#and the thing that binds them is their friendship

[simplysamiblog]

The weight of a perfect goodbye

Before I even begin sharing my thoughts, I need to make one very important thing clear: I am a firm believer in the theory that Jayce and Viktor survived the ending of Arcane. As far as I’m concerned, they were teleported through time and space and are now slowly, painstakingly rebuilding their lives. Together, of course.

I’ve read dozens of (amazing) fanfics where this is exactly how their story unfolds, and some are so well-written that I honestly consider them canon.

That said.

I’ve seen several discussions online about this very topic:

"The creators confirmed it: they’re dead."

"The creators don’t know anything, they’re alive."

"Accept it, they were disintegrated by the Rune."

And so on.

But here’s what I think (not that it matters to anyone or carries any weight at all):

We can’t completely dismiss or outright reject the idea that, yes, Jayce and Viktor are, unfortunately, dead. At some level, we need to accept it—to believe it.

But let me explain why.

Not out of respect for the creators, the canon, the fandom, or anything like that. But out of love for the story, for the essence of their narrative.

At the risk of sounding cliché, do you really think Arcane would have been just as special if Jayce and Viktor had survived? Can you picture the scene? The protagonists recover, the fog of war and chaos clears, and there they are—Jayce and Viktor—standing atop the Hexgates, smiling. Ah, what a happy ending. What a good ending.

Sure. Nice. Nothing more.

Or imagine if we had gotten something like: "And they remained like brothers forever." Ugh.

It’s cruel, it’s unfair, it’s heartbreaking—

But it’s perfect.

The chain of events (cough) that led to that moment, the sacrifice that sealed their fate—

The relationship between Jayce and Viktor would never have been as impactful otherwise. Personally, I don’t think I fully grasped the depth of their bond until their foreheads rested against each other. In that moment of resignation, of acceptance.

Their story, their magic, was beautiful precisely because it ended right then, in that instant.

Jayce asked Viktor, "Why did you ever give me this?"

He could have let him die in the storm. Or, if he wanted to be more merciful, he could have simply saved him without giving him the Rune—

The world would have been safe. The world would have been saved.

But…

The world wasn’t as important as the moments they shared. Their friendship, their collaboration, their bond.

Viktor couldn’t deny another Viktor those moments. That brief but immense joy. Those years in which he had truly lived.

They were stronger than everything—stronger than everyone—

Even stronger than death.

And that’s why, in a way, their death is precisely what makes them so wonderful.

Call it cliché or a bit of a stretch, but the first comparison that comes to mind is Romeo and Juliet. Would it really be the most famous love story if they hadn’t met their tragic end?

"Happily ever after."

Or—

"Never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo."

Sure, they might have survived, somewhere. And it’s absolutely valid to believe that.

But if not for that ending, for that terrible, heartbreaking moment, how much would we have missed out on? How many incredible fanfictions wouldn’t exist? How many fanarts, how many works of art would we have been unknowingly deprived of?

We’ll never know, and I don’t want to know.

Because what we have is amazing.

So yes, I accept the idea that they’re dead—because it makes the fantasy that they’re alive and in love so much sweeter.

But most of all, it makes their relationship a game of fate, something they built around each other. A perfect circle, an inseparable chain binding them as one.

Pulling them together, pushing them apart—only to bring them back to each other again.

Over and over.

Forever.

[hyperfixation-or-death]

victor and romane as characters with metaphorical tunnel vision. you only see what you look for, and you only look for what you're used to seeing.

four years passed. victor becoming so used to being treated coldly. most interactions at school are characterized by cold malice. most interactions at home are characterized by cold indifference. after it goes on long enough, he starts to look for it. he starts seeing cruelty in places it doesn't exist. they go back in time, but do his friends really care about him? they go back in time, but isn't sam still everyone's favorite? they go back in time. but four years still passed. and now it's all he can see.

four years passed. romane becoming so used to losing people. first sam and bilal vanished, then victor was sent away. then her mom died, and camille was almost taken from her, too. after it goes on long enough, she starts to look for it. she starts trying to prevent tragedies that haven't yet occurred. they go back in time, but is camille really safe? they go back in time, but shouldn't she check on her mom again? they go back in time. but four years passed. and now it's all she can see.

it's a cycle. they're both constantly on edge in different ways. waiting for the rug to be yanked out from under them. because they got their second chance, they got their one-in-a-billion miracle, they got their impossible gift from the universe. and the thing about situations like that, is that it's almost always too good to be true.

so, what's the catch? when does everything stop being okay again? when does romane's family get taken from her again? and how can she make sure she's ready to prevent it when it happens? when does victor go back to being unwanted and unloved? and how can he make sure he's not caught completely off guard when it happens?

they're self-fulfilling prophecies. they have that in common.

so romane tries to warn her mom about the future. and vanessa has another heart attack. so victor snaps at the first hint of perceived rejection. and he pushes his friends and brother away.

but in the finale. in the field outside the cabin, they break out of those cycles. you only see what you look for, but in that moment, they look at each other. and they see each other.

and victor is so, so incredibly loved. and romane doesn't have to fix things alone. and sam and bilal are right there with them. and it's the four of them again, just like it used to be, just like it was always supposed to be, and-

they see each other.

[bloomingsalma]

okay... so I get why I was hesitating to watch soulmate (2023)

[pepprs]

idk how to reconcile my new self with my old self. also i fucking hate waiting. GRAGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

[maretinelli]

YOUR LOVE HURTS

Lando Norris X paramedic!fem!reader

Summary: Years of friendship bind Y/N and Lando, but also prevent them from confessing the love they feel. He tries to escape his feelings by getting involved with other women, while she finds herself in frustrating dates that were secretly sabotaged by her best friend. However, some secrets cannot be hidden forever.

Words: 7.7K+

Warnings: Anguish, best friends to lovers, mentions of Y/n's work, bottled up feelings, fights between best friends (and physical aggression, but nothing too specific and serious) and of course, happy ending because I can't handle myself hahaha

Author: English is not my first language, so apologies for any mistakes that may occur throughout the story. I don't know where this idea came from, but it's definitely meant to be written for Lando hahaha I hope you like it, as always❤️🇧🇷

MASTERLIST

Y/N and Lando's friendship began unexpectedly during her first few months at McLaren. She was a young, newly qualified paramedic, full of determination but still learning to deal with the fast pace of the Formula 1 world.

Their first interaction happened after a small incident on the track during training. Although it wasn't serious, Lando needed assistance, and Y/N, even though she was still in training, was assigned to help him. He, with his relaxed and playful manner, tried to ease her nervousness with jokes, while she focused on her work, responding with a shy smile.

It was a simple moment, but it marked the beginning of something special.

As time went by and because they worked on the same team, casual meetings in the paddocks and quick conversations became more frequent.

Lando found in Y/N a person he could trust, someone who listened to his concerns without judging him, while she found in him a friend who made her feel comfortable and at ease in such a competitive environment.

They started sharing little everyday things - inside jokes, advice, secrets. It was easy to be around each other, as if they had always been a part of each other's lives. Therefore, it was not uncommon to see them together between runs or even outside of work, laughing and joking as if the rest of the world didn't exist.

However, behind the laughter and complicity, there were looks that lasted a second longer, subtle touches that awakened unexpected sensations and a feeling of emptiness whenever they were away from each other.

Y/N began to notice that Lando's smile made her heart race in a way she couldn't explain. Lando, in turn, found himself thinking about her more than he should, feeling restless when he saw her with other men.

It was a mixture of passion and love that scared them, something so intense that they preferred to keep it a secret, afraid of destroying the friendship they valued so much.

It was a hot and busy day at Silverstone Circuit, the traditional venue for the British Grand Prix. It was free practice day, and McLaren was focused on fine-tuning Lando and Oscar's car to ensure a good performance over the weekend.

Y/N, meanwhile, was in the VIP room reserved for team members and special guests, enjoying a rare moment of tranquility. The room was practically empty, with only the low sound of the television broadcasting the training sessions and the soft noise of the coffee machine in operation.

The paramedic was focused, holding the cup with one hand while adjusting the amount of coffee with the other. However, her peace was interrupted when she felt firm hands land on her shoulders, making her jump a little in fright.

Turning quickly, eyes wide and heart racing, she came face to face with Lando.

He was smiling, with his jumpsuit half open and the black team t-shirt underneath, still sweaty from training.

"Hey, who are you running away from to scare yourself like that?" He joked, with that relaxed tone that only he knew how to use.

She sighed in relief, but soon smiled, now more relaxed. "Shh," she said, leaning slightly towards him as if she were going to tell him a big secret. "I'm hiding from my department head. She wants me to tidy up the entire dressing room. But honestly, that's not my job. Put the newbies to it, I'm not one anymore."

Lando laughed, throwing his head back. "Classic! You're the only person who can get out of work during a Grand Prix."

"Oh come on, I deserve a coffee at least," she replied, lifting the cup like it was a trophy. "And you? What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be analyzing data or something?"

"Maybe I just came to look for you," Lando said with a smirk, but quickly added, "Or maybe I came to get you some coffee too. But I'll let you decide which one sounds more interesting."

Y/N shook her head, laughing, as she finished preparing her drink and moved out of the way so he could help himself as well.

Between teasing and smiles, what was supposed to be a brief pause ended up becoming another moment that both would cherish, without realizing that, deep down, it was in these small moments that the feeling between them grew even more.

Lando poured himself some coffee as Y/N watched him, leaning against the counter. He turned to her with the cup in his hand, taking a sip before casually asking,

"What's up, paramedic? Any interesting stories today? Have you saved anyone's life or was it all smooth sailing?"

"Nothing too exciting. I just saw one of the mechanics earlier, he cut his hand while working on something on the car. And one of the engineers called me because he thought he was having an 'allergic reaction.'" She made air quotes with her fingers, laughing. "Actually, he just ate too much chili at lunch and got really upset."

Lando laughed out loud, nearly spilling his coffee.

"This is the kind of drama you expect from engineers, isn't it? They're always exaggerating."

"Yes, and of course, it was up to me to calm him down," she replied, crossing her arms. "But other than that, nothing major. I think my job only gets exciting when you or Oscar decide to do something stupid on the floor."

"Hey!" Lando feigned offense, pointing at her with his cup. "I'm an extremely careful pilot, I'll remind you of that."

"Of course it is," Y/N replied sarcastically as she gave his shoulder a light shove.

They laughed together and then decided to leave the VIP room.

The paddock was busy as usual, but there was a good vibe in the air, typical of a race weekend. As they walked by, people greeted them, waving or exchanging a few quick words.

They walked side by side through the paddock, enveloped in a comfortable silence. The noise around them—the distant sound of engines, the excited chatter of the teams, the hum of the fans—seemed to blend into an indistinct backdrop.

They were close to the garage of the team they worked in, where the movement was even greater, but even so, Norris seemed oblivious to everything, lost in his own thoughts as he looked at Y/N.

She paused for a moment, leaning her elbow on the railing overlooking the track and resting her head on her hand. Her eyes were fixed on the straightaway, as if she were thinking about something far away. Lando stood beside her, but his attention was not on the track or the commotion around them.

It was in her.

A slight smile appeared on his lips. He didn't know exactly why, but he always felt this way around her, as if the whole world could stop, and none of it would matter as long as she was there. It was something that scared him and, at the same time, comforted him. He tried to look away, but, as always, he failed.

"So, Norris," she began, breaking the silence as she still stared out at the track. A smile forming on her face. "Which woman did you bring to this weekend's GP?"

The question took him by surprise, and he let out a short laugh, trying to hide his discomfort. "Ah, Y/N, straight to the point, aren't you?"

"I'm just curious," she said, turning to him with a mischievous smile. "There's always one, isn't there? I thought you were going to be modeling some model today. Or maybe a cheap actress."

He laughed again, but this time it was more nervous.

"Well, this time, no one. Maybe I gave my charm a break."

"Impressive" Y/N replied, still smiling. "Could it be that the world is ending and no one told me?"

Lando shook his head, laughing, but his smile soon faded as the thoughts he had been trying so hard to avoid began to surface.

He knew why he dated so many women, why he threw himself into relationships that meant nothing. It was to forget. To try, somehow, to silence what he felt for her.

But it didn't work. It never worked. And it never would.

He remembered the nights he went out with someone, the times he tried to convince himself that this girl was what he needed. And then, every time, without fail, Y/N's image would appear. It was as if his mind betrayed him.

During kisses that should have been passionate, he thought about her. When he was alone in bed with some girl next to him, he imagined it was her. And it consumed him, because, no matter how much he tried to deny it, he knew the truth. None of them were her.

"You're quiet all of a sudden," Y/N commented, turning to face him with an arched eyebrow. As she sipped the rest of her coffee from the cup.

Lando blinked, shaking off his thoughts and regaining his smile. "I'm just enjoying the moment, Miss 'Too Curious'."

Y/N rolled her eyes with a smile, looking back at the track. He, however, continued to look at her, with a heavy heart, trying to hide what he felt behind yet another joke. As he always did.

She continued to stare at the track, the light wind blowing a few loose strands of her hair, while Lando stood beside her, leaning against the barrier. He was watching her discreetly again, but this time she turned, as if she had sensed something, and her eyes widened as she saw someone approaching in the middle of the paddock flow.

"Oh no" The paramedic muttered, turning to Lando with a mischievous smile and a gleam of urgency in her eyes. "My boss is coming. We have to escape."

Lando arched an eyebrow, clearly amused by her drama. "We? No, no. You have to run away. I did my job well today."

She rolled her eyes, pushing his shoulder lightly. "Don't be ridiculous, help me!"

Before she could say anything else, Lando was already pulling her by the hand. "Okay, let's go, runaway paramedic." He said with a huge smile, starting to run across the paddock.

The two of them ran down the busy hallway, laughing like they were teenagers running away from a teacher in the school hallway. Y/N glanced back on reflex, and there was her boss, trying to get past people and clearly looking for her.

"She's going to kill me" Y/N said between laughs, trying to keep up with Lando's pace.

"That's because you're always running away from work, Y/N!" Lando joked, looking back to check if her boss was still away.

"I work harder than you, Norris!" Y/N replied, unable to contain her laughter.

They turned a corner, passing members of other teams who gave the pair confused looks. Lando, still holding Y/N's hand, made sure to pick up the pace, making sure her boss lost track.

Finally, they stopped in a quieter area, hiding next to some crates near the garage.

The two were panting, trying to catch their breath as they laughed softly.

"Right" Lando said between breaths. "That was the most exciting thing that happened all day."

“Definitely” Y/N replied, leaning against one of the boxes, still laughing. She looked at Norris, her expression relaxed and genuinely happy. “You’re terrible, you know that?”

"Hey, I saved your life just now" he snapped, raising his hands in defense.

She just shook her head, the smile still plastered on her face. "You did, but only because you like to meddle in my problems."

"Oh, maybe" the pilot said, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets. "But I guess that's one of my duties as your best friend."

She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, Lando flashed her that smile that always made her heart flutter. Even after so many years, he still had that effect on her.

She looked away, trying to hide the blush rising in her face as he watched her, his expression soft and his heart beating a little faster than he cared to admit.

••••••••••••••••••••••••

The sun shone down on the paddock on the second day of action at Silverstone Circuit. The atmosphere was as frenetic as ever, with mechanics, drivers and team members rushing around.

Y/N walked quickly across the paddock, holding some first aid supplies in one hand and some papers in the other. Oscar had been slightly injured during training, and she was going to meet him to check if he was okay.

She was walking so quickly, her mind focused on her work, that she didn't notice someone turning the corner at the same time. The impact was inevitable. Y/N stumbled backwards, but before she could fall, she felt firm hands holding her by the waist, stabilizing her.

"Hold on" Lando said, smirking as he held her.

Y/N clutched the items in her hands, making sure nothing fell out, and looked up, meeting Lando's eyes. His face softened when he saw his best friend there.

They were so close that she could feel the heat of his body and hear his soft breath against her face. His gaze seemed different this time, more intense, as if he were seeing something beyond what he was used to. Her heart raced, and she swallowed hard, realizing that he was still holding her.

"Lando, if you wanted to hug me, you just had to ask, you didn't have to run me over" Y/N joked, trying to lighten the moment and hide her nervousness.

He let out a humorless laugh, removing his hands from her waist in one quick movement and crossing his arms, clearly uncomfortable.

"Yeah, well... you were the one who bumped into me, but it's okay, I'll let it go this time," he replied, looking away for a moment.

Y/N smiled, still trying to ignore the blush on her cheeks as she rearranged the items she was carrying.

"So, where were you going in such a hurry?" Lando asked, changing the subject to diffuse the tension.

"I was on my way to see Oscar," she explained, waving the papers in her hand. "He got hurt a little in practice, but nothing serious. I'm just going to make sure he doesn't make a big deal out of it."

Lando chuckled, shaking his head. "How typical of him."

"Now it's your turn," she said, narrowing her eyes with a curious smile. "And you, where were you going?"

He hesitated for a moment, his fingers itching in the pocket of his overalls. The truth was that he was going to meet a woman he had been casually involved with, yet another attempt to stifle the feelings he had for Y/N.

But now, standing there, with her looking at him like that, it seemed almost impossible to say it.

"Oh, I..." Norris began, scratching the back of his neck and looking away. "I was going to... meet someone."

"A person?" Y/N asked, arching an eyebrow, but already knowing what he was talking about.

"Yeah, you know, just... someone." He smiled awkwardly, trying to lighten the weight of the words.

Y/N felt discomfort growing in her chest, but forced herself to keep her tone light. "Oh, sure, Lando Norris and his lucky fans," she said with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I hope she knows she's competing with her best friend as the most amazing person you know."

Lando heard the tone in her voice, something she was clearly trying to hide, and for a moment he was speechless. Her smile seemed less genuine, and he knew the conversation had changed the mood between them.

Before he could respond, a voice called out to Y/N in the distance. "Y/N! Come!"

She turned toward the sound, seeing one of the engineers waving at her. “I have to go,” she said, turning her gaze back to Lando. “Don’t be late for qualifying, Norris.” She smiled again, but this time it was more of a mask than anything else.

Lando nodded, watching her walk quickly away across the paddock, disappearing into the crowd.

The pilot stood there for a few seconds, still processing what had just happened. He looked at the path he should follow, where the woman was waiting for him, but the idea of meeting her now seemed completely wrong.

Without much thought, he turned and began walking back to the garage.

He wasn't going to meet her. He didn't need to. He didn't want to.

Instead, he decided to focus on what really mattered: The race, and maybe, who knows, the chance to resolve what he felt for Y/N before it was too late.

The day passed slowly, but the atmosphere between Y/N and Lando seemed heavier than usual. Ever since their conversation in the paddock in the morning, she had kept herself busy, always finding something to do, avoiding any opportunity to be alone with him.

Lando, for his part, tried to ignore the discomfort he felt, but every moment their eyes met and she quickly looked away made everything seem worse.

It was late afternoon, and Lando was in the McLaren garage, sitting in a corner, lost in thought. He stared at a spot on the floor, his arms crossed and his mind restless. The morning's conversation kept replaying in his head, and he couldn't shake the discomfort he felt.

Oscar appeared at her side, casual as always, with a bottle of water in his hand and the bandage that Y/N applied to his face as soon as he left training.

He looked at his teammate, immediately realizing what was going on. "You know this is a terrible idea, right?" Piastri said bluntly, catching Lando's attention.

The Brit raised his eyebrows, surprised by the direct approach. "What?"

"Staying in this stupid cycle of dating women to try to forget Y/N. Everyone knows you like her. Even she knows, probably."

Lando let out a sarcastic laugh, shaking his head. "Thank you, Doctor Piastri, but I don't think my love life is any of your business."

Oscar ignored the defensive tone and rolled his eyes, taking a sip of water before continuing. "Seriously, Lando. You need to stop running away from this. Tell her what you're thinking, just get it over with. Everyone sees the way you look at her. And honestly, I think she has feelings for you too."

Lando was silent, processing his friend's words. He knew Oscar was right, but admitting it to himself was another story. He sighed, rubbing his face with his hands.

Before he could answer, they both saw Y/N in the distance, walking quickly towards the garage, seeming focused on her cell phone and a little rushed.

Oscar elbowed Lando lightly, leaning in to speak softly. "Now's a good time. Go for it."

"No way" Lando replied, looking at the ground and pretending not to hear.

Y/N was so focused that she didn't notice the two. Oscar, however, didn't miss the chance to call out to her. "Y/N! Where are you going in such a hurry?"

She stopped abruptly and turned around, surprised to see them there. "Oh, hi, boys" she said, with a slightly nervous smile.

Oscar raised his eyebrows, clearly curious. "Are you running away from something? Or someone?"

Y/N laughed, but her nervousness was evident. She began to fiddle with the bag she was carrying, avoiding their gazes.

"Actually, I... was leaving early."

"Leaving early?" Lando asked, raising an eyebrow, his voice carrying a hint of curiosity.

She bit her lip, looking down at her feet before finally confessing, "Yeah, I... have dinner."

Oscar and Lando exchanged quick glances, and it was Lando who broke the silence, his voice now more serious and emotionless.

"You didn't tell me anything."

The paramedic fiddled with the hem of McLaren's blouse, clearly uncomfortable.

"Yeah, well... He works at Mercedes. He's a close friend of George's, and he helped set up the meeting. He's a really nice guy, you know? We're going out tonight."

The words hit Lando like a punch to the gut. He tried to maintain his composure, but his chest felt tight, as if the air had been sucked out of the room. Lando forced a smile that didn’t reach his eyes and gave a slight nod.

"I see. Good for you."

As Y/N spoke, he couldn't help but think about how wrong it felt. The idea of Y/N with another guy, someone other than him, was unbearable. He knew he had no right to feel jealous, but it was impossible not to feel that way.

What he didn't know, however, was that Y/N was only dating that guy because he had something that reminded her of Lando.

A smile, the slightly curly hair, the relaxed way of speaking, even the tone of the voice. She was trying to convince herself that she could move on, that she didn't need to keep harboring feelings for someone who would clearly never see her the same way.

She was wrong. Clearly wrong.

Oscar noticed their discomfort, but remained silent, pretending he wasn't there and waiting to see how the situation would unfold.

"Well, I have to go" she said, finally looking up. "Wish me luck."

She smiled before turning and walking towards the paddock exit, leaving Lando standing there, feeling like the ground had collapsed beneath his feet.

Oscar looked at him, waiting for a reaction. "What now?"

"Now I'm going to solve this!" Lando starts walking and Oscar follows him for a moment.

"What are you going to do? Are you going to confess to her?" Oscar asks a little loudly, as Lando comes out into the paddock.

"No, I'm going to do something else." He walks faster, trying to be faster than Y/N, going another way so she doesn't see him.

Oscar runs his hand through his hair, fearing what his friend might do.

•••••••••••••••••••

Y/N was in the hotel room, finishing the last details of her hair, while looking at her reflection in the mirror. A genuine smile lit up her face, something rare lately.

Every movement, every small preparation, made her mind wander. She couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like if, instead of meeting someone else, it was with Lando. The fluid conversation, the jokes that only they understood, the comfort he brought so effortlessly.

He sighed, returning to reality as he looked at the delicate watch on his wrist. The hand indicated that there were only a few minutes left until the agreed time in the hotel lobby.

She grabbed her bag and, after one last look in the mirror, left the room, locking the door behind her.

The elevator took her down to the ground floor in silence. As the doors opened and she began walking toward the reception, her cell phone vibrated in her hand. Unlocking the device, she read the message:

"Y/N, I'm sorry, but I won't be able to make it. Something unforeseen happened here and we can schedule it for another day. Good night"

What do you mean unexpected? What? And why now at the last minute?

She stopped in her tracks, reading the message over and over again. She huffed in frustration as she rolled her eyes. She put her phone back in her bag, irritated by the setback, but she also couldn't ignore the feeling of relief that began to grow in her chest.

She didn't know what she would do if this meeting went beyond her expectations. After all, four years ago, her heart already had an owner. And he didn't even know it.

Still absorbing the mix of feelings, Y/N looked around. Her eyes landed on the hotel bar, a cozy and elegant space, and she decided that since she was ready, she wouldn't go back to her room any time soon.

She walked over and sat down on one of the high stools. The waiter approached, and she didn't hesitate.

"What's the strongest drink you have here?"

The waiter raised an eyebrow and gave a small smile before walking away. A few minutes later, he returned with a strong, aromatic cocktail garnished with a minimalist touch. Y/N took the glass, nodding in thanks, and took a long sip, feeling the warmth of the drink run down her throat.

It was then that he heard a familiar, hoarse voice beside him.

“Y/N?”

She turned her head and found him standing there beside her, a look of mild surprise on his face. Lando Norris. He ordered a beer from the waiter before continuing.

"What are you doing here? I thought you had a date."

Y/N let out a short laugh, shaking her head. "I did. But he canceled. Something unexpected, it seems." She rolls her eyes.

Lando frowned slightly, seeming to feel sorry for her. But happy inside, after all, his plan had worked.

"Seriously? He stood you up like that?"

"Yeah, it seems so," she replied, shrugging and trying to keep her tone casual. "What about you? Shouldn't you be resting for tomorrow?"

"I should have, but..." He shrugged with a carefree smile. "...Let's just say I needed a beer. I guess it was a good decision, since I found you here."

On the outside, Lando seemed calm, but on the inside, he was filled with relief. The idea of Y/N dating another man had bothered him more than he wanted to admit. And now that his plan was in place, he could breathe a sigh of relief.

He leaned against the counter, looking at her with a soft smile.

"Well, since your date is canceled, I might as well sacrifice myself and stay here drinking with you."

Y/N let out a genuine laugh, raising her glass towards him. "You're sacrificing yourself for me? That's a new one."

"Someone has to do the hard work." Lando raised his beer bottle and clinked it, the two of them laughing together.

The relaxed atmosphere took hold of them, and before long they were laughing, talking and sharing stories just like old times.

Even forgetting the tense atmosphere they experienced in the paddock that morning.

••••••••••••••••••••••

The night before, the hotel bar was the scene of laughter, stories and a mood that the two had not felt in a long time. Y/N and Lando started with light conversations, but the drink seemed to release the words that were kept deep in their hearts.

Lando, beer in hand, looked at her as if every word mattered, as if every laugh she gave was precious. The warmth of the drink made him feel lighter, but also more vulnerable.

In a moment of silence between the two, he looked at her, feeling the urge to finally say what had been kept inside him for so long.

"Y/N..." He began, his voice lower, almost hesitant.

She looked at him curiously, a soft smile on her lips. "What is it, dear Lando?"

He knew he was drunk, he knew that if he said something there, she might not take it seriously. Maybe she would even think it was the drink talking and not him.

"Oh, nothing. Forget it. I think I've had too much to drink."

Y/N laughed, taking another sip of her drink. "That's a new one. You admitting you crossed the line."

The next morning, Y/N was near the garage, close to her room where she was organizing some medical equipment, arranging the clipboards and supplies to use that day, in case there was an accident on the track.

As she finished organizing her things, she saw the man she was supposed to have gone out with the night before walking by. Ever the kind person, he approached her with a polite smile.

"Hey!" She greeted him, catching his attention. He turned and smiled when he saw her, pausing for a moment.

"Y/N! Good morning! How are you?"

"Yes, everything is great. And you?"

He nodded, but before he could continue, she raised an eyebrow, looking at him with a half-playful smile. "You know, I was thinking about your 'unforeseen' incident yesterday. Was it serious? Is everything resolved now?"

In fact, she didn't think about it, she was just trying to understand why he had canceled.

He gave a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his neck as he looked at her. "Well, about that... It's kind of complicated."

Y/N crossed her arms, below the stethoscope hanging around her neck, tilting her head slightly, curious.

"Complicated how? You've got me curious now."

He took a deep breath, seeming to choose his words carefully. "It wasn't really an 'unforeseen' incident. It was more... a person. Someone kind of thought it best that I didn't go."

Y/N remained standing, staring at the man with curiosity mixed with a hint of concern. He looked uncomfortable, struggling with something he clearly didn't want to reveal.

"What?"

He sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. "Look, I didn't want to say anything because... well, this person asked me to keep quiet about it."

Y/N arched an eyebrow, tilting her head slightly for him to continue.

"...But I see you're worried and curious right now. So, I think you deserve to know."

And then he told her everything. The words came out hesitantly, but enough to paint a clear picture in Y/N's mind: someone had directly interfered. Confronting and intimidating.

As he spoke, Y/N felt a rising wave of anger. Her heart began to beat faster, her hands began to shake, and heat rose to her face. Her mind could barely process the details; all she knew was that someone had dared to interfere in her personal life, manipulating things behind her back.

When he finished speaking, Y/N stood still, the words echoing in her head. Her breathing was heavy, and her eyes began to fill with tears that she couldn't hold back.

They weren't tears of sadness, but of pure anger. Anger at having been treated like a pawn in a game, at having someone else decide for her.

"Y/N, calm down," He said, raising his hands as if to calm her down. "Don't do anything impulsive. Please. I don't want to cause problems between anyone."

She looked at him with the sharpest gaze he had ever seen. "You're asking me to stay calm? After telling me this? Seriously?"

He hesitated, but continued. "Look, I'm really sorry. But maybe it's best if you just let this go. And honestly, I'm sorry...but I don't think we can hang out anymore..."

Y/N shook her head, determined, her eyes shining with pent-up anger. "I'll settle this now." Ignoring the last sentence from the kind, sweet, gentlemanly man she was supposed to have dated last night.

Before he could say anything else, the paramedic turned on her heel and began walking away. He watched her walk away, knowing he couldn't stop her.

As Y/N marched toward the McLaren garage, her fury was palpable. Her footsteps were steady, almost heavy, echoing against the paddock floor. The stethoscope around her neck shook violently with every sudden movement. Her fists were clenched, and her shoulders were tense.

Adrenaline ran through his veins as his mind was fixed on the objective: finding the person responsible for this.

When she entered the McLaren garage, the usual bustle of mechanics and engineers seemed irrelevant. She searched with her eyes, ignoring everything around her.

His chest rose and fell rapidly, while anger still pulsed strongly.

"Where is he?" She muttered to herself, her eyes burning with determination. She was willing to go to any lengths to get the answers she needed.

One of the engineers saw Y/N standing in the middle of the garage looking for someone, and decided to help. "Hey, looking for one of the pilots? They must be in their respective rooms."

Her head turned toward the engineer, who was standing near Oscar's car. She smiled friendly and thanked him. "Thank you!"

She went back, walking through the hallways until she reached where Lando's room and Oscar's were in the garage, her mind boiling with the words and her veins ready to gush out her blood that ran violently because of the adrenaline.

Before Y/N could even reach Lando's bedroom door, it suddenly opened. There he was, casually walking out, the usual smile on his face as he saw her figure at the end of the hallway.

"Y/N! What a nice surprise to see you here." He began to say, with a soft tone and a sparkle in his eyes.

She walked toward him with purposeful, almost furious steps, the stethoscope swinging violently around her neck. Her eyes did not shine with joy, but with an anger that seemed ready to explode.

But he didn't notice, and instead, he continued talking. "I was just going to call you, sweetie, so we could go get some coffee.

And then, the instant they were face to face, the sound echoed through the hallway.

The slap was loud, strong and accurate.

Y/N's hand would definitely be drawn on Norris's cheek for at least a week.

Lando froze. His hand automatically went to his now burning cheek. He blinked a few times in shock, staring at her as if he had been struck by lightning.

Without thinking twice, she began to beat his chest with her closed fists, not caring about the looks that could appear at any moment in the hallway. Her anger overflowed in every word that came out of her mouth, loud, almost screaming.

Lando simply defended himself by putting his arms in front of him as a shield. And Oscar, who was in the front room, heard all the paramedic's screams. But he didn't dare to leave the room he was in.

"HOW DARE YOU? Who do you think you are, Lando Norris?" She shoved him lightly in the chest, but the force of adrenaline made the impact seem greater. "You think you can decide who I date or don't date? You think you have that right over me?"

Lando backed away one step at a time, his hands raised as if he were trying to calm her, but her words were like gunshots fired into his chest.

"YOU'RE AN IDIOT, Lando! A complete scoundrel!" Her words were laced with frustration, tears of anger streaming down her face, but she continued without hesitation. "You're worthless! NOTHING! Neither are the whores you date! And yet you want to stick your nose into my relationship?"

"Y/N, wait, please," he tried, but she interrupted him again, her voice firm and filled with an intensity he'd never seen in her before.

"I'm not one of your disposable girls, Lando. I'm not one of those people you can manipulate and play with as you please!" She shoved him again, harder this time, as he leaned against the hallway wall, speechless. "You think that just because we're best friends, you can control everything that happens in my life?" She asked. "AND I DON'T EVEN KNOW IF I SHOULD CALL YOU THAT!"

When she raises her hand, Lando catches it in the air, clearly holding it lightly. And then, he pulls her into his room in the garage, locking the door and pulling her into his chest. Hugging her tightly.

Y/N began to cry more. The sobs made her chest shake violently.

He knew there were no words to justify what he had done, and the guilt seemed to weigh more heavily with each tear that ran down her face.

After a while, she pulled away abruptly, pushing him away with her hands as she took steps back, creating distance between them.

There was anger in her eyes, but also a glimpse of deep pain, something Lando never wanted to cause, but which was now written all over the face of the person he loved most.

"Do you think you can control my life, Lando?" She asked, her voice cracking as she hurriedly wiped her face, even as tears insisted on falling. "I know what you did yesterday. He told me everything. How you went after him, how you forced him to cancel the date... You manipulated him like he was a puppet! Why? Why would you do this to me?"

She paused, taking a deep breath to try to maintain her composure, but her emotions were running high. "You know what's worse, Lando? That you did this without even thinking about what I wanted, what I felt. You acted like you OWNED my life!"

Lando lowered his head, her words hitting him like blows. He knew he had done wrong, but what hurt more was seeing how hurt she was. The pilot finally looked up to meet her eyes, and although he wanted to deny it, he couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

"It's true," he confessed, his voice low and hoarse. "I did it."

Y/N shook her head in disbelief. She let out a sarcastic, bitter laugh as she crossed her arms. The stethoscope around her neck nearly fell to the floor.

"Of course you did. And why, Norris? What's your brilliant excuse this time?"

He took a step toward her, but stopped when he saw her gaze harden. Lando knew he couldn't run from this. Not anymore.

"Because I couldn't stand the thought of you with someone else," he began, his voice firm but thick with emotion. "I did it because... because I love you, Y/N. More than I should, more than a best friend should."

Her eyes widened, but the tears continued to fall, now at a slower pace. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Lando took advantage of the moment of silence to continue, approaching her slowly.

"I've tried to hide this for so long," he said, his voice shaking. "I tried to pretend that everything was okay, that we were just friends. But every time I saw you with another guy, every time you smiled at someone who wasn't me... it destroyed me. And yesterday, I just lost control. I knew I had no right to interfere, but I couldn't. Because the truth is, I can't see you with anyone, Y/N. I can't live with that idea."

She took a deep breath, trying to process what he was saying. But there was still anger mixed in with the tears. "So, to deal with your feelings, you decide to ruin my choices?" Y/N asked, her tone acidic.

Lando stepped closer, and this time she didn't flinch. He lifted his hands, cupping her face gently, as if he was afraid she might slip away.

"I know I messed up, Y/N. I know I was selfish. But everything I did... I did it because I love you. Because you're the only person I think about when I wake up, and the last person I think about before I go to sleep. And I know I dated other women, I tried to forget you, but none of it worked. They were never you."

"Uh huh, you love me." She laughs, making fun of his face. "You love me and how many other women?" Her tone was acidic, sarcastic and rude.

But Lando didn't let it get to his heart, instead he tucked a strand of her unruly hair behind her ear and smiled.

"You and however many daughters we have!"

That was the end. A new wave of tears invaded Y/N's face, but unlike the previous ones, these were of sadness, anguish and a little fear. The paramedic rests her head on his chest, without hugging or anything, just allowing the tears to fall.

Lando also had his own teardrops falling down his cheeks.

"I hate loving you!" Y/N finally confessed, her voice muffled. She lifted her head from Lando's chest, her eyes red and puffy, but still filled with the full intensity of her feelings. "You have no idea how hard it is, Lando," she began, her voice low, almost a whisper. "How much it hurts...to love you."

Lando remained silent, watching her every move, every word that came out as if it were a confession that had been forced out.

"I hate how vulnerable you make me feel," Y/N continued, wiping her tears with the back of her hands. "How you can make me happy and ruin my day at the same time. I hate every time I see you walking around the paddock with another woman, pretending you don't care when, in reality, you destroy me inside. I hate how every smile you give to someone who isn't me seems to steal a piece of me." The words came out fast, as if she was pouring out everything she had been holding in for years. "And the worst part of it all? I always come back. I always come back to you, even when I know I shouldn't. Even when I know this is all torture. Because, deep down, I love you. I always have...and I always will."

Lando tried to speak, but she held up her hand, stopping him. "Do you know what it's like to get this close, Lando? This close to someone you love and not be able to kiss them? Not be able to touch them? Not be able to be everything you want to be to them? It's bittersweet, it's frustrating, and yet... I've never been able to stop loving you."

She took a deep breath, the words sounding softer now, though still heavy with emotion. "But... I love you. As much as it hurts, as much as it is hard, as much as I hate it sometimes. I love you. And I hate it even more because, even after everything, you're still my favorite idiot."

Lando chuckled softly, even with tears still streaking his face. He reached out, holding her face tenderly as his thumbs wiped away the tears that were stubbornly falling.

"I promise I'll never hurt you like that again, Y/N. Never again. I just want to make you happy.

She let out a shaky laugh, shaking her head. “You’ve hurt me enough, Norris. Now it’s your turn to make up for it.”

He smiled, bringing his face closer slowly, unhurriedly, as if he was waiting for any sign from her to stop.

When she didn't pull away, he closed the distance, sealing his lips to hers in a kiss.

The kiss began hesitantly, as if they were both still getting used to the idea of finally being there, together, after so long holding unspoken feelings. Lando's lips met Y/N's with a softness that seemed to contradict the entire intensity of the moment, but soon the gesture gained strength and emotion.

He held her firmly, his hands still holding her face, his thumbs lightly caressing her cheeks, as if he wanted to convey everything he felt through that touch. Y/N, in turn, brought her hands to his chest, initially hesitantly, but soon slid them to his shoulders, pulling him closer, as if she needed to make sure he wouldn't leave.

The kiss was a mixture of relief and contained passion, an explosion of everything they had repressed for years. It was sweet and at the same time passionate, full of promises that didn't need to be said in words.

Y/N's heart was beating fast, as if it wanted to burst out of her chest, and she felt the same energy coming from Lando, as if he was also trying to convey all the love he couldn't express before.

When the two finally pulled away, just enough to breathe, Lando rested his forehead against hers, his eyes still closed, while a small but sincere smile formed on his lips.

"You have no idea how long I've waited for this."

"I know, I was there!" Y/N opened her eyes, still panting, and replied softly, smiling slightly.

Y/N felt the comforting warmth of Lando's hands still on her face as he watched her with a mixture of tenderness and relief.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm the whirlwind of emotions that still took over her, but it was his voice that made her finally lose herself in the moment.

"I love you, Y/N!" He said, with a firmness that made her believe every word. "I've loved you for all these four years. Ever since the day I realized you were so much more than my best friend. I just didn't know how to deal with it... and I did everything wrong."

She bit her lip, feeling the tears burn again, but this time they were soft, like a release of everything she had bottled up inside.

"I love you, Lando," she finally said, her voice cracking. "I've loved you from the beginning. And it was so hard... so painful to see you so close, yet so far away. It hurt me more than you can imagine."

He nodded, squinting his eyes for a moment as if he was also holding himself back from crying more.

"I know. And I'm sorry for being so blind, for letting you go through this alone. But now..." He held her hands tightly, intertwining their fingers. "Now everything is clear. Finally. We don't need anyone else, Y/N. No failed dates, no other people in between... Just the two of us. You and me against the world."

A small, genuine smile formed on her lips, and she nodded, as if absorbing his every word.

"You and me against the world, huh?" Y/N repeated, her voice slightly playful but thick with emotion.

"That's right" he confirmed, leaning down to touch his forehead to hers. "I won't make any more mistakes. You're everything I've ever wanted, and now that we're here, I won't let anything or anyone come between us. And I'm not going anywhere without you, either."

She sighed, finally feeling the weight of the past few years begin to lift. "All I ever wanted was this, Lando. You. The two of us."

The pilot pulled her closer, enveloping her in a hug that felt as right as breathing. “So this is it. It’s you and me. Just the two of us,” he murmured, clutching her to his chest as if sealing a promise.

Y/N smiled against his chest, her heart finally at ease. "Just the two of us," she repeated softly, as if those words were a prayer that would bind them together forever. "And however many daughters we have in the future... According to you, a few minutes ago."

He chuckles, nodding and kissing the top of her head.

And there, in that moment, in the small room of the McLaren garage, with the distant sound of engines in the background, they finally found what they were looking for.

Each other. A new chance. A love that, even after four years of silence and pain, was strong enough to face anything. Just the two of them. Against the world.

[hot-astrology]

Honesty, Devotion, & Fidelity

Leal (19426), Devota (1328), Vesta (4), Juno (1), Fides (37), Fidelio (524), Fiducia (380)

Honesty, devotion, & and fidelity are all things that make any relationship work. Whether it be a friendship, co-worker, romantic partner, or a business partner. The 7h governs specifically business partners and marriage/ long-term relationships. That's why doing business with someone is quite actually being married or in a committed relationship with them. Because the two have made an agreement to move together and make certain decisions together. Similar to marriage, you are now one, and many say that you can't do business with someone you don't trust and who isn't loyal/honest. The power of honesty, devotion, and fidelity can go such a long way. In our time, this is something that has been lost, and it's not common to find partners or companions who are loyal. With this energy of loyalty and devotion, there's such a great possibility to build something amazing. The power of two is more magical than we know. Today, We'll be going over some aspects in Synastry/Composite that show honesty, devotion, and fidelity.

Pluto/8h

Plutonian energy is something that is binding. The energy of pluto is fixed, therefore showing not wanting to switch so easily. Although this isn't necessarily honest it is loyal because of how binding the energy of Pluto is. It is likely that the person or people will want to stay because of the deep bond that was formed, which is addicting. 8h is the same way except that the 8h is merging with another. The 7h house is where we begin to couple and get tied into one another. 8h is where this is solid, everything is shared, and what's mine is ours. The 8h also shows longevity. Many times, you will see couples with 8h in their composite/synastry charts. It won't be a stellium but they will definitely have some important planets/luminaries in the 8h. This house/planet also rules change. The more you are with someone, the more you will begin to change & transform. This energy of two is combining to create something new.

Composite:

These are some placements that I've seen bind two together, and loyalty/devotion is there within the relationship. (Davidson applies, too)

◇ 𝐍𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐍𝐨𝐝𝐞 𝟖𝐡

◇ 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐒𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐨

◇ 𝐒𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐩𝐢𝐨 𝐃𝐬𝐜

◇ 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐭 𝐏𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐨

◇ 𝐒𝐮𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐭 𝐏𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐨

◇ 𝐒𝐮𝐧 𝟖𝐡

Synastry:

◇ 𝐋𝐮𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝟖𝐡

◇ 𝐀𝐬𝐜/𝐀𝐬𝐜 𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝟖𝐡

◇ 𝐕𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝟖𝐡

◇ 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝟖𝐡

◇ 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐭 𝐏𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐨

◇ 𝐉𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟖𝐡

◇ 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧-𝐏𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐨

◇ 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧-𝐏𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐨

Vesta

This asteroid signifies devotion and dedication to something. Vesta represents the sacred flame, meaning what is sacred to us and what we are willing to give up to be devoted and in service to something.In synastry specifically we can see where each person is devoted to the other, below are some of the most devoted aspects/overlays.

◇ 𝐕𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚 𝟏𝐡 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐚𝐲/ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐭 𝐀𝐒𝐂 (𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐮𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐬𝐜 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟏𝐡 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝟏𝐡 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧.)

◇ 𝐕𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚 𝟕𝐡/𝟖𝐡

◇ 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧/𝐒𝐮𝐧-𝐕𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚 & Venus-Vesta (if romantic)

Saturn

Saturnian energy is dutiful and willing to put in work regardless of the hard ships that come.

In synastry/composite, saturnian energy is great from stabilizing, but also showing a commitment to keep the connection going. Certain aspects also show a feeling to stick together, and saturn also shows honesty and the harsh truth.

◇ 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐬 /𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐬

• 𝑺𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏 𝟒𝒉: 𝒅𝒖𝒕𝒚 𝒕𝒐 𝒇𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒚

● 𝑺𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏 𝟏𝒉: 𝒅𝒖𝒕𝒚 𝒕𝒐 𝒕���𝒂𝒕 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏

● 𝑺𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏 𝟕𝒉: 𝒅𝒖𝒕𝒚 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑

● 𝑺𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏 𝟏𝟎𝒉: 𝒅𝒖𝒕𝒚 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑𝒔 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒖𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

◇ 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧-𝐍𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐍𝐨𝐝𝐞: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝 & 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐟𝐮𝐥. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐚 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐭𝐡, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲, 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫.

◇ 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧- 𝐒𝐮𝐧/𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧/𝐕𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐬

(This applies to composite, too!)

Fides, Fidelio, Fiducia

Fides, Fidelio, and Fiducia represent trust and fidelity.

Synastry/Composite:

◇ 𝐅𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬/𝐅𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐨/𝐅𝐢𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐚 𝟏𝐡/𝟕𝐡 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐚𝐲: 𝐀𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐢𝐝 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧/𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐢𝐝 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞 & 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐬.

◇ 𝐅𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬/𝐅𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐨/𝐅𝐢𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐚- 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐅𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬/𝐅𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐨/𝐅𝐢𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐚-𝐕𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐬: 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐲 & 𝐥𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 & 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐟𝐮𝐥.

◇ 𝐅𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬/𝐅𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐨/𝐅𝐢𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐚-𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐨/𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐚: 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐨 𝐙𝐞𝐮𝐬 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐨 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬. 𝐒𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐛𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭. 𝐁𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐥. 𝐍𝐨𝐰, 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞, 𝐢𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐢𝐝 𝐙𝐞𝐮𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝟑 𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐢𝐝𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐚𝐫.

◇ 𝐀𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐅𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬/𝐅𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐨/𝐅𝐢𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐚- 𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐲. 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 ��𝐨 𝐥𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐥𝐨𝐥. 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐝𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞. 𝐒𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐚 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞/𝐃𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐬𝐨𝐧, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭.

All of these apply to composite & Davidson as well. The only difference is that both are dedicated to the connection.

LEAL

Leal ="loyalty"

Some people have trouble actually understanding what loyalty is really is.... so. Here's an explanation for loyalty is pure faith in someone or something, and in a way putting everything aside for that someone or something although you should never be loyal to someone if you aren't loyal to yourself. Loyalty lasts regardless of what happens with someone or the thing that you believe in. Loyalty can be to your goals, yourself, loyalty is really love❤️

Synastry/Composite:

◇ 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧'𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞. 𝐁𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡. 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟏𝐡, 𝐥𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞, 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝟕𝐡 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐚𝐲; 𝐥𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧,𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐥𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠-𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐦, 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐞. 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝟒𝐡 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐚𝐲; 𝐥𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐬, 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧'𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩 & 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫. 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝟏𝟎𝐡, 𝐥𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧'𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐫, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟏𝟎𝐡 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐠𝐨𝐚𝐥𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟏𝟎𝐡 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧'𝐬 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 & 𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐜𝐲 𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞.

◇ 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝟖𝐡, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐚𝐝𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐲. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝟖𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞, 𝐰𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐬𝐭 & 𝐬𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐮𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧. 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐮𝐩𝐬 & 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐬 𝐞𝐭𝐜 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭.

◇ 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐥 -𝐕𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐬

◇ 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐥-𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐱

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞 & 𝐃𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐬𝐨𝐧. 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐬𝐨 𝐩𝐚𝐲 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞. 𝐀𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐈 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞/𝐃𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐭 𝐀𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐬 (𝟒𝟒𝟔). 𝐀𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞, 𝐰𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

Devota

"Devotion"

Devotion is similar to loyalty, but devotion is self dedication to something or someone. This even more shows a strong love.

◇ 𝐈𝐧 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐲, 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐭𝐚 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐲, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟏𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝟕𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐬. 𝐈𝐟 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟏𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞, 𝐢𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐮𝐚𝐥, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐟 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟕𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞, 𝐢𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐮𝐚𝐥. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝟏𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝟕𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝. 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐃𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬.

◇ 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐭𝐚-𝐕𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐬/𝐒𝐮𝐧/Moon

◇ 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐭𝐚-𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐚 (𝟖𝟔𝟖)

◇ 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐭𝐚- 𝐏𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐨

Juno

Juno is the asteroid of marriage, Juno shows the qualities of our future spouse. Most importantly this asteroid represents fidelity & commitment.

Synastry

◇ 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐨 𝟕𝐡

◇ 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐨-𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧

◇ 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐨 - 𝐕𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐬

◇ 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐨 - 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧

Composite/Davidson

◇ 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐭 𝐚𝐬𝐜/𝐝𝐬𝐜 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐫

◇ 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐭 𝐒𝐮𝐧 𝐨𝐫 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧, 𝐕𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐬

◇ 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐬 (𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟏𝐡/𝟕𝐡)

◇ 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐨-𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐭𝐚, 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐥, 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐢𝐝𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭

Other Notable Placements in Composite or Davidson

◇ 𝐓𝐚𝐮𝐫𝐮𝐬/𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚 𝐀𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬/ 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐭 𝐕𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐬. 𝐕𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐲. 𝐒𝐨 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 & 𝐥𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐨. 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐮𝐦𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐬.

◇ 𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐀𝐬𝐜, 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧, 𝐕𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐬

Most importantly, look into the individual charts of each person if they have any of the asteroids listed in their 1st house or conjunct to the asc/dsc that helps a lot. Synastry & Composite alone won't always show that the people involved are honest & devoted people. Both people must also have good morals. Synastry is just a way of telling how you & that persons energy affect each other & how you treat each other. Composite can show the energy of the relationship & how both of you feel. The placements listed will help, but it also matters how the people in the relationship feel about each other. Do y'all want a part 2 tho?

Hope ya'll enjoyed! Thanks for 1k followers!🫶🏽

𝐵𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝐴 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 |🫦| Masterlist

[calypso-apologist]

could i pls have headcanons of yandere Antinous x princess of Ithaca/daughter of Pen n Ody reader 🙏🙏🙏

antinous oh antinous the things i'd do to you

Yandere!Antinous x Princess of Ithaca!Reader ♡

cw: mdni. nsfw mentions. non-con/dub-con implied. yandere. antinous starter pack: manipulation and questionable consent. murder. pregnancy. non-descriptive birth. i have issues.

The queen was a stubborn wretch, refusing to pick a new king. She believed Odysseus was still out there, that he'd come back. Antinous might not be a chosen of Athena, but he's not a fool, either. He knows she's stalling.

And while other suitors insist on trying to get to Penelope somehow, Antinous figured that there might be an easier way to secure his place in the royal family.

After all, Telemachus wasn't necessarily the only choice for the king. There was also his twin sister. Odysseus never named his heir, so it could be either of the twins.

Or rather, the son or the daughter's husband. So why not become just that?

And while at first it was just about the throne, the more he watched you, the more he followed you around... the more he started to crave you.

The need to possess you was no longer just his desire for just the throne, no... he wanted you.

He wanted the princess of Ithaca to be his. He wanted to tear her dress to shreds, to see her naked body shaking and she whimpered and squirmed under him in bed. He wanted to see pretty tears running down her soft cheeks, maybe even watch her struggle a bit as she tried to keep her dignity at first, before surrendering to him.

And even if she tried to fight, tried to get him to leave... He could simply hold her down, could he not?

But, since she seemed like such a sweet young thing, he decided to play it safe. After all, if she falls for him genuinely, it'll all be so much easier.

Besides, with young, kind souls like hers, it really didn't even take that much effort. Antinous was a charismatic bastard. And the princess was innocent, lacking experience when it came to romance.

Of course, there was hesitance at first, but all it took was a sad little act about how he let himself get lost in his ambition and the young princess immediately looked at him with a more merciful, understanding gaze.

With that, obtaining her friendship and affections was just a matter of time and charm. Say what you want about Antinous, but he could be one charming motherfucker if he so wished.

He didn't even need three months before sneaking into your bedroom at sunset, his words wrapping around your heart and brain like constricting snakes around their victims.

And despite how hesitant the princess was about giving up her precious innocence, she really didn't need much convincing. She loved him, after all, and he loved her. She shouldn't overthink things, she should simply give herself to him, let him ravage her.

Did it really matter that it hurt? It was supposed to, she was a smart girl, she should know that. She should trust him. Love him. He loved her, after all, he kept whispering so into her ears as she sobbed softly, her whole body trembling from the rough yet oddly delicate treatment. It seemed to be something only he could do, to violate her so lovingly.

And of course, he couldn't just stop after the first time, no... He had to visit her each night, fill her up, make sure his seed would take, binding the two of them forever.

Once the pregnancy was confirmed, he was quick to rid the palace of all the other suitors, one by one, before he finally asked Penelope for her daughter's hand in marriage, bringing the shared "love" to attention and saying he even made all the others leave to prove himself.

And even despite how hesitant the queen was, she gave in to how much the princess insisted.

And for the first few months, he seemed like a dream husband, always by his wife's side, helping her through the pregnancy, willing to make every wish come true, not even a flash of irritation on his face despite how ridiculous the princess's whims might've been.

But when the faithful day came, he was late. By the time he finally appeared, the mother of his child was too vulnerable to question the blood on his hands as he cradled her face, offering hushed reassurances before the room was filled with the sound of a newborn baby crying as it was forced to greet the world, torn out of its mother's womb.

The princess only found out why her husband was late and bloody a few days later, as Antinous was crowned king. He used the chaos that surrounded the birth to kill Penelope and Telemachus. Fortunately for him, his precious wife was too far gone in his manipulations to even try to rebel against him. Instead, she remained by his side, forever faithful with his firstborn in her arms.

And she'll have more. His previous little queen.

[murainhell]

I really like Alastor and Rosie, so I spend a lot of time thinking about them and I am fascinated by the different approach they take to obtaining power and deals.

Alastor is all about control. Yes, he's going to do something for you, but you have to sign that you're going to pay him back one way or another. Binding deals, there's no escape, he has secured his end of the bargain. Like with Vaggie, he'll make the commercial but they can't bother him any more on that subject; no argument there.

Rosie, on the other hand, deals in favours. I suppose this is old information, but I remember reading that most of Hell owes Rosie a favour. And that makes her a powerful and dangerous Overlord, in Alastor's own words. Seeing the way she acts with Charlie, I think Rosie plays with psychology and little manipulations. For example: have one thing for free -> it'll make you more likely to buy something much more expensive next time.

Let's face it, Charlie owes Rosie a huge favour right now. Rosie's been friendly, she's helped her with Vaggie, a lot of her cannibals have died to protect her hotel… Right now Rosie can ask for anything. "Oh, no, we've had to take up donations for the families of those we lost…" and out of sheer guilt Charlie is going to try to repay an emotional debt.

Alastor could be in this situation if he wanted to. He's helping the hotel, almost giving his life to protect it, Charlie is genuinely glad to see him at the final song. If he says the right words, Charlie is going to help him with anything. Help him escape from his deal? Sure, anything for my friend! But no, he needs total control of the situation, so he secures the little favour with a deal.

And another difference between them that I like, Alastor needs to be sure he has this future favour in his hands before telling Charlie what he knows about the angels. Rosie just as soon as she sees him offers Alastor information! If he acts on it, that's when he would owe her the favour.

When she says that Alastor has never done her wrong it makes me think that their relationship is forged around Rosie's way. Not binding deals, because then he'd be bound by them; if she can say that nothing wrong has happened, it's that Alastor had the opportunity to betray her.

And he hasn't!

In a place where only the worst go, two such powerful demons, one of them famous for destroying the souls of other Overlords… they are able to maintain a friendship around the trust that the other will always honour the favours.

Their friendship means a lot to me, I hope we see them interacting more in s2.

[nosyp]

First years as yanderes

Second years | Third years

Ace Trappola

When you first meet him, it's mostly just playful teasing, harmless pranks and subtle flirting but as time passes, it becomes much much worse.

From an outsider's perspective, they would probably think you and Ace are the cutest couple but behind closed doors, it's a whole different narrative.

He's possessive, always demanding to know where you were going, claiming it's just to 'protect you'. At some point, it gets so intense that he ends up making curfews for you and installing a tracker on your phone.

And when you try to leave, he finds a way to guilt trip you by saying things like "I thought we were more than that. You're really gonna leave me? Even after everything?"

Deuce Spade

He's overprotective. He has a really short temper and is a former delinquent. You can't blame him if he accidently sends someone to the hospital because they made you trip on accident, can you?

He’s convinced his violent outbursts are justified. After all, he’s only doing it for you. “They disrespected you! What was I supposed to do? Let them get away with it?”

When you attempt to scold him for injuring someone, he pleads with you for you to understand... after all, he did this for you.

“You still love me, right? I did this for you… you understand that, don’t you?” "No Deuce! You're crazy! Stop it!"

The whole situation is a crazed mess. He felt as your relationship crumbled into pieces and he tries to piece it back together like a huge puzzle.

Deuce would never hurt you directly though, instead he would isolate you, trap you in a secluded area, far away from everyone else. He does this all because he believes that if you interact with anyone else other than him, your mind will be 'corrupted'.

Jack Howl

He's not a guilt-tripper or a manipulator like the others, but he is for sure just as overprotective.

He'd follow you everywhere, he's convinced that you need his protection 24/7. He believes that even if for a second that he looks away, you'll get hurt... and it'll be all his fault.

He's not as crazy possessive as the others, but he does things that make you think he is. He'd cut people out of your life if he believes that they're a bad influence. It gets to the point that he cuts everyone out of your life, except for him.

Jack believes he knows what’s best for you and if you fight back? He’ll look at you with those stoic, disappointed eyes, muttering: “You’re being stubborn again. Don’t you trust me?”

Finally, when you lose everything, you could only cling onto Jack. Binding you with him forever.

Epel Felmier

Epel’s obsession stems from his frustration with his history of being underestimated. Around you, he wants to be seen as strong and capable, but it quickly becomes suffocating. He’ll lash out at anyone who dares undermine his masculinity or threaten his place at your side.

He clings to you as proof of his strength. If you ever reject him, it shatters his pride. That’s when Epel becomes truly dangerous—his temper is explosive, and his upbringing makes him surprisingly ruthless when he wants to be.

He’d sabotage friendships and relationships behind the scenes, spreading rumors with a sweet smile. “I’d hate for people to misunderstand you. It’s better if you stay with me—you can trust me.” he'd mutter to you.

Epel would be the type to snap if you tried to leave. His desperation would finally boil over, his hands trembling as he blocks the door. “You can’t leave. You’re mine, and I’ll fight anyone who tries to take you away.”

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek’s obssessed. It's loud, unwavering, and borderline fanatical. He worships you. He adores you. He'll never let you out of his sight.

He sees himself as your protector, often to an extreme. He’ll argue, yell, and shame you for spending time with 'unworthy' people. “They’re way under you! Why waste your time on them when you have me?”

Sebek’s outbursts make it impossible for anyone to approach you. While he never has the intent to hurt you, the sheer intensity of his actions becomes overwhelming.

If you tried to distance yourself, he’d be furious, raging mad but underneath it all is desperation. He would spew out random nonsense in an attempt to earn you back. “Don’t you understand? No one can love and protect you like I can! I was made for this—I was made for you!”

Ortho Shroud (platonic)

Ortho's an overprotective yandere (platonic). He'd monitor your whole life, from where your going to who your spending time with. He knows it all, no details spared.

If you ever mention that you were going out, he'd insist on coming with you. Telling you that it's much safer for you to let him come with you.

He's emotionally dependent on you. Just like how attached he is to his brother, he'd easily become as attached with you. He'd feel like he needs you in his life, and his happiness would become increasingly tied to your attention and affection.

He's not jealous or anything but when he realizes that you're spending less time with him, he'll get more clingy or subtly try to make you feel guilty for not spending enough time with him. "But… I thought we could hang out. Don’t you want to be with me?"

In the worst-case scenario, if you ever try to pull away or create distance, Ortho could start to tweak. He’d be unable to understand why you wouldn’t want to spend every moment with him, and he might say something like, “But I’m your friend… I thought you’d never leave me. You’re my only friend. Please don’t abandon me.” His voice would be soft, and though his words would seem sweet, the emotional pressure behind them would be overwhelming.

[harleehazbinfics]

Love eat?

Alastor x cannibal servant!reader

Original Concept | Additional Concept

Word count: 1764

A/N: sup im back with more crack, jk. but yeahhh i did a oneshot of that imagine and now we're here. i've channeled my inner crazy and that led me to this oneshot lmao, sorry if it's not up to par but pls enjoooooyyyy!

ps I can't find the artist pls help. chainsaw man falling devil spoiler sorry

“Yuta!” you called your boyfriend from where you sat waiting for him.

“Sorry, I'm late,” he says with an apologetic smile, placing his bag to his side while he sat in front of me.

“No, it's ok! You're doing your best in school. I was the one who asked you to eat with me anyway,” you responded clapping your hands together, appealing cutely to your boyfriend.

“But you're busy with your culinary classes too. I'm sure you're working harder than I am!” He replied, making you smile at how genuine he sounded.

You reached inside your bag and presented 2 lunch boxes in front of him. His eyes widen in anticipation while you opened them, revealing a well plated pork cutlet and a healthy salad in the other lunch box.

“I have! I learnt a few new things during class, and I wanted you to be the first to eat my cooking. I hope you like them!” He smiles at you, flattered that he was the first thing on your mind when you made the meal. He always loved your cooking.

The both of you met when you were first years, he was just roaming the halls familiarizing himself with the school layout when he heard you squealing inside a room and helped you put out a small fire that you accidentally created while you stayed behind in the Economics Room to relearn the basics taught to you that day. So, he stayed with you until the end so that you won't set the whole room on fire this time, and as thanks you gave the meal you completed to him afterwards. As he tasted it, threw it back up when he tasted how salty it was, so you resolved yourself that you'd make a decent meal for him, and that's where your friendship to relationship started.

“Wow! You've really outdone yourself this time!” He yells with stars in his eyes, savoring each bite.

You laughed at him and pushed the salad closer to him, and said, “You can eat all of it. It's all for you!”

“Really? Thanks a lot! It's so great to have you as my girlfriend!”

-=-=-=-

“Yuta?” you asked with wide eyes as you eyed the knife in his hand that was pointed at you.

“I-I can't take it anymore. I don't want to eat any food you make for me anymore, it’s disgusting. I don’t want to eat humans! I hate it, I hate it, I HATE YOU!” He screamed lunging at you.

He pushes the knife to your stomach, a few moments later you feel the metallic taste in your throat, letting the liquid drop from your tongue as you took has face that held great remorse for you. You smiled at the pretty expression on his face and rubbed your thumb on his cheeks, smearing it with your own blood.

"How pretty. I love all the expressions you make. Do it more," you coughed out.

His expression changes from fear to disgust and anger. Vengefully, he takes your wrists binding them together in his forceful grip and continues to stab you until you died from the pain and blood loss. However, despite your body tensing and losing color on you face, he never stopped. After his knife slipped out of his hands from your blood, he threw himself at you and bit into your neck.

Devouring you. Bit by bit.

---

You've been aimlessly roaming around hell and chopping sinners with your cleaver that were dumb enough to pick a fight with you. At the moment, you sat on top of a building waiting for something to happen while eating an beefy arm starting from the shoulder.

While you were gnawing at it with a blank expression on your face. You were surprised when a massive green explosion appeared out of nowhere, inducing a few screams of terror.

Just a couple blocks in front of you, you see a giant red deer demon with black tentacles coming out his back as he crushed sinners in his hands and consuming them.

You immediately dropped the arm you were holding and watched as the overlord showed off his power against you, sinners. Unable to hold yourself, you followed his parade of chaos and squeaked when he appears behind you wiping his mouth with a napkin.

"How rude of you to follow me around, while I was playing with my meal," he remarks with a snarky tone.

You got distracted with his voice. How could someone be so seductive with a radio filter on, you ask yourself.

"It's also rude to stare, you know?" He adds, starting to get pissed off by how unresponsive you were as you just kept gawking at him.

"I was just admiring how powerful you were, sir! I've never seen a demon turn into that kind of form. I-I was enchanted!" You yelled at him, hands clasped together while fan-girling at his abilities with hearts in your eyes.

"My, I've never seen such behavior from a person such as you. Are you eager to be eaten?" He laughs before his eyes turning black leaving his red pupils and radio dial iris.

"Yes! I would be happy to!" You answered almost immediately, making him revert to his normal self, getting caught off guard with your reply.

He hums turning his head in confusion and irritation, “Well, that just won’t do. I only like it when my prey gets scared rather than having a sacrifice like you.”

He tries to ride away in his shadow but before he could do so, he halts in his steps when you step in front of him. “Please! I’ll act scared! I’ll do anything! I just want to be with you!” you cried dropping to the floor pathetically making him deadpan to the sight.

He huffs, and turns his back at you, “Hmm. Do what you wish.”

With that, you stayed and served Alastor for years. You’ve arranged deals for him, did his bidding on some occasions and even represented him a few times in meetings. However, your main occupation was his personal chef.

Sure, one could argue that he likes his meats raw and cooks for himself sometimes. But do you expect that man to cook every meal for himself for a nearly a century? Overlords don’t have that much free time, you know? (or at least that what Sir Alastor says) and you happily take on this task when he discovers that you were an excellent chef, living up to his own impossible standards.

However, you find yourself in a very peculiar situation.

“(y/n)? Is it really you?”

You’ve come face to face with your first love and your killer. You couldn’t help but leap up from you position and hug him while he did his best to get away from you.

“Yuta! You’re finally in here! I knew you’d come to find me, hehe,” you cried still hugging him while he struggled in your mighty grip. “I’ve been waiting for you, y’know?” you said to him with your eyes darkening at him giving him the familiar dangerous look in your eye making him tense up and unconsciously threw you across the room with his strength.

You didn’t hit the impact when Alastor raised his arms and caught you before placing you on your feet, ignoring your heart-eyes as usual.

“And who is this with you?” he asks the group, almost sneering at the new man.

“This is Yuta! He’s our new guest! We found him in Cannibal Town, and he asked us where we were, he’s now he's here!” Charlie introduces excitedly holding Yuta by the shoulder.

“Ooh, is he a bad boy?” Nifty asks looking flirtatiously.

“Why, of course! He’s the one that killed me after all!” I announced with a smile. “Isn’t that right, dear?”

He rolls his eyes and says to Charlie, “I’ll be fine anywhere as long as I don’t get involved with her. I’ll find a room myself.”

You all watch as he shows himself to one of the rooms while Charlie replies, “Uhh, ookayyy?”

“So, what’s with you and that guy?” Angel first asks, “There’s a lot of sexual and… psychological tension there.”

“Yeah, and what do you mean he killed you?” Vaggie continues, while all of them looked at you.

“Oh, you know, couple fights. One thing led to another and poof, I was gone,” you explained simply with a laugh, making Nifty laugh as well.

“So, you two dated?” Angel asked in surprise.

“Exactly, why?” I smiled at him.

“Uhh, sure. He just looks like a boy failure to me. How the fuck could he bag a hottie like you!” Angel laughs throwing his head back.

"What a crazy bitch," Husk comments blankly looking at you before peeking at Alastor's annoyed face making him raise his long brow.

You tilt you head to the side confused, before Charlie would come in and say that she’d explain it to you.

A few weeks gone by, and you didn’t stop pestering your ex with things he hated when you couldn’t get enough of the expressions on his face. You loved seeing him get so angry with you, you just loved getting on his nerve. Or it could be some fucked up enjoyment of how you remembered being eaten by him half dead that sent chills to your body every time.

“That’s it! I’ve had enough of your shit!” he yells bursting in flames.

“Oh, what? Cat got your tongue baby boy?” you teased him hands behind your back trying to annoy him.

“Oh, fuck you!” he screams as he runs forward at you trying to land a punch which you jump away from effortlessly.

He eventually tires himself out and sees you giving the deer demon googly eyes that ticks him off. He loads up a fire blast and shoots it at Alastor. You intercepted it in between not noticing him following behind it and takes hold of you neck choking you.

“Not bad,” you wheeze out with a wicked grin, setting him off and squeezing your neck tighter.

He fails to notice the black portal underneath him where a black tentacle reaches out to his ankle and wraps around his body, making him let go off you.

“I’d rather you not mess with my property if I were you,” Alastor announces menacingly as he had you in his arms. You feel starstruck as you were being princess carried and being defended by the one you admired. “I don’t like sharing, so this is my last warning for both of you to not get involved with each other.”

“Yes, sir! Anything for you!” you scream your heart out that felt like it was beginning to burst out of your chest and leap in your throat, while you give him heart eyes that he ignored, while he brought both of you to his chambers.

"Are you finally going to eat me, Sir Alastor?"

"Shut your mouth before I stitch it up for you."

"Yes, sir! I love you! 💕"

[on-wine-dark-seas]

The Invitation

Dedicated to the little Black girl who wanted to be all things when the world told her she was nothing. You are everything. 🍯

🪧 Summary: 1050 AD, Heian Era. One full moon, Sukuna meets a dancing storyteller at the Hida Harvest Festival. But after a tragically violent evening robs her of everything, she winds up in a strange alliance with the King of Curses as his guest. 📚 Series: Sonder 🔞 Rating: Explicit ⚠️️ Warning[s]: Rape/Non-Con [not from Sukuna don't worry], blood, gore, description of wounds and dead bodies, cannibalism, recreational drug use [ganja, psilocybin, opium], slow-ish burn, hurt/comfort, PTSD, revenge, catharsis, eventual romance, eventual smut, Ryōmen Sukuna is his own warning. 💋 Pairing[s]: Sukuna x The Writer [⛩️🍯] 🎧 Playlist: [ the invitation ]

⛩️ AO3 𑁍 Parallax OCs 𑁍 Sonder OCs ⛩️

🍯 I. Hankali

     Sukuna’s lips are curled into a sneer as he stares down at the shivering gaggle of priests kneeling at his feet. He towers over them, his shadow outstretched like an ominous hand, crimson eyes hard and merciless as he peels away the veneer of their presence to sink his teeth into their motivations.

     Fear. These witless worms are motivated by fear, naught else. He half expects one of them to piss themselves any moment.

     Sukuna has lived a life of solitude from birth, and one thing solitude has taught him is that his own strength is what is reliable. Friendships, companions, love, all of those are useless tethers beneath his scope of interest and control. No one invites him to things, because his lethal reputation has impressed upon them that he does not care. The people of Hida fear his power, and so they grovel to curry favor in hopes of gaining his protection. He is a sorcerer, but to them he is a god.

     Hapless lichen and unmarked graves are testament of his power. A sea of blood for him to drink from endlessly. Meat to be torn and swallowed, sweet and succulent and limitless in its variety.

     What care has he for petty festivals and sniveling proselytizing? He cannot make their crops grow nor their cattle healthy. He does not control those forces of nature, but these provincial types are superstitious about jujutsu.

     And there are no other sorcerers who can lay claim to the feats he has accomplished.

     His sneer becomes a leering grin.

     “I accept your invitation,” he says in an even voice, deep and resonant in the temple he has claimed as home for most of his adult life. He watches with disdain as he sees the priests breathe collective sighs of relief.

     “We thank his lordship for his consideration,” the head priest says, forehead pressed on the cool stone of the floor. Sukuna says nothing in response. He merely waits.

     “I’m sure you do,” he says laconically after a stretch of fearful silence. “Get out.”

     Thus are the priests dismissed, their limbs intact, and their numbers the same as when they arrived. They consider this a blessing in and of itself, scurrying out of the shrine like startled insects. Sukuna watches them go, his smirk turning to a pensive frown.

     “Mercy, my lord?” Uraume’s cool voice is amused. Sukuna huffs out a breath.

     “There is no joy in killing frightened peasants. Aside, there will be blood aplenty at this harvest festival of theirs. Blood is the only thing gods demand in tribute, after all.”

     And Sukuna is fair starved for sacrifice.

     The weeks leading up to the festival are hectic. With the Five Empty Generals and the Sun, Moon, and Star Squads eliminated, the capital, and by extension Hida, is thrown into chaos. Bandits roam the surrounding areas, waylaying travelers and refugees alike. Temples are packed to capacity to give alms to the starving and destitute. Misery permeates the air as the storm of Sukuna’s fury is felt throughout Heaven and Earth.

     No one opposes him in the wake of this war, and he consolidates his power, taking tribute and extracting iron clad binding vows to secure and fortify his position.

     But by the gods he can’t bring himself to care about any of it. It feels pointless to him. It nettles at his nerves, these petty political squabbles between clans of sorcerers who could not stand against him in the end. The Sugawara clan is especially in disarray, having lost their best sorcerers to Sukuna’s lethal domain.

     Would that he could bring himself care, though. It’s as if the victory that should have been sweetest to savor has turned to stale ash in his mouth, and no amount of blood drinking can curb it.

     Something is irritating his spirit, and he’s not sure what.

     Uraume fields requests both in the form of face-to-face audiences with supplicants and distraught nobles desperate to hold onto their power; Uraume also fields written requests. Sukuna has so far been offered vast swathes of rice paddies, fields, and even cattle. Where he once had to hunt and scrape in the wilds for his food, now he has more than enough in his stores to throw feasts. But he does not do this. Anyone who would be invited to attend would only do so out of fear of how he’d respond should they refuse. Empty fear does little to sweeten his appetite. He has missed the scent and taste of true terror between his teeth.

     It’s frustrating. So, he attends this stupid harvest festival as a guest of the highest honor: the God of Hida. Wielder of Storm and Flame. All manner of ostentatious titles he would never choose for himself, but he bears the weight of them all the same. Even the title, Ryōmen Sukuna, is not a name he chose, but it certainly suits him. It evolved from his deeds. He had been born a cursed and nameless wretch to a mother whose face was not even a blur in his memory. All he knows is the turning point of cognizance in his life, and the bloody present.

     He sits amongst them, an impassive deity, inscrutable as the heavens that cursed him. Something stirs in his chest, makes his heart tighten uncomfortably. Will alone quells it, buries it too deep to be excavated without considerable aid, or his will. That unnamed feeling—that yearning—will be smothered in the salted earth of his heart like everything else.

     The festival itself is lavish, a surprise for such uncertain times, but Sukuna sees these people—these insects—seeking joy when it would be easier to succumb to the hand fate has dealt them: misery and death; their pointless existence snuffed out and forgotten. Sukuna allows himself a smile at the thought. Yes, how fitting.

     He sips his plum wine, smokes his kiseru, and stares at the nameless faces and listens to the empty and pointless chatter. His heart beats sluggishly as the contents of his kiseru finally take hold, dulling the sharpened edges of agitation flaying his nerves.

     There’s a commotion at the entrance to the headman’s hall. Affronted gasps, mocking laughter. Sukuna knows that voice, and suddenly he reaches for the ornate lacquered box at his side, refills his kiseru, and takes a long, slow drag of it.

     She’s naked. She’s always fucking naked. Sukuna doesn’t know or care, but she’s coming at him, her eyes shining with something he thinks is madness, and suddenly the distance is closed, and he feels strong arms go around him, gets a deep inhale of her scent: rosewater and her natural musk. Pleasant, but her arms around him, her fingers threading through his hair, her grating voice droning on and on about loneliness and love and other such drivel—the sharp edges of his nerves lash out before he realizes it.

     Yorozu tumbles onto the floor, her open haori stained with her own blood, a slash mark across her chest, breasts stained in a curtain of crimson spilling from a wound that may as well have been made with a true blade. Sukuna should find this beautiful, but he doesn’t care. He’s just well and truly agitated, now.

     There’s a fearful silence in the room as Yorozu climbs to her knees, swaying from the blood loss. Her face is a frightening rictus of ecstasy, as if she is having a religious experience.

     “Ah, Sukuna!” She sighs in deep satisfaction. “You are the most magnificent thing! An honor to be struck down by your hands. I will spend the rest of our lives making sure you never know loneliness again, beloved.”

     Sukuna frowns, the bridge of his nose wrinkling. Beside him, he feels the chill of Uraume’s cursed energy, like prickling fingers of winter in the form of their aura alone.

     “If you’ve any decorum,” Uraume says in a warning tone, “you will attire yourself in a manner befitting the occasion and not embarrass my lord with your provincial ignorance.”

     Yorozu should be angry, but when one is a powerful sorcerer, words of snarling lapdogs mean precious little. She gives Uraume as maddening smile.

     “Oh, but have you not heard? I too decimated the Sun, Moon, and Stars Squad and have been accorded a place of honor amongst the Fujiwara for this festival. What role do you play here, Uraume? I am to be seated at Lord Sukuna’s right hand, as is my right!”

     Sukuna snorts derisively.

     “You talk too much,” he says in an exasperated tone. “Be seated and be silent.”

     Surprisingly, Yorozu complies, arranging herself like some sort of creature at his side, giving Uraume a simpering smirk while they roll their eyes in obvious disdain and disgust. Sukuna is just thankful the woman is heeding his words and remaining blessedly silent. He focuses his thoughts again.

     The entertainment for the evening is interesting. There is the traditional and ritualistic, which he watches and listens to with half an ear. He feels wholly apart from the festivities, as if he is some sort of interloper and not an honored guest. And all around him is the stench of nervous fear. Fear that he might do something unimaginably horrific should any displease him. He does nothing to dissuade them, but still…all this sweating and kowtowing is unnecessary and grates his nerves.

     It’s not until he sees the performers arranging an interesting set of drums he’s never seen before that he sets his annoyance aside in favor of his curiosity. The players have also changed. Arrayed in strange costumes of grass skirts and anklets with bells. Their skin is as dark as rich, fresh-turned earth; the men have strong and stern miens; but Sukuna detects something submissive about them. They look to one of the other performers.

     Sukuna’s gaze follows theirs as the lead dancer emerges. There’s a thump in his ears like a heartbeat. Her cursed energy blazes around her in a steady flame, moving with a fluidity Sukuna has seen only in himself.

     Who is she?

     Sukuna’s gaze falls like a weight on her and he suppresses a smirk when he sees her shift her body weight onto the balls of her feet. There’s a tinkling of bells from the thick ankle bracelets she wears, but Sukuna knows a tense posture when he sees it. She speaks to the drummers in a tongue he doesn’t recognize, hands animated in giving direction. Sukuna keeps his eyes on her. Skin like burnished umber from what he can see, her breasts high and proud in a bra made complete of cowrie shells. He can also make out the tattoo on her back, a symbol he doesn’t recognize. Is she a criminal of some kind as well? There’s a crown of cowrie shells on her head, affixed to soft buckskin straps that obscure her face from him, but he can make out her lips.

     The dancer grows more interesting by the moment from her appearance alone, her eyes dark and sparkling, her braids falling around her in a sea of black and gold, framing her cowrie-obscured face that he catches glimpses of when she turns: high cheekbones, and sculpted soft nose, and lips shaped like a perfect bow. When she smiles, which is frequently, Sukuna marvels at the perfect whiteness of her teeth, the way her smile seems a power all on its own. There is something inside of her, something yet to be tapped, and he wonders.

     He waits.

     A hush falls over the entire crowd, faces illuminated by the massive bonfire burning in the center of it all.

     Then, the dancer opens her mouth and begins to sing. Sukuna’s brows go up at the power of her voice, a clear trailing of notes and melody in a tongue he doesn’t recognize but somehow the tone of her song reaches him. He understands her meaning, sees it written in her smile as those foreign words slip from her mouth like a lure. She commands the music with skill, the primordial drumbeats whispering to thread with the melody she sings. Sukuna can feel the power in her, that thing inside her that he can’t quite place trembling like a chrysalis on the verge of opening.

     When she begins to dance, Sukuna understands. By his side, Yorozu follows his gaze, notes how he never takes any of his eyes off of the girl. Her lip curls in open disdain and disgust.

     The dance becomes faster, the drums carrying the dancer into a frenzy that is no wilder and more beautiful than a summer storm. Sukuna can see a sheen of sweat on the girl’s back, right between her undulating shoulder blades. She commands her small stage with consummate skill, executing complicated footwork, the bells around her ankles creating a counter rhythm to the drumbeat whipping everyone into an excited and breathless frenzy. Her cowrie shell crown’s straps are flung about her head like a halo when she executes hairpin turns on the balls of her bare feet, rapid and surefooted, affording the crowd a glimpse of the sculpted face beneath. Her feet, stained crimson with henna, tap out a counterrhythm to the drums in one sequence, creating a synergy the likes of which Sukuna himself has never seen nor heard. The drummers are not sorcerers, but there’s something in their playing that bolsters the dancer. The flames climb higher and higher, and Sukuna suddenly finds himself breathing with her. Inhale. Exhale. Controlled diaphragm as she chants and sings louder, not even sounding the least bit winded.

     The crowd feels it too. They clap; they stamp their feet.

��    Sukuna can feel the chrysalis inside of her vibrating. Her soul is vibrating. The fire crackles and seems to dance higher and brighter. The drums are in his blood, pumping his heart, making his pulse race with the same breathless anticipation he gets just before a fight.

     “Exquisite,” Sukuna says breathlessly to himself. Yorozu’s brow knits in consternation as she gazes up at him sharply. He’s still watching the dancer. Worse yet, his lower hand resting on the floor beside him is tapping in time to the rhythm. She’s sure he would hum along if he knew the damn melody of the barbaric chanting and yowling the girl is doing.

     The smell of spring and bounty permeates the air as the music swells, and the girl’s feet move faster in more complicated patterns, a test of endurance, an expression of strength. Sweat slicks her dark, umber skin. Sukuna sees the softness of her body, the undulation of her waist and hips, the way every curve moves with its own fluid rhythm and knows she will taste so tender and succulent between his teeth. The salt of her sweat makes him salivate a little at the thought.

     But also, she is gifted with immense power. He can feel it. A latent potential as yet untapped, struggling to be born. All it needed was the right push and it would be free, and she would be formidable. It would be a waste to consume her for the fleeting pleasure of tasting her. Sukuna knows a rare delicacy when he sees one.

     No, he would have to do something else. He would need to find a way to savor her.

     Several times she dances near him, and he tenses, but there is something reverent in the way she looks at him through the curtain of cowrie shells from her crown; the way she smiles at him as if she is inviting him to join her; the way she always seems to be in supplication when she addresses him with the movements of her body. A bow, a flourishing gesture of the hands to highlight the enormity of him, little bits of acknowledgement that she knows him to be the sovereign presence here; the mystery of her being obscured when she turns away from him with fluid grace, and he wants to reach out and seize her, turn her back, and look into her face in full. There’s something sensual about her method of dancing, which he deduces to be a harvest tribute.

     He likes that.

     The music swells and blooms, and her soul blooms with it as she kneels in perfect reverence before him, sitting on her heels, hands pressed delicately to the floor, her forehead on the ground. Her bells and shells are silent. She doesn’t even shiver in his presence. Sukuna looks down at her, fascinating by the rhythm of her slow and deep breaths of exertions. This close, he gets a good look at the tattoo limned in her dark skin. The symbol at her nape interests him, and he almost reaches out to touch it.

     “Hm,” he says thoughtfully. Yorozu sucks her teeth in irritation. “You are a foreigner. What is your name, girl?”

     The dancer doesn’t move.

     “Do I have your permission to rise, my lord?” Her Japanese is accented, and she speaks slowly, but Sukuna understands.

     “You do,” he says, curiosity making him unusually tolerant this evening. The girl rises into a seated kneel, her eyes still respectfully downcast behind the curtain of cowrie shells, full lips parted. Sukuna wants to tear the crown from her head and see her face, but something about it is…hm.

     “My name is Šetû Asiri,” she says, her voice measured through steady breaths. “Though in your culture I suppose Asiri Šetû would be the appropriate introduction.”

     Sukuna tilts his head. “Take off your headdress.” He orders. Asiri stiffens briefly, momentarily taken aback by the bluntness of his command. Behind her, her drummers are a knot of tension and anxiety. Sukuna’s reputation is fearsome, and no doubt whatever caravans brought them here from their lands leagues and leagues away have been rife with myths about his whims.

     Asiri’s hands go to the cowrie shell crown, and slowly she pulls it from her head, braids tumbling free, her face bared in full. She keeps her eyes downcast, black lashes cresting on her high cheekbones. Her expression is neutral.

     And Sukuna cannot smell her terror or fear. Either she does not know him for what and who he is, or she does not care…or she’s a fool.

     Alternately, she can be as mad as Yorozu, but he highly doubts she is. He does not see it in the lines of her body, soft and sculpted by years of dance.

     “Look at me,” he says. There’s another tense silence following those words. Asiri breathes in and lifts her face and gaze to meet his. Eyes darker than forest pools past midnight, glimmering like polished obsidian. Sukuna sees the inscrutable void of the moonless and starless nights in her eyes. Eclipse eyes. Asiri holds his gaze steadily. Sukuna’s lower eyes flit to her neck, collared by a cowrie shell choker with pretty silver coins, and he watches as two beads of sweat roll down, pooling in the hollow of her clavicle before rolling down the plush curve of her breasts. He licks his lips before he realizes it.

     “Did my performance please you?” She asks steadily. Sukuna smirks but doesn’t answer. It is answer enough.

     “Where are you from?” He asks. Asiri hesitates.

     “Across the sea,” she says quietly. “Beyond the Silk Road. I would need a map of the world to show it to you.”

     Sukuna narrows his eyes, makes a pensive hum. Asiri remains kneeling, and the assembled crowd holds its collective breath. Sukuna steps down from the dais, onto the soft moss she’s conjured around herself with her dancing. The heat of the bonfire illuminates her skin, and his nostrils flare as he breathes deep. Her sweat is sweet, but he smells something else…a fragrance heady and warm, like night-blooming jasmine.

     Mm.

     “You may go,” he says. “You and your troupe may enjoy the festivities…with my blessing.”

     Asiri allows herself a small smile, pressing herself into an obeisant kneel, forehead to the floor. The shells that adorn her body click prettily.

     Behind Sukuna, Yorozu seethes.

     “Thank you, my lord,” Asiri breathes. She waits for him to be seated and rises from her kneel. Sukuna watches her return to her troupe, the musicians murmuring in that strange tongue, whispering and shooting nervous glances in his direction. He should kill them, but they are foreigners, and he foregoes his usual punishments. It will not do to profane these rituals with blood. Even he will not deign to be so greedy and blasphemous this night.

     “Did you see the size of him?” Ajani’s voice is rife with shock and not a little horror. “What manner of creature is he that they would worship him as a god?”

     Šetû smiles from behind her changing screen as her cousin continues to go on and on about the cultures and customs of the people, they find themselves performing for. It has been a long and arduous journey for their little family, but Šetû knows this place is where they can truly make a life for themselves.

     Away from the horrors plaguing their homeland. The horrors that took everything from them but the talent in their skulls.

     “I don’t know,” she says. “I thought he was kind of handsome. And he’s clearly a powerful man!”

     Ajani sucks his teeth in disgust. “You are too kind, Haji,” he says. “Remember what those priests said? He eats people.”

     Šetû shrugs into her abaya, a silky shift of oceanic blue, the collar and edges of the wide sleeves stiff with golden thread embroidery. She keeps on her dancing bells and places the cowrie shell crown reverently in her trunk. Then, she surveys herself in the shined pane of a beaten mirror, marveling at her reflection.

     “I’m sure those were just the frightened exaggerations of peasants,” Šetû says as she slips into a pair tabi and geta, humble gifts from the leaders of the village. She had been surprised at the taboo of displaying one’s naked feet in public. The four-armed man had been barefoot, even outside. Perhaps these customs only apply to their living gods.

     She steps from behind the changing screen, heaving a sigh.

     Their troupe, Na Waje, consists of her, her two brothers, Amadou and Yusuf, and two of her cousins, Ajani and Ajamu. For the last few years, it has been only them since their grandmother and uncle passed. Šetû cannot count how many foreign lands she has traveled across in the years since they packed their entire lives in their painted wagon filled with their instruments, clothing, and supplies, and their sturdy Mongolian steed to pull it, a gift of the Khan for their rousing performance under their endless sky. It has been hard going, but Šetû will not trade it for anything.

     Still, having stone walls and a proper bed would not go amiss.

     Šetû makes her way outside of their tent, which they set up on the outskirts of the village near their wagon and horse. Amadou has already secured dinner for the evening as he and Yusuf had gone hunting and fishing much earlier that day. The smell of roasting rabbits seasoned with the meager spices they’ve managed to hoard for themselves is enough to make Šetû’s mouth water. Yusuf has secured sacks of rice, and a pot of it bubbles over an additional fire.

     “Have any of you had any luck with the locals?” Šetû asks as she takes a seat on one of the logs arrayed around the campfire. Yusuf pokes at the rice with a grunt. Šetû laughs.

     “They worship a four-armed man who looks like he eats people,” Yusuf says with a sour look on his face. “I’d rather not make friends with such a superstitious bunch, if you don’t mind.”

     Amadou, the oldest of all of them, and their somewhat de facto leader, laughs.

     “Perhaps you should consider taking more time to get to know them. We are the foreigners in this land.”

     “We’re foreigners in every land,” Yusuf grumbles. There’s a collective groan as the twins come to join them and Yusuf’s sour face somehow—against all odds—grows even more pinched.

     “Here we go,” Ajani murmurs with a grin as he sits next to Šetû, who hides her smile in her mug of tea.

     “I was a djali!” Yusuf snaps. “A true scholar of the craft! I served noble families and was respected in every corner of the Mali Empire! I wore silks and walked in sandals made of the softest leather and exquisite beadwork. I was slated to be—”

     “—given an honor at the right hand of the King himself; we know!” The others finish in unison. There is a sizzling sound as fat drips into the fire from the roasting rabbits. Another pot holds a rich stew. Since coming to this foreign shore, finding ingredients that best remind them of home has been hard. But they’ve made good coin this month and so their supplies are plentiful.

     “Speaking of strange customs,” Ajamu says, gathering their bowls to serve rice and stew. “Did you see the woman next to him? Completely naked! Is that how these people celebrate the harvest?! And if she is his wife, how…immodest!”

     Šetû snorts into her tea. “No,” she says. “I saw the way the people were looking at her. I’m guessing nudity at public events is frowned upon even here, Ajamu.”

     “I didn’t mind the view,” Ajani says, earning an elbow to the ribs from his twin. He grins shamelessly. “She definitely had all of her best qualities on display.”

     “Yeah, and was practically ready to rip Šetû’s throat out when that giant monster spoke to her for a few minutes.”

     Šetû’s cheeks go hot. In truth she hadn’t noticed the nude woman’s venomous looks during the entire encounter. She’d been too afraid of offending Hida’s local deity. She thinks about the performance again: dust beneath her henna-stained feet, lost in the rhythm of her breathing to match the breath of the earth, her ears filled with the ancient rhythms of her homeland; four crimson eyes, glowing as bright as the flame she danced around, with a hunger she could not name; her head pressed to the ground in an obeisant kneel, a glimpse of very large bare feet, and thick bands of black ink around the ankles.

     Look at me.

     Šetû remembers looking up, so far her throat arched. He had been massive, looking down at her with a curiosity that reminded her of a tiger deciding on whether or not the lamb in its grasp would be a toy or food…or both. She remembers his face, black ink limned into the skin in sharp, thorny lines, emphasizing the divine sculpture of his high cheekbones, his nose, his strong chin.

     Four eyes, glowing like coals in the breeze, flaring bright.

     And the heat and energy that she felt from him had been oppressive. Not only was he massive, but whatever power he held was just as big. He frightened her.

     But more than that, he intrigued her.

     “Šetû are you daydreaming again?” Ajani asks, handing her a bowl. Šetû blinks slowly, a waking dreamer pulled from a reverie she had yet to finish processing. She takes the bowl with gratitude.

     “Well, it’s night,” she says. “So, no. I was just…thinking, is all.”

     Ajani’s brow furrows with concern, but he says nothing, taking his seat beside her. For a while, the family eats in silence, enjoying the bounty prepared by the elder cousins.

     “The headman gave us a gift for our performance,” Amadou says, breaking the silence as they eat. “A cask of their rice wine. I say we breach it tonight in celebration.”

     “There’s five of us,” Yusuf grumbles. “How are we to finish an entire cask of wine in one evening?”

     “Well, there’s no room for it in the wagons so we’re going to have to try,” Amadou says back with a smile. “I’d say we’ve earned a night of drunken respite! And the festival continues for another day. We’ve been permitted to participate in the rituals and festivities freely after our performance tomorrow.”

     Šetû feels her mind beginning to fade, Amadou’s voice turning into a drone. That oppressive energy is back, spilling into their camp like a chilling fog.

     Hida’s god is here.

     It’s frightening that none of them so much as heard a twig snap, but the conversation dies down as the four-armed deity’s shadow falls over them. Šetû shivers from his presence. There is something sinister about it, and whatever it is…it’s hungry. At that thought, she has an idea. She sets aside her bowl, jumping to her feet. She motions for the others to do the same.

     “Šetû,” Amadou whispers, “you’re the one who speaks their language best. Does he mean us harm?”

     “No, I don’t think so,” she answers. “But we should all kneel out of respect.”

     And so they do, and the god’s brows raise up in surprise. The youth beside him, whose presence feels like the first, dire fingertips of the bitterest winter, smirks.

     “My lord,” Šetû says from her kneel. “It is a surprise to see you here. How may we serve?”

     The god tilts his head, says nothing for a long while. Šetû’s knees are beginning to ache.

     “You may rise,” he says at last, as if he had been deliberating on something and finally came to a decision. “And resume your meal.”

     Šetû breathes a sigh of relief as they all climb to their feet and return to their seats. Šetû lingers a moment and gives the god a friendly smile.

     “Would you and your companion like to join us?” She asks. “We’ve plenty to spare, and we were just discussing breaching a cask of wine. Far more than needed for the five of us.”

     Here, in the full light of their own cookfire, Šetû takes an opportunity to look upon Hida’s living god. She isn’t quite sure what to make of him, really, and his expression is inscrutable. For a moment, there is only the crackling of the fire, a log pops, and the subtle hiss of moisture steaming out of it in the heat. Amadou’s jaw is tense, his body taut. Of all of them, he is the only one with any real combat prowess, as he once served in the city guard back in their homeland. He and Yusuf and the twins have protected them from the onslaught of bandits, gangsters, ruffians, and all manner of unsavory attackers over the years. They will not let Šetû come to harm.

     The god smirks, and Šetû is reminded of the first time she ever saw an animal slaughtered. His smile is the blade drawn across the trembling throat, spilling crimson vitae in its wake. She shivers and his nostrils flare.

     “You would offer me a seat by your fire?” He asks. “Do you know who I am?”

     Šetû blinks in obvious confusion.

     “Are you not…are you not the deity being honored at this festival? Ryōmen Sukuna?” She asks, genuinely puzzled. “It would be rude not to offer you a place by our humble fire. It would honor us, in fact.”

     The god—Sukuna—crosses his lower arms and Šetû grits her teeth on a surprised sound but her troupe is not so subtle. There is a subtle gasp of shock. She hadn’t noticed his physique up close before, but it is truly a marvel.

     “What’s this?” Sukuna asks, peering into the cook pot. Yusuf looks nervous but Amadou places a hand on his shoulder.

     “Well,” he says, steeling his courage much to the amusement of the mountain of a man before him. “In our homeland it’s called…naman sa.” He glances at Šetû, who smiles.

     “I guess the closest translation would be beef stew…but we didn’t have any beef on hand, and the local butcher would not sell to us. So we used rabbits we hunted.” She explains. Two crimson eyes regard her and she tries to maintain her composure under the weight of his gaze. A low rumble sounds in his chest, a sound that reminds her of a tiger purring. Pensive. Ajani and Ajamu gulp, clearly fearful.

     “I will join you,” Sukuna says and there is a collective breath of relief.

     From there, the strangest of meetings unfolds.

     Sukuna arrays himself like a king by the fire. Amadou moves to serve him, but he holds up a forestalling hand. Amadou’s brows go up in silent question. Was he not hungry?

     “I want her to serve me,” Sukuna says, pointing at Šetû who startles, but rises quickly to do so. Amadou’s brow knits in a frown but at his younger sister’s insistence he hands her the bowl. Carefully, she scoops heaps of rice into the bowl, then ladles a helping of the spicy rabbit stew over it. Sukuna’s lower eyes watch, going a little wide when he sees the stew on the rice but then takes the bowl from her proffered hands, admiring how she kneels to serve it to him. His large fingers brush her hands and heat blooms in her cheeks before she moves away to sit beside Ajani.

     “Hashi?” Uraume asks cooly. Amadou’s brows knit again, and he nods, fetching a fresh set of chopsticks for Sukuna to use. He doesn’t hesitate, the god of Hida begins to devour the food immediately.

     Everyone sits in silence, breathing slow, wondering just what they’d done to deserve his attention this evening.

     Sukuna clears his bowl in record time. Amadou has retrieved the cask of rice wine, and pours Sukuna a cup, which he uses to wash down his meal.

     Sukuna grins, eyes heavy-lidded, like a man sated.

     “That was delicious,” he purrs. “Which one of you made this?”

     Amadou bows. “It was me, my lord,” he says in his halting Japanese, speaking slowly. Of all of them, Šetû is the best at picking up languages, and they’ve not been in the country long. “Though it is my sister who crafts the recipes.”

     Sukuna glances at her again and she tries not to jump.

     “Uraume,” he says. “Get the recipe from this one.”

     “Of course, Lord Sukuna,” Uraume says, affording Šetû a smile that can only be described as chilly. She chews her lip nervously.

     “Well?” Sukuna grins, and they tense. “Don’t stop on my account. Do whatever it is you do when the locals aren’t bothering you.”

     The troupe glances at one another in confusion. How did they carry on when they’d been warned how dangerous this man is? That he has a capricious temperament and kills on a whim?

     The wine.

     It doesn’t take long, but the wine flows, and eventually, tongues loosen and tension eases enough for conversation to flow. Out of respect for Sukuna and his companion, they converse in Japanese to include them in the conversation.

     “How is it you wound up here?” Sukuna asks. “And what was it you were singing earlier?”

     Amadou smiles. “We travel all over, performing for coin, doing odd jobs. Our homeland was ravaged by war, and we had to leave. This may be the furthest we’ve ever gone in the world.”

     Sukuna chuckles. “Tch. And now that you’ve come here, what do you think?”

     Amadou is silent. Yusuf, however, snorts in disdain. Sukuna’s crimson eyes focus on him, and he startles like a cat in a spray of water. Ajani and Ajamu laugh when he shoots them a glare.

     “Are all the locals so rude to foreigners?” Yusuf asks bitterly. Sukuna tilts his head with a grin.

     “Count yourself lucky that it is only the ignorant peasants who are rude to you,” he says and there’s something about his tone that sends a chill down their spines. A threat? A warning? It can be either, but his smile is too sharp, like a butcher’s knife freshly-whetted on the stone. Even a caress will cut.

     “I suppose you have the right of it,” Yusuf concedes. “Still, it’s something to hire us to perform and then force us to linger on the outskirts of the village. To have fallen so far—”

     “What he means to say is…things could stand to be a bit more hospitable,” Amadou interrupts quickly. “But it is a beautiful country. Reminds me of some parts of our homeland.”

     Sukuna recalls the brief conversation with Šetû and smirks.

     “Come to my estate,” he says. “All of you. I could use some entertainment and new flavors to try.”

     Yusuf looks visibly nonplussed but Amadou smiles.

     “Truly? We would be honored to accept but…” Amadou hesitates, glances back toward the village. “We have obligations here. Would we still be welcome after the festival is done?”

     Sukuna’s grin is sleek, and one of the eyes on the bone plate of his face settles on Šetû and she chews her lip again.

     “I don’t see why not,” he says laconically. “You will be paid for your services. A great deal better than these provincial superstitious idiots. Aside,” he turns the full weight of his gaze on Šetû again. “I believe what you have to offer is very interesting.”

     Amadou frowns. “And what do you mean by that, my lord?” He asks in a tone that dares to reveal a bit of steel. Sukuna grins then, and this time it chills all around the fire. Uraume smirks as if they know something the others do not.

     “I have never seen art like yours before,” Sukuna drawls. “And it would please me to have you present it to me away from…” He gestures vaguely toward the village. Amadou seems settled by the explanation, but he shares a brief glance with Yusuf who seems to understand what just transpired.

     “It would be our highest honor, my lord,” Amadou says, bowing his head.

     There’s the sound of bells tinkling as Šetû shifts in her seat.

     “We should play Hankali,” she says with a grin. Amadou and Yusuf look momentarily startled, but Ajani and Ajamu seize on that opportunity.

     “Great idea!” Ajani says, getting up. “I’ll grab my tama, eh?”

     Šetû claps her hands together excitedly, kicking her feet and making the ankle bells jingle prettily. Sukuna watches her with an amusement one would expect from a normally impassive deity.

     “What is this…” he thinks for a moment, then says the word slowly. “Hankari?”

     “Hankali,” Šetû corrects with a grin. “It’s a children’s game we usually play after a good night. A test of rhythm, memory, and word association.”

     Sukuna snorts. “And how is it played?”

     The little family gathers around as Ajani returns with a small, two-headed drum affixed with thick, gutstring ropes, and a curved stick with a flattened tip. He wears the drum slung on his shoulder and carried in his armpit; and it sits high, almost too high for it to be reasonably played by hand. Sukuna watches unblinking as he tests the drum, tapping out a rapid series of syncopated rhythms with only the stick and his fingertips. Sukuna’s eyes narrow when he sees the subtle flex of his arm, tightening the gutstring ropes and causing the drum to sound out different notes.

     As if it is talking. Sukuna tilts his head, his curiosity getting the better of him.

     “Teach me,” he says to Šetû, who beams at him as if he is an old friend and not the fearsome and rightly feared sorcerer that holds sway in these lands.

     Sukuna watches as she moves her hands, gesturing to Ajani to play.

     “So,” she explains, “we start by establishing a rhythm…”

     Sukuna listens, watches as Šetû’s hands move, tapping her lap, clapping her hands, and then snapping both fingers. Sukuna’s brow furrows, listening. The drum, her hands, two counter rhythms locking in to become a sentence, a phrase. Sukuna begins to breathe in time with the music; it’s just like her performance earlier in the evening. He’s caught in the rhythm, tapping in time with one finger before he even realizes he’s doing it.

     Šetû begins to sing, her voice coming out honey sweet in that strange tongue Sukuna doesn’t understand, introducing yet another element to the music. Sukuna focuses on her hands, but he hears the men respond to her call, and he smirks.

     It doesn’t take long for him to pick up on the pattern, letting them play a round where they switch to Japanese, listing off words that are commonly associated with one another. At the end of each turn, Šetû returns to the calling chorus, and Sukuna responds. Even Uraume who is usually so reserved seems to relax to the music.

     And now he’s having fun in a way he did not expect.

     Several times, people are knocked out of the game for missing the rhythm, hesitating, or saying a word that doesn’t match the round robin. Sukuna laughs uproariously when he realizes the point of the game.

     “It helps teach you our language,” he says. Šetû beams again.

     “Got it in one,” she says. “We’ve gone begging for translators and native speakers in our travels, but the best way we learn is by simply immersing in the language. And then we use Hankali to practice.”

     Sukuna smirks. “You’re passing fair at it already, and your brother isn’t a bad cook.” Although there’s a sense that he doesn’t believe for a moment that Šetû isn’t the smartest one in the bunch. He finds her brothers to be irritatingly suspicious and antsy, but Šetû has exhibited a calm in his presence he isn’t used to; not only that…she has welcomed him.

     “My lord…” Uraume stirs by his side. He seems startled from his thoughts, eyes cutting downward to regard them. “We must depart if we’re to prepare for travel tomorrow.”

     Sukuna sighs and waves a hand.

     “Yeah, yeah,” he says dismissively. He rises to his full height, and all rise with him. They bow to him as he turns away to leave. He spares a glance over his shoulder.

     “I expect to see you all at the shrine after this festival is over.” He says and Amadou keeps his eyes dutifully downcast.

     “Of course, my lord,” he says, willing obeisance into his tone. Sukuna smirks smugly, pleased with the outcome. Uraume bows one last time before they depart.

     “My lord appreciates your hospitality,” they say cooly.

     And with that, the pair depart. For a while, Šetû watches them go until they vanish around a bend in the path, leading toward the thick forest, vanishing like mist.

     “Anyone else almost shit themselves in terror?” Ajani asks when he’s sure Sukuna and Uraume are out of earshot as well as line of sight.

     “Wallahi, each of the man’s hands were the size of Amadou’s head, I thought for sure he was going to kill us all,” Ajamu says, earning nervous but relieved laughter from the group.

     “And the way he kept looking at Šetû…” Yusuf snorts. “Like he wanted to have her served up on a platter or something.”

     Šetû’s cheeks flush with heat. “Please, he was probably just lost in thought or something. Plus, I’m the one who speaks the language best. And if you blockheads would actually stop acting like a bunch of posturing peacocks, we’d be able to get the locals to be more welcoming!”

     “Tch! If his mouth hadn’t been closed, he would be drooling like a starved dog.” Yusuf says and Šetû laughs. She doesn’t quite believe it herself, but she remembers the weight of Sukuna’s gaze, the way the crimson irises seemed to gleam like drops of blood, rippling with something she couldn’t name. A hunger with an unending maw and gullet, one that will inevitably swallow her up if she dares get too close.

     She pushes such thoughts from her mind.

     “Well, in any case, we’ve accepted his invitation,” she says. “We can’t back out. Something tells me he’s not the type who takes kindly to one going back on their word.”

     Amadou makes a pensive sound, resting his chin on his hands.

     “Yes,” he agrees. “We’ll finish up the festival tomorrow and then head to the shrine. I don’t think Sukuna means us harm. He could have easily harmed us right here if that was his aim.”

     Yusuf sucks his teeth in annoyance.

     “And would you wander into the mouth of a tiger if it promised not to close its jaws on your head? Amadou, the man is dangerous. He had an aura of evil about him that chills the blood. You cannot mean to accept his invitation!”

     Amadou sighs. “Of course I do, Yusuf. He has promised payment, and we’re low on coin as is. Our wagon wheel will need mending soon, and our food stores are in dire need of restock. Of course I will accept the invitation, what other choice is there?”

     Yusuf grumbles but no retort comes to gainsay his brother. Thus settled, Amadou declares the night over. Together, siblings and cousins clean up the camp, douse the fire, and retreat to their yurt. Inside is a snug fit, but it’s warm. Ajani and Ajamu decide to take the first watch.

     “What do you think we should expect at the shrine?” Šetu murmurs from her pallet. Amadou snorts.

     “More of the same: servants, a few priests and priestesses, and Sukuna himself, I’d imagine. Likely he’ll only want us there for the night, so it should be safe.”

     Šetû thinks about the way Sukuna’s crimson eyes flared with a hunger that made her shiver to the marrow. Safe is not the word she’d use, and yet she gets the distinct feeling his invitation is sincere. Her eyes drift close, and she catches the faintest whiff of something burning as she slips into sleep.

𓇢𓆸 Masterlist 𖤓 Next

© 2024-2025 Hajara Asiri. Do NOT copy, translate, plagiarize, repost anywhere without permission [reblogging posts is okay]. This includes feeding any of my writing to an AI as well as copying my masterlist format, fanfic format, or stealing my graphics. I only upload on Tumblr and AO3. Header, footer, and dividers by me.

☕️ Member of the @pixelcafe-network.

[chuluoyi]

UNHOLY MATRIMONY — 11

✩°｡ ⋆ transcendent truth

- fushiguro megumi x oc/reader - oc/reader's character name is hara sena, pronouns still refer to “you” and i won’t mention it often—just for the sake of aesthetic rather than repeatedly writing "y/n"

in another life, in which fate is still screwing his life over, Fushiguro Megumi finds himself in an arranged marriage―with you.

genre/warnings: arranged marriage au, drama, heavy angst, zen'in naoya <- hard warning! character death, mentions and descriptions of blood and major injury, profanities, violence, read with discretion!

notes: sorry for the long wait! :( i was on leave, work stuff were piling up, got sidetracked by gojo, and living my life and i have a lot to write for this so... oh and does naoya get to live, you ask? well, well... you may see his fate in this chapter :))

series masterlist | next. the most twisted curse

A week ago October 26

"My father has died."

You gazed in sheer horror at Maki's words, as she stood at your doorstep. Everything in your mind blanked out as you struggled to grasp the meaning behind her jarring words.

You could only utter an almost inaudible "Huh?"

Yet Zen'in Maki didn't seem like a daughter mourning the loss of her father. She looked like she had just won a war with how she stood tall, all with her scars and burns. And yet―

"Oh, and my sister too," she quickly added, looking away, and you could finally see the trace of grief in her voice. "Naoya has destroyed everything."

Somehow it was still hard for you to imagine that the whole Zen'in clan was now in tatters. You blinked, stuttering. "He did? How did he―"

Maki told you everything. It had started from a heated argument instigated by Naoya to demand his claim, but since Ogi wouldn't entertain him, things escalated into a gruesome fight that ended with his head rolling off.

Over the span of one night, he massacred several other clansmen, along with Maki's sister, Mai. Now, the Zen'in clan was without a head and forced into submission by him.

"Sena, I'm telling you this because he'll go after Fushiguro next," Maki's voice was firm and unwavering, and it made you almost recoil. "Having my father gone isn't so bad―I have had enough of him, but Naoya is still on his delusional rampage."

"Megumi won't come back to that place," you firmly stated. "Naoya can have it all by this point, why is he still looking for him?"

"He's now beyond reason. He will seek him out himself if he doesn't come."

After Maki left you with that warning, you were still reeling. This was such an abrupt change of situation, and you knew you had expected facing Naoya in the end, but you thought you'd have more time to think.

Now one thing was clear: Megumi was in danger. A grave one.

October 28

Days with Megumi felt like light rain shower to Hana.

Domestic and cozy. She knew she was here just to cure his sister, yet the friendship that had blossomed between them felt just right.

"Please look after Tsumiki for me," Megumi said plainly, getting ready to leave the hospital. "I'm heading out for a mission."

She gave him a heartfelt smile. "Oh yes, as always, of course."

"Thank you."

Watching him go past the door, Hana smiled until the door sealed shut. Then she turned to the sleeping Tsumiki. She looked as peaceful as always, and the curse mark on her forehead had started to unravel too. Good, she did a great job then. It was taking a while, but Tsumiki was slowly and surely on the path of recovery.

It caused her spirits to deflate a bit, knowing that after this arrangement, she would have to part ways with Megumi, as there were no ties binding them together.

It was times like this that she envied you.

Tidying the hospital room and changing the wilted flowers with fresh ones, Hana easily considered this her comfort space. Everything was curated to how she liked it. She thought she would be having a slow day today, until a frenzied knock on the door startled her.

She couldn't fathom who the visitor could be until she warily opened the door and saw you.

. . .

You had anticipated Megumi to be the one opening the door, until it wasn't.

"Can I help you?" the girl in front of you asked hesitantly, seemingly puzzled. Your breath caught, as you realized that this was most likely Kurusu Hana the curse breaker―also the witness to your divorce.

"Is Megumi here?" you asked calmly, trying to even your heartbeats. No. You couldn't be petty against this woman. Your business was with Megumi, you couldn't get her in the crossfire―

But all that thoughts flew over your head when she retorted, "Why are you trying to find him?"

"I have to talk to him," you responded, still trying to be calm. Okay, no, she couldn't possibly be anything more than divorce witness. Megumi wasn't the type to―

Once again, your thoughts blanked when she replied, "He's out. Maybe I can leave your message to me and I'll inform him later?"

Something about her tone didn't sit that well with you. It was as if she was trying to show you that she was the one in charge... of what, exactly?

You had come to inform Megumi about Naoya's doing. It was as simple as that. Even though you knew that he most probably wouldn't give two shits regarding Zen'in anymore, you just had to make sure.

But seeing another woman in the doorstep, knowing that he spent most of his time with her now that you weren't around... yeah, you couldn't deny that it hurt you.

"Then, please give him this."

You handed the brown envelop to Hana with your jaw held high. Maybe Megumi was right after all, you had a talent to become an actress as your voice didn't even waver. "I've signed the divorce papers. Please let him know to proceed as he sees fit."

Hana appeared taken aback, evident from her widened eyes, but you continued. "Oh, and I've moved out of the apartment too. He can come back. Please tell him that I'm also grateful that he let me stay for this long."

"That's―"

"And one last thing... This is important, and please don't forget to tell him this."

You stared at Kurusu Hana squarely in the eyes, not even flinching as she blinked at you in total silence. "Don't let him come to Zen'in compound on October 31."

She frowned. "What do you mean? October 31? What's happening―"

"That's not for you to know," you interjected with precision, steel in your voice. "Just don’t let him go there, please."

Hana remained silent for a few moments before asking, "Are you... really going through with the divorce?"

"I don't appreciate you delving into our affairs," you spat in response. By now, you truly struggled to contain your own emotions—the hurt, the realization, the mere fact that she was here at all. "Just tell him what I just told you. You're an outsider. And since you've volunteered to inform him when he gets back later, then just do it."

And Hana seemed a bit offended by your snappy tone, but she chose to keep her mouth shut.

You bowed your head a little. "Well, then. Thank you. Have a good day."

As you spun around and stomped away from Tsumiki's room, that was when you finally let your facade crack. Biting your lower lip in frustration, your eyes watered once again.

How could he... get so cozy with her not long after you, just like that? Hana was talking as if she owned the place. It irked you, but above all, you felt so hurt that you wondered if what you were doing now was worth it at all.

But yes. You reassured yourself of the fact, because even if you weren't doing this for Megumi, then you definitely were still doing this for your own sake.

Zen'in Naoya was on your hitlist, and you were determined to see it through, even if it was the last thing you'd do.

When Megumi got back to the hospital later that afternoon, he had noticed how strange Hana was.

"Did something happen?" he inquired with a frown.

"Oh, no... not really," she winced, seemingly uncomfortable with the question, but she quickly covered her strange expression with a smile. "Anyway, how was your mission?"

If he were to be honest, he would prefer if Hana didn't get too friendly with him, despite everything. Maybe it was his quiet nature, or whatever, but he liked to be left alone.

"It went alright."

It was when he glanced at the table that he noticed it. The divorce papers he had left in your desk at the headquarters were there, and his initial reaction was the sinking feeling in his heart.

"Why are these here?" he snapped almost instantly, asking Hana for clarification. "Has Sena come here?"

"Oh? Oh, yeah..." it was evident that she was flustered, but she quickly blinked her surprise away. "She dropped by to give these for you."

"Did she say anything else?"

"Oh yeah... she said... she has moved out of the apartment."

That, he didn't expect. You had moved out? Where? Where did you go?

It had been two weeks since he last saw you, and the feeling of betrayal was still there, gnawing at his soul. And yet, to see you really agreeing with the divorce he pulled out of impulse and and moving out of his place made it all feel undeniably real.

Deep in his hearts, he knew that he had been bantering back-and-forth with himself. Heck, ever since that horrid reveal about this marriage, he felt like he lost a sense of himself. He shouldn't, but it was hard not to.

He was about to return to his place―with futile hope to find you, perhaps, when his phone rang in his pocket. Yuji was calling him.

"Hello, Itadori? Uh, yeah... sure..."

He was called back to the headquarters for a follow-up mission. Megumi mildly cursed under his breath after ending the call.

"Are you going again?" Hana questioned in a hurry, and it made him turn to her.

"Yeah, I must go―"

"Whatever you do, don't get near Zen'in's family home."

He raised an eyebrow at her sudden statement. "Why?"

She stuttered. "Just... don't. I've heard... there are just some things happening there. It'd do you better to stay away from them."

When Megumi reflected on this moment a few days later, he would realize that her behavior had been quite strange. However, in the heat of the moment, he didn't dwell on it much as his main focus shifted to his sudden mission.

October 31

His mission had taken him three days to sort out, with him and Itadori staking out at the site, and by the time he was finished, Megumi was at his wits end.

He was exhausted and only just now was he able to really go back to his apartment the first time ever since he left you here.

His place was so empty it felt jarring. The fact that the two of you used to live here not too long ago was bittersweet, especially when he saw the little pots of cactus he planted across the living room had all withered.

Megumi entered almost reluctantly, as with each step, the sting of pain in his chest intensified. He really did love you. And more often than not he found himself thinking why everything had to go this way.

Everything was left neat and tidy. You must have cleaned the place before you left. Megumi traversed through the living and dining areas before finding himself in what was initially his bedroom—the one you both had shared for the past two months.

No creases on the bedsheet, no more of your clothes hanging or cosmetics on the table. What remained was… a folded paper?

He had never jerked so fast in his life—he immediately unfolded it and could barely read.

Dear Megumi, How are you? Are you doing well?Ah, you must be still mad at me. I can’t really fault you for that though. If I were you, I wouldn’t take being played by someone who claims to love you lightly too. I know how you feel, or at least, tried to . . .

Was this the right thing? Despite making this decision yourself, you couldn’t lie and say that you were wholeheartedly sure.

“Hara Sena— do you really wish to die?!”

All you know was blind rage when you saw Zen’in Naoya’s face.

He cackled, almost wheezing, while mocking you entirely. Your anger simmered, steadily rising, reaching a boiling point with certainty and intensity.

“Ah, this is too funny!” he wiped a tear out of his eyes, his cackles receded into huffs of barks. “Who are you to think that you can stand a chance against me? Me?”

You didn’t entertain his question. “How can you be so shameless about everything you have done?”

He burst into unhinged laughter once again.

“What’s there to shame? I can say that I’m proud while at it—”

"You murdered your own kin!" you cut, looking at him almost in disbelief, clenching your fists to keep them from trembling. "And yet... you stand there so proud. It's delusional."

"What I did―heh, I'd even go as far as saying that it's my greatest achievement yet. It’s beyond your comprehension, sadly.” Naoya threw his hands and sneered. “I wouldn't expect bastards like you or Fushiguro to understand.”

You scoffed. Talking to a wall never works, huh.

"What is sad is that you would go this far for... what? A clan of ruins?” you taunted, a derisive smile on your face. “Who is even left here? This is no achievement. You're just crazy.”

For a second, you could see that that smug grin falter, twitched even, before he hardened it with a manic grin.

“Say that again, woman—”

“You can pretend all you want, and glorify your delusional self while at it, but it won't matter.” You didn’t flinch, despite how intense the pounding of your heart was. “Today, you will lose, Zen'in Naoya.”

And that sealed your fate. Today is the day it ends.

I tried to, but I’m also hurt, you know?

Megumi sprinted, bolting out of his apartment with pure terror. He had to, for the chance to find you was slipping with each second. After reading that letter, he realized just how messed up everything was.

I have thought many, many times about when you were going to find out the truth. I know the worst is that you wouldn’t believe me, but I really thought we could part in better terms than this.

What you did hurt him too, that’s true, and it was hard for him to forgive you. He couldn't ignore that reality.

Because I trusted you. I trusted you wholeheartedly when you said that you would stay with me. I thought that, maybe, even if we can no longer be together, at the very least you wouldn’t just go and leave me with a little to say for myself. Because that’s what I’d do if our positions were reversed.

But you trusted him. Until the end, until the moment you decided to sign the papers and moved out.

Something within him plummeted and shattered. He had really lost sight of the bigger things. Halfway through, he naively thought it had ended with him going away.

No, it hasn’t ended. He had overlooked one monumental aspect.

But I’m not you. And ultimately, I’m still in the wrong, and it’s hard to explain myself because I know it. No matter how much I try to justify myself, it’s still not enough. Because when I first started out, it was indeed my intention to use you.

Now, it didn’t matter that much. Not when he realized what you were about to do.

But, Megumi, there’s one truth in our relationship—even when there are many lies in it. That truth transcends all, and it’s this: I love you. I really do. Even now as I’m writing this, I still do.

Each breath he took, it scorched his lungs. Megumi thought he had known what heartbreak was like. But no, he didn’t really. Not until now.

In the short time we were together, I was the happiest. I love living with you. I love going through the day with you. Thank you for letting me know what love feels like.

Damn it. If something were to happen to you now, after this—

And I wish you the best. It hurts me to know, but if it's Kurusu Hana, then I only hope that this time, it's your own choice. This might be the last you're going to hear from me. I'm going to settle my debt with Zen'in Naoya. If you ever read this... one thing I ask from you is that don't find me. Let this be where it ends. With me.

"Idiot, you're an idiot!" he harshly grunted under his breath. How was it that you had asked him not to find you when he knew what you were doing?

Now it all made sense. October 31. The duel. Zen'in family home. Hana's warning. You were the one who told her that.

His chest constricted, the muscles in his legs had started to ache, and he was losing breath. But he pressed on. Megumi had to get to you, before it was too late.

Your innate technique wasn't made for front lines.

Despite your father's pride―which you had long considered misplaced―your family's innate technique, in your and Naoya's eyes, were quite unhelpful, or useless even.

You couldn't even feel your lower body as you laid there on the hard ground, gurgling and tasting your own blood in your mouth.

"Now you see?" Naoya curled his lip in satisfaction, looking down on you with that disdainful eyes of his, once again believing he was far superior than you. "You have no chance against me, Sena. If Fushiguro can't, what makes you think you might have a shot, huh?"

True, he didn't even have a single scratch in his body. You stood no chance against him. Did you know that?

As a matter of fact, you did.

"What a pitiful sight you are," he uttered, firmly planting his feet on your chest, and a broken whimper escaped you. "Just die already."

When will this end? You had to wait out, or else— or else, you were doing all of this for nothing.

"This is the exact expression that whore you call a mother had too," Naoya suddenly retorted, prompting you to open your eyes in response.

Your mother. In her last moments, was she in this much pain too, because of him?

The thought made your rage boil once again. You gritted your teeth together. "You... b-bastard—!"

"Hah? What?" He dug his heels in your broken ribs and you whimpered, spitting out blood.

You didn't know how much longer you were going to be able to withstand this pain. Everything in your body was broken at this point. You are quite literally dying.

You thought you had accepted this. You figured that since you had nothing left, dying wouldn't be that bad, surely.

"Hmph, boring." Suddenly he kicked you and you rolled several ways from him, wincing in absolute agony. Naoya turned his back on you, walking away with deliberate loud steps.

He gestured at the cloth of his hakama. "You're going to dirty my clothes. Since you're going to die anyway, I'll be here to watch you."

Mad. Truly mad. You couldn't think of any other word aside of that to describe the Zen'in spawn. He was the craziest of all people you had ever met, had ever imagined you could encounter in this shitty life.

"I'm curious though, why are you here? Fushiguro would never ask you." Naoya regarded your form with narrowed eyes. "Is this love? Are you afraid that he'd die by my hand that you willingly went in his stead?"

"N-no..." you immediately replied in disdain. "You... h-have—"

"You are not making sense," he shrugged, shoulders shaking with laughter. "Ah, that's why. Love is the most useless of all. That love got you dying now, hmm?"

There was no need to entertain him. You unclenched your fist slowly, your fingers twisting in weird angle after Naoya broke them—but you readied yourself.

Just a little bit longer...

"If only from the very beginning, if you would just agree to be my wife instead of making a fool out of me—"

A bit... just a little bit more...

"—then perhaps, you'd be living the honored life as my wife—" he kept continuing with a stream of words that didn't quite register in your mind. Nevertheless, you remained fixated on the movement of your fingers.

"But you just had to go and drag that washed-up bastard to my doorstep, conspiring with that senile man and Gojo, and where does it get you now—"

Now.

"And your most moronic act is coming here, thinking that—hrrgk!"

Suddenly Naoya toppled over, clutching his throat, his breath coming in gasps. "W-what—"

A cruel smile curled on your lips, seeing the frightened look on his face. "I'm... telling you... you're going to... die today, Zen'in Naoya."

"W-what— did you do to me—!" Naoya squared on you with fury shining in his eyes. "You— wench!"

You kept your silence, closing your eyes. You felt tired. It was so tempting to go to sleep.

"Whore! You—bitch—urrgk!"

As the air slowly left his lungs, Naoya finally gained clarity. Your fingers. A hand sign...?

You had waited for this moment. For the very second he no longer pinned you and you had the freedom of the use of your hands.

It struck him like a bolt of lightning. Hara clan's cursed technique.

Manipulation of air density.

You were slowly choking him to death.

. . . It was somewhat of an irony, that you depended on your cursed technique in the end. For you who had always considered and known that your clan was a second-rate, believing that you hated yourself for being born with this cursed technique and made your mother suffer, you never really took pride in possessing this.

And yet today, you bet it all on this talent of yours. To finally make things right again.

You tuned out the rest of Naoya's last words. You only opened your eyes when you heard him thud to the ground, all pallid and blue.

A weight in your chest dissipated. You did it. You had avenged your mother, and perhaps, if the Gods were finally kind to you, after this you might be able to see her too...?

Regardless, now you could rest in peace, content with leaving everything behind.

And yet, despite thinking so, you couldn't help but to turn back to those days with Megumi, doing mundane things normal people did. Eating together, going on dates, his smile, laugh— you would never get to see him again, and that fact brought a tear to your eyes.

The only boy you ever loved. In this life, and in any potential other lives, you would undoubtedly wish to meet him again too.

The only consolation you had now was that, by doing this, you had also fulfilled your end of the binding vow with Gojo.

"How unfortunate, and now you're dragging Megumi into this? What's it in for me and him?"

This is it. You have no other way and even this is also your last resort. To save your mother and yourself, you must drag an innocent soul into this complicated mess. Fushiguro Megumi is going to take a part in your game of survival, and you will make sure that he won't be just a mere sacrificial pawn.

"I believe the Zen'in has been bothering you quite a lot too, all these years," you met Gojo's eyes calmly, hiding your fear. "If you can install Fushiguro Megumi in Zen'in clan, wouldn't that be easier?"

"Well, well, you seem to know your way around here, yeah?" Gojo threw you a tight smile, visibly amused. "I'm not going to be a hypocrite and say that I don't want to do away with them, but Megumi? Do you realize what you're implying?"

"What if I told you that I can definitely remove Zen'in Naoya from the equation?"

"How?"

"From what I've heard, only a handful of the clansmen favor him."

"It's not going to be that easy, Sena-chan. You're going to put his life in danger."

"That's what I'm proposing to you. I will not let them harm him."

Gojo let out a scoff. "Two conditions for one in return? Aren't you getting desperate? Are you sure it won't be easier if you just resign yourself to a life with the Zen'ins?"

"No." You bit your lip. "My mother would rather die than seeing me being married off to that misogynist, and my father would continue locking her up if I refuse this marriage with the Zen'ins."

After pondering for a while, Gojo agreed with your proposition. To make sure that you'd be staying true to your convictions and he'd get Megumi instated as a part of Zen'in clan, he pulled you into an unbreakable vow.

"In exchange of Fushiguro Megumi becoming a part of Zen'in clan, Hara Sena would remove Zen'in Naoya from the succession war, and at the same time, ensure his safety."

next : the most twisted curse

🏷️ taglist

@moonmalice @hellothere9597 @qtnfer @firstplaidpeachnickel @waddlingwanderer @chilichopsticks @satorus-slut @dcvilxswish @lees-chaotic-brain @tojirin @bluebreadenthusiast @pandabooster @cole-silas @becsmarvel @giuli-in-earth @fuckimgenderfluid @haitanisrarity @kimura-uzuri @bicchaan @lunavixia @stevenknightmarc @rory-cakes @sushisimp @sad-darksoul @iluv-ace @squidalapobre @hopeladybug @beyondmyownlittleworld @mrsyangsikmoa @kasumitenbaz @nothisispatrick300 @angrydaughter @lili-of-the-dream @kiki17483 @abcdenhb @l1n0m3 @darling006 @traacy-lin @akaashisbbgirl @luckily-gray @llearlert @desihopelessromantic @minazkidayi @extrology467 @en40p @zaamwa @rohanna19 @looeeevv @rzcnlb @celestedonut @hopeluna

some of you can't be tagged bc of the settings! :(

[dreamingofthewild]

100 Bloodweave Fanfic recommendations

As there are over 3,000 Bloodweave fanfics, I have been wanting to do a fanfic rec list for a while. To share some of the works I enjoyed and to offer support for the talented writers in the fandom. I opted for 100, as it is a nice number for a rec list. It was very hard to narrow it down, and there are many good fics that, unfortunately, didn't make it too the list. This is not meant as a 'Top 100' list.

The recommendations will be shared in 6 parts over 6 days as it is too much for one post and I don't want to overwhelm the tag.

Part 1: In Universe Canon Multi-Chapter - 15 fics.

I'd Burn Through the World by thisis_V. Ongoing. Slow Burn, Angst, Hurt/Comfort. Follows the events of the game as Gale Origin. A very canon exploration of Gale and Astarion's relationship throughout the game. One I would recommend to those who do not understand Bloodweave. Includes original art from the author.

Burn out Fade Away by Newperspective20. 112,500 words. Slow Burn, Time Travel. Astarion ascends, Tav takes control of the brain, and Gale sacrifices himself to save everyone from being under Tav’s control. Only he finds himself back at square one. Will he be able to change the course of fate this time?

Stitches, Threads, and the Strings that Bind us Together by Newperspective20. 136,235 words. Hurt/Comfort, Smut, Fluff. The events of the game as Astarion Origin as he learns that not everyone is out to get him.

Ash and Stardust by badmarilyn. Ongoing. Slow Burn, Trauma, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining. When the orb starts to play up, Gale is forced to confide in Astarion. They start to gravitate towards each other, realising they’re more alike than they originally thought.

Broken Together by sparklypanda98. 61,872 words. Slow Burn, Fluff, Angst. A long-form Bloodweave fic about Astarion and Gale's relationship forming during the events of Baldur's Gate 3. Plenty of fluff, but some darker stuff too.

Your Echo in My Scars by shadesofmidnightsun. 76,421 words. Angst With a Happy Ending, Suicidal Thoughts, Smut. Astarion needs blood and protection. Gale just ... needs. They're both full of cracks. Where Gale and Astarion each have their own mess to work through. Will they make each other better?

Ancient Books and Horror Stories by eternalscout. 107,796 words. Slow Burn, Canon Typical Violence, Backstory Relevant Themes. What starts as a tentative friendship between Gale and Astarion, bonding over a shared love of reading, turns into the alarming realization that they may just have caught feelings for each other.

Through the Fire Together by Aria_Lerendeair. 16,646 words. Angst, Healing Together, Falling In Love. After defeating Cazador and releasing the Spawn to the Underdark, Astarion finds himself in the graveyard, waiting for whatever retribution they want to visit upon him after what he did to them.

Old Wives Tales by neo7v. 8,030 words. Mystra related content warnings. This fic explores the exploitative and grooming nature of Mystra’s relationship with Gale.

If the Cross on the Door Doesn't Scare You by Aylwyyn228. 19,113 words. Hurt/Comfort, Starvation, Found Family. Astarion gets outed as a vampire in the shadow-cursed lands. 

embracing the sun by vannral. 16,095 words. Mutual Pining, Friendships, Smut. In which people see whatever That is between Astarion and Gale and wonder. Meanwhile Astarion and Gale are oblivious. Set during Act 3.

Stop Kicking Gale (Please) by Yassha. Ongoing series. Hurt, Comfort, Fluff, Backstory Relevant Themes. AU where Astarion gets to process his emotions a bit earlier, and Gale is a bit more volatile, and those two things match up quite well.

Keep To The Shadows (your light can’t reach me there) by beepbeepsan. Denial of Feelings, Flirting. Trapped between a rock and, well, more rocks, Astarion has nowhere to run from Gale and his own feelings. But damned if he won't do his best to find a way out.

Bliss and Ignorance by ultranerdyandiknowit. 17,195 words. Dubious Consent, Hurt, Comfort, Angst, Misunderstandings. While sharing a moment of intimacy in the Shadowlands, Gale gives into the temptation to read Astarion's mind. He wants to feel their pleasure shared, to feel it amplified.

What he finds when he opens the link is nothing short of horrifying.

Shades of Romance by ClaireinSorcia. 139,829 words. Romance, Fluff, Getting Together, Drama, Backtory Relevant Themes. Astarion’s always been a flirt, so what happens when the new victim of his attentions, Gale, falls for it and takes it seriously? With Tav having turned Astarion down it should be fun to see how far this game can play out. But then what will Astarion do when he catches feelings he doesn’t even understand?

Part 2: In Universe Canon One-Shots - 17 fics.

Part 3: In Universe Canon Divergent - 16 fics.

Part 4: In Universe Post-Canon Multi-Chapter - 20 fics. 

Part 5: In Universe Post-Canon One Shots - 14 fics. 

Part 6: Alternate Universe - 18 fics.

[cressidagrey]

The Ties that Bind - Chapter 7

Summary: 

Shadowsingers were made, not born. Made out of trauma and loneliness and desperation.

So when Cilla and Azriel meet and their shadows entwine, they both meet the only other person that could understand these particular childhood scars.

The last thing Azriel had ever expected from his mate, however, was for her to have a surprising connection to his brother.

Warnings: 

Azriel has some realisations, and Cilla has a meltdown

(super pretty dividers by @tsunami-of-tears)

Azriel should have known that it was coming. He should have…he should have expected some kind of fallout. 

The fact that he didn’t make Azriel a fucking idiot. 

But it hadn’t even crossed his mind. He had been so…happy that it had gone…well enough, that Cassian hadn’t actually killed him, that Cilla was willing to go along with meeting Cassian, that Azriel hadn’t even thought about the price Cilla would need to pay for it. 

By the time he was ready for bed, she had already buried herself under the covers, curled into a little ball. She didn’t turn towards him as he laid down next to her…didn’t move when he shut off the faelights with a wave. 

Didn’t say anything. 

She always turned towards him. Even when she had been sick with a fever, his mate had turned towards him. But she hadn’t done so now. 

He watched the little ball under the covers, unmoving unless one counted her breath…shaking with something…

His brows furrowed. This wasn’t…This wasn’t good. This wasn’t good at all. 

“Sweetheart?” he asked quietly, hand hovering over her form, unsure if she could stomach his touch at the moment. “Cilla, is something wrong?” he asked her carefully, wanting to gauge how she was feeling. 

“Wrong?” she repeated, her voice near tonelessly, wings trembling and then wrapping around her form like a cocoon…shadows coming to join them, swathing her in darkness. 

Azriel wondered absentmindedly how often he himself had laid like that, when sometimes everything around him just felt like too much, too much, too quickly. 

"Talk to me. What is going on in that Head of yours, sweetheart?” he asked her, hand settling on her shoulder, feeling her take another shuddery breath. 

She seemed to have some sort of mental fight with herself until she admitted what was really bothering her. 

He waited her out. He would always wait her out. 

“You didn’t talk to me,” Cilla finally whispered.  “You didn’t talk to me. You…You knew who my father was. And you didn’t tell me.” Her voice was broken, splintering around the edges. “Why.” It was as much a question as it was a demand and Azriel closed his eyes, mentally cursing himself out. 

“Because I needed to wrap my mind around it myself,” Azriel finally answered honestly. It was a weak reasoning, he knew that. But he had needed to… “Because I needed to know if he knew before I told you. Because if he knew what was happening to my mate for years and did nothing…then he wasn’t the male I knew. And he was nobody I wanted anywhere near you.”

He had needed to know if Cassian was somebody he needed to protect Cilla from or somebody that he could trust to act in her best interests. And it had been selfish as well. Putting Cilla in front of a fait accompli as he had…telling Cassian before he had told her…giving her no time to back out and refuse…that had been selfish. He recognised that. 

He had acted selfishly. And she had caught onto it, had felt hurt because of his actions.  

“Sweetheart,” he said with a sigh. “I thought it went well today?” he asked her and Cilla seemed to shudder.  

“I don’t know what he wants from me,” she whispered, the sound nearly heartbreaking. 

Of course, she didn’t. She never had anybody who wanted to spend time with her just because…didn’t know what friendship meant or what it felt like to be part of a family. It was all just…

The only steady companion she had ever known had been her shadows. Which at least had kept her from going completely feral but probably hadn’t helped with any of that. 

“You heard Cassian,” Azriel said quietly.  “He only wants to get to know you.” And probably take care of his daughter when he never had the opportunity for that before. Probably wanted to teach her how to wield a dagger to defend herself and get to know the girl he didn’t know. 

That’s what Cassian would want. But Cilla didn’t even seem to understand the concept of that. 

“And what do you want from me?” Cilla asked, her voice shaking. He could just stare at her back. 

What he wanted from her?

“I just want you to be happy, Sweetheart.” That was the truth. That was all Azriel wanted from her. If it involved him, that would make him happier than anything else…but if it didn’t…he still wanted Cilla to be happy. 

“What have I done wrong?” she asked him and he just…every question from her was like a stab with a knife straight into her heart.

“What?” he brought hoarsely. What did she mean?

“What have I done wrong?” Cilla repeated, still not turning towards him.  “You don’t touch me anymore.”

“Of course, I do,” he disagreed, the hand that laid over his shoulder gently squeezing, marking that particular statement. Of course, he touched her. 

“Not like that. Not since that first night,” Cilla said, her voice harsher than before. And then he realised what she meant, closing his eyes. “Was it that horrible?” she asked him, and he could nearly hear how Cilla held back her tears at that question. 

“What?  No,” he assured her immediately, blurting out the words. “Gods, Cilla. That’s not…” He didn’t have the right words for this, didn’t know how he should explain this to her, without hurting her even more…without… “Sweetheart,” he said helplessly. 

Cilla turned around, shaking off his hand, dark eyes mustering him in the dark room, the expression on her face shuttering. 

“Then what?” she demanded, sharper than she had ever talked to him before. “is it some kind of treat that I only get when I behave like you want me to?” she spat out and he swallowed. 

“Cilla,” he whispered, his voice breaking. 

“Do I need to earn your affection?” she asked him. “What do I need to do?” 

“No, Gods, no,” Azriel forced out, the words sticking in the back of his throat. 

He had managed to fuck that up spectacularly, hadn’t he? 

Yes, you have, his shadows agreed. 

“Then what do you want from me? What am I doing wrong?” Cilla demanded, her voice splintering. “What am I doing WRONG?!” The way her voice rose at the end, so loud in this quiet house, the way her chest heaved, the tears glinted in her eyes and then fell over her cheeks…

Somebody strangled him with his guilt. 

This would have never needed to happen. But he had been stupid. So fucking stupid. He should have known better. 

But he hadn’t. He had wanted to fix things for her and overcorrected so sharply, that she was the only one hurt and it had ended in a mess. 

“You have done nothing wrong, Sweetheart,” he said, doing his best to keep his voice gently, not to let her hear the chaos that he was currently feeling. He held out his hands for her but she stayed distant, just watching him…her eyes tearful, her lower lip wobbling. 

She was crying because of him. Having an ash bolt shot through his chest hurt less than this. 

Fix this, his shadows demanded sharply. We don’t like to see her crying. This is your fault. 

It was his fault. “Fuck, Sweetheart, I am so sorry,” he apologised fiercely. “I really fucked up. It’s not some kind of treat. I just…I didn’t…I was so wrapped up with finally meeting you, finally meeting my mate, that I didn't think about the consequences of my own actions, Cilla,” Azriel hurried to explain. “You are still so young…you have an excuse why you don’t think it through, but I don’t. I should have seen your shadows and I should have realised what they meant..and I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you.” 

“Advantage,” she repeated like she wasn’t quite sure what the word even meant.  

“You didn’t really know what you agreed to the first time we had sex, sweetheart. You were…desperate and half ill and I should have treated you, my mate, better than that,” Azriel explained quietly. He should…They should have had an actual conversation, they should have gotten to know each other before he even laid a finger on her like that but instead, he had been…so overcome…so impulsive that he had just. 

 “I am not a child,” Cilla bit out sharply. “I have been on my own for 2 years, and I managed to survive. I can decide if I want to be with you or not!” 

“Of course, you can. Cilla,”  he agreed. She wasn’t a child. Even if she was painfully naive in some ways, she was very much not that in others. Treating her like a child when she had spent 2 years working herself to the bone to make sure that she could survive didn’t seem fair…not when she had also spent 18 years locked in that attic with only her shadows for company. 

“I…I thought that taking sex out of the equation until…until you had settled into the mating bond and…this life was the better choice,” he admitted with a grimace. Put it on ice until she was sure that she knew what she really agreed to. But clearly she…

“You thought,” Cilla repeated flatly, her voice icy. “YOU thought. Did you notice that it’s always YOU thought about something? It’s never something WE thought about. It’s not something that WE DECIDED! That we even TALKED about! YOU just decided and I…I am expected to go along with it because you are older and know BETTER?!” She lost her temper. 

Quite frankly…he deserved worse. 

Worse than Cilla ranting, and raising her voice at him, worse than her screaming, her hands turned into fists…worse than her dissolving into tears as she scrambled to the end of the mattress, the shadows coming to blanket her. 

Great job, Master, their voice dripped with contempt. You better fix it or we’ll take her somewhere else. 

He didn’t think for one moment that that threat was idle. 

They were serious about that. 

“Sweetheart,” he said gently, even as he could see her trembling. 

“You are alright. It’s alright,” he promised her softly. “I am sorry.”

She stared at him like she didn’t believe him…Like she expected him to get angry at her for shouting at him. 

He wasn’t. 

It had clearly all boiled all over for her. And even as he wished that she didn’t need to feel the need to shout to be heard…he understood it. 

He’d rather her shout and scream at him than to shut down and just accept if he mistreated her. 

“I am so sorry,” he apologised again. “Cilla, you are right. I should have talked to you. I should have given you more time. I should not have just put you in front of the choices that I made because I thought that it would be the easiest way. I should have told you that I knew who your father was when I figured it out. I should have given you more time to wrap your head around that idea and not expect you to be alright with meeting him the same day, the same evening,” he continued. “And I should have talked to you about my worries about sex as well and not just…not just pulled away from you intimately, making you think that you did something wrong or that I don’t want you.”

He should have done none of that. 

“I am so sorry, sweetheart.” 

She trembled, staring at him, like…wide-eyed, terrified and…like she couldn’t quite believe it. 

“You aren’t angry?” she asked him, her voice shaking. 

“At you? No,” Azriel answered honestly. “At myself, very much so, Sweetheart. I’ll spend the next few months begging for your forgiveness, Cilla,” he promised her.

The last thing he had expected was for her to pounce at him, once again, clearly unused to physical comfort and still searching it out…still clinging onto him desperately. 

“I am sorry. For screaming,” Cilla apologised, her voice shaking, breathing the words against his chest, as he pressed a kiss against her hair, and he wiped away her tears with the sleeve of his shirt. 

“That’s okay. You were upset at me. You were right to be upset at me. And I want you to be able to tell me anything. I won’t ever hurt you in response,” he promised her. “I am sorry, sweetheart,” Azriel apologised once again. 

She didn’t say anything, just burrowed tighter to him, breathing in his scent, her heartbeat calming down slightly. 

Better. She was doing better. 

He would have deserved it if she kept being angry at him…if she wanted nothing to do with him after that outburst, but instead she seemed to search him out for comfort, clinging on to him, as he brushed kisses over her head and rubbed her back…still feeling every single vertebra of her spine. 

Too thin. Still too thin. So easily breakable, even when he knew that she had gone through things that would have driven a weaker person insane…even when he knew how strong she really was…so strong and so easily breakable by him. 

He couldn’t fuck up like this again. 

Not again. 

He couldn’t stand to see her tears, see the trembling off his body because of him…smell the bitter scent of tears and fear that was not slowly returned to the sweetness of fire and vanilla. 

He needed…They needed to figure out something else…a way forward that Cilla could be comfortable with…that wouldn’t be Azriel pushing her into something that she didn’t really want and only went along with to make him happy. 

“Did you…did you really want to get to know Cassian or did you only go along with it, because you didn’t want to upset me?” he asked her carefully, trying to keep any sort of judgement out of her voice. he wasn’t quite sure how he should tell Cassian it if she changed her mind, but he would deal with it if Cilla really wasn’t…interested. 

“He’s important to you,” she sidestepped his question, her voice hesitant. 

It was an answer in itself, wasn’t it? Azriel closed his eyes, cursing himself out. 

“He is, but so are you,” he assured her quietly. “Cilla…what if we…what if we take it slower?” he proposed quietly. “You can just…get to know him. And then you can still decide if you want to have…some sort of relationship with him?” he suggested. 

“I…I want more time,” she said, her voice shaking. 

“Alright.” Azriel could work with that. “You’ll get that,” he promised her. “We’ll take it slow…maybe invite Cassian and Nesta to lunch and I will be your buffer, how about that?” he suggested. Stop Cassian from coming on too strong…giving Cilla the option to get away if she needed it. 

She shrugged, her body still trembling. It wasn't a no, but it also wasn't an outright yes. 

“And we’ll try a flying lesson tomorrow maybe,” he suggested, hoping that maybe that would…that would cheer her up in a way...Give her a feeling of freedom of control. 

“Really?” Cilla asked him, hesitantly. 

“Really,” he promised her. “But now, sleep, Sweetheart,” he said softly, pressing another kiss against her hair and she hummed her agreement. 

Crisis averted. For the moment. 

[thursdayinspace]

Soooo today's lunchtime smut contains no smut at all. It's also part of a WIP. Which didn't exist before I wrote this, but it does now. This is just feelings. Lots of them.

She’s been meaning to go home for the last hour or so. The fact that she’s still here, on his couch, feet on the coffee table, her body feeling sleep-heavy and her eyes closed…it might mean something or it might not. But here she is. He’s next to her mirroring her position, and she doesn’t think he’s asleep, she’d have heard him falling asleep from the shift in his breathing. It’s warm in here, and familiar. The walls around this house keep the world outside. That was their purpose when they bought it, and it is their purpose now, even if the reason for seeking shelter in here has changed.

She’s been meaning to go home, so why won’t her body move from this place?

When he rolls his head towards her to look at her she can feel it, and she looks back at him through half-opened eyelids and is powerless against the slow smile on her face. “I should go before I fall asleep,” she says, her voice low to fit the dim quiet of the room around them.

“You can’t drive like this,” he says, and something unravels in her chest. The last remaining tension seeps from her tired muscles.

“So it’s okay if I stay here tonight?” It wouldn’t be the first time. She still feels like she should ask. This thing between them has a name, but until one of them speaks it out loud, it has to remain vague. Undefined.

“Always,” he says, and she thinks about how his voice has changed since the day she met him all those many years ago. He’s not the same person, but at same time he is; he’s Mulder.

“Okay.” She closes her eyes again. The affirmation of right now is enough for the moment.

He gets up and she sighs; she was comfortable like this, with the warmth of him a steadying presence against her side. But then his arms slide underneath her shoulders, her legs. “Come on,” he says softly, and she blinks at him slowly as he lifts her.

“What are you—”

“We’re too old to fall asleep on the couch like this.”

Bed, then. She wraps her arms around him and leans her head against his shoulder. “I can walk,” she says, not expecting him to set her down, not wanting him to.

“I know you can.”

She feels small in his arms and it feels good. Out there in the world, she has to stand on tiptoe, spine straight, head raised high, making herself a giant. With him, she can let go. With him, she can be all the versions of herself that live inside her and he will look at her and know her.

“Thank you,” she says. For so many things. For letting her know him.

She thought she knew the ways in which the world could be known. Definable, quantifiable facts. Ever since she met him, he’s made her waver in her certainty. He never questioned the facts themselves, but from the start he asked the same thing over and over: How can you know?

This, them, what binds them together, is the greatest mystery of all. She has the words: love, friendship, loyalty, devotion. A neatly packaged set of ingredients that make up their relationship. But when she looks a little closer, she can’t define the words in any way that satisfies her scientist’s heart.

He kisses her hair and she breathes him in and she can’t put this into any tautological definition, any mathematical equation: a + b = c; Mulder + Scully = love. She can’t find a set of qualities that make up love. It just is. It’s in the way he looks at her, in the way her face breaks into a smile when he calls her, in the way it feels to kiss him. It’s in the way he carries her up the stairs to the bedroom.

“I have to brush my teeth,” she mumbles against his neck and he sets her down gently and follows her into the bathroom.

They brush their teeth side by side, the way they used to, and no time at all has passed since then, except the lifetime that lies between the day she left him and this moment. She has pajamas in one of the drawers of his dresser. She puts on one of his t-shirts instead.

When the lights are off she rolls into him, sticks her cold feet between his legs and rests her head on his chest. He holds her close and doesn’t say anything. There’s nothing to say.

She has no definition for home either.

His warmth becomes hers as she drifts on the edge of sleep. Nothing warms her like he does. She could be happy without him if she really tried. She could live a simpler life. He’s complicated, their life is complicated, and even though it would be possible, she doesn’t want to imagine anything else. She loves him with her entire heart.

“Mulder?” she whispers.

“Yeah?”

“I want to come home.”

He hugs her tighter and the beating of his heart under her ear remains slow and steady. “You are.”

She’d been meaning to go home. And she did. Maybe she knows the definition of the word, in all the ways that matter.

[dentos-wife]

Let’s talk how about Chrom and Robin’s bond evolved over time

With everyone clamoring over the new emblem I wanted to take a look back how we got here with their relationship and why I think at this point Chrobin is the intended or inferred Chrom pairing when it didn’t used to be.

In 2012 we got Fire Emblem Awakening, and as Chrom was related to Marth, his inferred pairing was Sumia a pegasus knight as a nod to Caeda, Marth’s canon wife. Granted because part of Awakening’s charm is you could pair anyone up, you didn’t have to pair Chrom up with Sumia if you didn’t wish to. But to IS she was the intended choice.

She had special scenes with Chrom and was the most likely to end up paired with him if you weren’t gunning for a specific wife for him

And you see her here in the opening with Lucina

Robin is you, the avatar, they don’t even have official art, just them with a hood

They had a canon design what we all know now but it wasn’t really used. And that should have been it as far as IS was concerned. Awakening was their last hurrah. And then FE blew up.

Robin’s canon design is now getting used, both the male and female version are now in Smash Bros. Then we have Warriors and Heroes and the Awakening cast shows up more. But not Sumia. Perhaps it’s because she’s not popular or the people flocked to Cordelia instead but she is the pegusus knight everyone loves. Sumia isn’t even in Warriors or the base FEH she gets added much later to FEH only with other less popular Awakening characters.

It’s here when FE became more maintstream I believe that IS changed their tune on Sumia being the intended wife and retconed it. I fully think Sumia was dropped and they no longer had an intended pairing for him all because she just wasn’t popular. Him and Robin were close of course they always were, obviously some would see it as friendship others would see it as something more the usual nothing really changed there.

And then 2022 ten full years after Awakening’s release...this happened

Couple things here. I fully believe the reason Chrom was paired with MRobin here instead of FRobin is for two big reasons reasons.

1) If they paired him with FRobin it canonizes a pairing so MRobin is the safer option, FEH doesn’t usually pair men and women unless they’re already a pairing. So MRobin got paired with Chrom and FRobin was on her own but she still has lines about how much Chrom meant to her.

2) MRobin is the more popular Robin as has been shown every year in CYL and he’d even win next year

So Chrom and Robin were always close it was a no brainer to make them a duo unit, they picked the male version on a very family oriented banner.

That said some of these lines...well let’s just say if a man and a woman were saying that to each other there would be no doubt here. Imagine if this Robin was the female version

Robin: There's Lissa, Emmeryn, Lucina, Frederick... I think we've got gifts for everyone. Don't we? Chrom: Well, all but one. What would you like your gift to be, Robin? Robin: What? Me? You can't just come out and ask like that, you know. There are rules! Chrom: You know I don't care about that. Just tell me what you want. Robin: Truthfully...I can't think of anything. Chrom: You don't want anything? Aw, come on. Think of the bind that puts me in. Robin: You gave my life meaning when I had nothing—not even my memory. The sense of purpose I've found at your side, working for peace in the world, is all I could ever ask for. Chrom: You're not alone in that, you know. I feel the same way. That's why I wanted to give you something nice. To show you how I feel. Robin: All right, all right. In that case, why don't you give me one of those flowers you're wearing? Chrom: It's only going to wilt. Robin: I'll press it into one of my books. That way I'll never forget this Day of Devotion.

Snippet from their duo convo. Usually when someone gives flowers it’s considered a pretty romantic gesture I’ve heard plenty of people call this alt playfully the gays and yeah this is very strong.

FRobin even comments on them in one of her lines.

“That man with Chrom is a Robin from another world, right? They get along so well, I'm almost jealous...“

There was no need for that line at all, we can tell from their lines how flipping close they are but they felt the need to have another character comment on it in base lines

I do believe MRobin was used not to canonize a pairing...at first. And then they gave up because it looked like people really liked it going even further in the next year.

In Awakening Chrom and Robin refer to themselves as two halves of the same whole which is already a loaded term. But it’s never been used after and was just part of the game

Enter the next time they pair up as the Emblem of Bonds which brought that back for the first time since 2012, in full force

Correct me if I’m wrong but no one besides them have referred to each other as their other half in Awakening

Lucina does it in Engage. For reference other half means husband, wife or partner (romantic). I think after the Valentine’s alt they decided sure why not and now they’re really going in with Robin being Chrom’s other half when they only touched the term once past Awakening in a FRobin cipher card. Other half in Engage is Robin and he pops up when engaged with Chrom to mix magic with the attack. I don’t doubt you can mean a friend with this term but when paired with everything else they say to each other, it’s pretty strong evidence it’s further than friendship.

Okay now for the the ultimate Robin is now Chrom’s intended partner view, Legendary Robin also released this year

“Tactician of Ylisse. Celebrated as Exalt Chrom's other half in the legends that followed their exploits. Appears in Fire Emblem Awakening. “

I saw some people argue exalt could mean Lucina too but no it doesn’t, it clearly means Chorm it says so and if you didn’t believe that, we got a map that was the two called Chrom and his other half. Which is Robin.

His art also references his other half status, he now wears blueish green jewelry which stands for Chrom and the brand of the exalt is on his chest plate

Finally in his damage art he once again has the symbol of the exalt formed in magic.

And a ring, some have argued it’s his clothes but usually the magic gauntlets he wears are on his middle finger and not under his gloves; pretty sure it’s a ring, it’s even on the ring finger of his left hand, where you generally put a wedding ring.

All this together is some very strong evidence, but put it with everything else they’ve done since last year and it’s clear to me, IS now is pushing Chrom and Robin as the intended pairing. Not canon like Marth and Caeda or Alm and Celica, but intended like they do with Eliwood and Ninian and some others I’m probably forgetting. And because MRobin is who they use and their “canon” sort of like FCorrin is the “canon” Corrin, IS is strongly hinting at MChrobin

Which fascinates me, we went from Chrom with a intended implied wife to scrapping it and pretended it never happened to this, Chrom with an intended husband. Him and his best friend, both two guys, very much in love. In ten years IS changed it’s mind on the intended canon pairing that isn’t even possible in the base game. They are a fate defying duo, the emblem of bonds, the exalt and his other half, two halves of the same whole and they are showing that in symbolism harder than ever. I think that’s really cool

To end this I’m aroace and see romance a little differently from the amatonormic norm Chrom and Robin could just be really good friends lord knows I also think friendship should be just as important as romance BUT if they were, it’s very clear they are each others most important person over any wife they might separately have.  But even that doesn’t follow a typical heteronormative relationship no? Chrom and Robin’s bonds are so strong they transcend the concept of romance and friendship as we know it, there is no name for the type of love they share it’s beyond us.

But what about Lucina? (and Morgan) In a world with magic, dragons, people dying and coming back to life, time travel and more the idea of two guys somehow having a child is no longer far fetched at all really, or even surrogates exist.

Also they act like kind of like dads with her and it’s really cute

Now granted IS could remake Awakening and MRobin will still not be able to marry Chrom and this whole analysis would have been for naught but I think if they do remake it they’ll add it. Look at how many people have been introduced to them just through Heroes and Engage you don’t think people are going to want to pair up the exalt and his other half in their game?

To sum it up, yes there literally is no heterosexual explanation for where IS has taken this. It wasn’t originally the intended pairing but it sure is now, I don’t think there is any room for denial anymore until we see what they do with a remake.