keep running my dear, don’t turn around— when their screeches are accompanied by painful gasps and squelches of bodies being torn apart like lacy ribbons, You dare to turn around.

“Mother! Father!” You scream so hard it makes you dizzy. Fat tears spill down your cheeks, a pitiful sob wrenching from your throat. “Please don’t leave me, I don’t have anybody else. What am I supposed to do, I don’t want to be alone, I’m begging you—!“

Your eyes snap open.

You awake from that nightmare with a billowing gasp.

The night is tame and your room is quiet, but your heart is a drum in your chest. When you sit up, the remnants of tears are all that remains of the tragedy of your youth.

Mom, dad. You cannot help but let out a shaky exhale, curling into yourself to stop the tremor that chills through your whole body. It’s okay, you’re no longer in that field.

Restlessness sinks into your bones after that, so instead of laying awake in your bed you were leaning against the open window. Luofu’s night air appears colder than what you were used to. You tap your finger against the surface of the wood beneath you.

You hear a brief noise faint in the ears.

You close your eyes.

“I know it’s you, Moze.”

There was silence, then a low hum that belonged to one person. “You’re awake still.” The tides of umbra shadows linger, materializing his familiar tall build leaning against the wall just outside your open window.

You shoot him a smile. “I am unable to sleep tonight.”

It takes a while for him to respond. He turns around, approaching you and ducking his head to enter through. “Are you alright?” He asks when his feet hit your wooden floors.

“Just, thinking a lot.” You say. “That’s all.”

“Nightmares?” Moze asks.

“Nightmares.” You confirm.

You can feel the man frown before you can see it. Though by then, you decided to lift the lighthearted mood with a question, “How about you, why are you still here?”

Moze decides to play along with your whims, “I decided to attack the General tonight, but as always, she managed to dodge it all.”

Ah, that.

You dare not question Moze’s and Feixiao’s weird little bonding the moment you found out about this arrangement. Apparently they’ve been going on like this since Feixiao first saved Moze from the disciples of Sanctus Medicus. To him, Feixiao is both his benefactor and enemy, the relationship they both have concurrently was fixed upon a promise, a declaration and a sense of respect for one another.

You stir from your own thoughts when you feel someone tug the ties of your attire.

“Your hanfu isn’t aligned properly.”

You look up at his steady velvet eyes. Moze’s in front of you now, murmuring his excuse as his fingers flatten upon the fabrics, tugging and hoisting and pulling until it’s finally centered and his irk is satiated.

You watch his fuss beneath your softened gaze, you reminisce on such a simple gesture. “Hey, Moze?”

He diverts his attention, looking into your eyes.

“Thank you, you know, for sticking around.”

You feel his fingers flinch from your statement. The frown on his face shows his puzzlement.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean just that.”

“Are you gonna do something that would cause us to be separated?” You wanted to laugh at how serious his tone had become, hardened and alerted. The levity doesn’t sink into him, for he had pinched your chin, drawing your attention back to him.

“Answer me, please.” He pushes a little, not roughly but not gentle either. The moonlight strokes the crevices of his pinched expression, a sprinkle of salt and pepper of seriousness.

Just when you are about to retort, he adds in with a quickened breath.

“I don’t want us to be separated.” He says ardently. “You are too important to me.”

You are vaguely aware of his other hand still lingering by your waist, the one that was constantly tugging and pulling your hanfu in place. Outside the Luofu’s night air, you feel nothing but warmth, your heart is quickly filled with a flood of wanton and fullness,

And belonging.

You felt like you finally belonged.

The fear that you had felt mere minutes ago completely washes over, reassured by Moze’s blunt responses. You take a step closer to him, winding your arms around his neck and burying your face on his shoulder, the man stills at your unexpected behavior but is quick to recover, purchasing his hands on your lower back, soothing the skin there by rubbing his thumbs.

Reignbow Arbiter. You murmur to yourself. Whatever happens, please protect them. Protect my sister, protect Moze and Jiaoqiu. Do what you must, please, I beg of you. I don’t want to be alone anymore.

And for a split moment, you are weighed down by the reality that your prayers are merely just a gust of wind for something as almighty as the divine that ruled over the cosmos. It happened oh so suddenly that fear almost shatters your entire body into two.

“Hoolay has escaped from the Shackling prison!” A guard’s words echo through you that moment.

“He has taken a Yaoqing messenger with him, his name is…”

Moze inhales, messy in appearance after just coming back from the Shackling prison. The words thick on his tongue and fist clenched.

“…Jiaoqiu was taken by that escaped Borisin Warhead.”

You watch the starskiffs pass by your vision, the wind that gently gossips upon your skin felt so numb. You grip the rail before you, inhaling a breath, Jiaoqiu’s taken. You exhale, resting your head on your arm. He’s taken and no one knows where he is.

“I knew I’d find you here.”

You hear Feixiao approach you, you don’t lift your head to look at her and she settles on the space beside you, diamond blue-eyes accompanying you gazing at the numerous skiffs before you.

When you’ve gotten used to her presence, she turns, “How are you holding up?”

You cannot help but chuckle. “I’m not the one who needs comforting.”

She hums. “I know.” Her eyes are back on the starskiffs. “I am not familiar with offering words of comfort either, but I know you. I’ve known you for a very long time, don’t try to hide your emotions from me.”

You don’t answer her, you don’t for a very long time. So when you do, your voice cracks. “I’m scared. So, so scared—“

“Look at me, please?”

You finally lift your head. When your eyes settle onto Feixiao, she’s a watercolor of vanilla and blue. You didn’t realize you were crying until she started wiping the strays rolling down your cheeks.

You disliked crying, it makes you feel so weak—so open. However, you press Feixiao’s warm palm on your cheek, letting her comfort you because your fear is spiking yet again, memories of your dead parents rising to choke you whole.

“We’ll get him back, that I can promise.” Feixiao’s forehead is against yours.

You can only nod, squeezing her hand. “I know you will. You three are so strong, the strongest people I know.”

She finally releases you, not before pressing a delicate kiss on your temple. “I love you,” she tells you like she’s sealing a promise on your skin. “I’ll be having an audience with General Huaiyan and Jingyuan. Moze and I won’t be back for a while until this situation rolls over.”

You see the uncertainty clouding within Feixiao’s eyes. “Will you be alright being alone for a few hours?”

Your sister has always been so concerned for you, she’s been like this since you were young and you’re grateful that she cares about your well-being.

You shake your head with a smile as a response. “I’m no longer a child, Madam General. I can handle myself, so go do what you need to do.”

You don’t leave your place, raising a hand and waving as Feixiao leaves you to your own thoughts. Your smile falls then, ruminating on the current situation with a heavy heart.

“Jiaoqiu, Feixiao and Moze.” You mutter out to the wind and the virring skarskiffs passing beneath the bridge. “Please be safe.”

As you finally let your prayers fly in the wind, you step down the bridge and decide to focus your mind on other matters—you decide to stroll around Exalting Sanctum to check up on the craftsman that promised you your items.

Under the dim alley of Exalting Sanctum, Jiaoqiu stills with quiet breaths, his sharp eyes hovering between the disguised Warhead and Mok tok.

Even if he’s stringed up by them, he’s certain that General Feixiao had gotten the message of the prison break as well as his capture. His only course of action now is to stall for the Cloud knights, he’s giving time for Moze and General Feixiao to capture Hoolay.

“Since you’re so confident that the Cloud Knights have closed the ports, Jiaoqiu, I’m giving you a chance to go and see for yourself. Go to the ports, come back, and tell me what you saw.”

What is he thinking? Jiaoqiu scrutinizes as he steps into the bustling streets of Exalting Sanctum. His butterscotch eyes lift up to the sky, then around the streets, he’s certain that Warhead isn’t giving him freedom, the piercing gazes of suspicious foxians watching closely on his behavior is enough for him to thread carefully.

If he interacts with anyone aside from checking up on the ferryman, he fears there will be consequences. Jiaoqiu’s steps are paced, weighty and enduring. His mind is a blur of colors, but he manages to reach the port, his voice hushed as he talked with the so-called ferryman who’s responsible for the Warhead’s escape.

Jiaoqiu had thought the Xianzhou had closed the ports, but it still remains open. What's going on?

He inhales, he can feel someone watching him. The prodding looks make the hairs on his tail stand up. He exhales, climbing up a flight of stairs and turning the corner—

“Ah, there you are, young one. I was wondering where you were, and where’s your red-headed companion?”

“It’s just me today.” A familiar voice, “May I ask for the progress of what I ordered?”

Jiaoqiu’s breath is paper thin and his bones stiffen, what are you doing here?

He doesn’t have to turn around to know it’s you, his amber eyes zone in on you in an instant. At first, he felt relieved. You seem to be faring well even after the events that had happened in a span of a few hours—and then after relief, he felt dread.

Jiaoqiu can still feel eyes following his every move, he cannot go to you. But what if you saw him? What if you approached him and demanded to take him?

What would the Borisins do to you?

Jiaoqiu should’ve left when he had the chance instead of just standing there—because after your conversation with a craftsman, you had turned on your heel and your eyes had stopped on him.

No, Jiaoqiu mutters to himself.

He sees the arraying emotions washing over your face, the look of shock, relief, then yearning.

“Jiaoqiu is that…you?” Your tone is laced with a certain type of sob that rips his heart into two. His fingers twitch on his side, the desperation to embrace you is almost palpable—your actions will have consequences.

He stops himself shortly.

Jiaoqiu turns his head, and leaning at the far corner is a stranger, a foxian, his shadowed expression sharp on him, scrutinizing and calculating.

“Jiaoqiu!” He’s snapped back to reality when he hears you approaching him, hurried paces against the stony ground. He cannot be seen speaking with you.

“Do you have any idea how worried I was?” Your voice is strained and vulnerable, eyes glassy. “Where have you been, how did you—“

When you reach over to touch him, Jiaoqiu turns and slaps your hand away, harshly.

The two of you pause for a full minute, shocked at the action.

Jiaoqiu? Your eyes dissect him slowly, his butterscotch eyes are sharp, narrowed, expression complicated and folded with a million emotions. What’s happening?

“Is something wrong?” You ask him slowly. For a very long moment you only stared at each other. Jiaoqiu looks like he wants to reach out to you, to apologize for slapping your hand away—for his fingers ache to touch you.

But at the same time he looks like he wants to be anywhere but here. He keeps shifting on his heel, like he’s ready to walk away from you. But why?

Is someone watching him?

You turn your gaze, looking around the crowd but Jiaoqiu’s voice stops you,

“Stop it.” he hisses at you, “Go, get out of here.”

”..Okay.” You can do nothing but exhale. “Okay uhm, then I’ll get someone here, perhaps a Cloud Knight—“

“No!” Jiaoqiu yells at you and you flinch.

“Don’t—just don’t do anything. Forget you saw me and go back, please.”

Forget you saw him, he says. This is the first time you’ve seen Jiaoqiu this agitated, not even your first argument was he this icy, so harsh on you—you’re trying to understand why he’s acting like this but you cannot come to a conclusion.

You want to abide by what he says, you really do, but Jiaoqiu’s right here. If you left now, what would those borisins do to him—would they kill him like how they killed your parents?

The very thought of it sends a chill through your spine, your heart seizing in fear. So when Jiaoqiu turns around hastily, dread crawls up your body just watching his back as he walks away from you.

You know Jiaoqiu’s trying to protect you. You know it, but at the same time you cannot let him go.

You close the distance, enough to grasp the straws of his sleeve fabric—but the response is almost instantaneous, Jiaoqiu circles your wrist and tugs you to a dim alleyway impatiently. He’s aware of the heated gazes of the borisins but he tries to get away enough to push you up against the wall, to take all your attention.

Jiaoqiu’s aware of your wide, tear-stained eyes and shaking body. “I’m sorry, Jiaoqiu. I just can’t, let me expl—“ your words stumble between your lips like a drunk as you try to explain yourself but he simply flattens his palms on your mouth, and his voice is low, hurt and in pain.

From here, his butterscotch eyes that were once a gentle pool of honey and orange are now hardened like a resin, angry.

“When I tell you to run, run, little scribe.” Jiaoqiu forces his voice to leave his throat, a shaky exhale of statements. “I promised you, I promised General Feixiao that I would protect you, I would do anything for that. Your life is worth more than mine.“

You shake your head fervently, struggling from his hold but Jiaoqiu holds you closer, head falling unceremoniously on your shoulder, his soft ears tickling your cheek.

“They’re listening.” Jiaoqiu murmurs, shifting his hands to hold the frame of your face closely. “I need to go back to them.”

“They’re gonna hurt you at this rate.” You hiss. “Just come with me, Jiaoqiu, and then—“

“Then they’re gonna hurt the people here!” Jiaoqiu’s ear twitches as he bites back. “We are not to draw any form of attention to ourselves, don’t be selfish—“

“So what if I am?!” You grasp his hand, pressing your cheek against the heat of his own palm. “I don’t care if you call me selfish, I—“

Your words stumble, he can feel fresh tears on his skin.

“You’re breaking my heart, Jiaoqiu.” you sobbed. “I just want you to be safe with me, with sister and Moze.”

Jiaoqiu closes his eyes.

He is reminded of that crammed table that could slot four people. He remembers the spicy scent of food, the banters, the laughs.

Jiaoqiu engulfs you in a tight hug, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” he pauses. “I know where you’re coming from, you told me your story before, haven’t you?”

His lips brush the side of your temple, as if sealing a promise.

“I love you.” He tells you, and agony is in your heart. “I’m sorry, so so sorry, but I can’t leave with you, not when I know people will die if I escape and especially not when I know Hoolay will be the key to cure the general’s illness. Go find Moze as fast as you can, I'll try to stall those wolves for you.”

“Jiao—“ but he’s pulling away and disappearing from your view, taking the warmth with him. You could hardly stand on your own two feet, barely registering what had just happened.

You foolish fox…you push yourself off the ground, stumbling out of the alleyway with your eyes sweeping across the area.

But he’s gone, just like that.

You bend down, your balled fist slamming hard against the wall in frustration.

Jiaoqiu, an image of him enters your head, the patterns of torment in his eyes. You turn around and sprint for it. Please, stay alive.

But the world is not in your favor.

As soon as you distance yourself from Jiaoqiu, it isn't long before you feel eyes following you. You have been ever since you left the alleyway. Your heart hurts, and you aggressively wipe your tears on your sleeve.

For that Warhead to force your companion to do all of those things, you feel anger simmering beneath your arteries. How dare he—how dare he force Jiaoqiu to say all of those?

You quicken your steps then, someone was after you. Maybe that’s why Jiaoqiu wants to get away from you despite wandering around freely, because he was kept under close watch, he didn’t want them to draw their gaze on you.

Foolish, so foolish. You should’ve taken notice of the bloodthirsty eyes around Exalting Sanctum. Your breathing is heavy, you try to turn a corner—

You bump into someone.

They hold your shoulders steadily.

“Easy there, are you alright?” Gazing down at you was a man in Cloud knight uniform, you physically relaxed at the familiar attire. You step away from his hold, swiping the back of your palm on your cheeks.

“I’m alright, I apologize for bumping into—“

You stop. You feel murderous intent.

You settle your gaze on the Cloud Knight before you, he had foxian ears and a scar running down one of his eyes. Despite his gentle and raspy tone, his expression is cynical, but most of all,

His scent was so achingly familiar to the scent of the people that massacred your parents.

This is not a Cloud Knight.

“Is something wrong?” The man asks you.

You shake your head with a polite smile on your lips, your fingers nitpick at the wild thread from your pants, brushing the hidden knife tucked into it. “No, it’s alright. I just argued with someone unnecessary. I’m sorry for being such a sight—“

You merely wish to aim for his neck, to immobilize him so you can stumble out of the quiet corridor you were on and to mesh with the crowd. Just as your fingers reach for the weapon and to swipe—you hear bone crunching, your knife falling to the ground and your scream is choked by his hand, clamping down and gripping your jaw and cheeks, his claws dig deep and they feel sharper against the pillow of your skin.

“Pathetic human.” the foxian clicks his tongue. “So much vigor for such a weak attack.”

Hot blood trickles down from the open wound on your wrist, it hits the pebbles ground like rubies.

“If you want to chastise me for my measly attempt, at least say such a thing out of your disguise.” You breathed heavily, gaze sharp and angry. “You have no right to say that to me when you’re the one hiding like a whelp, you damn wolf.”

“A sharp-tongue, just like that pink fox.” Mok tok says it so disdainfully, his claws cut your skin, he leans in close to you, inhaling. “You smell of him too, as well as two other scents on you. So you’re close-knit.”

Jiaoqiu, your mind utters. What did you do to Jiaoqiu?

The borisin laughs at your unfortunate situation. “Now because of both your stupidity, your life will be nothing but fodder for our cause. Sing praises, little human, you have no one but that fox to blame for your misfortunes.”

“Of course, a lowly beast like you would think like that.” You try to bite back your scowl. “Blame him? How shallow do you see me, blaming someone whom you’ve shackled and taken hostage?”

“You speak as if your opinions hold absolution. Well, relish in these short-lived quips. Our lord wishes to cause chaos within the Xianzhou streets, it won’t take long and you will be nothing but another body to clean up and placed on a star skiff after this farce.”

You close your eyes. White, hot anger threatens to brew out of you like a storm, but you can feel the bones in your legs weakening, the dripping blood causing you to feel lightheaded—is this how you’ll die?

You slump against the stone wall behind you, your vision starting to blur.

“Feixiao.” You mumble, biting your lip one last time. “She’s strong, her alone will be enough to cut down a thousand of you. I swear upon my name, she’ll make sure you borisins will taste nothing but bitter defeat. You and your lord will not leave this ship and see freedom till your last dying br—“

Your words were hindered as something sharp swipes through your throat. Your pulse dies and everything goes pitch black.

For a split moment, his heart hurt and his eyes snapped open to nothing.

The ache is almost indescribable, almost painful as Jiaoqiu jolts awake from a nightmare, hand flying to his throat. He didn't realize he was mumbling in distress until he heard the chair beside him creak clumsily—like someone had jumped up from being seated for so long.

When his nose picks up the scent of Dreambranch incense, Jiaoqiu momentarily realizes where he was.

He lets out a breath. “I wasn’t aware you were here, Moze.”

“Jiaoqiu you…” Jiaoqiu can almost hear the reluctance in his tone—and if he had his vision, he would have seen a complicated expression on the assassin’s face, the familiar furrowed brows and deep frown.

“Don’t sound so uptight. I’m fine, I just had a nightmare is all.” the lighthearted tone quickly withers after remembering the dream that had made his fingers tremble.

“Moze, has…”

Moze is quiet by definition, but the absence of even a breath from him is all too unnerving. Jiaoqiu’s ears twitch, picking up on the way the chair creaks at the weight of being occupied, then a heavy breath.

Bitter is in Moze’s tone. “…little scribe has still not been found yet.”

Jiaoqiu smiles resentfully.

After the whole dilemma with Hoolay and the Wardance ceremony, he had just narrowly escaped the jaws of death when Moze had found him in an alleyway half-dead. He had lost track of the days that passed as he recovered slowly within Luofu's commission.

Everyone is slowly recovering from the aftermath, him, Feixiao and Moze—severely injured from fighting Hoolay and the remainder of the wolves that thrashed the streets.

All but you.

After everything was settled, General Feixiao had ordered knights to track your whereabouts. But not a single person had found you or possibly,

your body.

Jiaoqiu does not like to think of the latter choice.

But it’s been days, and the seed of hope within him is slowly withering.

After fixing his clothes, he peels the blankets which prompts a curt response from Moze.

“Where are you going?”

“I want to take a stroll, I feel restless..”

A gentle yet firm hand lands on his shoulder. “You mustn't.” Moze says. “That dragon lady just injected Draconic Ichor dewdrops to you last night, your tissues haven’t fully replenished, you’re not allowed to move as you please, at least not right now.”

“You’re confined to the alchemy commission just as much as the general and I.” Jiaoqiu quips back. “And yet you’re here in my room, defying clear orders from Miss Lingsha.”

It was unspoken, but Jiaoqiu is aware of the times Moze slips out the commission at night, searching for you until the dawn peaks and people start to flurry back onto the streets.

He’s aware of Feixiao talking with the authorities within the Luofu, talking with higher ups and people to help with the search, to find people who would help find even an inkling of you somewhere.

And just like him, those two are just as aware of the times Jiaoqiu sits alone on the bed, a smile on his lips as Lingsha or Bailu leaves the door when he says he was feeling okay. unaware—but aware to two of his companions—that he’d pray helplessly for your safety every day, praying that you’d show up at some point. He prays, promises that he’d never place mushrooms in your bowl again, so you can finally come back to him.

It wasn't spoken aloud, but actions were made clear on how the Yaoqing general and her two delegates had missed you like no other.

They loved you, after all.

The hand on his shoulder drops, and Jiaoqiu turns to the direction where he knows he’s facing the assassin. He’s still unsure with his own movements and gestures, being in such a state—he’s conflicted of what to feel, but his visual impairment doesn’t affect him as much as his growing dread of your absence and his heavy heart did.

“If you plan to take a stroll, then i’ll accompany you.”

Jiaoqiu’s smile is soft, feeling the looming presence of his companion by his side, easing him towards the door in a clumsy gesture.

“I owe you, Moze.” He tells him when they exit the commission.

“You don’t owe me anything.” Moze replies. “Just, keep yourself healthy so you can continue to be by the General’s side.”

“Of course. Isn’t that already a given due to my position?”

“…You’re making that face.”

Jiaoqiu’s ear flick at his directness.

He pushes out a chuckle, “What face?”

“Like you just failed the General.” The familiar thump thump thump of Moze’s footsteps pause, the pink-haired healer does the same.

“It’s not your fault that they’re missing.”

“Is that so?” Jiaoqiu wonders. From the distance, he can taste the sea waves, the ether trickling its whisper on his ears and kissing his skin cold. “Do you remember what the General told us months ago when we were first called to her office?”

Moze stays quiet. Jiaoqiu continues, “the General had told us that there was an attempted assassination on her kin.” He grits his teeth. “She told us that she was worried, that one day, the most precious person in her life would face a tragic end because of her—“

“Jiaoqiu—“

“The little scribe.” Jiaoqiu sighs, shaky. He feels pathetic, saying all of this in front of Moze. He’s supposed to be the eldest, the wisest, but given the circumstances, there’s nothing but loathing and self-deprecating thoughts in his mind.

Helplessness has found a home in his chest once again, he hasn't felt this way since being a healer on the battlefield.

“There’s no excuse for this.” Jiaoqiu turns then.

“It was direct orders from the General to protect them, I exposed them to Hoolay and now we don’t know if they’re safe or not. I…I failed that order. If only—“

And faltering, “if only I walked away just before they saw me—“

Warmth. Just before he finished his sentence, he felt arms embracing him.

For a moment, he was stunned. Moze hugging him? That’s quite an unlikely situation, then he smells that scent—the scent of wind and vanilla and herbs, as well as the feeling of smaller sinewy arms around his shoulders.

“Is that how you felt, Jiaoqiu?” It was General Feixiao.

“...Did you also slip out of the alchemy commission, General? Ignoring the doctor’s orders again I see.”

“Compared to you, I have almost recovered.” Feixiao’s embrace only tightens much to Jiaoqiu’s surprise. “But you, I heard from Miss Lingsha that you’re healing very poorly despite the treatments you’ve received. They had thought it was because of the toxins still in your body, but I thought of another reason. You feel responsible for what has happened.”

“It’s just a trivial thought of mine, I never wished to concern you with my own health and problems, General.”

“Don’t say nonsense, a healer doesn’t heal himself.” Feixiao mutters on his shoulder. “And I thought an embrace can help ease you, Miss March had said so.”

“Ah, the spirited one from the Astral Express.” Jiaoqiu dithers. “Thank you for the kind offer, General but I’m alright—“

He stiffened once again when he felt another pair of arms around him, piling up on Feixiao's embrace. He is unsure of what to do with his hands, so he pats either of his companion’s arms.

“This isn’t necessary.”

“It is.” Moze says it seriously, dutiful.

Jiaoqiu would have let this slip, if it weren't for the fact that his back is starting to ache from all the weight pushing him down. His companions are—after all—all bulk sinews and muscles from exercise, compared to his leaner stature.

“It isn’t. If anyone were to see this, they would think the Yaoqing—“

“Sorry, am I interrupting a beautiful sentimental moment between comrades?”

Jiaoqiu pushes both Feixiao’s and Moze’s arms when another tone quips up from the distance.

The smell of fragrant roses hits his nose, the subtle feel of the atmosphere shifting at the arrival of that knight whom you have accompanied half the time during the Luofu.

“This is the first time greeting you, knight of beauty.” Feixiao is the first to speak, kindness in her tone. “May I know the agenda of your visit?”

“I have come here to fulfill a request from a friend.” Argenti’s tone dips into genuine sorrow. “As well as to say sorry, for what has happened.”

The clack of armor against the cobblestone, the rustle of something he isn’t quite sure of, then Argenti’s syrupy tone again.

“Your young companion has had a surprise to offer to you three. They had sought me for assistance for it, and it’s only today that the craftsman had finished it. I thought of delivering it on their behalf.”

”What is it?” asks Moze. Argenti steps up and offers a hand, Moze reluctantly extends his, hitting his palm with something soft, almost heavy.

“I heard it’s Xianzhou tradition to give things like this to someone special.” His smile is soft. “It’s to signify good luck and blessings.”

Moze is quiet. “…They did this?”

And the knight nods, giving the other tassels to the two. This was the surprise you’ve been in secrecy for the longest time, Moze notes clutching the red tassel tightly between his palms. It’s a gift, for them.

“Thank you for delivering this, knight.” Feixiao offers her gratitude. She's the only one that is engaged in the conversation, Moze is otherwise quiet—and Jiaoqiu’s too busy trying to trace a pattern on the tassel thread to say his own tidings.

But Argenti is understanding, after a few more words said, the knight of beauty excuses himself, leaving the three to their own thoughts.

When silence is all that envelopes, Feixiao turns towards her companions.

“Do you want me to place the tassel on your person, Jiaoqiu?” The pink-haired healer smiles at the gentle brush of his general’s tone, giving his tassel to her so she can hang the accessory around his belt.

“I can do it for you too, Moze.”

“Okay.” Moze leans forward. “I’ll place yours, General.”

The tassels are caressed by the gentle breeze of the distant shore of Lunarescent Depths, the meaning of its thread weighs heavy.

“They are alive somewhere, that I am sure of.” Feixiao said it like a promise than an assumption. “We won’t return to the Yaoqing until I am sure of that.”

“I am with you, General.” rasps Moze.

“Where will I be if not by your side as your doctor?” Jiaoqiu chuckles. “Even with my current state, I wish to give it my everything.”

Suddenly, hurried footfalls on heavy cobblestone gave way to a new arrival.

Both Jiaoqiu and Feixiao’s ears twitch at the sound. Moze’s sharp eyes darted towards a Cloudknight who was approaching them, out of breath.

“General Feixiao!’ the Cloudknight heaves a breath, his hurriedness draws all three to his manners.

“What is it?”

“The Yaoqing scribe—your companion has been found.” The air stills and Jiaoqiu inhales a sharp breath, the Cloudknight continues through heavy breaths. “The IPC representatives have claimed that they found your scribe, they had just entered the Alchemy commission.”

It’s a miracle, one peels at your consciousness. Thank your Reighbow arbiter for such wonderment, you were given a second chance, the second sores a bruise on your skin.

Your carotid arteries are surprisingly intact, you only manage to harbor a few broken rib cages, wrist bone and clavicle, the third draws a muddy filth until you find yourself awakening from a tormented scene, clutching the expanse of your bandaged-wrapped neck like you’ve lost its anatomy—for a short moment, you thought you have gone without a neck.

Your eyes bruise beneath the sun, sticking it towards the open window of Luofu’s Alchemy Commission, the wind gossips, and the duvets hug your thin frame.

You inhale the medical-scented room, you're alive, exhale, you're okay.

“Feixiao.” your dry mouth utters the first words. “Jiaoqiu.” you push yourself up, dragging your feet towards the edge of the bed, toes hitting cold planks.

“Mo—” then, the door bursts open.

Your eyes snap up and a lamp lights in your pupils.

Moze was standing there, in the flesh.

“Moze—” and you startle in surprise when the gaps between the two of you immediately cease, large arms engulfing you whole. Which was unexpected, because Moze is not one to initiate physical contact with anyone. But to the assassin—feeling you in his arms, the dresses of breaths you let out and the warmth that wools you reassures Moze that you are here. You truly are here in his arms.

“You’re okay.” came his shaky response, he gathers you closer, your beating pulse resting on his cheek. “You’re fine now.”

A couple more footfalls came, Feixiao and Jiaoqiu had arrived.

Feixiao calls your name when her eyes land on you, the synonyms a delicate stroke on her tongue, then her warm palm finds a home on your cheek.

You gaze at her, watching her ocean eyes crinkle with relief, her ears tilted back to show just how troubled she was. “I thought I lost you.”

“I’m sorry, sister.”

She leans forward to bump her forehead with yours, levity in the air. “Don’t be sorry.”

When Moze and Feixiao finally pull away, your eyes drag towards the last person in the room who hasn’t uttered a single word yet. You see a smile on his lips but it does not reach his eyes.

“Jiaoqiu,”

“Little scribe,” his voice betrays his calm disposition. “You’re okay.”

“I am.” you start. “Please come closer.”

You see his reluctance before he approaches you—slightly slower than normal—reaching his arms out before finding your bed, sitting on the edge of it. His actions sent an ache through your heart.

“How are you feeling?” Jiaoqiu asks. “We heard your wrist was broken and your throat slashed…”

“The medicine that the healers from the IPC gave me helped and my wrist is healing. But you, Jiaoqiu, I heard that your eyes…”

Jiaoqiu gives you a smile and you finally confirm that it is in fact true.

He cannot see anymore.

Even if he’s visually unavailable, Jiaoqiu knows you. And he knew you were crying, his fingers reaching out to you, trying to feel where you were. You meet him halfway, clasping your fingers with his and pressing your cheek against the palm of his hand. His thumb swipes across your wet skin and his forehead taps against yours.

The whole situation weighs on your chest—your endangerment, the severe injuries those three received, the aftermath and the reunion, you cannot help but finally crash down from everything. You wrap your arms around Jiaoqiu, a heavy sob wracking through your whole body and he holds you impossibly close. You feel Moze’s and Feixiao’s hands rubbing circles on your back, soothing your cries.

“Please don’t cry, I’m—we’re okay.” Jiaoqiu softly croons, running his thumb up and down the wet skin of your cheek.

“So are you,” his face crumbles and he bites back his own sobs. “Thank you so much for being okay and coming back to us, thank you so much.”

When your heavy cries fade into weak sniffles, Jiaoqui holds the frame of your face so delicately, wiping away the remnants of wetness, leaning down to rub your nose with his. “Better?” and in response, you grunted.

Everyone takes a seat near your bed. Moze reaches out to give you a handkerchief and you gratefully take it. Afterwards, you fall back into conversation, asking them what had happened during your absence. Feixiao is the one to elaborate to you the aftermath of the borisin attack, their recovery and the resume of the Wardance.

You crack a smile, “I was really excited to see that ceremony.”

“We can all go there together.” There’s a faint smile on Moze’s lips. “That knight will take part from what I heard and there will be other contestants across the universe.”

“After our recovery, since everything has been handled by General Jingyuan, I will be able to join you three and partake in the ceremony.” Feixiao speaks. “It will take about a week before the Wardance will conclude, then we can all return to the Yaoqing.”

The Yaoqing, your gaze drops to your hands, your smile thinning.

“...I have something to tell you three.”

This garners their attention, with a breath of courage you mutter out, “When the Luminary Wardance concludes in Luofu, I won’t be returning to the Yaoqing.”

You look up, your face serious. “ I’ll be joining the Intelligentsia Guild.”

Hours prior to your return to the Alchemy commission, you find yourself in a room that has been rented out by the IPC.

Someone knocks on your door and you grit back an exhale.

“I believe I’ve already sent my regards to you lot. I am grateful for your aid but I never imagined I would be bombarded, entangled in some miscellany with the IPC, much less..”

You turn your head, glare landing on the tall man with dark purple hair. “Much less from such a distinguished figure from the renowned Intelligentsia Guild.” You let out a tired sigh. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Let’s not speak in riddles and pleasantries then.” Despite your bite, Ratio’s tone remains firm and gentle. “You are already aware of our intentions and I’m merely here to remind you of it.”

“As I said it once and I’ll say it again. I’m a pathstrider of the hunt, I have no interest in joining other factions.”

“I suppose a little stubbornness will suffice, however your missing the point of my argument. Your companions, I heard those three Yaoqing folks—including you—were severely injured during the attack of the borisins. If the IPC hadn't found you when they did, I’m afraid you would have been dead, long ago.”

“So this is the game you’re playing. I heard the Intelligentsia Guild was heavily sponsored by the IPC. I have dealt with people like you during my time in the Yaoqing office and I’m not a fool to fall for your petty schemes. This talk is more catered to your interest much more than mine, am I right, Doctor?”

Dr. Ratio sighs. “I must admit, I was sent here under orders from Madam Yabuli. But I also have my own curiosities about you.”

“Your achievements in the Yaoqing are far more popular than you think. The IPC has recognized it and so have I. There’s an open spot in the Intelligentsia Guild that we can offer you, the Candelagraphos, it’s a printing department of the guild. Your scribe work has gained acknowledgement outside its capital and thus would make a good addition to us.”

Your fist is clenched onto the blanket, “So it’s more of a one-sided investment for you and your guild.”

“Incorrect.” Ratio says. “Going back to your companions, one of them holds the ancestral bloodline of the borisins, and the other has had his vision critically impaired—” Your chest twists at what he said. “—If you join the guild, you can gain access to a lot of information to help them that you can use at your own personal discretion.”

Ratio stands, setting a glass of water and medicinal herbs at your bedside. “That’s my offer to you.” He nods. “I do hope you think this one carefully, at your state, this is more of an opportunity than a disadvantage. I will provide assistance and vouch for you. For now, please rest.”

He turns. “You will return to your family tomorrow.”

Instead of resting like what Dr. Ratio had said, your heart is a bouquet of conflict. You spent the entire day tossing and turning, thinking about his offer, thinking about the possibility and opportunity you can get,

Thinking about leaving them, your mind pauses at the notion. You thought about it again before dismissing it. Their impact on you is so significant that you cannot envision living a life without Feixiao, Jiaoqiu and Moze. They helped you stand on your own two feet, would you still be able to stay afloat when they’re no longer by your side?

Then clarity sinks into your artery.

Jiaoqiu’s permanent injuries and Feixiao’s chronic illness. You can find something to help them, and thus as the sun sinks its color on the horizon line, you made the decision to accept.

You had explained your situation and decisions to your companions. Your hands had turned clammy as they listened to you intently.

Jiaoqiu’s ears twitch. “...You want to join them and use your experience as the Yaoqing’s scribe to research more about our conditions?”

“I thought about it and I don't see any reason to give up on this opportunity.” Your gaze drags to each of them slowly, dissecting the emotions on their faces.

“I have an idea of what you are gonna say, and I am aware of the dangers of joining them. But this is a choice I made, Jiaoqiu and Moze—you both have been my protectors and companions for a short time but it felt like an eternity. Ever since that day at my sister’s office, I never expected for such a bond to happen, nor did I expect to care so so much about you both. If I could go back and do it all again—I won’t change a single thing. Now it’s my turn to help you out.”

Your eyes flicker to Feixiao. “Sister.” you start. “You have been protecting me for all my life, please allow me to do the same for you. I’ll search for a cure for you and Jiaoqiu with my own abilities, please.”

Silence, and you waited with battered breaths, slightly terrified of their reactions. After all, if you join the intelligentsia guild, you would be leaving them.

Then you hear a breathy chuckle, you look up and all three of them are smiling at you.

“Is this what you want to do?” Feixiao asks.

You nod your head and her grin widens. “If that is what you wish for, then who am I to deny such a thing?

Moze lets out a breath, nudging you softly. “We will leave it in your extremely capable hands, Yaoqing’s scribe.”

“We are nothing but proud of you.” Jiaoqiu’s smile is so, so sweet. “Never forget that.”

“I have always been worried about you and your future. If this is the path that you chose for yourself, then go for it, I wouldn’t dare block you from doing something you want to do.” Feixiao reaches out to caress your cheek. “Then, should we spend the next few days together? This will be the last time all of us will be able to hang around each other.”

Your eyes are on your hands, your vision blurring as you try to wipe the wetness from your lashes. “Yeah, okay. That’s a deal.”

The day continued, but most of it was spent being in each other’s company, talking about anything and everything under the sun like you’d always do. The epilogue of the day started when Miss Lingsha knocked on your door, asking for Jiaoqiu to do a quick check up. Everyone had decided to end the day there, not before bidding you a good night’s rest.

By the time you all were able to finally leave the Alchemy commission, the Wardance ceremony had finally commenced. The four of you enjoyed watching the contestants battle to your heart’s content. The atmosphere dressed with the thrill of the crowd, at some point—when a Belobogian fighter was pitting against one of the robots of the IPC, you notice Moze looking at you from the corner of your eye.

“Is something the matter?” You catch his stare, but his velvety irises were intent on something on your face.

He points towards the side of his mouth. “Sauce.”

“Oh.” You immediately raise your hand to wipe—your sleeve comes with a drag of the familiar orangey sauce of your skewer. You thanked Moze and he nodded at you in greeting.

Five seconds pass.

“Want to try?” You raise your berrypheasant skewer to him. You cannot help but laugh at the quiet enthusiasm Moze showed, you cup a hand beneath when he leaned down to take a bite.

You grin at him as his expression glowed at the sweet taste.

It's easy to get lost in the flurry of joy and before you know it, the Luminary Wardance has been concluded and it is your final night with them before you go your separate ways. The night is gradual and Jiaoqiu finds himself conscious on his bed. His face wrinkles on a wince, feeling a burn crawling up his pulse and his chest caving in on himself—chronic pain, he remembered a doctor telling him post-discharge. Due to Lupitoxin and the aftermath of that tumbleweed I’m afraid you will be experiencing episodes of chronic pain.

The healer could do nothing but bite his lip to ease his pain rolling in waves.

Through the pain that hummed in his ears, he heard footfalls nearing his room. It’s the kind of pattering that happens when rain hits a soft cloth, the type that almost anchors him from his splintered head.

His heavy breath hitches when there’s a delicate rapping of knocks, then someone approaching his bed. He recognizes the familiar pattern of footsteps and turns his back to it.

“Are you awake, Jiaoqiu?”

A second too late. “Is something the matter?”

Silence greets him. He feels someone tug his blankets, lifting his duvets so you can occupy the space beside him.

Your head touches his back, Jiaoqiu clenches his hand.

“Did you have a bad dream?” Jiaoqiu asks.

“Yeah.” Your voice is barely a whisper. “Jiaoqiu, does it hurt?”

“No—” he slightly chokes on his reply. “I’m fine—I just need a few minutes, it will fade. I don’t want you to see me like this.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, please don’t apologize—”

“Then, can I hug you for a few minutes?” you ask. “Just for a few minutes—”

Before you can finish your own sentence, he has turned around and pulls you in his arms. Jiaoqiu smells like medicinal herbs and fragrance from incense.

You bury your face on his chest. He feels your hand clutch him tightly. “I…I wish I can stay for a little while longer and help—”

Jiaoqiu hushes you. “Why are you faltering now? Didn't you promise me that you would go to the guild to find a cure?”

“I know I did. I still want to go, but I wish to go to the Yaoqing first and be of assistance to you even for a short while. Leaving like this…”

“I will be okay, that I can promise you. Yes, it will be difficult but I don’t want my health to be a detriment to what you want to do.” Jiaoqiu’s warm breath is on your neck. There is a gentle rhythm to his palm running up and down on your back. “This isn’t our last goodbye, so don’t fret your head about it. By the time you come and visit, I will be better. Now sleep, you need the rest for the journey tomorrow.”

“Can I hold your hand while I fall asleep?”

Jiaoqiu chuckles heartily. “Silly.” He finds your hand, the furnace of warmth dancing beneath his palm. “I’ll allow it tonight. Now rest.”

Sometime during the night, like an invisible string—Moze appears, materializing within the room, his eyes gentle at the scene. You awaken to his familiar footsteps and the light rustle as you smell him burning another incense, stirring from your slumber and fluttering your drowsy gaze at the assassin.

Just as you part your lips to utter his name, Moze presses a finger to his lips.

He draws closer, pulling the blanket over both your shoulders and dragging a chair to rest beside the bed.

When your eyes lock with his, he mouths ‘keeping watch, go back to sleep.’

Your eyes crinkle and your heart flutters at his simple way of affection. You are aware of him coming sooner or later, according to your sister’s words, Moze would secretly slip into Jiaoqiu’s room. She believes he does this because he knows of the chronic pain and would light up the fragrant incense on the windowsill to make sure Jiaoqiu slept with a calm mind.

Then and there you’ve realized how different it is for them to love, to comfort. Not only love for you but love for each other. Feixiao and the two had a bond that was furnaced into iron—they were each other’s saving graces and security for as long as you remembered.

You can feel the weight of Jiaoqiu’s head next to yours, his arm loose around your waist. With your free hand you extend it towards Moze.

He looks at it, unsure of what you wanted.

“It’s chilly.”

“I just pulled the covers on you, are you still cold?”

“Your hand can warm me up nicely.” You say softly, “please?”

Moze’s palm without his glove is full of calloused surface, dried scars and roughness against your own. “Thank you,”

A beat of silence, then you see Moze lean forward. He runs his thumb across the bandages of your wrist.

“Your wrist.” He enunciates first. “Does it still hurt?”

Your lips curl up, shaking your head. But Moze does the honor of pressing his lips against your bandages, as if to ease you. Your consciousness slips to the comfort of Moze’s forehead on your knuckles, as if apologizing for being unable to protect you.

I’m sorry. His gestures suggest.

You squeeze back. Fingers brushing delicate strands of his grey hair, it’s okay.

When the night vanishes and the day breaks, Feixiao enters, then stops when she sees all three of you huddled together still sound asleep. The room barely nurses the sunny-egg yolk morning, creeping slow gold through the hard flooring.

Feixiao’s chuckle is thick with mirth. She grabs an extra blanket in the cabinet and quietly covers Moze’s frame slumbering stiffly on the chair, allowing a few more moments of respite between the three of you.

A few hours later, it’s finally time for departure and you stand on the Starskiff Jetty, your bags already loaded onto the skiff. Moze was the first to close the distance, giving you a very long hug as if to satiate the yearning he’d have if you leave. His muscled arms only seem to tighten as the seconds drag and you’re more than welcoming of this side of him.

“Take care of them and yourself.” Your whisper brushes his ear and you feel him hum.

“I’ll handle things over here,” he presses his lips against your temple. “You take care.”

When you pull away, you turn to Jiaoqiu. You’re the one that stepped into his open arms, claiming his shoulder as your homage for a split moment.

“I’m going to miss you.” His voice comes with a tremble. When he pulls away, his hands lay purchase on the chub of your cheeks. He runs his fingers through every angle, crook and dip like he’s memorizing the shape of your face.

You clasp his fingers and press a kiss to the back of his hand. “Me too.”

Jiaoqiu lifts his head, nodding at Moze. “I’ve packed you some Xianzhou food—with the help of Moze, of course. Thought you’d want to eat some one last time.” You turn and Moze hands you a bag of stacked lunch boxes. You cannot help the smile that creeps up your lips at the endearment.

“Thank you so much.” You dare try to sneak a peek inside one of the containers. The familiar aroma of Jiaoqiu’s homemade foods fill your bones in heavy nostalgia.

In one of the bowls, you’ve noticed something.

Your eyes snap up, “There’s no mushrooms.”

There was elation that crossed the fox’s expression, the tips of his lips curve upward and his tail swishes behind him.

“Just like you wanted.”

Your laughter is filled with sentimentality, you try to hide your sniffle, it does not escape him. “This is a first. I swear I'll miss eating your mushrooms though, even if I hated it.”

Jiaoqiu chuckles, reaching out to hold your face one last time. “I’ll take note of that then.”

Lastly, you turn towards Feixiao. A gracious smile settled on her lips.

“Sister.”

“Come here.” Her embrace is almost your last straw. You bury your nose on the crook of her shoulder, reminiscing her scent. Feixiao must’ve noticed your faltering disposition, for she had landed her hand on your back, dragging her palm up and down.

“Don’t cry.” She tells you.

“I’ll miss you, so so much,”

“I know.” She pulls you tighter. “I know. I’m gonna miss you too. You’re always welcomed into the Yaoqing anytime you wish to visit, and remember to write to us, okay?”

Feixiao rubs her cheek against your own. You nod and she spares you another grin. “Here.” She reaches for something. “I want you to have this.”

“What’s this?” You hold the tiny scroll in your palm.

“It’s a letter.” At her reply, you look up. “Open it when you’re on the ship.”

The time has finally come, and from behind Dr. Ratio calls your name. You turn to him, then back at them. Now that you’re gonna be separated, there’s hesitation rooted in your feet.

But your companions offer you encouraging smiles and you finally take a step away from them. With one last glance from behind and a—farewell, I love you—you enter the IPC starskiff. From your seat, you watch Feixiao, Moze and Jiaoqiu enter a different ship boarded for Yaoqing.

You press your hand against the glass, watching as their skiff breaks away from the same road as yours. Now that you’re here, there’s a creeping loneliness that settles on your chest.

“You think you’re gonna be okay?” Ratio comes by to check up on you and you nod your head, wiping the tears that rolls down your cheeks.

“Yes, sorry. I’ll be okay.”

You watch his eyes soften, crushed by a mortar and pestle. “The first goodbyes are always the hardest, there’s no need for apologies. It’s gonna be a long trip to the guild so help yourself with anything the ship provides. The IPC is the one funding it after all.”

“Alright, thank you doctor.”

When the Xianzhou Luofu disappears from your window view and the ocean of the vast galaxies span across vision, you finally tear away from it. You land your wet eyes on your clasp palms, the scroll that Feixiao gave you delicate in your hands.

You inhale, exhale, then open the letter—when the top comes off with a pop, something topples onto your lap and your eyes twinkle. Inside contains the same hand-crafted tassel, the only difference is that it is engraved with all your names,

You flatten the letter onto your palms next and it reads,

Even if such a perilous challenge comes your way, you were always the type to persist. We have always been aware of it, and in our eyes you are a strong and resilient person. We know you’ll do amazing wherever you go, you always have been, and we are so proud of you.

We’ll be alright, just as you would be.

May fates bring us all together one day, and when you come back to visit, let’s all have a meal together like we always do.

You are the pride of the Yaoqing, safe travels our dear scribe.

Much love, your guardians.

When your eyes rove the last characters of the letter it starts to blur. Your heart is honeyed by their words. You press your lips against the paper before lifting your gaze to the universe outside.

Goodbye, Xianzhou. You say your greetings to your home, no longer somber in the heart. Because at the end of the day,

You know you’ll all be okay.

THE END.

[australet789]

Some assholes on Instagram saying that Epic fans are "gaslighting" themselves about Odysseus being faithful to Penelope because of the Circe part and being pretentious about it and how we are stupid for considering The Odyssey romantic

Motherfucker

1. The Odyssey is an epic poem we all fucking know that? That it's a tragedy, technically comedy (comedy in ancient literature used to mean "happy ending", not funny stuff)

2. The Circe bit can be interpreted in different ways, as if it was fully consensual or not or just a transaction. There was still a difference in power dynamics, which was 100% mentioned by Calypso in the beginning, but if you choose to ignore that part if the same as saying some of Zeus' kids were ok to be conceived because the women agreeded to what A GOD wanted.

3. Obviously Epic!Odysseus is differente from Homer!Odysseus, but trying to say Homer! Odysseus is a horrible person that fully wanted to cheat on Penelope just because you want to defend ALEXANDER HAMILTON, i have bad news about you.

4. "The crew had to beg to go back!" I read the Odyssey too. As a child and a few days ago. They stayed on Circe's island to rest so Odysseus job as a captain was literally wait until his crew told him they were ready to leave, specially after what they have lived. Odysseus didnt force anyone to stay in that island, when the crew went "oh, sir, we miss our families, please lets go back now, yes?" Odysseus immediately said "ok". It literally felt like a father waiting for the kids to stop playing in the playground.

5. Homer!Odysseus is not perfect, at all (man killed his disloyal maids because he didnt want to deal with shit anymore, even if they also were coerced/raped by the suitors), but come with a better gotcha than Circe. You are just fixiated on the Telegony and it shows.

6. Idk what to tell you, but if you think renouncing a life with two inmortal godesses (one of whom offered you immortality), traveling for 10 years defying a God's rage, killing 108 men who wanted to marry your wife (and ruined your house), almost killed yourself when said wife rejected you only for her to go "haha i was just testing you, silly :)", have your literally marriage have a word created for you two specifically is not romantic... Idk go read Bridgerton

[buckets-and-trees]

Entanglement

Characters/Pairings: mean Alpha!Bucky x curvy Female!Omega!Reader Word Count: 4.9k Summary: After spending the night with Alpha Bucky, the two of you address the shape of things moving forward. (not a stand-alone read)

Content/Warnings: omegaverse; reluctant attraction; power dynamics; manipulation; threats; dirty talk; explicit smut: somnophilia (mentioned/off-screen), knotting, vaginal fingering, edging, orgasm denial, unprotected vaginal intercourse and insemination; beefy Bucky; size kink; semi-public sexual situation

Author Notes: Surprise! It's been almost three months, but TA DA I STILL WRITE BUCKKY FICS! Excited to finally get back to this specific AU, too... It didn't start as a series, but now that it's transformed into that in my head, I have so much in store for you!!! This is the fourth fic for my Birthday Jubilee.

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You moan as you come into consciousness. You’re naked in bed with your naked alpha, and he already has your leg hitched up over his hip, cock sunk into your cunt. Your body responds immediately, rocking against him as he lazily thrusts into you. Bucky's stubble scratches against your neck as he nuzzles insistently against one of the bonding marks.

"Good morning, Omega," he murmurs, his voice still rough with sleep.

"Alpha," you breathe, tilting your head to give him better access. Your body is rested but you feel the aches of having been thoroughly used - even through your sleep.

He picks up the pace slightly, grinding his hips more forcefully against yours. One of his hands slides down to grip your ass, pulling you tighter against him. You moan as the new angle allows him to hit deeper inside you.

"Always so wet for me," Bucky growls approvingly. "My perfect Omega, always ready for her Alpha's cock."

You whimper at his words, feeling yourself grow even slicker around him. He rolls onto to his back, and pulls you over the top of him.

You gasp as you sink down fully onto Bucky's thick cock, the new position allowing him to penetrate even deeper. His hands grip your hips tightly as he guides you into a slow, rolling rhythm.

"That's it, ride your Alpha's cock," he growls, his eyes dark with lust as they roam over your body.

You brace your hands on his broad chest and begin to move more forcefully, lifting yourself up until just the tip remains inside before sinking back down. Bucky groans in approval, his fingers digging into your flesh hard enough to bruise.

"Such a good omega," he praises. "Taking me so well."

His words send a fresh wave of arousal through you. You increase your pace, chasing your pleasure as you bounce on his cock. Bucky's hips begin to thrust up to meet yours, driving himself even deeper.

Your movements grow more frantic as you chase your release. Bucky's hands roam over your body, squeezing your breasts and pinching your nipples. You can feel a knot starting to form at the base of his cock - your knot, for you. The sensations of his cock filling you and his hands on your sensitive flesh have your omega side keening and spiraling quickly towards orgasm.

"Yes, cum for me," Bucky growls. "Let me feel that tight pussy squeeze my cock."

His words push you over the edge and you cry out as your orgasm crashes over you. Your inner walls clamp down on Bucky's thick length as waves of pleasure course through your body.

Bucky groans at the sensation of your clenching pussy. He grips your hips tightly and begins to thrust up into you hard and fast, chasing his own release. The overstimulation has you whimpering and clutching at his chest.

"Take it," he growls, and you feel his knot swell and lock inside you. You whimper but throw your head back as his hips stutter and then he spills his hot seed inside you, continuing to thrust as much as he can. Your walls clench to milk him.

“So deep inside you,” he snarls, “every drop is yours, every shudder is mine.”

You collapse onto Bucky's chest, panting heavily as aftershocks of pleasure ripple through you. His arms wrap around you, holding you close as his knot continues to pulse inside you. You nuzzle into his neck, inhaling his musky alpha scent.

"Such a good omega," Bucky murmurs, stroking your back. "Taking your alpha's knot so well."

You hum contentedly, basking in the praise and the feeling of being filled and claimed. Your body feels languid and sated. This is why he so dangerous to you. Bucky shifts slightly, causing his knot to tug at your sensitive flesh. You whimper at the sensation.

"Shh, I've got you," he soothes, continuing to stroke up and down your spine. For a moment, you allow yourself to forget about the complexities of your situation and simply enjoy the intimacy, the physical connection, tapping into the primal part of you he awakened the first instant he touched you.

After several minutes, Bucky speaks. “So you want a more traditional alpha and omega co-habitation. You want the physical connection – the sex, my knot. But what else do you want?”

Reality crashes back in and you tense slightly. Bucky notices immediately.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

There’s a rumble of a laugh in his chest. It’s not mirthful, it’s still cold, but it’s not heated or angry.

“Omega, let’s acknowledge the reality of what exists here. I wanted to annex your lands, to take over your people and your pack, and to have you as my bonded mate to unequivocally consolidate my power in this region. You’ve had a week to sit with that. I know you didn’t want to see me only to get my cock in your cunt, but while I have you here, knotted and unable to move, I want you to be honest with me. What do you want from our situation?”

You let out a trepidatious chirp - a sound you have never made before.

“I’m open to hearing what you want.”

You study his eyes, his expression is guarded but closed off, reflecting his claim to openly hear you.

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself. "I want to be involved in the governance of our territory. Not just as a figurehead or trophy omega, but to have real input and influence. I was raised for this. I know my people, our needs and challenges. I can help you rule more effectively."

Your father had already been having discussions with you about the possibility and timing of stepping down from his position as governor to ensure a smooth transfer of power rather than risk the danger of anyone challenging your claim to take his place when he died, female and omega that you were.

Bucky's eyes narrow slightly as he considers your words. "Go on."

"It's in both our interests," you reply carefully. "Happy, well-governed subjects are less likely to rebel. And as your bonded omega, my fate is tied to yours now. I have no incentive to work against you."

He's silent for a long moment, his piercing gaze searching your face. Finally, he gives a small nod. "I'll consider it. Coming into this, I knew the potential that could be forged with having you as the omega by my side. But make no mistake - I know you will have your own agenda, and I will be watching you closely. Do not work against me. Where we align, there will not be a problem. One hint of betrayal, and I’ll make good on my threat to make this apartment your isolated prison.”

You nod, accepting his terms. "I understand. I'm not looking to undermine you.” That may not be fully true, but you knew you needed to commit to the cause and do what you could for the greater good. “I want the people to be safe and prosper and I want to have a voice in decisions that affect them."

Bucky studies you for another long moment before speaking. "We'll start small. You can attend council meetings as an observer. If you prove yourself trustworthy and valuable, we can discuss expanding your role."

Relief - even a small, reserved amount of excitement - courses through you. It's more than you'd dared hope for so soon. "Thank you."

He shifts his hips, causing his still-swollen knot to tug at your sensitive flesh. You gasp at the sensation.

“I won't betray you, Alpha."

His hands slide up to cup your face, tilting your head to meet his gaze directly. "See that you don't. I can be a generous alpha when pleased, but cross me and you'll regret it deeply."

The intensity in his eyes sends a shiver down your spine. You know he means every word.

“Now, let’s seal it with a kiss again,” he says, closing the gap between your lips.

You melt into the kiss, your body responding instinctively to your alpha's touch. It’s heady and possessive, but slow. You wonder how much of this kiss is for him and how much is for you. Through the bond, you can feel a hunger and a satisfaction for his part. For you, you’re under no illusion of how much the physical interactions with your alpha continually draw you more into him, tapping into psychology, biology, and chemistry.

As the kiss deepens, you feel a renewed stirring of arousal. Bucky's hands roam your body, igniting sparks of pleasure wherever they touch. His knot has begun to subside, allowing him to rock his hips slightly. You moan into his mouth at the sensation.

"Ready for another round, Omega?" he murmurs against your lips.

You whimper as he begins to move more purposefully, his cock sliding in and out of your sensitive channel. The overstimulation borders on too much, but you can't help but push back against him, chasing the pleasure.

"So eager," he growls approvingly. "My insatiable omega."

He rolls you both over, pressing you into the mattress with his weight. His cock, still hard, slides deeper inside you. You moan at the sensation, arching your back to take him even further.

Bucky sets a slow, deliberate pace, each thrust deep and purposeful. His eyes lock onto yours, intense and penetrating. You feel pinned by his gaze as much as by his body.

"Mine," he growls, punctuating the word with a particularly forceful thrust. "My omega."

The possessiveness in his voice sends a shiver through you. Your omega instincts revel in his claim, even as part of you remains wary.

"Yours, Alpha," you breathe, your body responding to his every move.

Bucky's pace increases, his hips snapping against yours with growing urgency. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. Your nails rake down his back as the pleasure builds, leaving red trails in their wake.

"That's it," he growls. "Mark me."

His words surprise you, but you don't have time to dwell on them as he shifts enough to slide his hand between your bodies to manipulate your clit.

You cry out as his fingers expertly circle your sensitive bud, pleasure building rapidly. Bucky's thrusts grow more forceful, driving you towards the edge.

"Cum for me," he commands, his voice low and rough. "Let me feel that tight pussy squeeze my cock again."

His words, combined with the relentless stimulation, push you over the edge. You arch against him, crying out as waves of pleasure crash over you. Your inner walls clamp down on his length, pulsing rhythmically.

Bucky groans at the sensation, his hips stuttering as he chases his own release. With a final, deep thrust, he buries himself inside you and you feel his cock pulse as he spills his seed, but blessedly there is no knot this time.

You both pant heavily, coming down from your shared high. Bucky's weight presses into you before he rolls off, pulling out his softening cock. You whimper at the loss of fullness and his seed trickles out of you as he pulls you up to stand on shaky legs.

"Go shower," he orders with a smack to your ass. "The escort team will be here in forty-five minutes. All of your personal effects will be moved after our departure.”

You nod, still dazed from the intense mating, and make your way to the adjoining bathroom on unsteady legs. The hot water feels heavenly on your skin, soothing aching muscles and washing away the evidence of your activities. As you lather your body, your mind races with thoughts of what's to come, reflecting on the unexpected turn your conversation with Bucky had taken.

Attending council meetings is a start, but you know you'll have to tread carefully. Bucky's warning echoes in your mind. You can't afford to make any missteps, not when you're just beginning to gain a foothold. It's more than you'd dared hope for when you first thought to speak with Bucky - he was right, you had wanted more than just a night of sex. But you're also wary. Bucky is cunning and ruthless - you can't afford to let your guard down or mistake this concession for weakness.

You're so lost in thought that you don't hear the bathroom door open. Suddenly, the glass shower door is pulled open and Bucky steps in behind you.

You gasp as Bucky's large frame fills the spacious shower, steam swirling around his muscular body. The multiple shower heads spray warm water from various angles, creating a misty cocoon around you both. Droplets cascade down his chiseled chest and abs, following the defined lines of his physique. Your eyes are drawn to the trail of dark hair leading down to his impressive manhood, which hangs thick and heavy between his legs even in its flaccid state.

Your body tenses in anticipation, expecting his hands to roam your wet skin or for him to press you against the cool tile wall. But Bucky simply reaches past you for the soap, his arm brushing tantalizingly against your breast as he does so. The brief contact sends a shiver through you, your nipples hardening despite the warm water.

He begins to lather himself methodically, starting with his broad shoulders and working his way down his sculpted chest. Your eyes follow his movements, mesmerized by the play of muscles under his skin as he moves. Soap suds trail down the planes of his abdomen, outlining each defined ridge.

You expect him to turn his attention to you at any moment, to pull you against his slick body and claim your mouth in a hungry kiss. But he remains focused on his task, seemingly oblivious to your presence.

Bucky turns to rinse, giving you a tantalizing view of his muscular back and firm ass. Water cascades down the curve of his spine, and you have to physically restrain yourself from reaching out to trace its path with your fingers.

He turns back around, and your eyes jump up to look at his face. He’s smirking. “Show’s over, Omega.”

He steps past you and grabs a towel as he exits the shower.

“Hurry up. Professional dress today - your timing lands you a chance to prove yourself at a council meeting this morning.”

The shower door closes behind Bucky, you're left alone again with your thoughts as you resume your shower routine, and those thoughts fixate on the alpha who just left.

Bucky's presence had filled the shower completely, dwarfing you with his sheer size. You recall how his broad shoulders nearly spanned the width of the stall, how his head nearly brushed the ceiling. Even among alphas, Bucky is exceptionally large - a mountain of a man, all hard muscle and raw power.

A shiver runs through you that has nothing to do with the water temperature. Bucky could crush you without breaking a sweat if he wanted to. The thought should terrify you, but as you are no small woman, you’ve never felt so small, so delicate, as you do when he's looming over you or manhandling your body. You have been with betas before - some of them almost as large in stature as your alpha - yet none of them had come close to his strength.

As you lather your body, your hands glide over your curves and you're struck by a realization. With Bucky, you haven't once felt self-conscious about your body. In the past, with other partners, you'd always been hyper-aware of your perceived flaws - the softness of your stomach, the stretch marks on your thighs, the way your breasts weren't perfectly symmetrical. You'd strategically angled yourself during sex, tried to keep certain parts covered, worried about how you looked in various positions.

But with Bucky, all those insecurities had vanished. From the moment he first laid hands on you, he'd appreciated every inch of your body with a fervor that left no room for doubt. His large hands had roamed your curves with hunger, desire, squeezing and kneading appreciatively. He'd kissed and licked every stretch mark, every dimple. When his hands roamed your skin, they didn't shy away from the areas you usually tried to hide. He’s not soft or reverent for you like a lover, but he seems to revel in satisfaction over your body and that you’re his omega.

You finish your shower quickly, mindful of Bucky's warning about time. As you step out and begin to dry off, you catch sight of yourself in the large mirror. Your skin is flushed from the hot water and recent activities, and you can see faint marks where Bucky's stubble had scraped against your neck and chest. Your fingers trace over one of the bonding marks, still tender and slightly raised.

Once you’ve dried off, you wrap up in a silk dressing robe, and set to brushing your teeth, finishing up your skincare, fixing your hair, and applying some makeup.

You choose a sleek, professional outfit from your wardrobe - a tailored blazer and pencil skirt in a deep navy, paired with a crisp white blouse.

You're applying one last finishing touch to your makeup when there's a knock at the door. "Time to go, Omega," Bucky's voice barks through the door.

“Yes, Alpha,” you respond.

You exit the bathroom to find Bucky already dressed in a sharp dark suit. He's adjusting his tie in the mirror when he catches your eye in the reflection.

Bucky's eyes rake over your form appreciatively, appraising you from top to bottom. "Ready to play politics, Omega?"

You nod, smoothing your skirt. "Of course."

Bucky turns to face you, closing the distance between you in two long strides. His large hands settle on your hips, pulling you flush against him.

"Remember," he says, his voice low and intense, "you're there to observe. Don't speak unless spoken to. If you have any insights, you share them with me privately first. Understood?"

You swallow hard and nod. "Yes, Alpha."

He studies your face for a moment, then leans in to capture your lips in a searing kiss. It's brief but passionate, leaving you breathless when he pulls away.

He’s doing this on purpose - plying you with the physical connections he must be able to sense have your omega bending to him as your alpha.

"Time to go,” he commands and strides out of the room.

You follow after him down the hall and to the small entryway to the apartment he’s kept you in.

You stop short when you recognize the escort team to be members of the infamous STRIKE team.

Their expressions are impassive, but you can feel the weight of their scrutiny. These are the same ruthless operatives who helped Bucky seize control of your territory. The memory of their efficiency and brutality during the takeover is still fresh in your mind. None of these men and women were people you had ever wanted to see again.

Their presence is intimidating, a stark reminder of your new reality, but you force yourself to keep your chin up and your gait steady as you follow and take up a position next to Bucky as he speaks with the one you remembered went by Rumlow.

One of the other men near you, the name Rawlins emblazoned over his chest, sneers at you. “I’m surprised you’re able to stand.”

Your eyes widen, and your gut roils with humiliation, but before you can even respond, Bucky turns, and the room goes silent. You notice his hand clenched into a fist at his side.

His voice is low and laced with warning as he addresses the team. “If any of you ever lay a hand on my omega, you’ll lose that hand. Glance at her with a look of anything other than protection, and I’ll take your eyes out. Now that my expectations have been communicated, I do not expect any problems.”

There’s a collective murmurs of assent from the team.

Bucky's hand settles on the small of your back, a possessive gesture that both steadies and unsettles you. "Let's move," he orders, and the team falls into formation around you both.

“Oh, and Rawlins? You’re being reassigned to security in Jacksonville. You can leave once we’ve departed from here.”

As you exit the apartment, you're immediately encircled by the STRIKE team's tight formation. At the end of the long corridor, the elevator arrives with a soft chime, its polished doors sliding open to reveal a spacious interior lined with rich mahogany paneling and gleaming brass fixtures.

Bucky guides you inside with a firm hand on your lower back. The STRIKE team files in around you, their bulky tactical gear a stark contrast to the elevator's luxurious ambiance. As the doors close, you catch a glimpse of Rawlins' scowling face before he disappears from view.

The descent is smooth and silent, the only sound the soft hum of the elevator's mechanisms. You can feel the tension radiating from the STRIKE team, their bodies coiled and ready for action at any moment. It’s unnerving, but Bucky seems completely used to this atmosphere.

After descending ten floors, the elevator doors slide open with another soft chime, revealing a vast underground parking garage. The cool, damp air hits you as you step out, a stark contrast to the climate-controlled building above.

The STRIKE team moves in perfect formation around you and Bucky, their boots making barely a whisper on the ground. You can't help but wonder at their efficiency and silent communication - a well-oiled machine of lethal precision.

Approaching a line of identical black SUVs, you notice the subtle differences that mark them as military-grade vehicles. The windows are thicker, clearly bulletproof, and the body seems reinforced. You wonder briefly what kind of firepower these are designed to take.

Bucky guides you towards the middle SUV, his hand still firmly on your lower back. One of the STRIKE team members steps forward to open the rear passenger door. Bucky ushers you inside first. The interior is plush leather, but you notice the reinforced paneling and what looks like hidden compartments - likely for weapons.

Bucky settles in beside you, his large frame taking up most of the backseat. Two STRIKE members climb into the front, while the rest disperse to the other vehicles. As the convoy pulls out of the garage, you feel a mixture of anticipation and trepidation about what's to come. The council meeting represents your first opportunity to observe the inner workings of Bucky's administration and potentially begin to carve out a role and strategy for yourself.

The ride is silent save for the low hum of the engine. Bucky seems lost in thought, his gaze fixed out the window. You take the opportunity to study his profile - the sharp line of his jaw, the slight furrow between his brows.

His hair is neatly styled, but you can see a few strands threatening to escape, curling slightly at the nape of his neck. You remember how those strands felt between your fingers when you gripped his hair in the throes of passion.

His brow is furrowed slightly, creating a small crease between his eyebrows that you have an inexplicable urge to smooth with your thumb. His eyes, a stormy blue-gray, are focused intently on something outside the window, when he says, “Like what you see with the clothing on in the light of day?”

You feel a flush creep up your neck at being caught staring. "I was just..." you trail off.

Bucky doesn’t turn to face you, but his lips quirk into a small smirk. "Just admiring the view?" he finishes for you, his voice low and teasing.

You swallow hard, suddenly very aware of how close he is in the confines of the SUV. "I was thinking about the council meeting," you lie, trying to regain your composure. Though it wasn’t a total lie.

"Is that so?" He asks skeptically. His hand slides onto your thigh, the heat of his palm searing through the thin fabric of your skirt. "I shouldn’t have let you shower before we left. Having my cum leaking out of you would serve as a good reminder of who you belong to. "

Your breath catches in your throat as his fingers begin to trace slow circles on your inner thigh. "Alpha," you breathe, your voice barely above a whisper. Your thighs clench involuntarily at his touch.

Bucky's hand slides higher, pushing your skirt up as he goes. "You're mine, Omega," he growls softly, his fingers brushing against the edge of your panties. "Don't forget that when we're in that meeting room."

You bite your lip to stifle a moan as his fingers press against your clothed center. Even through the fabric, you can feel how wet you've become.

"I won't forget," you manage to say, your voice breathy and unsteady.

You glance nervously at the STRIKE team members in the front seat, but they seem studiously focused on the road ahead, giving no indication that they're aware of what's happening in the backseat.

Bucky's fingers hook under the edge of your panties, pulling them aside. You gasp as he slides a finger along your slick folds.

"We shouldn't..." you start to protest weakly, but your body betrays you as you unconsciously part your legs slightly.

"Shouldn't what?" he asks, feigning nonchalance though there's a predatory gleam in his eyes when he finally turns to look though there's a predatory gleam in his eyes when he finally turns to look at you. His finger continues to tease along your folds, gathering your slickness. "Shouldn't remind you of your place? Shouldn't make sure you're properly prepared for the meeting?"

You bite back a moan as he slowly pushes a thick finger inside you. Your hips buck involuntarily, seeking more friction.

"That's it," he murmurs approvingly. "Take what your alpha gives you."

He begins to pump his finger in and out at an agonizingly slow pace. You clutch at the leather seat, torn between the need for more and the awareness of your surroundings.

"Alpha," you whimper, your voice barely audible. "Please."

"Please what?"

"Please..." you breathe, struggling to find words as his finger continues its torturous pace. "We're almost there."

Indeed, through the tinted windows you can see you're approaching the majestic capitol building for the territory.

You bite your lip hard to stifle a moan as he adds a second finger, but maintains the same slow pace. The wet sounds of his ministrations seem obscenely loud in the quiet car, and you pray the STRIKE team members can't hear.

Bucky leans in close, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers, "I want you to remember this feeling when we're in that meeting room. Remember how easily I can reduce you to a quivering mess, how your body responds to my touch. Remember you’re mine."

His fingers curl inside you, hitting that spot that makes you see stars. Your hips buck involuntarily as pleasure courses through you. You're teetering on the edge, so close to release.

But then Bucky abruptly withdraws his hand, leaving you aching and empty. You whimper at the loss, your body still thrumming with unfulfilled need.

"Alpha," you plead softly, your eyes wide and desperate.

Bucky smirks, bringing his glistening fingers to his lips. He maintains eye contact as he slowly licks your arousal from his digits. "And I’ll have this pretty cunt begging for me whenever it suits me.”

You open your mouth to respond, but at that moment, the SUV comes to a stop. You glance out the window to see you've arrived at the capitol building. The neoclassical architecture looms over you, its white marble facade gleaming in the morning sun.

"Fix yourself," he says.

You quickly smooth down your skirt and adjust your panties, trying to compose yourself as the STRIKE team begins to exit the vehicles. Your heart is racing, a mixture of arousal and anxiety coursing through you.

Bucky gives you a predatory smirk before his face settles into a neutral expression. As the door opens, he steps out first, then turns to offer you his hand. You take it, grateful for the support as you exit on slightly shaky legs.

The cool morning air helps clear your head a bit as you follow Bucky up the grand steps of the capitol building. The STRIKE team forms a protective perimeter around you, their eyes constantly scanning for threats.

Inside, your heels click against the polished marble floors as you make your way through ornate hallways. Portraits of past leaders line the walls, their stern faces seeming to judge you as you pass. You wonder how long it will be before you feel confident in these halls again instead of conquered.

You try to focus on your surroundings, taking in the grandeur of the building you once knew so well. But your body is still humming with unfulfilled desire, making it difficult to concentrate. You can feel your arousal dampening your panties with each step.

Approach the council chamber, you see a group of men in suits waiting outside. They straighten up as Bucky approaches, a mixture of fear and respect in their eyes. You recognize some of them as former advisors to your father, now serving under Bucky's regime.

"Gentlemen," Bucky greets them, his voice carrying authority.

“Everyone is assembled and waiting, sir,” one man steps forward to report.

“And no excuses or absences?”

“No,” he answers.

"Wise of them," Bucky says with a nod. “Let’s not keep them waiting any longer.”

more to come...

So maybe I didn't forget about Bucky Barnes after all, my hoes! 🤭

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[holylulusworld]

Care for you

Summary: He takes good care of you.

Pairing: Biker!Ari Levinson x fem!Reader

Warnings: fluff, heavy daddy kink, caregiver Ari, comforting, protective Ari, sick reader, mentions of menstruation, kinda DDLG dynamics

A/N: This snippet takes place a few months after “Pick you up”. It can be read as a stand-alone fic but makes more sense if you know Pick you up masterlist.

You sneeze, again. A little louder this time. For days, you didn’t feel well but tried to hide your condition from Ari.

He had his hands full with the club, and their business. The last thing your daddy needs is a sick baby whining for his attention.

Today, you grabbed your warmest and softest blanket and joined the big bear in your pillow fort to sleep the cold off. Rest, lots of water, and your safe place is all you’ll need. You're sure about it.

Work can wait. You called in sick and won’t need to worry about a thing but to get healthy again. Sighing, you snuggle into the pillow smelling like Ari.

“No,” you whine as you sniff at it, only to smell – nothing. “I want to smell him.”

Turning around, you start to whimper. You’re sick and tired. All you wanted was to smell Ari, to feel safe. But no. The cold took this from you too.

“No…” you sniffle now, desperate to have anything reminding you of your protector around. “His shirt.” You grasp for the shirt he leaves for you on the pillow fort and press it to your nose. “Achoo…” you sneeze loudly. “No…I can’t smell him.”

“Baby kitten?” You gasp, hearing Ari return. He left only half an hour ago, and you assume he must’ve forgotten something important to come back home. Clasping one hand over your mouth, you try to not cough. If Ari hears you’re sick, he’ll not go for a ride with his friends. “Y/N? Where are you.”

You bite your index finger. If you do not answer him, he’ll get scared and search for you. If you answer him, he’ll know you’re hiding at the pillow fort. The place you only seek out if something’s wrong.

“Baby kitten, please tell me where you are. I’m worried!” You hear him step closer, pacing back and forth.

“In here,” you finally murmur, not to worry Ari even more. He doesn’t deserve to be scared.

He crouches down to poke his head inside the pillow fort. Ari frowns deeply, watching you clutch his shirt to your chest.

“Okay, Y/N. What did you not tell me?” He searches your face, watching your lips wobble. “I need to know if something is wrong. Did someone at work say something bad? Did you not sleep well?”

“I,” you sniff. “I got a cold and…” you giggle as you point at your crotch. “Aunt Flo came tonight too. I don’t feel good.”

“You’re sick?” He kneels in front of the pillow fort. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re sick? I could’ve—” Before you can answer, Ari crawls inside the pillow fort to press the back of his hand to your forehead. “You’re going to call in sick. I’ll get something to help you feel better.”

“What about your trip?” You ask. “I don’t want to ruin your fun.”

“You’re not ruining my fun,” he huffs. “The guys will understand you’re more important than a stupid trip. Let me take care of you.” Ari leans over you to press a soft kiss on your forehead. “Give me a minute to call them and make tea.”

You smile at Ari. He once again put you before his friends and the club. “Thank you, daddy.”

“All for my baby kitten,” he hums against your skin. “Do you need a heating pad too? Do you have cramps? Do you have a sore throat too?”

You nod, silently telling Ari everything he needs to know.

“I’ll be right back, Y/N,” he says, before leaving the pillow fort.

Ari called his friends, telling them you were sick. You didn’t expect them to come around and bring their friend everything he’ll need to take care of you.

Steve got you hot chicken soup. His mom’s recipe. Sam brought cold medicine and tissues, while Bucky got you lots of ice cream.

The rest of the gang came around to check on you and Ari, offering their help if needed.

After he rubbed balsam for colds into your skin, and helped you take your meds, Ari put a heating pad on your lower abdomen. He didn’t care that you told him not to get close to you. Ari wrapped you in his arms and offered warmth and safety.

“You’ll get sick, Daddy,” you murmur in his chest. You don’t want Ari to leave, though. “I can sleep alone.”

“No,” he simply says and kisses the top of your head. “If I get sick, we already have enough medicine.” Ari chuckles when you whine against him. “I won’t get sick, promised.”

“I’ll take care of you if you get sick,” you rest your head against his chest and close your eyes. You’re warm, and safe in his arms, so you sigh happily.

“We always take care of each other. Always, Y/N…”

Tags in reblog.

[dee-writes-anime]

Chapter 4: Claiming Her Place

FEATURING Ryomen Sukuna x Witch!Reader

SUMMARY While you navigate the shifting dynamics of the estate, your presence stirs dangerous envy among the concubines, culminating in an ominous change to your routine: a lavish display of gifts and a chilling note from Sukuna. The stakes rise as you learn that your defiance has earned you not just his attention, but a test that could determine your survival.

CONTENT WARNINGS intense power dynamics and manipulation in interactions with Sukuna, symbolism through gifts, implied power struggles, and Sukuna’s looming authority, mention of Kaede’s harsh punishment and its aftermath, descriptions of revealing attire and the charged interactions between characters, the reader’s connection to the estate’s magic and the ominous presence of enchanted objects. 

PLAYLIST

SERIES MASTERLIST

The dining hall was quieter than usual that morning, the kind of silence that carried weight, as though the air itself held its breath. It wasn’t the natural ebb and flow of a quiet meal; it was tense, watchful, expectant. The soft hum of whispered conversations was gone, replaced by the occasional clink of a dish or the shuffle of silk as the concubines adjusted their seats.

I felt it the moment I entered the room—the shift, the undercurrent of unease that rippled through the space. My gaze swept the length of the table, taking in the carefully arranged figures of Sukuna’s concubines, each of them poised and adorned as though they were on display. They were always beautiful, their silks shimmering in the flickering light of the torches, their faces painted to perfection. Yet today, their usual air of calculated confidence was tinged with something sharper.

At the head of the table, Sukuna sat, his presence an anomaly that disrupted the fragile balance of the room. He hadn’t graced us with his presence for breakfast since I’d arrived at the estate, leaving the concubines to fill the void with their laughter and quiet rivalries. Today, though, he was here, his four arms resting on the jagged edges of his throne, his posture deceptively relaxed.

It wasn’t just his presence that was unsettling—it was the way he looked at them. Not with the usual disinterest of a king humoring his courtiers but with a sharp, predatory focus, as though he were waiting for something.

“Don’t hover,” Sukuna drawled, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. His crimson eyes flicked to me, one of his upper hands gesturing lazily toward the table. “Sit.”

The command was casual, almost bored, but the weight of it pressed against my chest like an iron hand. I hesitated only for a moment before moving to my usual seat near the far end of the table. The concubines’ gazes followed me, their whispers rising like smoke.

“She hasn’t been here long,” one of them murmured, her voice barely audible but deliberately cutting.

“Long enough to be noticed,” another replied, her tone carrying a bitterness that wasn’t meant to be hidden.

“She performs those little rituals every day,” a third chimed in, her voice laced with mockery. “It’s strange, isn’t it? Like she thinks she belongs here.”

Their words slid over me like oil, thick and clinging but ultimately unable to sink in. I kept my expression calm as I poured myself tea, my hands steady despite the weight of their stares.

“Enough,” Kaede said suddenly, her silver hair catching the light as she leaned forward. Her violet eyes gleamed with something sharper than curiosity, her lips curving into a smile that was too perfect to be genuine. “Let her sit. It’s not every day we’re graced by the company of someone… so intriguing.”

The mockery in her voice was unmistakable, and it drew soft laughter from the others—light and brittle, like glass ready to shatter.

“Speak plainly, Kaede,” I said, my tone smooth but edged with steel. I lifted my gaze to meet hers, refusing to shrink beneath her scrutiny. “Or does subtlety mask your fear?”

The laughter died instantly, replaced by a ripple of tension that swept through the room. The concubines exchanged uneasy glances, their smiles faltering.

Kaede’s expression hardened, though she recovered quickly, leaning back with a faint laugh. “Fear?” she echoed, her voice soft but tight. “How bold of you to assume anyone here would fear you.”

Before I could respond, Sukuna’s voice sliced through the air, low and rumbling with amusement. “Fear is a funny thing,” he said, leaning forward slightly, his lower left hand tapping idly against the table. “It makes people bold—or stupid.”

Kaede stiffened, her hands curling into her lap as her smile froze in place.

Sukuna’s attention shifted to me then, his four eyes narrowing slightly as he regarded me with a mix of curiosity and calculation. “And you,” he drawled, his tone softening into something almost thoughtful, “you don’t seem afraid at all. Curious.”

I met his gaze without flinching. “I’ve learned that fear serves no one,” I said evenly. “Not in a place like this.”

His grin widened, sharp and predatory. “Spoken like someone who knows how to survive,” he said, his voice carrying a faint note of approval.

The concubines exchanged sharp glances, their unease now palpable. Sukuna rarely spoke with such interest, and the weight of his attention on me was unmistakable.

“Leave,” Sukuna said suddenly, his tone dismissive.

The concubines froze, their expressions flickering between shock and indignation. Kaede’s lips parted as though to protest, but a single glance from Sukuna silenced her. One by one, they rose from their seats, their silks whispering against the stone floor as they left the hall.

When the heavy doors closed behind them, Sukuna leaned back in his throne, his grin lingering as his eyes remained fixed on me.

Sukuna leaned forward, his crimson eyes narrowing as they locked onto mine. “You seem to enjoy stirring the pot,” he said, his tone laced with mockery.

I set my cup down deliberately, meeting his gaze without flinching. “Only when the pot boils over on its own,” I replied evenly.

His grin widened, sharp and predatory. “Clever,” he murmured, his voice softening into something almost thoughtful. “You’re an interesting one,” he said, his voice low and almost conversational. “Tell me, little witch, do you always cut so close with your words?”

“Only when it’s necessary,” I replied.

“And how often is that?”

I held his gaze, refusing to waver. “As often as I’m tested.”

His laughter followed, low and rumbling, filling the silence like smoke curling in the air. He didn’t dismiss me like the others and the weight of his presence lingered, heavy and inescapable, even as I stood and left the table.

The garden had become my sanctuary, the one place in this estate where I could breathe freely. Its wild, untamed energy grounded me, a constant amidst the chaos of Sukuna’s looming presence and the concubines’ simmering hostility. But as I stepped onto the winding path that led to the ancient tree at its heart, the air was different.

Too still. Too quiet.

The usual hum of life—the rustling leaves, the soft whispers of wind through the overgrowth—was absent, replaced by a thick, oppressive silence. It clung to me like a shroud, heavy and unwelcome, growing heavier with each step.

When I turned the final corner, the sight that greeted me ignited a sharp, cold anger in my chest.

The offerings I had laid with care the day before were scattered, trampled into the dirt as though they were nothing. The bundle of herbs was crushed, the fragrant leaves smeared into the earth. The bowl that had held water now lay overturned, its contents darkening the soil in a spreading stain. Even the bread, carefully wrapped in cloth, had been shredded, the fabric dangling mockingly from a low-hanging branch.

And there, standing by the tree, was Kaede.

Her violet eyes glinted with amusement as she ran her painted nails along the bark, her touch light but deliberately disrespectful. Behind her stood a servant, their shoulders hunched and their hands trembling as they clutched an empty basket.

“Strange,” Kaede said, her tone light, almost playful, though the malice beneath it was unmistakable. “For someone so fond of rituals, you don’t seem very good at protecting them.”

Her gaze slid to me, her lips curving into a smile that was too sharp to be anything but a challenge.

I let the silence stretch as I stepped into the clearing, my expression carefully neutral. The servant’s eyes darted to me, wide with fear, and they took a hesitant step back, as though sensing the tension crackling in the air.

Kaede didn’t flinch. If anything, her smile widened. “Oh, don’t look so upset,” she continued, her voice lilting. “It’s just a little mess. Surely your… magic can fix it.”

I didn’t respond immediately, letting my gaze drift over the desecrated space—the crushed herbs, the torn fabric, the deliberate scuff marks in the dirt. My jaw tightened, the cold anger in my chest sharpening into something harder, more precise.

“Did you come here for a reason,” I asked finally, my voice low but steady, “or are you just that desperate for attention?”

Her smile faltered, just for a moment, before she let out a brittle laugh. “Attention? From you?” She stepped closer, her silks whispering against the ground. “Hardly. I just thought it was time someone reminded you of your place.”

“And desecrating a sacred space was the best you could come up with?” I tilted my head, letting the faintest hint of a smile curve my lips. “You must be very bored.”

Kaede’s eyes narrowed, her composure slipping further. “Careful, little witch,” she said, her voice dropping to a low hiss. “You might find yourself out of favor faster than you think.”

I took another step forward, closing the distance between us. The servant stumbled back, dropping their basket in their haste to escape, but Kaede held her ground.

“Favor?” I said softly, my tone almost mocking. “You think I care about favor?”

I raised my hand, palm up, and murmured the incantation under my breath. The words were old, sharp and cutting, carrying a weight that thrummed in the air like the echo of a distant storm.

The air around us shifted violently, the oppressive silence shattered by a low, resonant hum that rippled through the clearing. Shadows gathered at the base of the tree, deepening and coiling upward like smoke, their edges jagged and alive with motion. The crushed herbs lifted from the ground, the pieces weaving together in midair until the bundle was whole once more. The spilled water rose in shimmering droplets, defying gravity as they coalesced back into the overturned bowl, pristine and untouched.

The shadows reached higher, curling around Kaede’s feet like tendrils, their grip light but unyielding. Her violet eyes widened, her lips parting in a sharp intake of breath.

“What are you—”

“You wanted to remind me of my place,” I interrupted, my voice calm but cold, as though the rising power around us was nothing more than an afterthought. “Let me remind you of yours.”

The shadows tightened, pulling her a step back toward the tree. Her hands clawed at the air, her breath hitching as the energy surged around her. The leaves overhead rustled violently, though there was no wind, and the ground beneath her feet seemed to tremble.

The servant fled, their basket abandoned as they disappeared down the path, but Kaede was rooted in place.

“This space isn’t yours to touch,” I said, taking another step forward. The shadows surged in response, curling tighter around her ankles. “Neither am I.”

The air was electric, charged with an energy that pressed against the skin, thick and suffocating. Kaede’s composure cracked completely, her fear spilling over in a trembling gasp.

“You don’t belong here,” she hissed, her voice shaking.

“Neither do you,” I replied, my voice razor-sharp. “But at least I don’t pretend otherwise.”

With a sharp flick of my wrist, the shadows released her. She stumbled back, nearly falling as she caught herself against the trunk of the tree. Her expression was pale, her earlier confidence shattered into a thousand pieces.

She didn’t say another word as she turned and fled, her silks trailing behind her like the remnants of a broken illusion.

I turned back to the tree, my hands trembling faintly as I knelt to restore the offerings. The shadows dissipated, their energy sinking back into the earth as the garden’s hum returned, steady and grounding.

“You handled that well,” a voice said, low and steady.

I glanced over my shoulder to see Uraume standing at the edge of the clearing, their pale eyes sharp and unreadable.

“She’ll come back,” I said simply, my voice calm but edged with certainty.

“Perhaps,” Uraume replied, stepping closer. “But she won’t make the same mistake twice.”

They knelt beside me, their movements precise as they examined the restored offerings. “This place responds to you,” they said quietly, almost to themselves. “You’ve earned its respect.”

“And what about yours?” I asked, my tone light but pointed.

Uraume’s lips quirked faintly, the ghost of a smile. “That,” they said, rising to their feet, “remains to be seen.”

They disappeared as silently as they’d arrived, leaving me alone with the faint hum of the garden and the steady pulse of the tree’s energy beneath my hand.

Kaede might come back, I thought, my fingers brushing over the bark.

The corridor was quieter than usual as I returned from the garden, the weight of the estate’s silence pressing against me. The faint hum of energy from my earlier ritual still clung to my skin, a steady reminder of the display I had allowed myself in the face of Kaede’s mockery. I turned a corner, my thoughts focused on the familiar, winding path to my quarters, when a voice slid through the shadows.

“You don’t disappoint.”

The words were low and edged with amusement, sending a ripple of awareness down my spine. I stopped mid-step, my gaze lifting to find Sukuna standing at the far end of the hall, his broad frame silhouetted against the dim glow of the torches. His posture was deceptively casual, one upper hand resting on the jagged edge of his robe while another traced idly along the wall.

“I wasn’t trying to entertain you,” I replied evenly, refusing to let the tension that gripped my chest show in my voice.

His grin widened, sharp and gleaming in the faint light as he began to close the distance between us. Each step was deliberate, the sound of his movements a soft echo that seemed to stretch unnaturally in the stillness. “Oh, but you do,” he said, his tone carrying a quiet certainty. “Whether you mean to or not.”

I straightened, my chin lifting as I held his gaze. “If you’re looking for someone to perform for you, perhaps you should summon your concubines.”

Sukuna chuckled, the sound low and dangerous as it reverberated through the hall. “They bore me,” he said simply, his four crimson eyes narrowing as they swept over me. “You, on the other hand, are a puzzle.”

I arched an eyebrow. “A puzzle?”

“Yes,” he said, stopping just a pace away. The weight of his presence was suffocating, the charged air between us thick with something I couldn’t quite name. His gaze lingered on my face, sharp and probing. “You have power, but you don’t flaunt it. You have fire, but you don’t burn for me. It’s… unusual.”

“And that intrigues you?” I asked, my voice calm despite the heat rising in my chest.

“It does,” he admitted, his grin softening into something more dangerous. “You’re a contradiction, little witch. Most would have bowed by now—or broken.”

“I don’t bow,” I said, my tone sharp as a blade. “And I’ve already told you I don’t break.”

His grin widened, his lower left hand reaching out to trace the air just in front of my face, close enough that the energy radiating from his fingers brushed against my skin. “No, you don’t,” he murmured, his voice dropping into a near-purr. “And that makes you fascinating.”

I took a step back, my movements measured but deliberate. “I’m not here to fascinate you.”

His laughter was sharp and sudden, echoing off the stone walls as he leaned closer, his towering frame casting a shadow that swallowed the space between us. “Oh, but you are,” he said, his voice low and taunting. “You don’t think I notice the way you carve out your little sanctuary in my garden, the way you refuse to submit to the rules of this place?”

“I follow the rules I choose to,” I shot back, my voice steady.

“And yet,” he said, his grin sharpening as his eyes gleamed, “you stay here, under my roof, in my domain. Tell me, little witch, what keeps you here?”

His words were a challenge, the weight of his question pressing against me like a hand around my throat. I forced myself to hold his gaze, the fire in my chest blazing brighter. “What keeps me here is my own choice,” I said, my voice firm. “Not you.”

The air between us crackled, the charged energy thickening as Sukuna’s grin faltered, his amusement replaced by something colder, sharper. His lower right hand twitched, the motion almost imperceptible, as though he were considering something—calculating.

“You think you have a choice,” he said softly, his tone almost pitying. “That’s… amusing.”

“I do,” I said, stepping closer this time, the movement bold and deliberate. “And if you think otherwise, perhaps it’s you who doesn’t understand.”

His laughter returned, low and biting, as he straightened to his full height. “You’re either very brave,” he said, his voice laced with mockery, “or very stupid.”

“Neither,” I replied, my gaze unwavering. “I’m just not afraid of you.”

The corridor fell silent, the weight of his presence pressing heavier against me as his grin stretched wider, baring teeth that gleamed like a predator preparing to strike.

“Fearless,” he said, the word dripping with mockery. He leaned closer, his four eyes narrowing as they locked onto mine. “That’s a dangerous thing to be in my presence.”

“Maybe,” I said, my voice calm despite the storm raging in my chest. “But I’ve found that fear only serves those who want to control you. And I don’t intend to be controlled.”

His grin softened into something more dangerous, his voice dropping into a near-whisper as he spoke. “We’ll see about that.”

The tension between us was suffocating, the charged air crackling like a storm about to break. Sukuna didn’t move for a long moment, his gaze holding mine with an intensity that made my chest tighten.

Then, without warning, he stepped back, the oppressive weight of his presence easing as he turned toward the shadows of the corridor. “You’ll entertain me yet,” he said over his shoulder, his tone carrying a promise that sent a shiver down my spine.

The faint echo of his laughter lingered as he disappeared into the darkness, leaving the corridor heavy with unspoken tension.

And for the first time since arriving at the estate, I found myself wondering who was truly testing whom.

The knock at my door came earlier than usual. I was at my small table, grinding dried herbs into powder, the rhythmic scrape of the pestle the only sound in the room. The sharp rap of knuckles against the heavy wood jarred me from my focus.

“Enter,” I said, setting the pestle down and brushing the remnants from my hands.

Uraume stepped inside, their pale eyes as calm and unreadable as ever. Their movements were precise, their long robes whispering softly against the floor as they came to a stop just inside the doorway.

“Good morning,” they said, their tone even, though there was a faint edge to it that set me on alert.

“Uraume,” I acknowledged, leaning back in my chair. “You’re early.”

They inclined their head slightly. “Lord Sukuna has requested your presence for breakfast.”

I frowned, the words settling uneasily in my chest. “Alone?”

“Yes.”

The single word carried an unspoken weight, and for a moment, I simply stared at them, trying to read the meaning in their sharp, frosted gaze. Sukuna had not sought me out like this before—at least not in such an overt and deliberate way.

When I didn’t immediately move, Uraume continued, “He is waiting. I advise you not to keep him.”

I rose, my movements measured as I smoothed the folds of my robe. “Lead the way.”

They turned without another word, their steps fluid and unhurried as they exited into the corridor. I followed, the air growing heavier with each step, as though the estate itself knew what was coming and sought to warn me.

This route was unfamiliar. Instead of turning toward the dining hall where Sukuna’s concubines gathered each morning, Uraume led me deeper into the estate, the halls narrowing as we went. The air here was colder, the faint metallic tang that lingered throughout the estate growing sharper, more oppressive.

The decor began to change as well. The stone walls, usually adorned with faded banners and the occasional grotesque relief, were now lined with carvings that seemed to writhe in the flickering torchlight. Twisted shapes and jagged patterns etched into the dark stone hinted at symbols I didn’t recognize, though their presence sent a faint, unpleasant shiver down my spine.

The torches here burned with an unnatural flame—deep crimson and gold, their light casting long, sharp shadows that seemed to stretch and twist with each step we took. The floor beneath my bare feet felt colder, smoother, as though the stone here had been polished not by time but by something far less natural.

“Where are we going?” I asked, my voice steady despite the unease coiling in my chest.

“To a part of the estate reserved for Lord Sukuna,” Uraume replied without looking back. “Few are permitted to enter.”

I didn’t press further, though my unease deepened. The air here was different—not just colder but heavier, charged with an energy that thrummed faintly beneath my skin. As a witch, I was attuned to the flows of power in a space, and here, the flow was stronger, darker, and more concentrated than anywhere else I had been in the estate.

It wasn’t chaotic, like the oppressive hum of the throne room or the suffocating weight of Sukuna’s presence—it was controlled, deliberate, like the heartbeat of something vast and unknowable.

The hall opened abruptly into a wider corridor, the ceiling arching high above us, supported by columns of black stone veined with red. The carvings here were more intricate, their twisted designs forming larger, almost cohesive shapes that seemed to shift and ripple when caught in the corner of my eye.

The walls were lined with tapestries depicting scenes of violence and chaos—armies clashing under blood-red skies, monstrous figures rising from the earth, entire landscapes engulfed in fire. The detail was so vivid, it felt as though the figures might step out of the fabric at any moment, their eyes gleaming with malice.

“This place feels different,” I said quietly, more to myself than to Uraume.

“It should,” they replied, their voice carrying a faint note of something I couldn’t quite place—respect, perhaps, or reverence. “This is the heart of the estate. The closer you get to Lord Sukuna’s power, the more you feel its weight.”

I said nothing, though my unease deepened as we approached a set of double doors at the end of the hall. They were massive, carved from dark wood veined with black and crimson streaks that pulsed faintly, as though alive. The sigil of Sukuna was etched into the center of each door, larger and more intricate than any I had seen before.

Uraume stopped in front of the doors, their pale eyes meeting mine. “A word of advice,” they said, their tone as calm as ever. “Whatever you think you know about Sukuna, leave it here. This is not the dining hall, and this is not a place for defiance.”

I met their gaze, my chin lifting slightly. “Noted.”

With that, they pushed the doors open, the wood groaning softly as they parted to reveal a room bathed in low, flickering light.

The space beyond was vast, though it lacked the oppressive grandeur of the throne room. The walls were lined with shelves holding objects that pulsed faintly with energy—artifacts, relics, and items I couldn’t identify but recognized as powerful. A long, dark table stretched across the center of the room, its surface polished to a gleaming finish that reflected the light of the crimson flames burning in braziers along the walls.

At the far end of the table, Sukuna sat, his four arms resting idly against the edges as he watched me enter. His grin was already in place, sharp and dangerous, as though he had been waiting for this moment.

“Welcome,” he said, his voice low and rumbling as his eyes fixed on me. “I thought it was time we had a meal... just the two of us.”

The air inside the chamber was thicker than the halls I had just traversed, carrying a faint metallic tang that seemed to cling to the back of my throat. Despite the polished elegance of the space, there was an underlying rawness to it—a sense of power woven into the very fabric of the room.

The table stretched long and dark in the center of the chamber, its surface gleaming like obsidian under the flickering light of the crimson braziers. The edges were jagged, as though the wood had been carved roughly and polished afterward, leaving it imperfect but commanding. A single place setting was arranged at one end, a stark contrast to the long expanse of emptiness between me and Sukuna.

He lounged at the head of the table, his four arms relaxed yet exuding a sense of coiled energy, as though he could strike at any moment. His robe of black and crimson pooled around him, the gold thread glinting faintly in the firelight. His crimson eyes tracked me as I entered, two half-lidded with what seemed like amusement and the other two sharp and unblinking.

“Sit,” he said, his voice low and commanding.

I approached the table slowly, each step deliberate. The chair opposite him was intricately carved, its high back adorned with swirling patterns that mirrored the sigils etched into the walls. When I sat, the polished surface of the seat felt cold against my skin, grounding me in the strange, oppressive energy of the space.

Uraume entered silently from a side door, carrying a tray that bore an array of dishes unlike anything I had seen in the estate’s main dining hall. They moved with the same fluid precision as always, their pale eyes flicking briefly to me before settling on Sukuna as they began to serve.

“I see Uraume is the only one permitted to serve here,” I said, breaking the silence as I watched them pour wine into a dark, thin-stemmed goblet at Sukuna’s side.

Sukuna’s grin widened slightly, his sharp teeth glinting in the dim light. “This part of the estate is… exclusive,” he said, his tone laced with mockery. “Only those I trust—or find interesting—are allowed here.”

“Trust and interest seem like rare commodities for you,” I replied, reaching for the goblet Uraume placed in front of me.

“They are,” Sukuna said, leaning forward slightly. His lower hands rested on the table, their fingers tapping idly against the polished surface. “And yet, here you are.”

The wine was dark, nearly black, its rich aroma carrying faint notes of spice and something sharper that I couldn’t quite place. I sipped it carefully, the liquid warming my throat as I set the goblet down. “I suppose that makes me special.”

“Special isn’t the word I’d use,” Sukuna said, his grin turning predatory. “Unpredictable, perhaps. Or entertaining.”

Uraume returned, placing a series of dishes between us. The food was unlike anything I’d seen before—rich and decadent, with a deliberate artistry that belied the raw, almost primal energy of the room. A platter of seared meat glistened with a faint glaze, surrounded by roasted vegetables that had been carved into intricate shapes. A bowl of dark grains steamed faintly, garnished with slivers of fruit that gleamed like jewels.

“You’ve gone to great lengths for someone you consider merely entertaining,” I said, picking up a small, silver fork.

Sukuna laughed, the sound low and sharp as it echoed through the chamber. “A king should enjoy his meals,” he said, spearing a piece of meat with one of the knives laid before him. “And his company—when it’s worth enjoying.”

I took a bite of the roasted vegetables, their flavor rich and complex, though there was an underlying tang of something unfamiliar that reminded me of the estate’s heavy air. The food seemed to mirror the room itself—beautiful and unnerving in equal measure.

“Do you always dine here alone?” I asked, meeting his gaze across the table.

“Not always,” he replied, his grin softening into something more dangerous. “But rarely with someone who speaks their mind as freely as you.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Should I consider that a compliment?”

“Consider it whatever you like,” he said, his voice dropping slightly as he leaned back in his chair. “But be careful. Too much boldness can be… hazardous.”

I set my fork down, leaning forward slightly. “You’ve said that before. Yet here I am, unscathed.”

“For now,” Sukuna said, his grin widening. His eyes glinted faintly in the firelight, their intensity making the air between us feel heavier. “But even the strongest steel bends under the right pressure.”

“And you think you’re the one to apply it?”

His laughter was sharper this time, cutting through the tension like a blade. “Little witch,” he said, his tone both amused and taunting, “you’ve been walking in my shadow since you arrived. If I wanted to break you, you’d already be broken.”

“Perhaps,” I said, my voice steady despite the faint shiver that ran through me. “Or perhaps you’re just waiting for the right moment.”

The silence that followed was sharp, the weight of his gaze pressing against me as his grin faltered briefly. “Maybe I am,” he said softly, his voice carrying an edge that made the air feel colder.

Uraume moved silently around the table, clearing the empty plates and refilling our goblets. They worked efficiently, their presence a steadying contrast to the charged energy crackling between me and Sukuna.

When Uraume stepped back into the shadows, Sukuna spoke again, his tone softer but no less dangerous. “Tell me, little witch,” he said, his crimson eyes narrowing, “do you ever tire of testing me?”

I met his gaze without hesitation. “Do you?”

His laughter was sharp and sudden, echoing off the walls as he leaned forward, his grin returning full force. “You’ll do,” he said, his voice low and almost thoughtful. “For now.”

The meal ended without ceremony, but the weight of his attention lingered as Uraume stepped forward once more, bowing slightly as they gestured toward the door.

“Your quarters await,” Uraume said simply, their tone carrying a faint edge of something I couldn’t place.

I rose, my movements deliberate as I turned to leave, Sukuna’s gaze burning into my back like a brand.

The heavy doors to Sukuna’s dining chamber shut behind me with a resounding finality, sealing the oppressive energy of the space within. The faint metallic tang of the room lingered in my throat, a subtle reminder of Sukuna’s overwhelming presence. I exhaled slowly, grounding myself before noticing Uraume waiting a few steps away.

Their pale eyes were as unreadable as ever, but there was a faint shift in their expression—something almost like concern, though it was buried beneath their usual composed exterior. Their hands were folded neatly in front of them, a picture of precision and control.

“Did you survive?” they asked, their tone carefully neutral but edged with the faintest hint of wry humor.

“For now,” I replied, letting a faint smile tug at the corner of my lips. “Though I wouldn’t call the experience restful.”

Uraume inclined their head, falling into step beside me as I began the long walk back to my quarters. “Few find Lord Sukuna’s presence restful,” they said. “Consider it a mark of your resilience that you’re walking away from it.”

I glanced at them, raising an eyebrow. “Is that your version of a compliment?”

Their lips quirked faintly, almost a smile. “Take it however you like.”

The corridor stretched ahead of us, the torches casting flickering shadows across the carved stone walls. The farther we walked, the more the air lightened, though the faint hum of power that permeated the estate still clung to my skin like an unwelcome second layer.

“You’ve served him for a long time,” I said, breaking the silence that had fallen between us. “How do you… endure it?”

Uraume glanced at me, their frosted eyes sharp but thoughtful. “You assume there’s a choice in the matter,” they replied. “Endurance isn’t a skill here. It’s a necessity.”

“I suppose that’s what makes you so good at it,” I said lightly, though the weight of their words settled uncomfortably in my chest.

“And you?” they countered. “You’ve been here less than a month, and yet you endure.”

I shrugged, my steps steady against the cold stone floor. “I’ve had practice.”

They didn’t press further, their expression remaining calm but unreadable. It was something I had come to appreciate about Uraume—their ability to hold silence without making it oppressive, to let the weight of unspoken words linger without demanding answers.

As we rounded a corner, the carvings on the walls grew more intricate, the twisted patterns weaving together in ways that seemed almost alive in the flickering torchlight. The faint hum of power in the air shifted, a reminder of the estate’s living presence.

“I should tell you something,” Uraume said suddenly, their voice quieter now, as though the walls themselves were listening.

I glanced at them, my curiosity piqued by the uncharacteristic hesitation in their tone. “What is it?”

“Shortly after your… display in the garden,” they began, choosing their words carefully, “Kaede appeared in the medical wing of the estate.”

My steps faltered, and I turned to face them fully. “The medical wing?”

“Yes,” Uraume said, their gaze steady but carrying a weight that made my chest tighten. “She wasn’t in good shape.”

“What happened to her?” I asked, though I could feel the answer already forming in the pit of my stomach.

“Lord Sukuna happened,” they replied, their tone even but edged with something sharper. “She arrived covered in bruises, her wrists raw and bleeding as though she had been bound for hours. Her back…” They paused, their expression hardening. “It bore welts so deep they bled through the bandages. It was clear she had been… disciplined.”

The cold stone beneath my feet seemed to grow colder. “Disciplined?” I repeated, the word tasting bitter on my tongue.

Uraume’s lips pressed into a thin line. “If you want to call it that. Or perhaps it was just his way of making a point.”

A point. The words twisted in my mind, their weight sinking deeper with each passing second. Sukuna’s punishment wasn’t justice—it was a warning, delivered with cruel precision to ensure the message was clear to anyone who dared to challenge his will. Or mine.

“Why are you telling me this?” I asked finally, my voice quieter now.

“Because you should understand what it means to have his attention,” Uraume said. “And what it means when someone crosses you under his protection.”

The weight of their words settled heavily between us, the implications sharp and unavoidable. I looked at Uraume, searching their pale, frost-colored gaze for a trace of malice or judgment, but found only a steady, quiet understanding.

“I didn’t ask for his protection,” I said softly.

“No,” Uraume replied. “But you have it. And with it comes power—and danger.”

We resumed walking, the corridor growing wider and more familiar as we neared my quarters. The tension in my chest eased slightly, though Uraume’s words lingered, heavy and unrelenting.

“Thank you,” I said after a long silence, the sincerity in my voice surprising even me. It wasn’t just for the warning—it was for their presence, their quiet steadiness that had become an anchor in this place.

They glanced at me, their expression softening just slightly. “Don’t thank me yet,” they said. “You’re far from safe here.”

“Neither are you,” I replied, a faint smile tugging at my lips.

Their own lips quirked in response, a rare and fleeting expression that felt almost like camaraderie. “True enough.”

When we reached my door, Uraume paused, their pale eyes meeting mine with an intensity that was both grounding and unsettling. “You should rest,” they said. “Tomorrow will come soon enough.”

“And what will tomorrow bring?” I asked, half-joking, though the weight of the question was real.

Uraume tilted their head slightly, the faintest trace of amusement in their gaze. “Survival,” they said simply.

As they turned to leave, their steps fading into the quiet hum of the estate, I lingered in the doorway, their words repeating in my mind. Survival. It was a truth I knew well, but here, with Uraume by my side—even in the shadows—I felt the faintest flicker of something else.

Not hope, exactly. But perhaps the possibility of it.

When I pushed open the door to my quarters, I froze. The room, once a sparse and quiet sanctuary, was unrecognizable.

Silks and velvets in every shade of crimson and black were draped over the table and bed, their rich hues glimmering in the faint light that spilled through the small window. Wooden chests sat open, their contents spilling out in a display of excessive luxury—jewelry that gleamed like captured firelight, bottles of rare tinctures with gold-stoppered lids, and finely crafted tools I recognized as implements for alchemy and witchcraft.

The faint scent of exotic spices hung in the air, mingling with the sharper tang of oils and perfumes arranged neatly along the edge of the table. Each item seemed carefully chosen, a deliberate display of wealth and power.

At the center of it all, laid out on the bed like an offering, was a dress.

It was impossible to look away. The fabric was a deep, blood-red hue, so dark it seemed to shift into black when the light moved. Gold thread stitched jagged, curling patterns across the bodice—patterns unmistakably matching Sukuna’s sigil. The neckline plunged daringly low, the structured bodice designed to mold to the body like a second skin.

The skirt flowed from the hips in a cascade of liquid-like fabric, pooling on the floor in soft ripples. A single slit, running dangerously high, broke the smooth line, revealing far more than it concealed. It wasn’t just a dress—it was a statement, one that spoke of control, dominance, and a demand for absolute attention.

Beside the dress, placed with almost reverent care, was a choker.

It was deceptively simple—a band of finely wrought gold that gleamed like liquid fire. At its center hung a gemstone the size of a small plum, faceted to perfection and glowing faintly with an inner light. The crimson of the stone was deeper than the dress, almost black at its core, and it pulsed faintly in the dim room as though it were alive.

I reached out to touch it, my fingers hovering over the surface of the gemstone. The faint hum of energy that emanated from it sent a shiver through me—it wasn’t just a jewel. It carried power, raw and untempered, coiled tightly within the confines of its golden frame.

Next to the choker sat matching earrings—slender spikes of gold tipped with tiny crimson stones—and a wide cuff bracelet etched with the same jagged patterns as the dress. But the choker drew my attention again and again, its quiet energy whispering promises I couldn’t quite understand.

Then I noticed the note.

It was folded neatly and propped against the cuff, the edges crisp and sharp, as though the parchment had never been touched. The ink was crimson, as rich and dark as blood, and the handwriting was unmistakably Sukuna’s—sharp, angular strokes that seemed to carve into the paper.

“Do not waste my generosity. Wear these. You’ll need them. Your test will come soon, and I’ll decide if you’re worth keeping. Or if you’ll break like the rest. Your life hangs in the balance—try to make it interesting for me, little witch.”

The words were almost playful, but beneath them lay the cold, sharp edge of a blade. My fingers tightened around the note as I reread it, my mind churning over the implications. A test. Sukuna’s test. The stakes couldn’t have been clearer—failure meant death.

My gaze drifted back to the choker, its faint glow pulsing softly, rhythmically, like a heartbeat. There was something unsettling about it, something that felt both foreign and familiar. It wasn’t just an accessory. It was a mark, a symbol of power, and likely a tool for something far greater than mere adornment.

I set the note down carefully, reaching out to pick up the choker. The metal was cool against my fingers, the gemstone thrumming faintly as though alive. As I held it, the room seemed to grow quieter, the air heavier, as though the estate itself was holding its breath.

Whatever this test was, Sukuna had no intention of letting it pass unnoticed. He had chosen these gifts deliberately, each one carrying a weight that went far beyond its material value. The dress, the jewelry, the choker—they weren’t just gifts. They were pieces of a puzzle I was only beginning to understand.

And as I set the choker back down, the gemstone’s faint pulse quickened for just a moment, as if responding to my touch.

The hum of power lingered in the room as I stepped back, the note’s final words echoing in my mind.

“Try to make it interesting for me, little witch.”

Whatever awaited me, one thing was certain: Sukuna wasn’t just testing my strength. He was testing my will and failure wasn’t an option.

And the stakes couldn’t be higher.

And for the first time since arriving at the estate, I felt a flicker of something I hadn’t allowed myself to feel before.

Not fear.

Anticipation.

Excitement.

dividers by @strangergraphics

AUTHORS NOTE I'm still not sure how I feel about this chapter, but here it is nonetheless! I still hope you guys like it (even if it isn't my favorite)! I am excited to get to all the action in the next one!!!

TAGLIST @slutlight2ndver @surielstea @duhhitzstarr @arcanefeelings @numbuh666 @tejan-sunny @lavenderandoranges @after-laughter-comes-tears @maomimii @theplacetoputfics

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Hi! How are you? I hope that everything is fine! I was just thinking about some bayverse headcanons (+18)! What do u think about that? Because to be honest i need them 🤭 And btw i love your style of writing! Anyway i hope you are doing okey! Have a nice day! 🩷

Random Headcanons (18+)

Bayverse!Michelangelo x reader

A/N: Hehehe, I’ve been planning on making some 18+ headcanons for the Bayverse boys, but wanted to focus on the more untouched areas of my masterlist first. But since you asked so nicely, heheheh, I’ll give you one with Mikey🧡 And I’m good, thank you so much for asking, and I wish you too a nice day🧡

All characters are aged up.

Warnings: Lewd talk?, dirty talk?, mentioning of experimental sex.

Mr. Blunt and joyful right here. Mikey can be very blunt at times. If someone else found them in your position, they might have found his expression and comments quite a bit lewd and crude. How could he say such things to his girlfriend, and then within earshot of his own family? Well, you knew why, and therefore you didn’t find it as crude or lewd. Mikey never meant to be hurtful, he only tried to be funny, relying much on shock humor at times. He could come up and hug you from behind, swaying you side by side in a very loving manner, your head falling back and resting against his chest, smiling as he placed a kiss on your cheek, before resting his cheek against yours. And then; “How about you drop your pants and bend over, beautiful?” That had you roaring out in laughter. Though you would drop your pants and bend over a few moments later.

Mikey is not the type to let his sex life get stuck in a routine. In his opinion, a predictive sex life is as good as a dead one. He found new positions and dynamics very exciting, and it was often the excitement that he found very arousing. Couple that with a beautiful partner like you, who Mikey loved dearly, and you suddenly have wild and exciting love making. Sex between you and Mikey never felt boring. There was always something new to switch things up, and that excitement always did much, both for your and Mikey’s pleasure, but also several bonding experiences, bringing you closer and closer to each other.

It didn’t take much to get Mikey in the mood however. That just made it much easier for you when you were in the mood, having to do little to nothing to get your boyfriend in the same kind of mood. However, the most effective way to do this was to use Mikey’s own tactics against him. It didn’t come natural to you in the beginning, but as you and Mikey’s relationship progressed it became much easier. Soon it wasn’t strange for you to walk up behind Mikey while he was sitting in the couch, wrapping your arms around him, feeling him relax against you, like you would with him, before you would bring you lips down to where his ear would have been, whispering the words; “How about you drop your pants and give me something to ride on?”

If you were the only ones in the lair, Mikey would drop his pants on the spot. If anybody else was around, you would have to quickly remind him as he started fiddling with his fly, before going somewhere more private with Mikey hot on your heels.

[acute-crashout-jeyuso]

Power: a Rhea Ripley x Bloodline fic.

Chapter 14: J

Demi stood in front of the mirror, brushing her hair with deliberate strokes. The sunlight filtered through the cabin windows, casting a soft glow on her reflection. She felt a sense of empowerment coursing through her veins, a feeling she hadn’t experienced in far too long. After speaking with Jonathan and Joseph, she was finally on the path to the life she wanted—a life where she could choose freely. A life with someone who wouldn’t try to share her, someone who valued her as more than a piece in their elaborate puzzle.

She set down the brush, grabbed her wallet, and took a deep breath. This was it—the start of her new beginning. She heard the honk of the limo outside and smiled. The sound felt like a symbol of her freedom, her next step forward.

She exited the cabin, her heart light with the anticipation of what lay ahead. The driver stepped out, tipping his cap respectfully before opening the door for her. "Miss Bennett," he said with a polite nod.

"Thank you," Demi replied with a smile, stepping into the limo.

But the smile faded the instant her eyes landed on the figure seated inside. Joe.

Her breath hitched, and her grip on her wallet tightened. He was dressed impeccably, as always, exuding the quiet authority that had once drawn her to him. His dark eyes met hers, unreadable yet piercing. Her happiness faltered, replaced by a storm of emotions she couldn’t immediately name.

She hesitated, her body frozen in the doorway, but Joe gestured toward the seat across from him. "Sit," he said, his voice calm but firm.

Demi swallowed hard and forced herself to move. She climbed into the limo, closing the door behind her, and slowly lowered herself into the plush seat opposite him. The door shut with a soft click, sealing her inside with the man who had been the center of so much of her turmoil.

Joe watched her closely, his hands resting on his knees, his posture relaxed yet commanding. "You look… determined," he said, his voice carrying a subtle edge. "Heading somewhere important?"

Demi narrowed her eyes slightly, refusing to let him rattle her. "Yes. Somewhere that has nothing to do with you."

Joe leaned back, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "You’ve always had a way with words, Demi."

She didn’t respond, her jaw tightening as she stared at him. The power dynamic that had once defined their relationship felt different now—shifted, but not entirely gone.

Joe tilted his head, studying her. "I wanted to see you before you left," he said finally. "To talk."

"Talk?" Demi repeated, her tone incredulous. "What could you possibly have to say, Joe? Haven’t we said enough?"

Joe sighed, his expression softening, though his eyes remained sharp. "I want to make sure you know what you're walking away from. What you're choosing to leave behind."

Demi’s gaze hardened. "What I’m leaving behind, Joe, is a situation that no longer serves me. A situation where I wasn’t treated like an equal. I’m choosing something real. Something I deserve."

Joe nodded slowly, as if considering her words. "And you think that’s with Joshua?"

Her stomach flipped at the mention of Joshua’s name, but she held her ground. "Yes. I think it is."

Joe leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees. "I’m not here to stop you, Demi. But I need you to understand something. Joshua… he’s not as strong as you think he is. Not when it comes to you."

Demi frowned, confusion creeping into her expression. "What are you talking about?"

The limo came to a stop, and Demi felt a knot of unease tighten in her chest. The driver opened the door, and the crisp air rushed in. Joe leaned back, gesturing toward the open door. "Let's head in."

She stared at him for a moment, searching his face for any sign of deception, but all she found was that infuriating calmness he always carried. Without a word, she stepped out of the limo, her mind racing as she walked toward what she thought would be the next chapter of her life.

But even as she moved forward, she couldn’t shake the lingering feeling that Joe’s words held more weight than she wanted to admit.

As they were led to a private dining room that was enclosed, Joe pulled out a chair and gestured for Demi to sit. She hesitated for a moment before softly lowering herself into the seat. Her movements were deliberate, as if she were bracing for whatever this meeting would bring. Joe took his seat across from her, his presence as commanding as ever.

The waiter approached with a bottle of red wine and expertly poured it into their glasses and then he excused himself. Demi watched in silence, her fingers lightly drumming on the edge of the table.

Joe picked up his glass, swirling the liquid lazily before taking a sip. “I remembered you prefer red,” he said casually.

Demi’s eyes flicked up to meet his, her expression cold. “So what?” she asked, her voice laced with sarcasm. “You think because you finally chose a red wine, I’d stay with you in this… dynamic?”

Joe chuckled softly, setting his glass down. “I figured you’d appreciate the little things.”

Demi rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. “The little things,” she repeated, her tone biting.

Joe leaned forward slightly, his dark eyes fixed on hers. “Do you even realize how good you have it? Private jets. First-class flights. Sixteen thousand dollars a month wired to your account. Jewelry—endless jewelry. All I’ve ever asked is for you to dedicate your body and soul to each one of us. Is that really too much to ask, Demi?”

Her jaw clenched, and she looked away. “I’m sorry, Joe,” she said softly. “I thought I was in love with you.”

“You still are,” Joe said firmly, his voice unwavering.

Demi shook her head, her eyes narrowing. “I’m not.”

“You are,” Joe insisted, his voice calm but with an edge of certainty.

Demi’s hands tightened into fists. Her chest heaved as anger and frustration bubbled to the surface. Without thinking, she grabbed her wine glass and hurled it to the floor. It shattered on impact, the sound ringing out through the room.

“NO I AM NOT!” she shouted, her voice cracking.

Joe stood up abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. In an instant, he closed the distance between them, pinning her to the wall with his hands on either side of her. His eyes burned with intensity, his face mere inches from hers.

The air between them was charged, thick with tension. Demi’s breath came in short gasps, her heart pounding as she stared up at him.

Joe’s grip loosened as realization dawned on him. He stepped back, his expression shifting to a stoic mask. He ran a hand through his hair, his movements slow and deliberate.

“You’re not leaving,” he said, his voice low and steady.

Demi pushed herself off the wall, her chin lifted in defiance. “Joshua is the one I want to be with,” she said, her voice firm.

Joe’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. His silence was deafening, heavier than any words he could have spoken.

Joe backed up slightly, his expression a mix of anger and desperation. “You’re confused,” he said, his voice strained. “You don’t know what you want.”

Demi’s eyes flared with frustration, her hands trembling at her sides. “I do, Joe,” she said firmly.

Joe pointed at her, his voice rising. “I heard you! You communicated with me! I heard you every single time you went into a room with one of them!”

Demi threw her hands up in exasperation. “I was confused, for fuck’s sake, Joe!” she yelled.

Joe’s breathing grew heavier, his jaw clenching as he processed her words. “I know what you told me,” he said, his tone quieter but laced with steel. “And I will never leave it alone.”

Demi took a step closer, her voice breaking slightly as she spoke. “Joe… I had never been with anyone else before you. Everything I experienced with Jonathan, Joseph, and Joshua—it was so different. It was new. It was overwhelming.”

Joe’s eyes narrowed, his tone sharp. “So you admit it. You admit you wanted them.”

Demi shook her head, her voice firm. “I told both of them that my experiences with them will always be a memory. That’s it. A memory.”

Joe’s fists clenched at his sides, his voice trembling with fury. “You’re not fucking leaving,” he said, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her stomach churn.

Demi stood her ground, meeting his gaze with equal fire. “I am leaving, Joe. And you can’t stop me.”

The dining room fell into an eerie silence, the weight of their words hanging heavily in the air. Joe took a step back, his face unreadable, but the storm in his eyes told her everything she needed to know.

“Sit down.” Joe commanded but Demi didn’t listen and she kept her posture.

Joe’s eyes darkened as he leaned forward, placing his glass firmly on the table. “Sit down, now,” he commanded again, his tone leaving no room for argument. This time, Demi felt her knees weaken, and despite every rebellious fiber in her body, she sank into the chair. Something about the way he said it didn’t scare her—it reminded her of the submissive role she had once willingly embraced.

Joe took another measured sip of his wine, his demeanor cold and calculated. “Your life is made,” he stated, as if it were a universal truth, unshakable and undeniable.

Demi opened her mouth to retort, but her words faltered. Finally, she managed, “But… what if I want kids?”

Joe’s expression didn’t waver, but his reply caught her off guard. “I have one. I’m doing just fine.”

Her eyes widened, her heart racing. “You… you have a child?” she whispered, stunned. In all their time together, he had never once mentioned this.

Joe leaned back in his chair, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “If you want kids, pick one of us to father it. But you’re not leaving us.”

Demi’s stomach churned. The weight of his control pressed down on her chest. “What if I want marriage?” she asked, her voice breaking slightly.

Joe laughed, a low, dismissive sound that made her fists clench under the table. “We can marry each other,” he said, as if the idea were a joke.

Her heart sank, tears threatening to spill over. “You know what I want, Joe,” she said, her voice trembling with emotion. “And this… this isn’t it.”

For a moment, Joe’s smirk disappeared, replaced by something darker, more dangerous. He leaned in close, his voice low but firm. “You think you know what you want, Demi. But you’re wrong. What you want—what you need—is already in front of you. And I’m not letting you walk away.”

Demi blinked back her tears, her resolve shaking but still intact. “I’ll never stop wanting more,” she whispered.

Joe stared at her, his silence heavier than his words had ever been. The battle between them was far from over.

Demi’s hands trembled as she gripped the edge of the table, her breath uneven as she fought to keep her emotions in check. “Why couldn’t it have just been me and you, Joe?” she asked, her voice cracking under the weight of her feelings. “Why did it have to turn into this… circus?”

Joe exhaled, his expression unreadable, though his dark eyes locked onto hers with unsettling intensity. “Because you were always meant to be like this,” he said quietly, gesturing toward her as though she was some masterpiece he had helped create. “Right here. Right now. Sitting across from me, knowing what you’ve been through, knowing what you’ve felt. This is who you’re supposed to be, Demi.”

Her throat tightened, the lump rising as tears threatened to spill. “It was supposed to be just us, Joe,” she whispered, her voice laced with heartbreak. “That’s all I ever wanted—just you.”

Joe leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table as he clasped his hands together. His voice dropped, but it cut through the air like a blade. “Maybe I was just tired,” he said with a shrug, as though his reasoning were perfectly rational. “Tired of seeing you so… vanilla.”

Demi recoiled, confusion and anger flashing in her tear-streaked eyes. “What the hell does that even mean?” she demanded, her voice rising as her composure slipped further.

Joe smirked faintly, his gaze never wavering. “It means you didn’t even know yourself,” he said bluntly. “Not until you were with them. After every session, after every punishment or reward, you had this glow. This… aura. You don’t even understand how beautiful you looked.”

Her breath hitched, his words a cruel twist of the knife. “I looked beautiful because I was broken, Joe,” she snapped, her voice shaking with rage and grief. “You broke me. You all did.”

Joe’s expression didn’t falter. If anything, he looked proud. “I saw a picture of you after Jonathan punished you,” he said, his voice soft but full of an unsettling reverence. “You looked… otherworldly. Untouchable. Like no one could hurt you, even though you’d been hurt. I’ve never seen anything like it.” He paused, his gaze burning into hers. “You never looked like that when it was just me and you.”

Demi’s stomach twisted painfully, his words slicing through her like shards of glass. Her voice cracked as she whispered, “Do you even hear yourself right now? You’re telling me that I wasn’t enough for you. That I had to be—what? Hurt? Used? Controlled? Shared? Just to make you think I was alive?”

Joe’s jaw tightened, his stoic demeanor breaking for only a fraction of a second before he regained control. “It wasn’t about me,” he said defensively. “It was about what you needed.”

“What I needed?” Demi scoffed, her laugh bitter and hollow. “You don’t know a damn thing about what I needed. You just wanted to control me, to shape me into something that fit into your world. That’s not love, Joe. That’s manipulation.”

Joe sat back, his expression hardening. “And yet, here you are. Sitting across from me, still fighting to understand why you can’t walk away.”

Demi stood abruptly, her chair scraping loudly against the floor as she rose. Her legs felt weak, but her resolve kept her upright. “You’re right, Joe. I stayed too long. I let you convince me that this was what I deserved. But not anymore.”

She turned to leave, her steps unsteady but purposeful.

“You won’t leave,” Joe said firmly, his voice calm yet commanding.

Demi froze for a moment, her back to him, before she slowly turned to face him. Her tears had stopped, replaced by a quiet fury. “Watch me,” she said, her voice steady and cold. She turned once more and headed to the door.

“GET BACK HERE AND SIT DOWN!”

Demi hesitated at the door, her hand gripping the handle tightly as her mind screamed at her to leave. Joe’s voice rang out behind her, sharp and commanding.

“SIT DOWN.”

She froze. Her heart pounded in her chest, a battle waging between her mind and body. Her mind told her to walk away, to finally reclaim her life. But her body, conditioned to respond to the voice of her dominant, betrayed her. Slowly, reluctantly, she turned and walked back to the chair, sinking into it without a word.

Joe exhaled deeply, his dark eyes watching her every move. “That’s better,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “Now, let’s talk.”

Demi avoided his gaze, her hands trembling as they rested on her lap. “What’s left to say, Joe?” she asked, her voice low and strained. “I’ve already told you what I want.”

Joe leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table as he studied her. “No, you told me what you think you want,” he said. “But what you feel—what you need—is right here, in this room.”

Demi’s head snapped up, her tear-filled eyes locking onto his. “You don’t get it, do you?” she said, her voice breaking. “I don’t want this anymore. I don’t want to be just another piece in your game.”

“This isn’t a game, Demi,” Joe said, his voice soft but intense. “This is us. This is everything we’ve built together. Everything you’ve discovered about yourself. Don’t you see? No one will ever understand you the way I do. No one will ever love you the way I do.”

“That’s not love,” Demi shot back, her voice trembling. “Love doesn’t feel like this—like I’m suffocating, like I’m losing myself.”

Joe stood slowly, his presence looming over her as he stepped closer. “You’re not losing yourself,” he said, his voice low and intimate. “You’re finding who you really are. And you’re scared of it.”

Demi shook her head, tears slipping down her cheeks. “I’m not scared, Joe. I’m just done.”

Joe moved closer, his eyes never leaving hers. “You’re not done, Demi,” he said softly, his voice like a magnet drawing her in. “You’re just running. From me, from yourself, from what we could be.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but before she could speak, Joe cupped her face in his hands, his touch firm yet gentle. His thumb brushed away a tear as he leaned in, his lips brushing against hers.

The kiss was slow, deliberate, filled with the passion and dominance she had always known in him. It wasn’t just a kiss; it was a claim, a reminder of everything they had shared, everything he had awakened in her.

Demi tried to resist, her mind screaming at her to pull away, but her body betrayed her once again. Her hands moved to his chest, not to push him away but to steady herself as she melted into him.

Joe pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, his forehead resting against hers. “You’re mine, Demi,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “You always have been, and you always will be.”

Demi’s resolve crumbled. She closed her eyes, a sob escaping her lips as she nodded, her hands clutching his shirt tightly. “I hate you,” she whispered, her voice cracking.

Joe smiled faintly, brushing his lips against hers once more. “No, you don’t,” he said. “You hate how much you need me.”

And in that moment, Demi knew he was right.

[dirtytransmasc]

something something, Asha growing up in a world that demands her to be tough and fierce and angry to survive. something something, Asha not knowing how to be gentle. something something, Asha wanting to be gentle with her brother, knowing he needs her to be gentle, but just not knowing to do that. something something, Asha only knowing how to "tough love" her brother, only knowing how to command and force. something something, Asha wanting to fix her brother and not knowing how to do that and that very fact scares her to death. something something, Asha having to look at her little brother, knowing she failed him, only to know she's still failing him now, she still can't help him, she's still making it worse.

they make me feel ill. I will never stop thinking about them. they plauge me.

[mewsmagic]

Happy dunmeshi dayyy!!!! How are we feeling Farcille nation?? 😭😭💀💀💀

Gosh I’m so late to the party LMAO but Falin immediately caught my eye and I was so excited whenever she appeared even if just for a bit!!

Which gave me the idea for this art/meme, bc it definitely didn’t feel enough 😭😭😭😭 now I’m drowning myself in Farcille ao3 bc I need MORE doomed yuri!!!!!

[elvenbeard]

Just some quick snapshots from last night, because I've missed them a lot + knuckle kisses + looking at each other over the edge of their sunglasses 〒▽〒

[secriden]

ok so the beerwan dynamic is SO intriguing!! we're finally getting some solid insight into what's going on between them and its fascinating.

first of all, it appears that beer's feelings for wan is an open secret!? like... i mean its pretty clear to the audience, but the way god brings it up, it's not just known, but also well acknowledged.

this says that beer's been aware of his feelings for a while, has had time to process them - not just alone but with his good friend(s? not sure if bew was part of this conversation) - and has made a conscious decision to not push for anything more with wan.

i don't think i've ever seen this before? either you get both parties wrestling with new feelings for each other OR you have established relationship where both already know they are into each other. but what we have with beerwan is a very lopsided emotional dynamic where beer has thoroughly accepted his feelings while wan appears to be completely unaware of them or his own potential attraction in return.

it makes for such an interesting development because whenever something happens where sexual tension is created, all the uncertainty is solely on wan's side.

ole (beer's actor) does a really good job i think of subtly conveying this. there's something settled and accepting in the way he holds himself so precisely in place. like he won't move forward but he doesn't move back and it's just peak tension in a very different way as he stays precisely in place because he wants (he wants he wants) to kiss wan, but he won't let himself move forward and take it. there's something sweetly sad about how much he clearly yearns for more but how he won't let it happen unless wan initiates it.

and don't think it's because beer thinks his feelings would be unrequited, because surely that would've been addressed with the conversation with god. But the way god was encouraging him to be clear, it feels like there's some other reason (something in wan's past?) which is holding beer back.

it adds depth somehow to their interactions, because beer is so... quietly resigned that he loves wan and so even when wan is being ridiculous and honestly kind of a pain, he just gives in and accommodates him.

it gives them the emotional energy of an old married couple who have been together for so long that they've learned how to work around their partner's specific quirks -- but juxtaposed with the peak sexual energy of teenagers who've never gotten the privacy to be alone with each other before and desperately want to fuck (or at least beer is aware of it; i think wan's just... confused).

and meanwhile this lady is all of us:

baby boy its okay, you'll figure it out eventually.

[flowerakatsuka]

💕 kuroba first date outfit

OC OUTFIT DOODLE ASKS!

the place kuroba and karamatsu go on their first date to is a pretty expansive garden and requires a lot of walking so the outfit they go with is on more casual comfy side. they definitely put how comfortable it is to move in to the test after having to outrun the rest of the sextuplets trying to sabotage kara's confession plans.

( also, i envision him wearing the outfit from the 2nd anime paradise cafe collab on that date. )

[loopdile]

transcription under the cut!

The worst ship chart ever.

Ship name: Loopdile

[insert very tiny math] Ages: 43 and 31? Age difference: 8?

Portrait of Odile with an eyebrow raised saying "I'm not telling." Name: Odile. Gender: trans woman (maybe nb but idrc rn). Sexuality: Aro lesbian.

Portrait of Loop with a finger raised saying "I'm not telling~" Name: Loop. Gender: Nonbinary (??? what is identity). Sexuality: Ace bi

General sliders. "Relationship starts quickly vs the slowest burn you can possibly imagine" is marked fairly close to slowly and trails off towards slow burn. "They'll be together forever vs They'll break up after 2 months tops" has two marks, one at 2 months and one really close to forever. "Cute couple vs dear god they're ugly" is marked a quarter slider away from cute. "Reasonably healthy and normal relationship vs They're dying and getting killed and hurt man" has a wide mark all the way from the halfway point to a quarter away from healthy. "Extremely popular ship vs literally no one ships this but me" is marked fairly close to no one.

Specific sliders. "Giddy and happy to be in love vs they just killed themselves 40 times in their head at the idea of being in love" has loop at died and odile fairly close to died. "The madoka vs the homura" has loop at homura and odile a third of the slider away. "Telling anyone who will listen about their partner vs rarely brings up that they're in a relationship" has loop a quarter away from telling anyone and odile fairly close to rarely. "eats and/or encourages a healthy diet vs eats dry instant noodles only" has loop at noodles and odile a third away from healthy. "crazy ass vs truck freak" has loop at crazy ass and odile fairly close to truck freak.

Tell me why your ship is interesting... go!

What draws them together? Odile is the only motherfucker that can handle them; Loop is weird and intriguing.

What stands in the way? Poor communication skills; Loop is clingy but Odile often needs space; Loop lashes out and self-isolates.

What are their good traits? They're both hilarious and dedicated to the bit; they're both devoted to their loved ones.

What makes them hopeless at romance? Odile is aro-spec and uninterested in romance; Loop both hates/fears and craves romance; Luckily they can just be something stranger!

Describe them with one trope: found family, deadpan x emotional, secret third thing, I'll protect you from yourself.

[valyrfia]

girl you got called out once and the rpf left your soul fast asf

is this a compliment? an insult? a congratulation? a warning?

[imminent-danger-came]

MK: "No way! I may not understand your irrational love of noodles, or working hard, or being angry all the time—but you are always there when I need you, so it's time for me to return the favor! Because Pigsy's Noodles, are noodles worth fighting for!"

(2x04 Sweet'n Sour)

-

Subodhi: "Zhu Bajie was a stubborn one too." Pigsy: "Oh! So you think we're the same just cause we're pigs huh, bet you think I'm just a disgusting little monster too." Subodhi: "Zhu Bajie had his vices, however, like all the companions he grew up. He struggled the most, but he worked hard, not unlike yourself. Although he didn't start out this way, in time he became a deeply caring and protective creature, and a powerful ally—one of the best in fact. The heart you have in abundance, the power? Why, you've barely scratched the surface of your potential! And that's saying something."

(4x09 Roast of the Monkie Kids)

-

Gettin' emotional over my favorite hard working Pig man.

[chompe-diem]

pick a thing that i want so badly a normal amount and am never going to get