#my favorite character reminds me of the person i love the most in this world

[chimcess]

→ Chapter Eleven: Following Rivers Pairing: Jimin x Reader Other tags: Werewolf!Jimin, Witch!Reader, Shifter!Reader, Shifter!Jimin, A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha!Jimin Genre: Supernatural!AU, Werewolf!AU, Angst, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Smut, Word Count: 14.5k+ Synopsis: Within the four realms of Lustra lay the Bangtan forest home to the Foxglove pack of the south and known as the “land of magic.” It is also home to the Bridd, a powerful witch from a cursed bloodline who is one of the sacred guardians of the forest. Y/N is the newest Bridd, a young girl who was given her position too early. Now a woman, Y/N is revered amongst the wolves as the most powerful witch they have ever known, but hiding under the surface is a woman who has to battle between her duty and her heart. Warnings: ANGST, strong language, PTSD, flashbacks, self-hate, self-depreciation, talks of death, everyone is going through it, getting to know some more characters, love-triangle, Jin is being kind of a dick, I promise we'll start seeing more Jimin as this goes on but he's just really depressed right now, Sam is a HUGE flirt, Kook is a vibe and I love him, Secrets to be reveled later, disabilities are going to be a huge part of Yoongi's life now and his arc so bear with a lot of that being in his povs, he's my favorite person in this series (so far, later you'll meet by baby for life), possibly wrong medical terminology, sexism and misogyny will be hinted at, everyone is going through it, lots of grief and heartache, Babyboy just wants his best friend back, mourning her life she's dead, let me know if I missed anything... A/N: Thanks for reading <3

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Yoongi pov

The night hummed with an eerie energy, alive with murmurs that made the air feel thick and electric. The new witches had gathered, their voices weaving together, filling the darkness with spells that seemed to breathe and shift around us. I sat on the porch, my fingers tracing the worn lines in the wood, trying to remember when I could still look up and see the stars. Before everything became shadows and shapes I couldn’t quite make out.

The clash with the elves had left me like this—caught in a strange, half-blind world. It didn’t take all my sight, but what was left was blurred and foggy, like a permanent mist hovering in front of me. I’d catch a flash of movement or a glimmer of light, but it would vanish before I could be sure it was real. It was maddening—a reminder of everything I’d lost, every single day.

Blindness wasn’t the darkness I’d imagined. It wasn’t nothingness; it was worse. It was this hazy dream I could never wake from, where sounds felt bigger and sharper, and the world I knew slipped further away each day. Even the crickets, which used to be comforting, now grated on my nerves, their chirps too loud, almost painful. Leaves rustling in the wind scratched at my ears, reminding me of how much had changed.

The porch used to be my refuge. I could almost see Bridd and me sitting here years ago, trading stories as the sky darkened and fireflies began to blink. Those days felt like they belonged to someone else now, someone who hadn’t been left behind. Now, I was just trying to keep up, stumbling to find my place in a world that had become a stranger. I felt like I was slipping more often than not, the weight of everything pressing down, suffocating and relentless.

Laughter from next door cut through the quiet like broken glass. Sharp and startling, it reminded me that the world outside my darkness was still alive, still spinning. I’d always felt a little disconnected, but now it was like I’d been completely cast out, left to linger on the edges while everyone else went on with their lives.

I took a deep breath, the air heavy and thick. Memories clung to me like smoke, lingering in the silence. The witches’ voices grew softer, their spells fading into the night, and I felt everything more intensely now—the rough wood under my fingers, the sounds, the memories.

Then, footsteps. I heard her voice, soft and familiar. My mother. “Yoongi,” she said, her warmth reaching me before her touch did. “How are you holding up?”

I took a shaky breath. “Trying,” I said, and the word felt heavier than I could explain. “Just…trying to find my way.” It felt like climbing a hill I couldn’t see, carrying all the weight of what I’d lost.

She sat down next to me, her hand gentle on my shoulder. “You don’t have to do it all alone,” she murmured. “It’s okay to rest. To take things slowly.” Her words wrapped around me like a soft spell. “It’s alright,” she repeated.

I nodded, feeling my head dip forward. “I miss her,” I whispered. “Bridd… she made it all easier.”

She sighed, her hand steady. “She was special. But remember, there are still people here who care about you, Yoongi. Seokjin’s still here. Maybe you could reach out to him.”

Her words stirred something—maybe hope, maybe fear. Seokjin had once been an anchor for me, but now it felt like we were drifting, each of us lost in our own way. “I don’t want to be a burden,” I mumbled.

“You’re not,” she said firmly. “Friendship isn’t a burden—it’s something we share. You were there for them; now let them be there for you.”

Her words stayed with me, even as the witches’ laughter rose again, filling the night with a reminder of everything I couldn’t see. Wendy’s laugh rang out, soft and familiar, laced with something unspoken that lingered between us. I knew her feelings, even if we’d never said it out loud. But my heart… it was somewhere else, always just out of reach.

And then Wendy was closer. I felt my mother’s hand on my shoulder, grounding me, as Wendy’s voice cut through the night. “Yoongi!” she called, her tone bright but with a hint of something fragile beneath it. There was something in her voice that drew me in, even though I knew how dangerous it could be to let her in too far.

Jin and I were already on thin ice, and if he saw us like this, he’d definitely get the wrong idea.

“Hey,” I said, my voice coming out tight. Wendy stepped closer, her warmth hitting me before her hand did—just like my mother’s touch. She always had this way of seeing right through me, straight to the parts I tried to keep hidden.

“You okay?” she asked softly, her tone so gentle, like I was made of glass. I hated that she even had to ask.

I shrugged, the movement small and stiff. “Just thinking,” I muttered, barely meaning it. It was a filler, a shield. “Got a lot on my mind.”

She paused, letting the silence sit heavy between us. I could almost feel her studying me, like she was trying to piece me together. “You don’t have to do this alone,” she finally said. “We’re here for you, Yoongi. Jin and I…we care about you.”

Hearing Jin’s name hit me with a pang of something—hope, maybe, mixed with doubt. Did they really get it? Or were they just saying what they thought I needed to hear? I wanted to believe them, but that nagging doubt wouldn’t quit.

“I’m used to it,” I said, looking down at my hands. “I’m fine.” It was easier to be alone in my head, to keep everything locked away where no one could reach it.

Wendy shook her head, stepping in closer. “You’re not fine,” she whispered. “And that’s okay. You don’t have to be.” Her fingers brushed against mine—a small touch, but there was a tremor in it. She was scared too. We all were.

In that tremble, I felt something real, something solid. Maybe…maybe enough to take one more step forward, to move toward a world that didn’t feel like my own anymore. I nodded, just a small tilt of my head, and she stayed. No more words, just her warmth beside me as the witches’ laughter faded in the distance. It wasn’t everything. It wasn’t what my life used to be. But it was enough for now—to keep breathing, to keep moving.

“I don’t want to be a burden,” I whispered, almost too quiet to hear. Being vulnerable felt foreign, like it was borrowed from someone else.

“You’re not a burden, Yoongi,” Wendy said, her voice soft but steady. “You’re my friend. We care about you.” Her words hung in the air—delicate but so powerful.

The chatter and laughter around us felt louder then, a reminder of all that was bright and alive in their world. The world I wanted to reach again but didn’t know how. I sat there, the distance between us like a wall separating their colorful lives from my shadows.

The horizon stretched before me like an endless fog, a blur that mocked me, a constant reminder of what I’d lost. Days had passed like this, silent and heavy, filled with burdens I kept to myself, not wanting to weigh others down. Wendy’s voice was a quiet anchor, though, pulling me back from the edge.

“Yoongi,” she said, her words gentle, a lifeline. “I know it’s hard, but if you ever want to talk, I’m here. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

For a second, I almost told her I was fine. Pretending was easier, a mask I’d perfected over time. And the words did come, almost automatically.

“I’ll manage,” I said, but even I could hear how empty they sounded.

Wendy didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away. She just waited, her patience a steady presence beside me. Silence settled around us, thick with everything unspoken, all the fears I’d locked away. Finally, I looked down, the truth hovering on the edge of my mind, but I held it back.

“I’m not used to asking for help,” I finally admitted, the words coming out rough, almost resentful.

As I said it, regret flickered through me—showing weakness like this felt wrong. The days since my injury had blurred together, each one marked by this fog that clouded my sight. Sometimes I thought I saw things—faces, trees, the distant horizon—but they always slipped away. It was as if my eyes were covered in jelly. The harder I tried to see, the worse it got. So, I’d learned to rely on other senses—the sound of a voice, a hand’s touch, the scent of the forest around me. But it wasn’t the same. It would never be the same.

Wendy moved closer, her warmth cutting through the chill creeping in with the night. The shadows around us felt less intimidating with her beside me. I could feel her gaze, steady and searching, like she could see past all the walls I’d built to the doubts and fears I tried to keep hidden. But I kept those walls up.

“Yoongi,” she said softly, her voice firm but gentle, like she was tossing me a lifeline. “This doesn’t have to be everything, not right now. Just take it one step at a time. I’ll be here with you.”

Her words were comforting, but I didn’t let myself hold onto them. I couldn’t. Vulnerability felt too dangerous now, after everything I’d lost. So I just gave her a nod, a silent acknowledgment. Nothing more.

“Okay,” I murmured, more to keep her from worrying than anything else. “I’ll…try.”

But trying felt impossible some days. Every moment was a battle. Losing my sight had taken so much more than just my ability to see—it had pulled the world out from under me. Faces, landscapes, even the simplest things now felt foreign and unreachable. I found myself pulling away, retreating from the world and clinging to the past, tracing familiar shapes with my fingers, trying to remember what they used to look like. I wasn’t just blind—I was a stranger to myself.

Wendy’s hand rested on mine, her touch a steady reminder that I wasn’t entirely alone, even if it sometimes felt that way. Something flickered inside me, something I refused to name as hope. Hope was too fragile. I’d learned to live without it. I just focused on her hand in mine, and that was enough—or at least, it had to be.

But even with her there, memories clawed their way back—the chaos of that last battle, the roar of voices, the clash of weapons. The elves had come at us with everything they had, leaving no mercy. I could still feel the weight of that moment, the way darkness had swallowed me whole and left me here, grappling with nothing. My fists clenched without meaning to, the memories hitting hard.

“Wendy,” I started, my voice thick, my walls barely holding. “What if this is it? What if I can never really be a part of things again? What if I’m just…a burden?”

Her hand tightened on mine, a solid anchor. “Don’t say that,” she replied firmly, her voice a steady beat in the storm. “You’re not a burden, Yoongi. You’re still you. That matters more than anything. Even if you can’t see, you’re still one of us.” She softened, her words warmer, sinking into me. “Being open is a step toward healing. Don’t let fear take that away from you.”

I nodded, but I still couldn’t fully believe her. It felt safer to keep a distance, to hold onto the pain like armor. I didn’t want to drag her down with my despair, didn’t want to risk the letdown that came with hope. So I swallowed back the emotions, burying them where they wouldn’t touch anyone else.

The witches’ laughter drifted over, light and distant, reminding me that life still existed out there, in a world I couldn’t reach—not yet, maybe not ever.

“Thank you,” I whispered, meaning it even though the words felt fragile. I hadn’t realized how much I needed her assurance, her steady reminder that I wasn’t weighing everyone else down. But even as I said it, I knew I couldn’t lean on her too much. I had to stand on my own, even if that meant facing it all in silence.

The night deepened, and Wendy stayed, her presence grounding me, pulling me back from the edge. She was like a lighthouse in this fog I was stuck in, a reminder that maybe things could be different one day. I let myself imagine it, just for a second—that maybe, somehow, I could belong again. But I quickly pushed the thought away. I didn’t have room for dreams.

Wendy’s fingers tightened slightly, her gaze lifting to the stars scattered across the sky. “Yoongi,” she murmured, her voice carrying that unbreakable hope she always seemed to have, “We’ve all lost something. None of us feel whole, not completely. But we can help each other move forward, one step at a time.”

I caught the slight tremor in her voice, that hidden hurt that I knew all too well. Her mother’s death in the last battle had left a wound we all felt, a gap that reminded us of what the war had taken. That final clash had left us all scarred in ways that didn’t show.

I looked at her, our grief mingling in the quiet, binding us in this shared loss. “With Bridd gone… it’s hard to hold on to hope,” I admitted, the words raw and real. Bridd had been a constant, someone we all relied on. Without her, everything felt fractured.

Wendy’s eyes met mine, fierce and unwavering. “Bridd is strong. She’ll find her way back to us. And until then, we hold on to each other. That’s how we get through this.”

Wendy moved closer, her warmth a welcome contrast to the evening chill settling in around us. The shadows seemed less overwhelming with her beside me. I felt her steady gaze, like she could see past the walls I’d built and right into the mess of fears I tried to keep buried. But I kept those walls up.

“Yoongi,” she said softly, her voice like a lifeline, steady but gentle. “We don’t have to know everything right now. Let’s just make a promise—to hold on to each other. No matter how dark it gets, we keep going. For Bridd, for each other. That’s how we honor what we’ve lost.”

Her words sank in, like rain on parched ground. For a second, I felt a flicker of hope, a small reminder that maybe I didn’t have to carry all this alone. But I knew myself; I wouldn’t let myself rely on anyone too much. I couldn’t.

The witches’ laughter echoed in the distance, reminding me of life’s strange mix of light and dark, joy and pain. It was almost comforting, that reminder of life moving forward.

“Wendy,” I started, the words feeling awkward and unsure, “What if… I’m not who I used to be?”

She gave my hand a gentle squeeze. “Then we’ll help you find who you are now. You’re not alone, Yoongi. As long as I’m here, you’re not.”

Her conviction cut through my despair, but I kept my guard up. The night stretched out before us, full of unknowns, but as I sat next to Wendy, her presence like a steady anchor, I didn’t feel quite as lost. Maybe I’d try to take it as she said—one step at a time. But those steps were still mine to take, alone if I had to.

And as the darkness pressed in, I took a deep breath, letting the warmth of her presence fill the empty spaces inside me. She didn’t press for more, just stayed there beside me, as constant as the stars overhead.

Her quiet understanding eased something raw within me, like a wound finally starting to heal. “It’s… everything feels different now,” I admitted, my voice breaking a little, surprising even me. “I can’t see any of it, and it terrifies me.”

Wendy’s hand found my shoulder, her touch gentle and steady. “You’re still here, Yoongi. Losing your sight doesn’t mean you’ve lost everything. We’ll find a way through this, together. You still have us.” Her words hung in the air, easing the fear that had taken root inside me, creeping through everything like vines.

I let out a shaky breath, clinging to the faint hope her words had sparked. Maybe this wasn’t the end. Maybe, if I let myself reach out, there was still a way forward, a way to heal. “Thank you,” I whispered, the gratitude catching in my throat, barely able to express everything I felt.

Hope had become something strange and distant to me. Since the injury, my days had blurred into an endless stretch of darkness—more than just the absence of light. I could barely see. Everything was trapped in this cloudy haze, as if something thick coated my eyes. Shadows passed by, shapes that could be anything or anyone, but I never got a clear view. Trying to make sense of it all only left me with splitting headaches, so I stopped trying. The sight I had left was useless, a cruel reminder of what I’d lost.

I’d started relying on sound, on touch, to make sense of the world, but it wasn’t the same. I couldn’t see the faces of my friends or the beauty of the trees, the sky, the stars. All the things that used to ground me felt unreachable. My world was small and unfamiliar, and every step felt vulnerable, a reminder of everything that had changed. It was like drowning in the dark with no way out.

The night thickened around us, heavy with memories and things left unspoken, but Wendy’s steady presence kept me grounded. My thoughts drifted to Bridd—how her laughter had always lifted me, how her presence had once made even the hardest days bearable. The ache of her absence cut deep, but Wendy’s warmth stirred something faint and new in me, a promise that maybe I could find my way through this darkness, one slow, uncertain step at a time.

After a while, Wendy slipped into the shadows, her warmth slowly fading, leaving me alone again with the night. Minutes later, another set of footsteps approached, each step sharp and confident. I didn’t need to look to know who it was. Sam. The wind elemental who’d fought by our side, her presence like a storm, fierce and unrelenting.

“Mind if I sit?” she asked, her voice direct, cutting through my thoughts.

“Go ahead,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady, bracing for the bluntness Sam always brought with her. She wasn’t like Wendy—she wasn’t soft. But her honesty was something I couldn’t ignore.

And I couldn’t deny how much I enjoyed her company. Sam always found me, always made sure I knew she was there, even when everyone else seemed to forget. It was comforting in its own way, and though I’d heard whispers about her and Kim Namjoon, I never let that stop her visits. Her people weren’t known for sticking to one person, and I wasn’t looking for anything anyway.

She lowered herself beside me with a kind of ease, though there was always a tension in her, a restless energy that seemed to vibrate between us. “You look like you’ve been trampled by a dragon,” she remarked with a smirk. “What’s got you in knots, Yoongi?”

I let out a dry laugh, trying to shrug it off. “The usual,” I said, waving a hand like all of it—war, waiting, the constant unknown—was nothing more than a passing annoyance. “The war, the waiting, the not knowing… you know.”

She didn’t laugh. When she replied, her voice was serious. “Yeah, and it’s not getting better anytime soon. Bridd’s out there, trying to bring in allies, and here we are, waiting for the next storm.”

“Thanks for the pep talk,” I said, irritation slipping out. I could feel her smirk, though, a bit of satisfaction in her voice.

“What, you thought I’d sugarcoat it?” she shot back, arching a brow. “You’re not the only one carrying heavy stuff, Min. We’re all in this.”

“Are we?” I muttered, bitterness creeping into my voice. “Or are we all just pretending we’re fine?”

“Pretending doesn’t change anything,” she said, her tone softening. “Sometimes you’ve got to stop fighting so hard and just… breathe. Give yourself a moment to let it be.”

I clenched my fists, the rough wood of the porch pressing into my palms. “It’s not that simple, Sam,” I murmured, feeling the weight of everything I’d lost. “You don’t get what it’s like… to lose everything familiar.”

She didn’t say anything for a while, and I thought maybe she’d let it go. But then, she spoke, her tone more serious than usual. “No, I may not know what it’s like to lose sight. But I know what it’s like to lose things—things that meant everything. To build up walls so high you forget who or what you’re even keeping out.” She paused, her words hitting harder than I wanted to admit. “It doesn’t bring you peace, Yoongi. It just leaves you alone.”

Her words cut deep, and I felt a flare of anger, my instinct to push back. “I’m not asking for advice, Sam,” I said, warning in my voice.

“No, you’re asking to drown,” she shot back, her frustration seeping through. “You’re letting it swallow you whole. And here’s the thing—life keeps moving, Yoongi, with or without you.”

Her words were like a jolt, breaking through the numbness I’d wrapped around myself. I wanted to argue, to say she didn’t understand, but I couldn’t deny there was truth in what she said. As much as I hated to admit it, she wasn’t wrong.

“What do you want from me, Sam?” I asked finally, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Nothing,” she said, her voice softening. “But maybe you should want more for yourself. Stop hiding in the dark. You’re not alone, no matter how much you try to pretend you are.”

Silence stretched between us, charged with all the things neither of us had said. Sam stayed beside me, solid and warm against the night, and I felt something shift inside—a flicker of realization that maybe, just maybe, she was right.

Her words felt like stones dropping into a still pond, rippling through the calm I’d forced myself into. Part of me bristled at her bluntness, but another part—the part I tried to ignore—felt grateful. She didn’t flinch from my darkness. She leaned into it, unafraid to call me out.

“I’m not great at letting people in,” I muttered, the words feeling strange, like they belonged to someone else. Keeping people at arm’s length was easier, safer, even if it meant being alone.

“Yeah, I got that,” she replied, her usual sarcasm softened by a surprising warmth. “But maybe you should try. Life’s too short to be a lone wolf forever. Cadoc taught me that much.”

“It’s not that easy,” I said, feeling the weight of it all press down on me. “Not everyone’s an optimist like you.”

“Optimist?” She laughed, a dry, almost bitter sound. “I’m not an optimist, Yoongi. I’m a realist. But you don’t have to change everything at once. Just… consider it.” Her voice softened, a tenderness I wasn’t used to hearing from her. “You never know what might happen if you let someone in.”

Her gaze held mine, steady and a little unnerving, as if she could see past every wall I’d built. I swallowed hard, my chest tight with a mix of fear and something else. “And what if I ruin it?” The question slipped out before I could stop it, the vulnerability raw and real.

Sam shrugged, unbothered. “Then you mess up. We’ll deal with it. That’s what friends are for. At least you tried.”

A small, reluctant smile tugged at my lips, the tension in my chest easing just a bit. “I’ll… think about it.”

She leaned back, a satisfied smirk on her face. “Good. And if you need practice, you know where to find me. I promise I won’t bite… much.”

A laugh escaped me, surprising and low, breaking through the heaviness of the night. “You’re something else, Sam.”

“Yeah, I know,” she replied, grinning. “And you’re welcome. Anytime you need a reality check or a kick in the backside, I’m your girl.”

We sat in a comfortable silence after that, the night air cool around us as we watched the shadows shift. It was rare, I realized, to have someone who didn’t turn away from my darkness—someone who met it head-on instead. And as Sam stayed there beside me, I felt a flicker of something I hadn’t let myself feel in a long time: hope. Maybe, just maybe, I didn’t have to carry this alone.

But that hope was fragile, and doubts clung to me like shadows. Trust was a risk, a leap into something unknown, especially when everything felt so uncertain.

After a while, Sam shifted closer, her eyes gleaming with a mischievous spark. “You know, Yoongi,” she began, her voice dropping into a playful whisper, “I’ve always thought you were kinda… cute.”

“Wait, what?” I blinked, caught completely off guard, my voice suddenly caught in my throat. The porch, the night—everything seemed to close in, amplified by her words.

She laughed, clearly amused by my reaction. “Yeah, you’re a good-looking guy. Just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean it’s not true.” There was a teasing edge to her tone, but underneath it, a hint of sincerity that made my heart skip. “Honestly, it’s a shame you don’t put yourself out there more. You could have anyone you wanted.”

I scoffed, trying to brush it off even as my pulse raced. “Anyone? That’s a stretch.”

“Not at all,” she replied, a glint of mischief in her eyes. “You’ve got a good heart, even if you are a bit of a lone wolf. People like that.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but she cut me off, her expression shifting to something unexpectedly serious. “I get it, though,” she said, her voice softer. “You don’t want things to get complicated.” She paused, then added with a smirk, “But I’ll be honest, I’ve thought about it. You and me, I mean.”

“Sam—” I began, feeling my face grow hot. “I’m not really looking for—”

“Let me finish,” she interrupted, leaning in closer, her breath warm on my cheek. The space between us felt charged, her words hanging in the air. “I’ve also had my share of thoughts about Namjoon. Can you blame me?” She shrugged, her tone turning flippant again. “But I know neither of you would go for it.”

I shook my head, trying to make sense of what she was saying. “So… you’re saying you want both of us?”

She shrugged again, almost casual. “Why not? You both bring different things to the table. But I’m realistic. I know it wouldn’t work. You’re dealing with your own stuff, and Namjoon’s got his demons, too.”

Part of me wanted to push her away, to tell her this was ridiculous, but another part—an unexpected part—was intrigued by her openness. “It just… seems messy,” I admitted, my voice softening.

“Messy is life, Yoongi,” she said lightly, though there was a hint of something else in her eyes. “But don’t worry—I’m not here to push you into anything. Just being honest.” She leaned back, her playful demeanor returning. “It’s not like I’m actually going to do anything about it.”

I rubbed the back of my neck, the tension loosening but not completely gone. “I just… I’m not looking to get tangled up in something like that. I’m barely handling my own mess right now.”

The porch felt smaller somehow, old memories and regrets pressing in on me like a heavy mist. I still carried the shadow of someone else—someone whose laughter still echoed in the quiet corners of my mind, someone who’d been my anchor back then.

Sam softened, her usual tough exterior easing for a moment. “I get it,” she said quietly. “And I’m sorry if I pushed too far. That wasn’t my intention. Just… wanted to keep things real, you know? Like always.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” I said, managing a faint smile. “Maybe tone it down once in a while?”

She laughed, a warm, genuine sound that chipped away at the tension between us. “Not a chance,” she said, her eyes shining with humor. “But I’ll be more mindful. Last thing I want is to make things harder for you.”

“Thanks,” I murmured, feeling a small wave of relief, like some weight had been lifted, even if just for a second. “I’m just… still figuring things out.”

“Fair enough,” she said, her voice lightening like the night breeze. “Just don’t shut me out, okay? I’m here, whether you like it or not. Even if my taste in people is a little… unconventional.”

Despite myself, a smile crept onto my face. “You’re relentless.”

“It’s a gift,” she replied with a smirk, her eyes bright as the stars above us. “But seriously, if you ever need to talk—or just need someone to set you straight—I’m here. I might not have the answers, but I can help point you in the right direction.”

“Thanks,” I replied, my voice softer, my gratitude real this time. As we sat in the quiet of the night, the silence between us was calm, not tense like it so often was. There was a warmth that settled in my chest, something unexpected and gentle, that made the weight I’d been carrying feel just a little lighter. Sam was right—life was messy, but maybe there was room in that mess to let others in, to share the load I’d been holding onto alone.

The night pressed on, and the laughter from the others faded into the distance, blending with the quiet of the forest. With Sam next to me, the loneliness that had clung to me for so long felt like it was starting to loosen, replaced by a small, unfamiliar warmth. Maybe—just maybe—I could let someone in, let myself feel something beyond the weight of the past, let go of the fear and regret.

But just as the thought sparked, I felt a familiar ache tighten in my chest, a reminder of love lost, of empty spaces that had once been filled with warmth. Sam’s presence was comforting, but the shadows inside reminded me that I wasn’t quite ready to move on. Not yet. Not while Wendy’s memory still held me back.

The night seemed to hum with energy as Sam and I drifted into easy banter—her laughter, her teasing—familiar like an old song I hadn’t heard in a while. Before the moment could settle, the front door swung open, snapping us out of our thoughts. Jungkook appeared in the doorway, his face split in a wide grin, his presence like a burst of fresh air.

“Guess who!” he called, stepping out onto the porch. “Hope you two haven’t died of boredom without me!” His energy lit up the shadows around us, brightening the quiet with his usual cheer.

“Not yet,” Sam shot back, crossing her arms and leaning against the railing, smirking. “But we were kind of enjoying the peace without your endless enthusiasm.”

Jungkook laughed, undeterred, and set a couple of bottles on the small table between us. The clinking of glass echoed in the stillness. “Peace? Boring,” he said, shaking his head. “That’s why I brought drinks—to celebrate surviving another day in this beautiful chaos we call life.”

“Ah, yes,” I said dryly, sarcasm slipping out. “Because nothing says ‘responsible adult’ like drinking while the world falls apart.”

Jungkook clutched his chest dramatically. “Ouch! Here I am trying to lighten the mood!” He grinned, undeterred, holding out the bottle. “You two should be thanking me.”

Sam rolled her eyes, but I could see the smile tugging at her lips. “And you think a few drinks are going to save us from doom?”

“Hey, laughter is the best medicine,” Jungkook countered, shrugging as he passed out the bottles. “Besides, a little fun never hurt anyone, right?”

“Fine, but don’t expect me to hold your hair back if you pass out,” Sam teased, clinking her bottle against mine, her eyes glinting with mischief. The sound felt like a quiet pact between us—a shared defiance against the weight we were all carrying, a promise to keep going despite it all.

In that moment, under the stars, surrounded by the quiet of the night, we shared the burden of our fears and hopes. And for a little while, it felt like enough.

The evening felt heavy and still, and as I lifted the bottle, the chill against my fingers brought me back into the moment. The sharp taste burned a little as I took a sip, a welcome distraction from the dark thoughts that had been gnawing at me. “Not bad,” I said, grudgingly giving Jungkook a nod of approval. If nothing else, he had decent taste.

A grin spread across his face, his eyes catching the faint light of the porch. “See? I knew you’d like it.” He leaned back, taking a swig before casting a curious look between us. “So, what were you two talking about? Deep fears? Secret crushes?” He waggled his eyebrows, clearly enjoying himself as he tried to shake off whatever tension lingered.

Sam’s laughter broke out, bright and unguarded, dissolving the last bit of heaviness between us. “More like avoiding any deep topics,” she shot back, daring him to push it. She took another long sip, keeping her gaze steady. “Something you probably wouldn’t understand.”

“Hey, I can be serious,” Jungkook protested, still smiling but with a flicker of something else in his eyes—a shadow of something heavier that he quickly brushed off. “Truth is, things aren’t exactly easy on my end either.”

“Oh?” I glanced at Jungkook, my curiosity kicking in. He was usually the one keeping things light, making jokes to push away the weight of the world. But now, I could see something different, something heavier beneath that grin. “What’s going on?”

He sighed, looking down at the ground. “Family’s a mess,” he said quietly. “My dad’s still reeling from everything that went down in the last battle, and my brother… he’s acting like he’s the only one carrying the weight of it all. Sol’s off doing her own thing, holding grudges, and honestly, the whole place feels like it’s one spark away from going up in flames.” His voice was softer than I’d ever heard, raw in a way that caught me off guard.

“That sounds… intense,” I said carefully, feeling the weight of his words settle around us. Jungkook’s carefree attitude had always masked a lot, and seeing him now, letting that mask slip, made me realize just how much he’d been holding back.

Sam leaned over, her voice surprisingly gentle. “You know we’ve got your back, right? You don’t have to handle all that alone.”

Jungkook let out a hollow laugh. “Yeah, well, you either let it chew you up, or you drown it out with jokes and a few drinks.”

“Solid plan,” Sam said, her tone light but her eyes showing a hint of worry. “But, for what it’s worth, laughter doesn’t really fix things. Sooner or later, you’ve got to face it.”

“And who says I’m avoiding anything?” Jungkook shot back with a smirk, though there was a hint of something unsteady beneath it. “Look, I just think there’s a time and place for heavy stuff. And right now? I’d rather laugh with my friends than dwell on things I can’t change.”

I raised my bottle with a nod. “Sometimes, laughter is all we’ve got.”

“Exactly!” Jungkook’s grin was back, and he lifted his bottle high. “To laughter, and to the best friends a guy could ask for!”

We clinked bottles, the sound breaking through the quiet night. In that moment, our laughter felt like defiance against everything weighing on us, a tiny spark of hope pushing back the dark. Just being here together, sharing the night, dulled some of the sharper edges we all carried.

“So,” Jungkook leaned in, eyes gleaming, “what’s next? More drinks? Truth or dare? Let’s shake things up!”

“Let’s not get too wild,” Sam cautioned, but there was a glint in her eye that showed she was curious. “There’s enough chaos in our lives without us adding more.”

“True,” Jungkook said, still grinning. “But hey, look at us—we’re here, aren’t we? That’s got to count for something.”

The weight of reality hadn’t disappeared, but for now, with their laughter and lightness, it felt manageable. The past and future could wait. Right now, the warmth of friendship was enough.

Sam’s eyes lit up, mischief in her expression. “How about a round of ‘I Bet the Devil’? Ever played, Yoongi?”

I raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at my lips. “Oh, I’ve heard of it. Are you sure you’re up for it?”

Sam laughed, leaning forward. “Try me.”

“Fine, I’ll start.” I tried to keep a straight face. “I bet the Devil… I’ve never snuck out at night.”

Sam snorted, shaking her head. “Who hasn’t done that? That’s like, a rite of passage!”

“Way to ruin my dramatic moment,” I shot back, fighting a smile. “For the record, I wasn’t held as a child either.”

“Oh, so tragic,” Sam replied with exaggerated pity.

Jungkook leaned in, grinning. “My turn! I bet the Devil… I had a crush on a teacher.”

Sam and I groaned, and Jungkook laughed, looking only slightly embarrassed. “What? They were cool!” he defended.

“All right, my turn,” Sam said, her eyes dancing with mischief. “I bet the Devil… I frequently trip over nothing.”

I raised my bottle with a smirk. “Taking shots at my coordination? Thanks, Sam.”

She shrugged, unapologetic, and the laughter that followed wrapped around us like a warm blanket, each joke lifting a bit of the heaviness that had weighed us down. Just for this moment, everything felt lighter.

As the night stretched on, our laughter softened, giving way to a comfortable silence that settled between us. Jungkook’s smile was contagious, and Sam’s quick wit kept us laughing, creating a kind of rhythm that made the night feel almost normal—like nothing existed beyond this porch and the quiet shadows.

The morning light, dim and sluggish, barely cut through the grimy tavern windows, casting a muted glow over the worn-out room. I slouched over my so-called breakfast—a sad pile of overcooked eggs and toast that was more like cardboard. But hunger didn’t leave much room for pickiness. Each bite felt like swallowing down the previous night: the greasy taste of regret, the lingering headache from too much drink and forced laughter, and the ache of trying to hold onto any scrap of connection left.

I pushed the plate away, the clink of the fork against the plate feeling too loud, too sharp. Since I’d lost my sight, sound had filled the emptiness, each noise amplified, vivid, impossible to ignore. It was like living without a filter, with every creak of the floorboards and murmur of conversation in the tavern drilling straight into me. The voices around me rose and fell, snippets of people’s lives passing by while I just… sat here, feeling like I was drifting somewhere I couldn’t quite reach.

The door creaked open, and a cool morning breeze slipped in, carrying two voices I’d know anywhere. Hoseok’s laughter rang out first, light and familiar, followed by Hyuna’s soft chuckle. Their voices cut through the clamor, warm and reassuring in a way that made me remember what it was like to feel grounded.

“Mind if we join you?” Hoseok asked, his tone as easygoing as ever, though I could sense the weariness beneath it all.

I gestured to the empty seats, managing a small smile. “Not at all. Just be warned, the food’s about as appealing as it looks.”

Hyuna eyed my plate with a smirk. “Greasy, stale, and questionable… just like this town, huh?”

“Pretty much,” I muttered, pushing the plate even farther away.

Hoseok chuckled, though it lacked his usual energy. “Hey, at least it’s not rations straight out of a tin. I’ll take overcooked eggs any day.”

We shared a weak laugh, but the moment was short-lived. The weight of everything we’d been through, the constant worry, crept back in, thick and heavy. Hoseok leaned back, his eyes distant. “Bridd saved my life in the last battle,” he said quietly. “I don’t even know how, but she did. I keep thinking about how… it should be me out there instead of her, alone.”

Silence settled over us, broken only by the faint clinking of glasses and low murmurs from across the room. I felt a pang deep in my chest, the reminder of Bridd’s absence hitting hard. She’d been our anchor, the one who always kept us steady. Without her, it was like we were all just… floating.

“You miss her,” I said softly, voicing what I think we all felt.

Hoseok nodded, his face etched with worry. “I think we all do. But Jimin’s taking it the hardest. He’s been beating himself up ever since that argument they had before she left. This war… it’s wearing us all down. It’s not just the fights; it’s the way it’s breaking us on the inside.”

Hyuna’s face softened, her gaze somewhere far away. “I keep thinking I should have said something to her, thanked her for everything. But I didn’t. None of us did, really. We just assumed she’d always be here, like she’d always be the one holding us together.”

I swallowed, the words coming out rough. “She’s the heart of this group. I don’t know if she realized how much she held us all together.”

Hoseok’s hand rested on the table, fingers tapping lightly. “I can’t even think about what it’d be like if she doesn’t come back. Jimin’s putting on a strong front, but he’s falling apart.”

“He’s been so distant lately,” I murmured, barely louder than a whisper. “It’s like he doesn’t know who he is without her.”

Hyuna nodded, her voice low. “We have to keep an eye on him. He’s carrying too much of this alone. We can’t let him fall apart.”

Their words echoed my own thoughts, the fears I tried to keep buried. I clenched my fists under the table, feeling the rough wood grain against my fingers, grounding myself as the tavern’s hum of voices and clinking glasses filled the background. Out there, life went on, ordinary and uninterrupted. But here, in our small corner, the weight of it all pressed down on us, keeping us isolated even in a crowded room.

Hoseok broke the silence with a sigh. “I just hope Bridd’s safe, wherever she is. The longer she’s gone, the emptier it feels around here. It’s like… we’re all just drifting, waiting for something to pull us back together.”

“Wherever she is,” I said, my voice barely a whisper, “I hope she knows she’s not alone. That we’re waiting for her.” I raised my glass, the coolness a small comfort in my hand. “To Bridd,” I said, feeling a tightness in my chest. “To her strength, her courage, and her safe return.”

Hoseok and Hyuna lifted their glasses, the quiet clink a small promise between us. “To Bridd,” they echoed, their voices low. For a brief moment, as we drank, a flicker of warmth settled over us, a fragile spark of hope.

But as soon as it came, it faded, leaving us with the same hard reality pressing down. The brief lift of hope slipped away, and the weight of everything yet to come settled back in.

Hoseok set his glass down with a soft thud, looking at me with an unusual seriousness. “Yoongi,” he said quietly, “have you thought about what happens after all this? After the war?”

The question hit me harder than I expected. Survival had become everything, the only thing. Thinking beyond it felt foreign, like I didn’t even remember what it was like to dream of something else.

I needed air. Somehow, I managed to make it outside, bumping into a few chairs and a table on the way. Once I felt the cool breeze hit my face, I leaned back against the weathered wall, letting the cold ground me. It cut through the fog in my head, the chilly morning a relief from the tavern’s stuffiness.

As I stood there, I let my mind drift back to the battle that had left me like this, fumbling in a world of shadows. The same battle that had taken Bridd from us, casting her out into danger alone. The chill pressed into me, anchoring me in the present, but memories of that day, of everything that had changed, still clung to me like shadows I couldn’t shake.

The smell of blood and smoke had filled the air, the screams and clashing steel blurring together. I remembered the weight of my sword, the way it vibrated with each swing, each hit. The elves had charged us like shadows given form, fast and brutal. I’d fought, felt the sting of cuts I barely noticed through the adrenaline. And then, in one blinding flash, my world went dark.

Since then, darkness was all I’d known—a constant, suffocating shadow. Every day felt like stumbling through a world turned upside down. Sounds felt sharper, sensations more intense, but none of it made up for what I’d lost. Each day was a battle just to keep going, to find some sense of myself in all this.

“Yoongi?”

I turned, steadying myself against the wall. Hoseok’s footsteps were careful, like he didn’t want to startle me. I hadn’t heard him come outside.

“Are you okay?” His voice was soft, laced with concern, the familiarity grounding me a bit, even as the question lingered. I didn’t have an easy answer.

“I just… I needed a minute.” I tried to keep my voice steady. “Everything feels so heavy. Like I’m trying to keep my head above water, but there’s this weight holding me down.”

Hoseok was quiet for a second, then I felt his hand on my shoulder, a steady, grounding presence. “We’re all carrying more than we should. You can talk to me. Maybe it’ll help. What does it feel like?”

A bitter laugh slipped out. “It’s not that simple, Hoseok. I can’t even see what’s in front of me anymore. Everything I counted on—it’s all gone.”

“I know.” His voice softened, like he was reaching back to who he’d been before the war changed us both. “But we’re still here.”

The words settled over me, and instead of comfort, they just felt like a reminder of everything I’d lost, of how far I’d fallen. Bridd’s absence gnawed at me, an ache I couldn’t shake.

“What happened between Bridd and Jimin?” I asked, barely above a whisper. It was something I’d been wanting to know since she left, a question that hadn’t let me rest.

Hoseok let out a heavy sigh, like the weight of the whole story was bearing down on him. “It’s complicated,” he said. “They argued about Sol, about her leaving. Bridd was trying to protect him, and Jimin pushed for answers, and it got heated. Things were said they both regret. But Jimin…” He paused, his voice quiet. “He’s a mess without her. Regret doesn’t even cover it.”

Frustration bubbled up, and I felt my fists clench. “And Taehyung? Is he just hiding while we pick up the pieces?”

Hoseok’s grip tightened on my shoulder. “It’s not that simple, Yoongi. They’re keeping a close eye on him in the palace. He’s trying to keep his family safe and deal with everything he’s set in motion.”

“That doesn’t excuse him,” I snapped, my anger spilling over. “It doesn’t excuse any of this. We’re out here fighting while he sits behind walls. And Bridd…” My voice cracked, the ache in my chest almost too much.

“Yoongi.” Hoseok’s voice was firm, cutting through the haze of anger. “We’re all in this mess, every one of us. Blaming Taehyung won’t bring Bridd back or make this easier.”

“I know.” The anger faded, leaving only the hollow ache behind. “But it feels like everything’s falling apart, and I can’t do anything to stop it. I can’t see. I can’t fight. I’m barely holding on.”

Hoseok’s hand left my shoulder, and I sensed him leaning back against the wall beside me. “You’re stronger than you think,” he said gently. “You made it through that battle. You’re still here, and that means something, even if it doesn’t feel like it right now.”

The street around us was still, the morning quiet wrapping around us like a thin shield against the chaos of everything beyond. In that moment, it felt like we were in a bubble, the noise and weight of war held at bay just for a second.

Hyuna’s voice broke the silence as she joined us, her tone steady and sure. “We’re going to get through this, together.” Her hand found mine, warm and solid, and I gripped it like a lifeline, like something real I could hold onto.

I swallowed hard, nodding as some of the tightness in my chest eased. “I want to believe that,” I said, my voice thick with everything I’d kept buried.

“You will,” she replied, her tone unwavering. “Bridd may be gone, but we’re still here. And as long as we’re here, we’ll keep going—for her too.”

The morning air was crisp and biting, but with my friends beside me, I felt a spark of warmth, a small flicker of hope breaking through the shadows. We’d lost so much, and there was still more to face, but standing there, I felt like maybe we had enough to hold on to.

After a few minutes of quiet, Hoseok headed off to find his wife. He was more on edge about her than usual, especially with the threats creeping through Leeside, cutting through the town like a knife.

I leaned against the cold, rough wall of the building, trying to catch my breath as my mind spiraled through everything that weighed on us—the war, the losses, the unknowns stretching out in front of us like some endless road. I closed my eyes, hoping for a moment of peace, but the darkness clung to me, seeping into every corner of my mind.

The sound of footsteps pulled me back to reality. I turned toward them, and relief flickered through me when I saw Sam and Jungkook. They walked with that same quiet resolve we all seemed to have now, their faces showing the weight they carried, but just seeing them grounded me. Reminded me that, somehow, I wasn’t alone in all this.

“Hey,” Sam said, her voice soft, but her eyes searching mine like she could see straight through me. “You okay?”

I forced a small smile, though it felt like it might break at any second. “Just needed some air,” I replied, even though my voice sounded as worn out as I felt. “How about you two? Holding up?”

Jungkook shrugged, his jaw tight, his usual spark dimmed. “Same as everyone else, I guess. Just… trying to make sense of it.” His voice was low, a shadow of his usual tone. He looked away, staring into the distance like he was holding back everything he couldn’t say out loud.

Sam took a small step closer, her expression softening. “We figured you’d be here,” she said gently, her tone carrying the same sadness that weighed on all of us. “Hyuna told me what happened. Are you alright?”

I swallowed, the ache in my chest tightening, sharp and cold. “Yeah,” I managed, barely above a whisper. “I’m just… everyone keeps talking about Bridd, and it hurts knowing she’s not here to see it.”

The three of us stood there, caught in a silence heavy with grief. The world around us blurred, leaving only the sting of loss and the weight of everything we’d been through. Bridd was more than just a friend—she’d been our anchor, our hope, our strength when we needed it most. And now, that strength was gone, taken from us by this relentless war.

Sam finally broke the silence, her voice a little rough, almost choked. “You know, Jin told me once that Bridd used to say hope was like a stubborn weed. You could try to pull it out as many times as you wanted, but it would always come back, even stronger.” She let out a soft laugh, one that sounded more sad than happy. “I never thought I’d be clinging to her words like they were all I had left.”

“She believed in that hope, even when the rest of us couldn’t,” Jungkook added, his voice raw. “She made us believe, too.”

I nodded, the sharp ache of missing her settling deep. “She wouldn’t want us to give up,” I said, feeling the truth of it as the words slipped out. “She fought for this—for us. I can’t let her down.”

Sam reached out, her hand resting gently on my shoulder, her touch grounding me. “We’re with you, Yoongi. No matter what happens, we’ll face it together.”

Jungkook moved closer, placing his hand on my other shoulder, his grip strong. “For Bridd,” he said, his voice filled with quiet determination, “and for everyone we’ve lost.”

Bridd had given everything she had to protect us, to stand for something bigger than herself. And even though she was gone, her spirit lived on in each of us, in the bonds we shared, in the unbreakable strength that kept us going. The road ahead was dark, full of uncertainty, but we’d walk it together.

As the sun slowly rose, casting light across the worn cobblestones, I felt a hint of warmth—a reminder that dawn always comes after the darkest nights. We couldn’t change the past, couldn’t erase what we’d lost, but we could honor Bridd’s memory by holding onto hope, by fighting on. She’d left us with that much: a spark of resilience even in the deepest dark.

“For Bridd,” I murmured, looking at Sam and Jungkook, feeling that small spark of hope catch once again.

I stood by the river, watching as the first golden light of the sun hit the water, scattering in a way that felt like promises—warm but fleeting. The river sparkled, flowing along like nothing had changed, as if it didn’t know how wrong things were now. Each flicker of light only made the ache inside me worse, a reminder of everything I’d lost: my sight, my strength, and the confidence that had once felt as natural as breathing. Now, whenever I tried to summon my magic, it was like grasping at smoke—something just out of reach, slipping through my fingers no matter how hard I tried to hold on.

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to reach for the magic, like it was still somewhere inside me. It used to come so easily, like a flick of my wrist, a thought. But now, every attempt was a struggle, a tugging on something deep within me that felt barely there. The light that had once danced at my fingertips was barely a spark now, flickering out before it could even form. Frustration twisted in my chest, sharp and tight, a constant reminder that I wasn’t who I used to be.

Flashes of the last battle came back to me—the clash of metal, the roar of flames, the chaos that blurred right before my world went dark. The elves had come at us like shadows, swift and ruthless, their arrows deadly. In those final moments, something inside me had broken. And now, as much as I wanted to fix it, I wasn’t sure I knew how.

I tried to shake the memory off, forcing myself to focus on the gentle sounds of the river. But even that peace felt distant. Bridd’s face surfaced in my mind, and I felt the sting of her absence all over again. Then, I could almost hear Ji-Hyun’s laughter, taunting me with every failure, every spark of magic that sputtered out. I clenched my fists, trying to channel the frustration into something useful—something that might remind me that I hadn’t lost myself entirely.

“Come on,” I muttered under my breath. “You can do this.” But all I got were a few faint sparks that faded into the air. Every failure widened the hollow ache inside, gnawing at my resolve. Without my sight, everything felt strange, like I was stuck in someone else’s life. Doubts crept in, telling me all the things I didn’t want to believe.

The riverbank was too quiet—a thick, lonely silence that just reminded me how isolated I felt. I wished someone were there, just to break me out of my own head for a while. A rustling in the bushes made me jump, my body tensing instinctively. But it was only a bird, flapping away, leaving me alone again. I sighed, looking up at the sky, where the sun was beginning to set, stretching long shadows over the ground like reaching fingers.

I tried again, reaching for the magic, but it slipped away, useless. Every failed attempt felt like a punch, reminding me that I was no longer the person everyone had once counted on. I was just a shadow now—stumbling through the dark, holding onto pieces of my old self that seemed to drift further away each day.

Frustration built up until I couldn’t hold it in, and I let out a shout—raw, loud, breaking the quiet. I kicked at the dirt, wishing I could do something—anything—to shake this feeling, to get out of the cage I felt trapped in. But the river kept flowing, steady and uncaring, while I stood there, stuck.

“Get it together,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “You’re stronger than this.” I had to be. For Bridd, for Jimin, for everyone who’d counted on me in that battle. I had to believe there was a way forward, even if it meant stumbling through the darkness, even if I had to reach for the parts of myself that still felt out of reach.

I took a step back from the river’s edge, feeling the solid ground under my feet—something I could still rely on. My magic was still there, somewhere, even if it was weak and fractured. I had to believe I could find it again. I wasn’t ready to give up, not yet.

The sun dipped lower behind the mountains, painting the sky in soft hues of orange and purple—colors I could barely make out but remembered vividly. The river glowed in the twilight, and the world felt softened, muted. I leaned against a twisted tree, still caught up in the mess of my own frustration, when I heard her voice.

“Yoongi?”

It was soft, like she wasn’t sure if she should interrupt. But there was warmth in it, something gentle that made my chest ache in a way I couldn’t name. I turned toward the sound, and even though I couldn’t see her, I could feel her presence. Sam had this way of showing up without even needing to touch you, her warmth reaching out on its own.

“I thought I might find you here.”

I tried to smile, though it probably came out tired. “Hey,” I said, my voice sounding as worn as I felt. “Didn’t realize it had been that long.”

Her footsteps were soft as she came closer, careful, as if not to startle me. I could picture her there, head tilted, looking at me with that slight frown she wore whenever she was worried. Sam always watched without saying much, checking in without needing to ask.

“You looked like you were somewhere else,” she said quietly. “I just came from Jimin’s. He’s… well, he’s managing. Sort of.”

I swallowed, the guilt biting deeper. “Is he alright?” The words slipped out before I could stop them.

She hesitated, and I felt her shift, searching for the right thing to say. “Not really,” she admitted. “But he’s trying. We all are.”

I nodded, her words tightening something inside me. “It’s hard to shake this feeling. Like I’m trapped, stuck in this loop, trying to make sense of everything.” My voice broke a little, and I hated how small and raw it sounded.

Sam moved closer, her hand resting lightly on my arm. She didn’t pull me into a hug or make a big deal of it; she just stood there, steady, her warmth comforting. “You’ve been practicing, haven’t you?” she asked, so gently that I almost wanted to cry.

“Yeah,” I said, lifting my hands, as if to show her what I couldn’t put into words. I focused, feeling the faint warmth start to build up, just enough for a small glow—but then it faded, leaving my hands empty. “It’s like… I can’t even trust myself anymore.”

She didn’t speak right away. Her hand stayed on my arm, her thumb tracing small circles on my sleeve in absent comfort. “I get it,” she said finally, and I could hear the honesty in her voice, like she really did understand. “But fear’s tricky, Yoongi. If you let it, it’ll take over. It’s okay to be scared, but don’t let it make your choices for you.”

Frustration spiked again, making my voice come out sharper than I wanted. “It’s not that simple, Sam.”

She didn’t pull back, didn’t flinch. Instead, she squeezed my arm a little tighter. “No, it’s not simple. None of this is.” Her voice was fierce, like she needed me to understand. “But you can’t keep running from it. You’ve got to face it, even if it scares you.”

Her words hit me hard, and I felt my throat tighten. “I wish I could be as strong as you,” I whispered, the vulnerability slipping out before I could stop it.

She slid her hand down, finding mine, her grip warm and steady, like she wouldn’t let go. “Being strong doesn’t mean you’re not scared,” she said. “It just means you keep going anyway. I’m scared too, Yoongi. We all are.”

Her words settled around me, and for the first time, the weight on my chest felt a little lighter. I swallowed, her honesty touching something deep that I hadn’t let anyone near. “I don’t want to bother everything,” I said, the words breaking as they left me.

“You’re not bothering anyone,” she said, her voice fierce. “Not me, at least. You matter, Yoongi. You matter to us.” Her words felt like a lifeline, pulling me out of the storm.

Something warm flickered in my chest, fragile but real. “I just… I don’t want you to feel like you have to carry me,” I murmured, barely audible.

She squeezed my hand a little tighter, her voice softening. “I care about you, Yoongi,” she said, her voice almost like a promise. “And that’s not something you get to decide for me. You matter, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Even without seeing her, I could feel her gaze, warm and steady. I let out a shaky breath, realizing that maybe I didn’t have to be strong on my own. Maybe there was strength in letting others stand with me, even when I couldn’t see the way forward.

“Thank you,” I whispered, feeling the weight of those words, knowing they weren’t enough. Her kindness, her unwavering support—it was something to hold on to, something to keep me grounded, even if only a little.

She smiled, and though I couldn’t see it, I felt it. “You don’t need to thank me,” she said softly. “Just let me be here, okay?”

I nodded, and we let the silence settle around us—a silence that

spoke louder than words. The river murmured, the leaves rustled above, and as the night crept in, I felt the gentle hum of life still moving forward.

The darkness wasn’t gone—it never really was. It still hovered there, like a shadow clinging to my mind. But with Sam’s hand in mine, something shifted, like those shadows had loosened, just enough to let a little light slip in. The sun had finally dipped behind the mountains, leaving the sky streaked in deep oranges and purples—beautiful, but tinged with a kind of sadness, like saying goodbye to another day. But maybe that wasn’t so bad. I took a deep breath, letting the cool night air settle me, and felt more grounded than I had in a long time.

“You’re right,” I said quietly, my voice a little stronger, even though I still felt shaky inside. It was a steadiness that came after a storm—no idea where I stood exactly, but clearer than before. “I need to face this. All of it.”

Sam gave me a soft smile; I could hear it in her voice. “One step at a time, okay? You don’t need to have it all figured out. None of us do.” Her words felt gentle but solid, like something to hold onto.

I nodded, feeling a gratitude I couldn’t quite put into words. The darkness was still there, but knowing I didn’t have to handle it alone made everything feel less impossible.

After a moment, Sam’s tone shifted, her voice taking on that playful edge I’d come to rely on. “So, I’ve got some gossip for you,” she said, like she was letting me in on some juicy secret.

My curiosity sparked, tugging me out of the heavy thoughts weighing me down. I let my fingers dip into the river, feeling the cool water wash over them, almost like it could rinse some of the dark thoughts away. I could sense her leaning in beside me, close enough that her warmth pushed back against the night’s chill.

“What’s the gossip?” I asked, my tone lighter, a bit of the old playfulness sneaking back in.

“Turns out Hyun-Jin was the one who tipped Sol off about Bridd,” she said in a low, secretive voice, like we were swapping secrets under a blanket fort. “Taehyung only confirmed it when she backed him into a corner. She wouldn’t have believed it otherwise.”

Hyun-Jin’s name made my stomach clench, any hint of lightness vanishing. “Why would he do that?” I muttered, not really expecting an answer that would make any of this better.

Sam leaned in closer, her breath warm in the cool air. “Lorcan overheard Hyun-Jin arguing with his wife,” she whispered. “Hyun-Jin’s best friend died in the siege, and he blames Bridd for not warning them. He thought she knew and kept it quiet. He’s angry, Yoongi, and telling Sol was his way of lashing out.”

I clenched my jaw, feeling the bitterness rise. Hyun-Jin’s grudge was like a poison, and his need for revenge was threatening to tear apart everything we’d fought so hard to hold together. “Great,” I muttered sarcastically. “Just what we need. Another reason for everyone to turn on each other.”

Sam sighed, her shoulders slumping a little. “Exactly. Everyone’s already on edge, and Lorcan thinks Jimin doesn’t know yet. We can’t let him find out—not like this.”

I stared out at the river, watching the way the water flowed, steady and constant, even as everything else seemed to be falling apart. I could picture Jimin’s face if he found out, the anger that would rise up in him, fierce and unchecked. “If Jimin finds out,” I whispered, the weight of it settling on my chest, “it wouldn’t surprise me if he killed Hyun-Jin. And that would be the end of whatever stability we have left.”

“That’s why we can’t let it get to that point,” Sam said, her voice sharper now, cutting through my spiraling thoughts. “We have to handle this carefully. One wrong move, and everything could fall apart.”

I let out a long breath, feeling the weight of her words pressing down. “But what can we really do, Sam? We’re just trying to keep from drowning here.”

“Maybe,” she admitted, her tone softening. “But we can watch, we can listen, and we can make sure Jimin hears the truth in a way that won’t tear everything apart. We know him, Yoongi. We’re his friends.”

I turned toward her, even though I couldn’t see her face clearly. “Together,” I echoed, letting the word settle. It was simple, but it felt like a promise, something solid in the middle of all this uncertainty. “I like the sound of that.”

She nudged my shoulder, a smile clear in her voice. “Good. Because I’m not letting you carry this alone. You’ve got enough to deal with.”

A real smile crept onto my face, a warmth flickering to life. Despite everything still weighing me down, Sam was like an anchor—a reminder that maybe, just maybe, I could get through this with her by my side.

As we sat there in the quiet, though, the ache of Bridd’s absence hit me hard, sharp and raw. I could almost hear her laugh, see her smile, and for a second, it was like she was still here. But then it was gone, leaving that hollow ache that wouldn’t quite fade. Sam’s hand rested on my shoulder, steady and warm, but even her kindness couldn’t fill the space Bridd had left behind.

The last of the daylight slipped away, leaving the sky a deep indigo. I took a breath, letting the cool air calm me, and nodded to myself. “You’re right,” I said again, the words easier this time. “No more hiding.”

Sam’s smile was soft but sure. “One step at a time, Yoongi. We’re all just trying to figure this out. You don’t have to have all the answers right now.”

I nodded, letting her words settle in. Sam always knew when to be gentle, even when the world felt like it was unraveling. Tonight, I was more grateful for that than I could ever say.

“So he’s punishing Bridd for something she couldn’t control?” I shook my head, the disgust settling in my chest.

Sam nodded, her expression hardening. “Yeah, but he’s misjudged how this’ll play out. Callisto isn’t taking it lightly either. If she finds out about Hyun-Jin’s involvement, things could get… ugly.”

I clenched my fists, feeling the tension build as I imagined the fallout. “If Jimin hears it from anyone but us… it’ll destroy everything. It’ll be a civil war, and there’s no way the Park brothers could fight each other like that. It would all fall apart.”

Sam’s eyes softened, the sharpness fading as she looked at me, something real and unguarded in her expression. “Then we make sure he hears it from us,” she said firmly. “But we have to confront Hyun-Jin first. And we need to tread lightly. If he feels like we’re accusing him, he’ll just deny everything.”

“And if he does?” I muttered, running a hand through my hair, feeling the frustration build. “What if he thinks we’re just sticking our noses where they don’t belong?”

Sam’s gaze held steady, her determination like a solid wall. “Then we make him see this isn’t just about him. It’s about all of us—especially Jimin. If Hyun-Jin has any loyalty left, he’ll understand.”

I let Sam’s words sink in, and for the first time, the grip of doubt around my heart loosened, even if just a little. The uncertainty was still there, but her conviction—it was hard not to let it stick. “You really think he’ll listen?” I asked, almost talking to myself more than to her.

“Everyone’s got a weak spot, Yoongi,” she replied, her gaze steady. “We just need to find his. And from what I’ve seen, Callisto might be it. The heart of a wolf is always bound to his mate.”

Her words felt like the first hints of a plan, fragile but real. I could almost picture a way forward as we started walking along the riverbank, the twilight casting everything in shades of silver and deep blue. A quiet sense of purpose stirred inside me, growing stronger with each step beside Sam.

“And Jimin?” I asked, my voice tight. “If he finds out before we talk to Hyun-Jin…”

“We won’t let that happen,” she said quickly, her tone so steady it made me feel braver. “We’ll get to him as soon as we can and tell him the truth. He’ll trust us, Yoongi. He has to.”

“Yeah,” I replied, letting her confidence seep into me, feeling my doubts start to ease. “For once, maybe we’ll actually get ahead of it all instead of watching everything fall apart.”

The evening deepened, stars slowly coming into view, softening the world around us. The night felt quiet, like it was giving us this rare moment to just breathe. I glanced at Sam, the gratitude I felt for her presence warming me in a way I hadn’t expected.

“Thanks, Sam,” I murmured, my voice catching a little as I looked away. It didn’t feel like enough, but I meant it. “For sticking with me through all of this.”

She gave my hand a gentle squeeze, her touch warm and grounding. “No need to thank me, Yoongi,” she said, her voice as steady as ever. “We’re in this together. Besides,” she added, a little smile creeping into her tone, “you keep me grounded too. Honestly, I might’ve lost it ages ago without you around to keep me steady.”

A laugh escaped me, breaking through the quiet. “So we balance each other out, huh? Fire and ice?”

“Fire and ice,” she echoed, her eyes gleaming with that familiar spark of mischief that always seemed to make things feel lighter. “But I’m air, and you’re more like earth than anything else.”

We kept walking until the path ended, the night stretching out above us in a blanket of stars, their light soft and calm. For a brief moment, I felt a sense of peace settle over me, a quiet resolve wrapping around me like a shield against the cold.

Whatever happened with Hyun-Jin, whatever came next with Jimin, I knew we’d face it together. And somehow, in that moment, knowing that was enough. It felt fragile, like a flame flickering in the wind, but it was real. And that was all I needed.

I stared into my drink, watching the amber liquid swirl, blurring like everything else in my head. I didn’t want to think about why I was here or what I was doing, but somehow, even with all the whiskey in the world, my mind refused to let go. The tavern was its usual dim, loud self—a mix of voices, clinking glasses, and the smell of stale beer hanging in the air. None of it could drown out the emptiness that seemed to have carved a place inside me.

Then the door swung open, and a familiar laugh sliced through the noise, grating and sharp. I glanced up, the blurry form of Hyun-Jin stepping into the dim light, his mouth twisted in that smug, careless grin he always wore. He spotted me right away, and instead of looking the other way, like a decent person would, he headed straight toward me. I could already feel my chest tighten, my hand curling into a fist around my glass.

“Well, well, look who’s here,” he said, sliding into the stool beside me without an invitation. “Didn’t expect to find you out, Yoongi. Figured you’d be off somewhere crying about poor little Y/N.”

His words hit me like a slap, but I bit down the anger that flared up, keeping my eyes on my drink. “You don’t get to say her name,” I muttered, my voice low, hoping he’d take the hint and leave. But he just laughed.

“Oh, I don’t?” He leaned in closer, a sneer twisting his mouth. “Last time I checked, I was free to say whatever I wanted. She wasn’t exactly the saint you all like to pretend she was.”

That was it. I couldn’t keep it in anymore. I straightened, turning to face him, letting all the anger I’d been holding back finally show. “You’re one to talk about Bridd. This mess? You’re the reason it all went to hell in the first place.”

He rolled his eyes, leaning back, looking completely unfazed. “Oh please, don’t try to put that on me. What did I do, exactly?”

I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to stay calm. “You told Sol. You’re the one who told her Bridd left town. You basically handed her all the ammunition she needed to turn everything upside down. It's your fault the story was so twisted and convoluted. You manipulated a teenage girl to run and tell your brother a bunch of bullshit about his girlfriend, so you didn't have to get your hands dirty, you filthy mutt.”

Hyun-Jin snorted, a bitter laugh escaping him. “Oh, so now I’m responsible for her choices? Bridd wanted to play hero. She got what she deserved.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. The rage bubbled up, twisting my stomach, and before I knew it, I was out of my seat, my fists clenched tight. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. Bridd was trying to protect us, all of us. She had the guts to do something while you sat around running your mouth.”

His face twisted into something ugly, his eyes flashing. “Protect us? Please. Bridd was a selfish, arrogant mess, always acting like she was better than everyone. And you? Pathetic, moping around here, pretending like she cared about you.” His words turned venomous, each one a slap in the face. “She didn’t give a damn about anyone but herself. She's a murderer.”

That was it. Every bit of anger and grief I’d been trying to bury boiled over, and before I knew it, my fist connected with his jaw, the impact sending a shockwave up my arm. Hyun-Jin stumbled back, clutching his face, but he recovered fast, his face twisting with fury. He came at me, grabbing my collar, and his fist crashed into my cheek, hard enough to make my vision blur.

The tavern around us erupted in shouts, people scrambling out of the way, but I barely registered it. All I could focus on was Hyun-Jin’s smug, hateful face, and the satisfaction of finally, finally hitting him. I was ready to go at him again, but then someone yanked me back, a strong hand pulling me away from the fight. Dizzy and disoriented, I looked up to see Jimin, his face tight with anger.

“That’s enough,” Jimin said, his voice cold and hard, a tone I’d rarely heard from him. He was glaring at Hyun-Jin, and even through my own fury, I could see the barely contained rage simmering under his expression. “Get out, Hyun-Jin.”

Hyun-Jin wiped the blood from his lip, glaring back at me. “Maybe you should keep your little witch on a leash, then,” he spat, his voice dripping with venom. He threw one last look my way, filled with contempt, before storming off, muttering curses under his breath.

Jimin’s grip on my shoulder tightened as he steadied me, his gaze full of disappointment and frustration. “Sit down,” he muttered, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You’re going to regret this tomorrow if you keep going.”

I pulled away from him, stumbling back to my seat at the bar, feeling the sting in my cheek where Hyun-Jin had hit me. The pain throbbed, a dull ache that only added to the hollow feeling gnawing away at my insides. Jimin lingered a moment, watching me like he wanted to say something, but I couldn’t bring myself to meet his gaze. Eventually, he turned and walked off, leaving me alone in the swirl of whispers and judging stares.

The other patrons were all looking at me now, whispering, and I could feel their eyes on me, sharp and heavy. I tried to ignore them, tried to focus on the glass in front of me, the warmth of the whiskey as I took another sip. But the shame, the humiliation, settled over me like a weight I couldn’t shake.

Hyun-Jin’s words echoed in my head, twisting and cruel, sinking into the darkest parts of me. He’d said she didn’t care. He’d said I was pathetic for mourning her. And no matter how hard I tried to drown them out, his words stuck, settling in the back of my mind, dragging me down.

Bridd would hate seeing me like this, sinking into anger and self-pity, letting someone like Hyun-Jin get to me. She’d tell me to get it together, to focus on what mattered, to stop hiding behind the bottle. But even her memory wasn’t enough to pull me out tonight. I was tired. Too tired to pretend that I could just keep pushing forward. The weight of everything—her absence, the fallout of Hyun-Jin’s betrayal, the feeling that I was failing everyone—felt like too much.

I took another long drink, ignoring the whispers that had grown louder, filling the room like an invisible fog, thick and suffocating. I couldn’t shake the feeling that they were right. That maybe I was pathetic, maybe I was just another broken piece left in the wake of everything Bridd had tried to hold together. The thought settled like a stone in my chest, heavy and cold.

So I sat there, alone with my drink, letting the shadows press in closer. The world around me blurred, slipping further away as the familiar numbness took over. The ache in my chest, the bruising on my cheek, the weight of everyone’s stares—all of it faded into the background. All that was left was the silence, dark and all-consuming, wrapping around me like a blanket, pulling me under.

And for the first time, I didn’t try to fight it.

Taglist: @greezenini @adventures-in-bookland @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @zae007live @jimin-neverout @nikkiordonez12 @canarystwin @yamekomz @chimthicc @michiiedreamer @amorieus @mima795 @yunki-yunki-yunki

© chimcess, 2024. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[alkeneater]

E!2080 factbook (that's what i'll call it): brainwashing 😵

I wanna talk about brainwashing because it’s kinda important for my story and sometimes explains some clones’ behavior :) This topic deserves some attention :p 

In general, in my AU we have a cult atmosphere in the Shadow Tower, BUT it's not really a cult. The main goal of the Shadow Government is to grow clones into worthy leaders and soldiers, but at the same time loyal and stupid enough to make it easier to manipulate them. Various methods were used: working with corrupt psychologists, inciting hostility between clones, fake rumors, fake news on fake TV, fake books on the shelves next to the real ones, and of course the scare tactic.

Their favorite manipulation is obviously, “we're doing this for your own safety, the world outside is cruel,” and clones were sitting in the tower like princesses from fairy tales, yeah. You got me, right? Lots of manipulation. But despite the approximately equal attitude towards everyone, it still affected different clones in different ways. Perhaps some biological factors played a role, which I doubt, BUT Scudworth's influence on the clones also helped some to stay sane. I've said this a hundred times, but Scudworth LOVES his clones and he doesn't like the operation he was forced to participate in. Therefore, he did everything possible to prevent them from becoming puppets of the shadow government (he had his own methods, but I'm too lazy to describe them).

So, let's get to the point. I mentally divide all the clones into sane, deviant and ZOMBIES (or brainwashed). Sane people are those who have their own position, are less influenced by the Shadow Government, understand the danger of the situation and want to gain personal freedom. Zombies are people who are doomed to stay in the tower and be used by Shadow Figures for their personal purposes, because their perception of the world is completely turned inside out and will not be the same anymore. Between them, the deviant ones are usually clones who have some disorders due to trauma after living in the tower, but they are still aware of the whole situation and basically refuse to be someone's slaves. Now that we have a rough idea of the spectrum, I want to discuss with you which clone is where on this spectrum.

I was smart enough only to distribute the main characters (and a couple of secondary ones). Most of them are closer to sanity in the spectrum, but they tend to deviate due to psychological trauma, obviously. I want to mention Joan as an example, because although she is the “brains of the team”, she is prone to Stockholm syndrome and, as shown in the first part, sometimes remembers “home” and regrets what she did. That’s why she is not 100% sane.

But I definitely will have a team of complete zombies in the comic who will condemn the main characters for fighting, recruit other runaway clones and try to return them to the tower. Yes, there are clones who were initially against escape and were content to live in the tower, but now they survive on the streets and are extremely unhappy with the situation. But I don’t know who could it be.… But these are definitely clones from the extras, episodic or secondary! You can even suggest your own fan clones, just for fun! (Reminder: My AU is open to everyone and your fan clones can participate in the story, and they can be in any part of the spectrum!). 

That's it. I have nothing to add… ask me questions about my AU if you want, I’ll be very glad to answer! 

and read exclamation!2080 on globalcomix ofc!!! :p

[idkwhatthisisbutheresdcandstuff]

My fam as NATM charecters (in no specific order)

Reminder, I will go based off of PERSONALITIES ONLY, no ships will be involved in this

Me: Nicky (kin)

Mom: Larry (ik it's ironic but I had her take that quiz I made and she got Larry)

Dad: Lancelot (dad, I love you, I love you with all of my heart, but both you and Lancelot will ramble on about stuff even though no one asked and no one knows wtf you're talking about, i say this out of love <3)

Brother: Jedediah (if Jedediah was on the same spot on the autism spectrum and was nonverbal)

Friend who is like a sibling to me: Dr. Mcphee

Another friend who is like a sibling to me: Attila

Grandma (moms side): Teddy

Grandpa (moms side): Kahmunrah (bc fuck him)

Grandma (dads side): I would say Cecil bc she acts all nice but really isn't, except Cecil got a redemption arc so... nah

Neighbor who is more like a grandpa than my actual grandpa 💀: Ahkmenrah

Aunt: Dexter

Another Aunt: Sacagawea

Dog: Rexy

Grandmas (moms side) dog: the other dinosaur in NATM 3 I can't remember its name ;-;

Cat: the cat that Jed and Oct adopted in NATM 4

Unfortunately I cant think of anyone who reminds me of Octavious so... yeah

Again this has nothing to do with ships, all based off of personalities

[jessamine-rose]

*squeezes aine this time*

Read my Yandere! Dottore fics first (⁎⁍̴̆Ɛ⁍̴̆⁎)

Chemistry ๑ Magnum Opus

So @ainescribe decided to surprise me with more Darling fan art, this time of Dottore’s Assistant!! *sobs* I love it so much ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´ω`ﾟ)ﾟ｡

Once again, feedback will be in the tags. Thank you so much for enjoying my writing, Aine <3

[fefern]

✧˖° first dates with them. | lingyang, m!rover, jiyan headcanons.

⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ synopsis: going on a first date is always nerve wracking, yet can also be exciting! what's it like for these boys to take you out on your first date together?

⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ characters involved (separate): lingyang, male rover, jiyan, and a gender neutral reader.

⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ warnings: none!

⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ notes: hello! coming to you live with my first post for wuwa! just some cute little headcanons with the boys on first dates with you because i love planning dates out ;;!! requests are open if you want to talk or have me write something!! ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡)

Lingyang

Lingyang has never been more excited or nervous to hang out with someone, even more so since this was his first date with you. 

As someone who always seemed to fear being different from the humans around him, he felt extra self-conscious when he looked in the mirror and adjusted his outfit. Did he look alright? Were you going to enjoy this as much as he thought he would? Will everything go well? What if you decided you changed your mind and didn’t want to date someone of his species?

His first date gift for you would be a small lion plushie. Cute and fluffy with vibrant colors, he’d hold it out in front of him and shut his eyes tight, anxiety flowing through him. “These are for you! That way, when you miss me, you can hug this! If you want to, no pressure!” 

He’d be ecstatic when you took it into your hands and held it throughout your date together, happily looking between you and the plush and feeling his cheeks turn a rosy pink that you two were going out together. 

He’d probably take you to the best food spots all around Jinzhou, ranting about which dishes to try or who had his favorite foods. He’d want to get to know you more, curious and nervous as he’s asking you about your likes, dislikes, what your daily life is like in Jinzhou. Lingyang would walk and eat with you along the way, practically enamored by anything you did or said. 

His tail would swish fast back and forth whenever you were talking. Even if it’s something you found mundane, he couldn’t help but be happy just listening to you speak. His ears will also be very reactive around you, usually up but always reacting accordingly to whenever you’d tell a story or joke with him. 

He’ll let you pet him if you want to, he trusts you after all. His cheeks flush a soft pink and he lets out a small purr when you do so, finding himself growing a bit shyer at the sweet touch. He also feels a tad embarrassed by it, so you’ll have to pry his hands away as he childishly hides the way he’s turning red from you. 

He seems a little bit sad when you two do have to part, but when you ask him when the next one would be, a hopeful look emerges in his eyes as he begins to excitedly make plans to see you again and take you on another date. 

Other Points:  - Will jump in place when super excited to tell you something while on the date.  - Would point to some random cute things on your walk and go, “That reminds me of you!” - Happy to talk about lion dancing with you, and if you show more interest in it, he’ll offer to give you your own personal show one day!

Rover (Male)

Considering he is a person that just woke up in a strange world with no memories of his past or who he is, he is a bit lost on the idea of what to do during a date with you. Were there rules he had to follow? Did people in Jinzhou have certain taboos or ways that they executed dates?

He’d most likely ask all around the city in order to find out what to do or where to take you. He wanted to make sure the experience was good after all, not something that the both of you would dread. 

When he meets up with you, his hair is a bit more put together than usual and he stands up tall, giving you a small smile as he gently takes your arm and links it with his. 

“Take me around the city. Show me how you see the world through your eyes.”

His first date gift would be a small box of candy. I could definitely see Rover as being a person who likes small sweet treats as a guilty pleasure, and he’d want to share them with you as a way of connecting you with something that you love. 

He’s calm throughout most of your stroll, browsing through stores or looking around in quiet curiosity as you show him little nooks and crannies of the city. He enjoyed hearing how you would describe stores or fixate on different areas of the city that he hadn’t thought to really pay attention to before. 

He makes a mental note of the places that you like so that for your next date, you two could come back to them. Rover is already a few steps ahead in terms of thinking where he wants to go with you or what he wants to do. 

When you’re done showing him the city, he’ll give you a kind, endearing look and smile at you. He’ll take a moment to just admire you, shifting some of your hair out of your face and enjoy being in your presence before ultimately, it is time to part ways. He’ll wave you off, thanking you for everything and giving him a tour, before he smiles to himself like a fool and turns to head back to his quarters. 

Other Points: - Probably would be looking at you more than the city.  - Fast walker, so you’d have to keep up the pace. Apologies if he’s going too fast and happens to catch you struggling. - Will inquire about certain places just to listen to you talk. 

Jiyan

As the general of the Midnight Rangers that conducts himself in a poised, righteous manner, he’d be the most classy out of all the people to take you out on a date. 

Jiyan’s got a busy schedule as the head of such an important group in Jinzhou, but after bonding with you and asking you out he wanted to ensure that he carved out time in advance for just you and him to spend an afternoon together. 

He’d take you to a fancy restaurant in Jinzhou, the best money can buy. He’d be sure to pick you up from your place and walk with you to the restaurant. When you open the door, he’s standing in front of you with his hair slicked back and ponytail waving a bit in the wind, his clothes pristine and ironed out to look his absolute best in front of you. 

His present for you is a bouquet of flowers he made himself. He enlisted the help of his mom for this one, catching up with her about medical practices as he puts together the best pecok, irises, and poppies that he could find when he was out on his rounds into a pretty bouquet just for you. It’s wrapped up with brown paper and has a nice aqua bow on it, matching his hair.

When you get to the restaurant, he’ll look at the menu with you and ask you to order anything your heart desires. He already knows what he wants to eat, and will quietly look at you with a softened expression as you begin choosing what you want. He finds the way you handle yourself beautiful, even if it’s through simple things like ordering food. 

Jiyan will happily eat anything you don’t end up finishing. He doesn’t want to waste money, and he also cannot deny that the way you ask him to finish your plate was cute. He’ll work it off anyways with the amount of fighting and training he does, so he doesn’t mind. 

Will pay for the meal. No splitting or you paying, as much as you might plead and beg.

Will take you back to your place and entertain any questions you may have for him, whether it be about his past, missions he’s been on, or just about his duties as general of the Midnight Rangers. When he drops you off, he’d take the back of your hand and gently place a kiss on it before standing up straight and giving you a small smile, wishing you a goodnight. 

Other Points: - Will hold all your belongings so your hands are free and light. Does not matter how heavy or how much you have, he will refuse to let you “labor” like that, as he puts it.  - Admires your personality and the way you hold yourself when you speak. - Has a strong desire to protect you; always subconsciously keeping an eye out for any danger even though it’s daylight out.

[salfishermustdie]

sal fisher headcanons

i've literally never been so horrendously down bad for a character before.. so i HAD to share my head canons for sal :3

CW: NSFW AHEAD!!

fluff <3

♡ he would try to teach you guitar, even if you arent very good at it...

♡ if you have sh scars, he'd kiss them over and over and over again, no matter where they are

♡ blushes over everything you do, any little touch you give him, he gets flustered over

♡ "ummmmm... uhh- i- well.. umm"

♡ he loves giving you things. for whatever reason, he's always gifting you small trinkets to show his love for you. his favorite excuse for buying you something is "it reminded me of you!"

♡ not the kinda guy who goes for looks. no matter how 'ugly' you think you are, he'll wholeheartedly see you as the most beautiful person in the world.

♡ with that being said.. he'd definitely stop in his tracks if he saw a cutie :3

♡ (IT'S YOU, YOU'RE THE CUTIE. EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU IS HIS TYPE. GOD, HOW ARE YOU SO PERFECT FOR HIM??)

♡ if you ever mention something in a conversation (a band you like, a cool movie you just watched or a book you read, etc.) he's definitely going home and learning all he can about it.

♡ wholesome romance like those in the romcom movies

♡ "i love everybody because i love you" /ref /ly

♡ would totally let you paint his nails, do his hair, anything like that. he loves when you make him feel pretty <3

♡ doesn't want anyone to know this, but he loves wearing your clothes. like, you know the whole "wearing you bf's jacket/hoodie" thing? that's what he wants, but with your clothes.

♡ obviously he won't deny you his hoodie, but deep down he's waiting for you to give him yours

♡ LOVES giving long, deep, passionate hugs. hugs and cuddle sessions that can go on for an hour. he loves squeezing you against him, it makes him feel warm and fuzzy inside; being so close to someone he loves so much

♡ he WILL sniff you. he can't get enough of your scent. at first he was scared you would think it was weird, but now he does it freely. he's a very sensual person, and because of his disability (possibly impaired sight?), he often relies on his other senses to soak up every little piece of you.

♡ he loves wrapping you in his arms, cradling and comforting you if he knows you need it.

♡ he's excellent at reading you. he feels like he knows you best. despite being someone who can't really show his emotions through his expressions, he's amazing at reading yours.

♡ you don't even have to tell him anythings wrong. he knows when you need a hug.

nsfw :3

♡ definitely has a mommy kink. argue with the wall.

♡ it just slipped out one day.. you were riding him, making him feel good and warm, and all of a sudden he let out a small "m-mommy..!"

♡ that being said, he LOVES having you on top of him

♡ while you're straddling him, he grabs you by your hips to make sure you're not going anywhere

♡ very shy + whimpering mess

♡ the kind to not know where to put his hands

♡ that doesn't mean he sometimes doesn't have a dom side to him...

♡ he's definitely a giver. he prioritizes your pleasure before his own

♡ he's insecure about his ability to turn you on, make you cum, etc. he always tries his hardest to make you feel good, and lets just say it always works :3

♡ jerks off to the thought of you more than he would like to admit

♡ has a VERY vivid imagination.

♡ oh god the things he thinks about doing to you are almost to embarrassing for him to admit

♡ very sweet and loving the whole time. he's huge on praise, and would rather die than ever make you uncomfortable. your sessions are filled with millions of

"are you liking that?" "you're doing so good for me." "are you okay with this?" "you feel amazing (y/n)"

♡ he needs 100% confirmation on your dirty suggestions. you could make a hint, but won't act on it until he's absolutely sure you mean it (obviously you always do, but god is this boy insecure.)

♡ doesn't seem like it, but will fuck you like a rabbit. it's always the quiet, sweet boys who are the dirtiest behind closed doors :3

♡ likes being bitten. idk. idc. IDGAF.

[mouwrites]

Thinking thoughts about these guys again

Creepypasta/MH - Things That Make Them Think of You

Characters: Jeff the Killer, Jane the Killer, Clockwork, Nina the Killer, Tim/Masky, "Ticci" Toby

Jeff the Killer

Violence. Specifically, committing it

I know that sounds bad, but he gets so high off of that stuff

The adrenaline rushing through his veins, the wild smile that comes to his face, the noise, the sights... it's euphoria for him

And when he reaches his peak, endorphins at maximum saturation, that's when he thinks of you

It's almost like he subconsciously asks himself if there's anything in the world that could make him happy like this, and his subconscious responds by conjuring an image of you

As if he couldn't get any happier, thinking of you just pushes him higher

This happens a lot...

He'll be killing someone, already over the moon, then he'll blast to Mars when he thinks of you

And he starts associating you with violence; even if you're the gentlest person in the world

It's the happiness it brings him that links it to you

Though if you're a psycho (affectionate) like him, there might be another reason he associates it with you lol

It just gets worse over time; eventually he can't even see other people committing violent acts without thinking of you

He'll be watching a horror movie, and blood will splatter the screen and he'll be like: Nice. Y/n's nice too. Y/n... <3

Jane the Killer

Quite the opposite of Jeff; it's the quiet moments that get her thinking of you

(my reasoning is confusing but I'll try my best to explain T-T)

And there are two reasons for this

One, because whenever she gets a moment to think to herself, her brain always wants to think of you first

Maybe it's just hunting that hit of dopamine it gets when she imagines your smile, or the way your hands feel in hers...

Or maybe it's just that it's become a habit for her to think of you so often, so it's second-nature that she does so when she gets the chance

But the second reason is that she loves peace, and you are her peace :)

She's a vengeful person with a lot of turmoil inside, so when her environment is peaceful, she tries to follow suit

She's just taking what she can get before she has to go back to hate and obsession

So she imagines the peaceful things in her life

Namely, you

Even if you're not a very peaceful person, she feels at ease when she's with you

So, when it's quiet, she thinks of you to quiet herself

Memories of forehead touches and holding hands are more than enough to fill the silence :)

Clockwork

Literally everything.

I’ve mentioned this in a previous post, but Clockwork will find the most random things that remind her of you

She’s got a very creative mind; she can find the subtlest of things that make her think of you

Oftentimes they’ll be disturbing things…. Like a dead animal or smth

But she gets a little smile when she thinks of you anyway :)

She’ll probably send you a picture of whatever it was that reminded her of you

So you’ll just get a text out of nowhere like:

[picture of a dead wasp] “thought of you <3”

After a while you’ll learn to just not ask

Because you’ll definitely get one of these texts AT LEAST every other day, if not every day

Sometimes they’re actually nice things though! Like a song or a pretty sunset :)

Or something she saw while shopping that made her think of you; she always makes sure to steal …obtain those things

And ofc she gifts them to you 😌

Nina the Killer

I think it depends on your aesthetic

To me, Nina is someone who’s very in tune with aesthetics

Even if yours is super niche, or it doesn’t fit under a specific category like “emo” or “butch” or even “clowncore,” she’s got it DOWN

And so it’s always things that fit your aesthetic that make her think of you

Maybe it’s a view: a dark forest, a bright sunset in your favorite color, a sunny park, an eerily empty sidewalk…

Maybe it’s clothing: pants, shirts, dresses, jackets… always the exact kind of thing you’d wear :)

Maybe it’s music: she listens to music like. All the time. So she’s definitely at least dipped her toes into a genre that’s so totally you

Or maybe it’s something miscellaneous: a pop tart flavor, a blanket, a picture, the color on a soda dispenser…

No matter what it is, you’re guaranteed to love it

She always manages to surprise you with yet another random thing perfectly suited to your aesthetic

And she’s always on the hunt for more >;)

If it’s something she can physically bring to you, you best believe she will though

And if you decide you hate it (you won’t, but maybe later when your aesthetic changes), you guys light a bonfire and burn it together :)

Tim/Masky

It’s a Polaroid picture of you

He’s not in the picture; it’s just you

The flash is on, illuminating you and leaving the background in dark obscurity

He took it himself one night when he was just enamored with the way you looked

He did it casually, just telling you to look at the camera

The rest was all you; maybe you smiled, maybe you threw up a peace sign…

Whatever you did, he felt it captured your essence perfectly

He stared at the photo for a long time after it came out, and he still stares at it frequently

He carries it deep in his wallet where no one can find it

He’ll pull it out when he needs to think of you, usually when he’s especially down

Which is pretty often, my boy is troubled :(

He’ll trace his fingers around the edges, remembering that night

Your voice fills his ears, your scent fills his nose, and suddenly he’s aching to see you in person again

And he will; he’ll probably call or text you soon :)

“Ticci” Toby

Honestly? Probably something super obscure related to some kind of inside joke between you two

I’ll paint an example

Maybe you two were in the kitchen together, and you wanted him to get out the milk for you

But you ended up calling it a “mug of jilk” instead of a “jug of milk”

Toby, of course, bursts into laughter

He teases you for ages afterwards, calling milk “jilk” and always pointing out jugs of milk with a knowing grin

You’re in on it too though

You always snicker whenever he does those things

Maybe that’s why it becomes so special to him; it amuses the both of you

He gets to laugh and hear you laugh :D

So (in this case) he’ll think of you whenever he sees a mug of j (oh gosh oh no you guys got me too) jug of milk

And he probably takes pictures to send you too

You’ll just get a text that says “jilk mugs spotted ‼️” and a picture of the milk aisle at the grocery store

He likes to imagine your laugh when he sends texts like those :)

Thank you so much for reading!! Take care my lovey doves <33

(divider by saradika)

[d-targaryenshoe]

Reflected Love - Benedict Bridgerton

Word Count: 1761

Summary: When one does not see the beauty of themselves, maybe the person that loves them the most can show them, can they not?

You sat in the corner of the room, your gaze fixed upon your husband as he carefully mixed the paints on his palette.

His concentration was absolute, his movements precise and deliberate. You couldn't help but marvel at the way he could lose himself in his work, becoming utterly absorbed by the process of creation.

It was as if he were a different person when he was painting.

You recalled the first time you had seen him in this form when you were still courting.

He had been painting a portrait of you, and you had felt a strange mix of awe and vulnerability as you had watched him capture your likeness on canvas.

It was as if he had been able to see straight into your soul, revealing a depth of understanding that you hadn't known was there.

The canvas he was working on now was a landscape, a serene meadow with a winding stream and a stand of trees in the distance.

The sunlight danced across the scene, casting dappled shadows that you could almost feel on your skin.

It was a peaceful image, a study in tranquility, and you wondered if it was meant to represent something particular in his mind.

You were about to ask him when he paused, his brush hovering above the canvas. "What do you think, dearest?" His voice was soft, almost tentative.

You considered the question for a moment. The light was beginning to fade, and the room was growing dim.

You moved closer to the painting, your eyes taking in the details that you hadn't noticed from afar.

"It's beautiful, Ben," you said truthfully. "It reminds me of the day we picnicked at the lake, just outside of town."

He looked up at you, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "You remember that?"

You nodded, your heart swelling at the memory. "Of course, It was one of my favorite days with you."

He smiled, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he returned to his painting. "I'm glad you think so. I've been trying to capture that feeling of serenity and peace in this landscape. Do you think I've succeeded?"

You studied the painting once more, taking in the way the colors danced across the canvas, the gentle brushstrokes that created the impression of a soft breeze rippling through the grass and the leaves of the trees.

"Yes, I believe you have, love. It's beautiful." you paused, your eyes meeting his once more. "But there's something else I've been wanting to speak to you about."

Your husband's brush hovered over the canvas, waiting for you to continue. He had always been attentive to you, and quick to offer support and understanding.

You took a deep breath, gathering your courage. "It's about myself," you said softly. "Lately, I've been feeling rather self-conscious. I've been wondering if I look...different to you."

Benedict's brow furrowed in confusion. "Different? Of course not, my love. You're the most beautiful woman in the world to me." He set his brush down on the palette and turned to face you. "Why do you ask?"

"Just rather curious, yet you're my husband, I felt like I wanted to know."

Your words hung in the air between you, and Benedict took a moment to consider his response. He knew that you were likely referring to the change in your relationship since courting became a marriage.

"I do see you differently now, my love," he said gently. "But not in a way that makes you any less gorgeous or desirable to me. I see the depth of your soul, the strength of your character, the love that you bring into my life."

He moved closer to you, taking your hands in his. "You are my wife, y/n, and nothing will ever change that."

You smiled at his words, feeling the warmth of his touch. "I know that. It's just...I want to make sure you're happy. I want to be the woman you need me to be."

Benedict held out his hand towards you. "May I?"

You nodded, your heart swelling with emotion. As he took your hand in his, you felt a sense of peace and reassurance wash over you. "What are you going to do?"

"Trust me," Benedict answered, leading you over to the long mirror that was placed in the corner of the room, standing behind you.

He started to undo the ties of your dress, making the fabric fall down to the ground.

"I want you to close your eyes," he whispered, his voice low and gentle. "And just feel."

You hesitated for a moment, then obeyed. You felt the cool air caress your skin as he moved your hair aside, exposing your neck.

His touch was so light, so gentle, that it sent shivers down your spine. You breathed in deeply, letting the sensations wash over you.

You felt his fingers trace circles on your back, and you arched your spine instinctively, wanting more.

It was a strange, intoxicating feeling, being so vulnerable and yet so desired. You could hear the soft rustle of his clothes as he moved closer, and the warmth of his body against yours made your heart race.

With a soft moan, you let your head fall back against his shoulder, allowing him to guide your movements.

His touch was confident and sure, and you felt utterly safe in his embrace. He placed a tender kiss at the base of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Look at yourself," he whispered, his voice thick with desire. "Look at how captivating you are."

You obeyed, opening your eyes and gazing into the mirror.

The reflection showed you how Benedict had his strong arms wrapped tightly around you.

She could see the intensity in his eyes as he looked down at you, his expression one of pure adoration.

As he continued to hold you close, you could feel the hardness of his body against yours, and you longed for him.

His touch was so gentle and tender, yet so possessive and demanding. He lowered his head and kissed you deeply, his tongue dancing with yours.

You moaned into his mouth, arching your back as he took control, your bodies moving in perfect sync.

He guided your hands to his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips.

You ran your nails lightly across his skin, teasing him, and he growled with pleasure.

Benedict pulled away from the kiss, gazing down at you with fierce adoration. "I need you," he breathed, his voice thick with desire.

You arched your back, offering yourself to him. "Have me," you whispered, feeling a delicious ache spread through your body.

He moved with a grace that belied his strength, guiding your hips to meet his rhythm.

Your bodies moved together in perfect harmony, each stroke deeper and more urgent than the last.

Your nails dug into his shoulders, leaving tiny half-moons in his skin as he drove into you, claiming you as his own.

You gasped his name, your breath coming in ragged gasps as your bodies moved together in a dance of desire.

He kissed you roughly, his tongue tangling with yours, his teeth grazing your bottom lip.

You arched your back, feeling the familiar tension building deep within you.

You could feel the pull between you both, the connection that went beyond physical desire.

It was as if you were two halves of a whole, perfectly fitted together. He thrust into you harder, faster, his eyes locked on your reflection in the mirror.

"You're so beautiful," he growled, his voice rough with desire.

You moaned in reply, arching your back to meet his thrusts. "I want you," you breathed, feeling the familiar tension building deep within you. "I need you."

Benedict growled, his movements becoming more urgent as he drove deeper inside you.

He leaned in, capturing your lips in a fierce kiss, his tongue dancing with yours.

You could feel his strength, his power, as he held you close, his hands running down your back, cupping your bottom, lifting you higher against him.

"Oh God," you moaned, your voice breaking as you moved with him, your bodies in perfect sync.

You could feel the mirror under your hands, and the contrast between the hard surface and the softness of his skin only served to heighten your senses.

Benedict's movements grew more urgent, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he looked into your eyes.

"That was..."

Your words trailed off as you clung to Benedict, your bodies still entwined. The intensity of your lovemaking had left you both breathless, your hearts racing.

You could feel the warmth of his skin against yours, the steady rhythm of his breath in your ear.

He had been so rough with you, driving into you with such urgency, but it hadn't been overwhelming. It had been exactly what you needed.

You felt a shiver run down your spine as you remembered the look in his eyes, the way he had looked at you as if you were the only person in the world.

You knew that you had given yourself to him completely, and in that moment, you couldn't imagine ever wanting anyone else.

As your breathing began to steady, you could feel the weight of his body pressing against yours, the warmth of his skin.

You could still feel the mark of his hands on your hips, the impression of his fingers against your skin.

It was as if he had left a part of himself there, branding you as his own.

"Not that, but you, you are, the center of everything I do," Benedict said.

You ran your fingers through his hair, feeling the softness of it against your fingertips. "So are you," you replied, looking deeply into his eyes.

"But if I'm right, we're still very naked in this room where every moment one of your siblings can walk in."

Benedict chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Oh, they won't bother us," he assured you. "They know I adore the art of nude portraits." His words sent a shiver down your spine.

"I love you."

You whispered the words as you gazed up into his eyes, your heart racing. You felt so exposed and vulnerable in this moment, but at the same time, so free.

He had always made you feel this way as if you were the most important person in the world.

As if there was nothing you couldn't do or be with him by your side.

[seoulmatez]

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ 𝒮𝐸𝒳𝐼𝒩𝒢 𝒮𝐸𝒯𝒯𝐸𝑅𝒮 — the setters and their top kinks

info ⭑ includes: miya atsumu, oikawa toru, akaashi keiji, sugawara koushi, semi eita ﾉ f!reader, nsfw (minors do not interact) ﾉ degradation ﾉ impact play ﾉ daddy kink ﾉ dumbification ﾉ edging ﾉ body worship ﾉ praise kink ﾉ dacryphilia ﾉ virgin kink ﾉ corruption kink ﾉ all characters written 18+.  

₊˚ପ⊹ ATSUMU + DEGRADATION & IMPACT PLAY

he’d never call you such lewd, dirty names outside the bedroom, but he can’t ignore how each one goes straight to your pussy. his personal favorites are “whore” and “toy”. he never thought he’d find so much pleasure in bullying, humiliating, you. and he’ll never get over the way you tighten and flutter around his cock when his hand makes contact with your clit or ass. your surprised squeals are like music to his ears and the marks he leaves behind are always a pretty reminder of the night’s activities the next day.

“listen to you, whimpering like a whore when i slap your ass. i’m starting to think you like getting spanked. mm, maybe i should give you another one.”

₊˚ପ⊹ OIKAWA + DADDY KINK & DUMBIFICATION

he gets some sort of rush from hearing you call him daddy. maybe it’s the way you peer up at him through your lashes as you do so. or maybe it’s the blatant embarrassment that you try and fail to hide by biting your lip. can you blame him for wanting to see you completely fucked out? you’re just so pretty when your eyes are staring off at nothing, tongue lolling from between those soft lips. he can’t help the sense of pride that swells in his chest when you’re reduced to such a mess, and all because of him.

“you stopped talking, princess. did daddy really fuck you that hard? can’t even think straight while you’re taking this cock, huh?”

₊˚ପ⊹ AKAASHI + EDGING & BODY WORSHIP

his hands wander about your figure as his mouth travels down every inch of your skin, only ever stopping to tell you how gorgeous you are. you deserve the world and he’s set on giving it to you, even if his method seems slightly cruel. by now, he’s an expert at continuously getting you nearly to your climax and pulling you back just before you can reach it. he’s a patient man and is more than willing to spend all night in the bedroom if that means giving you the most earth shattering orgasm you could imagine.

“god, you look so beautiful like this. you want to come? don’t worry, you only have to wait a little longer, angel. i promise it’ll feel good.”

₊˚ପ⊹ SUGAWARA + PRAISE & DACRYPHILIA

you’re such a sweet thing for suga, always doing what you’re told and making the prettiest noises for him. why shouldn’t he let you know how much he adores you—how proud he is of you? the smile that graces your face and the sparkles in your irises at his approval are really all he could ask for. but a little part of him can’t help but get excited whenever he sees tears of pleasure pooling in your eyes, threatening to spill over your lash line. maybe he’s greedy; or maybe he just wants a reward of his own.

“you did so well for me, my good girl. and you look so pretty with tears streaming down your cheeks. should i clean them up for you?”

₊˚ପ⊹ SEMI + VIRGIN KINK & CORRUPTION

he has this unexplainable desire to take you—someone that was once pure and untouched—and make you his own, to ruin you as he pleases. of course, he’d never tell you so; where’s the fun in that? he’s fixed on watching the authentic experience of your first time. he wants to see how your face scrunches up in pain before it turns to pleasure. he wants to hear your breath catch in your throat before you’re moaning in ecstasy as your orgasm hits. he needs to be the one who gives you a taste of what you’ve been missing out on.

“is it everything you thought it would be? yeah? i never pegged you as the type who liked being used. guess i got lucky with you.”

hihi~ manz here :3 ! thank you for giving this a read! if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging and/or leaving a comment! much love from me to you ❤︎

[amethystarachnid]

Can you write for me Amnesia trope from Marvel Bingo with Tony/Fem reader? Tony is a little injured after a mission and he loses his memory, when reader is going to see him (wife or girlfriend) he won't recognize her but he'll immediately fall for her all over again 🥺 she thinks it's absolutely cute that he didn't recognize her but soon he'll recover his memory and blush so hard when reader shows him his videos of him all smitten by her hahahaha ❤️ and Tony saying he'll alwyas fall for her 🥺 (some spicy kisse maybe?)

ALWAYS

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL bingo

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 5.4k

ᯓ★ Summary: Because of an injury Tony temporarily loses his memories of you, his wife, and you're determined to make him gain them back. Do you really need to do so when he has already fallen back in love with you?

ᯓ★ TW(s): memory loss and clingy Tony

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The beeping. It’s the first thing you notice when you step into the hospital room—the insistent, steady beep of the heart monitor that Tony’s hooked up to. It’s steady, strong, and for that, you exhale a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. The smell of antiseptic stings your nose, reminding you that, despite Tony's resilience, he's as vulnerable as any of them in situations like these.

The mission had gone wrong in ways you didn’t see coming. Stark Industries had developed tech that a rival group decided they wanted to “borrow”—forcefully. What was supposed to be a simple extraction turned into a messy firefight. But, like always, Tony had pushed you to evacuate, promising he’d be right behind you. Instead, an explosion threw him from his suit, leaving him vulnerable to the final assault. He had barely gotten out before going down hard.

Now, you’re here, nerves raw and trembling as you hover by the doorway, watching him.

Tony is sitting up, but he seems…distant. Disoriented, maybe. His eyes are half-lidded, his lips pressed into a thin line as if he’s trying to make sense of something in the middle distance. It’s unnerving because you’re used to a Tony whose attention burns, even when he’s exhausted, half-buried in his lab, or just waking up. He sees everything.

But not this time. And for some reason, he doesn’t see you.

“Mrs. Stark?”

You turn as the doctor enters, offering you a sympathetic look. It’s a look that’s meant to ease you into news you know you don’t want to hear.

“Is he…awake?”

The doctor nods, gesturing you toward the chair by Tony’s bed. “He’s stable. His vitals are strong. The issue, Mrs. Stark, is that there appears to be some level of memory loss.”

The words clang in your ears, foreign and cold, completely out of place in the world you’ve built with Tony. “What do you mean by ‘memory loss’?”

She sighs, glancing at Tony before she speaks. “Memory loss is complicated. From what I’ve gathered, Mr. Stark has retained his long-term memories and most of his professional knowledge. But, due to the trauma and subsequent disorientation, there’s a block on more recent events…particularly in his personal life.”

Your stomach drops, and you take a deep breath, fighting to keep your voice steady. “He doesn’t remember me, does he?”

“I’m afraid not,” she says softly. “In many cases, memories return with time and familiar cues. Given Mr. Stark’s particular cognitive resilience, I have high hopes for recovery. But until then, he may…struggle with recognition and personal connections.”

You nod slowly, trying to take it all in. In all the battles, the missions, the threats, this is somehow scarier. Because it’s not just his body that’s wounded; it’s your life together that’s fractured.

When the doctor leaves, you take a step forward, but your feet feel leaden, hesitant. And for once, you don’t know what to say. This isn’t just Tony after a rough mission. This is your husband, and he doesn’t know you.

Finally, you muster the courage and approach the bed, offering him a soft, tentative smile. “Hey there, stranger.”

He looks up, his gaze sharp but confused, and something in his eyes flickers with a shade of recognition—a spark that leaves you hoping. But then he blinks, and it’s gone.

“Do I, uh, know you?” His tone is polite, curious, but there’s a guardedness to it, as if he’s unsure if he’s supposed to recognize you. You don’t miss the way his eyes dart over you, taking you in, and a pang of sadness tugs at your heart as you realize he’s assessing you the way he might a stranger.

You laugh softly, forcing down the lump in your throat. “You could say that. I’m…” You hesitate, wondering if it’s too much to say it outright, but the words slip out before you can stop them. “I’m your wife.”

His eyebrows shoot up, and he stares at you, stunned. “My wife?”

“Yes.” You smile, more gently this time, as though that will ease him into the idea. “For almost three years now.”

Tony blinks, and you can see his mind racing, struggling to process this unexpected piece of information. He gives a weak chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “Damn. I…you’re telling me I’m married to you?”

His shock is genuine, and for a moment, a bubble of laughter escapes you. It’s that classic Tony Stark reaction—equal parts disbelief and awe, as if he can’t quite believe his good luck.

“Yes,” you say again, and this time, there’s a hint of amusement in your voice. “You managed to convince me somehow.”

He raises an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a lopsided grin that’s both endearing and achingly familiar. “Wow. I must be one hell of a salesman.”

“Oh, you are.” The laughter fades from your voice as you take a step closer, unable to resist the need to be nearer to him, even if he doesn’t remember you right now. “You’re the best.”

For a moment, he studies you, his gaze flickering with something like curiosity, maybe even admiration. It’s a glimmer of the old Tony, the man who made you feel like the only person in the room, no matter the crowd or chaos. But here, with him looking at you as a stranger might, there’s something raw and beautiful about it, too. He’s falling in love with you all over again, right in front of your eyes.

“Well, I guess I should feel lucky,” he murmurs, a faint smile playing on his lips. “If you’re half as amazing as you look, then…yeah. Lucky guy.”

The words make your heart flutter, and despite everything, you feel a warmth spread through you, easing the tightness in your chest. He’s still Tony, even if he doesn’t know it yet.

“Want to know a little about us?” you ask, hoping that maybe, somehow, it will trigger something—some hidden memory or spark of recognition.

He nods, settling back against the pillow. “Please. Enlighten me. I’m curious how a guy like me managed to marry someone like you.”

“Well,” you start, a smile tugging at your lips as you pull up a chair beside him. “For starters, we didn’t exactly get along at first.”

“Oh?” He raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Did I say something to offend you?”

“You…may have.” You grin, remembering the banter, the stubborn disagreements, the sparks that seemed to ignite every time you were in a room together. “You were cocky, stubborn, a little arrogant.”

He chuckles. “That sounds about right.”

“But somehow,” you continue, your voice softening, “you managed to break down all my walls. You made me feel like I was the only person who mattered, even if you acted like you were just being yourself.”

His gaze lingers on you, and there’s a warmth there, something cautious but undeniably present. “I’m sorry I don’t remember that.”

“Don’t be.” You place a gentle hand over his, feeling the faint warmth of his skin against yours. It’s a familiar gesture, one you’ve done a thousand times before, but this time, it feels different—new, almost shy. “You’ll remember. And until you do, we’ll make new memories. Starting right now.”

He looks down at your hand on his, and you can see the faintest flush of color in his cheeks. For a man who’s usually so sure of himself, so confident in every move he makes, it’s endearing to see him look almost…nervous.

“So, tell me more about this…our life,” he says, his voice soft, like he’s trying to hold onto the pieces he has left.

“Well,” you say, smiling as you think of the little things that make up your life together. “We spend a lot of time in the lab together, actually. Even if you’re always tinkering, working on some new project, you always have time for me.”

“Do I? Sounds like a good husband.” There’s a touch of pride in his voice, and it makes your heart ache a little—because he doesn’t even know the half of it yet.

“A very good husband,” you murmur, meeting his gaze with all the love you feel for him. “The best.”

And there it is—that flicker in his eyes, like he’s starting to see it, to feel it. It’s as if, for just a moment, he knows you, feels that connection.

“Thank you,” he says quietly, his voice rough. “For being here. For…all of this.”

You squeeze his hand gently, fighting back the tears that threaten to spill over. “You’re my husband, Tony. I’d do anything for you.”

And as you sit there, hands entwined, you realize that even if he has to fall in love with you all over again, you’ll be right here, waiting.

The drive back from the hospital is quiet, but not uncomfortably so. Tony stares out the window, taking in the blur of city lights as you weave through the streets toward your shared home. Occasionally, you catch him glancing at you, his expression somewhere between awe and disbelief, as if he’s still wrapping his head around the idea that you’re his wife, that he’s returning to a life he doesn’t remember but that he somehow…wants.

When you finally pull into the long driveway leading up to your home, his eyebrows shoot up. Stark Tower looms ahead, its sleek, modern design stark against the night sky. The iconic "STARK" sign gleams with familiar grandeur. He lets out a low whistle, clearly impressed, but there’s a flicker of something else in his eyes, too—something like pride.

“So, this is…our place?” he asks, a note of disbelief in his voice.

You can’t help but laugh. “Yeah. Well, your place, technically. But I’ve definitely made it my own.”

Tony chuckles, the sound low and warm, and you’re reminded of all the times he’s teased you about “taking over” his tower with touches of your personality: the cozy reading nook in his office, the garden on the roof you insisted on installing, even the art pieces scattered throughout the building. And despite his teasing, he’d always seemed proud of how much of yourself you’d poured into his space.

“Well,” he says, stepping out of the car, “if you’re half as great at interior design as you are at, uh, marrying billionaires, I think I’ll be pleasantly surprised.”

“Oh, just you wait,” you say with a playful smirk as you lead him inside.

The entryway is a testament to the sleek, modern style Tony’s known for—polished floors, clean lines, an air of sophistication mixed with warmth. But there are little touches here and there that mark it as your home too: framed photos from the missions you’ve tackled together, a throw blanket draped over the couch, even a small shelf of books beside the entrance to the main living area.

Tony follows you, his gaze flitting over each detail with that trademark Stark intensity, taking it all in as if he’s studying a new project. When his eyes land on a photo of the two of you at a beach, he pauses. You remember that day so vividly: you were laughing, caught in a candid moment as he held you close, your hair whipped by the wind.

“Is that…us?” he asks, a softness in his voice that tugs at your heart.

“Yeah,” you say, stepping closer to him. “A couple of years ago. We were on a vacation you forced me to take.”

“I forced you?” he repeats, quirking an eyebrow. “Was I…was I that difficult?”

“Only a little,” you tease, nudging him gently. “You hated the idea of not working for a few days. But we made the best of it.”

His lips curve into a small smile as he stares at the photo a moment longer before turning his gaze back to you. “I look…happy. Really happy.”

“You were,” you say softly. “We both were.”

He swallows, his gaze lingering on you, and for a moment, you can almost feel the weight of all the memories he’s lost. But there’s a warmth in his eyes, a flicker of something that feels like a connection—even if it’s new to him.

You clear your throat and gesture toward the hallway. “Come on. I’ll show you the rest.”

You lead him down the hall, pointing out the various rooms, each one filled with a mix of his tech and your touches: the library with shelves overflowing with both your favorite books, the small lounge you use for watching movies together, and finally, your bedroom.

When you open the door, he stands in the doorway, taking it in. The room is a blend of Tony’s sophisticated taste and your own comfortable style, the soft lighting casting a warm glow over the neatly made bed, the nightstand stacked with a few of Tony’s reading materials, and the little tray of lotions and skincare items you keep on your side.

“This…feels nice,” he murmurs, his gaze sweeping over the room. He takes a step inside, running a hand over the bedspread, almost as if testing its texture. “I don’t know why, but I feel…calm here.”

You smile, moving to stand beside him. “It’s our space. Your favorite spot after a long day, whether you’d admit it or not. You always said it’s the one place that lets you truly relax.”

He chuckles, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. “Yeah, well, if you say so. I…believe you.”

For a moment, there’s silence, and you can feel the weight of the day settling over both of you. He’s exhausted, and so are you.

“Do you…want to rest?” you ask, realizing he might be overwhelmed with all of this new information.

“Actually, I think I’d like to keep looking around,” he says, a little sheepishly. “I just…don’t want to miss anything. It feels like I’ve lost a huge chunk of my life, and I want to piece it together, however I can.”

You nod, understanding. You feel a pang of sadness but try to hide it. “Well, I’ll be here. We can take it slow. One room at a time.”

Together, you move back down the hallway, stopping in the kitchen next. Tony’s gaze catches on the coffee maker, and he raises his eyebrows with a look of genuine excitement. “Please tell me I still drink coffee.”

You laugh, crossing your arms with a smirk. “Oh, you drink enough coffee to fuel a small army. In fact…” You open a cabinet, revealing an impressive array of coffee beans, grounds, and Tony’s prized espresso machine. “You’re particular about it. You like to experiment.”

He nods, visibly impressed. “I see I have good taste. I’d like to think I’m a genius when it comes to coffee.”

“Among other things,” you reply, grinning as you start to brew a fresh pot, the familiar hum of the machine filling the room.

As the coffee brews, Tony leans against the counter, watching you with that spark of interest you remember so well. But now, it feels new, raw, as if he’s falling for you all over again and doesn’t quite know what to do with himself.

“So,” he says, a playful glint in his eyes, “you said we didn’t get along at first. How did I change your mind?”

You chuckle, handing him a mug and savoring the warmth as you lean back against the counter beside him. “It wasn’t any one thing. You…surprised me. I kept expecting you to be this arrogant genius with no time for anyone, but then you started showing up at my door with random inventions, making coffee runs at three a.m. with me, and bringing me little gifts from your travels.” You smile, remembering each moment as if it’s engraved in your memory. “You just…wore me down, I guess.”

He takes a sip of his coffee, mulling over your words, and you see the warmth in his expression, a flicker of understanding, even if it’s only a shadow of his former self.

“Well, then,” he says, his tone soft, “I’m glad I wore you down.”

His words hang in the air between you, and for a moment, the kitchen feels smaller, more intimate, filled with a sense of closeness that’s been there since the moment you met but now feels refreshingly new.

Tony shifts his weight, looking suddenly unsure. “So…do I get to sleep in our bed tonight?”

You raise an eyebrow, smiling a little as you nod. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

As you walk back to the bedroom together, side by side, you feel a quiet sense of peace settle over you. Tony might not remember you—at least not yet—but he’s here, and he’s yours, and somehow, you’ll find a way to rebuild together.

You slip into bed, settling under the covers, and Tony follows suit, lying beside you with a soft sigh. After a moment’s hesitation, he reaches over, his hand brushing against yours beneath the covers. You entwine your fingers with his, and even though he doesn’t remember the countless nights you’ve fallen asleep like this, it feels natural.

“Goodnight,” he whispers, his voice soft.

“Goodnight, Tony,” you murmur back, your heart swelling with hope.

As the city lights outside cast a gentle glow across the room, you lie there, hand in hand, feeling the warmth of him beside you. And for the first time since the accident, you feel a flicker of reassurance.

The days start to blur together in a rhythm that feels both familiar and new. Tony’s memory isn’t coming back all at once, but he’s recovering it in little flashes, bits and pieces of who he used to be, of who you are to each other. And even though some of these memories are fleeting, almost insignificant, they build something solid between you—something that’s real and growing stronger with every passing moment.

It begins with breakfast one morning.

You’re standing at the stove, cooking eggs and listening to Tony talk about his latest gadget idea. He’s been getting back into work, tinkering here and there in the lab, and he always comes out in the morning with some grand plan or concept. It’s one of the things you’ve missed most—his enthusiasm, his endless curiosity, the way he lights up when he talks about creating something new. You smile, flipping the eggs onto plates and setting them on the counter.

“You know, I don’t think I ever realized how much you put up with me,” he says, leaning against the counter with that lopsided grin that makes your heart skip a beat. “All my late nights, random ideas, and, uh, probably a few accidental explosions.”

You laugh, rolling your eyes as you hand him his plate. “Oh, trust me, I’ve put up with plenty. But you make it worth it.”

He takes a bite, nodding as though savoring the taste. “You know…this feels familiar,” he says after a moment, frowning slightly. “Mornings like this. I used to sit here and watch you cook, didn’t I?”

“Every morning you didn’t have your face buried in a new project,” you reply softly, watching him carefully.

He pauses, that spark of recognition in his eyes growing, as if he’s trying to hold onto the memory, to make it solid. And then he’s looking at you, really looking at you, with a tenderness that feels almost shy. It’s a vulnerability you rarely see from Tony, and it makes your heart ache in the best way.

“I think I remember something else,” he murmurs, stepping around the counter to stand in front of you. “I remember sitting here and…thinking about how lucky I was.”

Your breath catches as he reaches out, his fingers grazing your cheek, tracing the curve of your jaw. His touch is tentative, almost reverent, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

“Tony…” you whisper, feeling your pulse quicken.

He leans in, his lips brushing yours in a soft, lingering kiss that’s both familiar and electrifying, like he’s rediscovering you for the first time. His hand moves to the small of your back, pulling you closer as his mouth moves against yours, slow and intense, like he’s savoring every second. When he pulls back, his eyes are darker, filled with something that looks like a mix of wonder and awe.

“I don’t remember everything,” he says softly, his voice rough, “but I don’t think I need to. This feels right.”

You smile, threading your fingers through his hair. “It is right,” you murmur, leaning up to kiss him again.

The memory flashes continue over the next few days, each one bringing him closer to the person he used to be. They’re small, fleeting things—a song that triggers a faint memory of a dance in the living room, the scent of his cologne reminding him of the night you first told him you loved him. Each one brings with it a sense of déjà vu, a feeling that tugs at his heart and pulls him closer to you.

One evening, you’re both sitting on the couch, your legs draped over his lap as you watch a movie together. It’s an old favorite, something you’ve watched countless times, and Tony seems to relax into the familiarity of it. His hand absentmindedly traces patterns on your thigh, and you can feel his warmth, his closeness, and it makes you feel grounded, steady.

Suddenly, he chuckles, looking down at your legs. “I remember this. You used to do this all the time. You’d kick off your shoes and practically sprawl across the couch.”

You laugh, nudging him playfully. “And you used to pretend to be annoyed, even though you secretly loved it.”

He raises an eyebrow, that playful smirk you know so well tugging at his lips. “Oh, I’m sure I did.”

You shift, leaning closer to him, your hand resting on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. There’s something about the way he’s looking at you, his eyes filled with both affection and curiosity, that makes you feel bold, like you’re rediscovering each other in a way that’s fresh and exhilarating.

“Can I tell you something?” you murmur, your voice soft.

“Anything,” he says, his hand coming up to cup your cheek.

“When we first met, I thought you were this…impossible genius with no time for anyone,” you confess, your fingers playing with the collar of his shirt. “But then you’d look at me like this, with this softness, like I was the only person in the world.”

He leans closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “Maybe you are.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, and before you can respond, his mouth is on yours, capturing you in a kiss that’s anything but shy. It’s slow and deep, his hands sliding up your back as he pulls you into him, your bodies pressed together, fitting perfectly. His kisses are gentle yet intense, each one leaving you breathless, as if he’s trying to make up for all the lost time, all the memories he doesn’t yet have but that you both feel so deeply.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, both of you breathing heavily, hearts racing. He smiles, that teasing glint in his eyes as he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Why do I feel like I’ve kissed you a million times?” he murmurs, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheek. “Like I can’t get enough?”

“Maybe because you have,” you reply, your voice barely a whisper. “And I’ll never get enough of you, either.”

He chuckles, a sound that’s warm and filled with affection as he kisses you again, softer this time, more lingering, like he’s savoring every second. His lips move slowly over yours, his hands gentle as they cradle your face, as if he’s memorizing the feel of you, the way you fit together.

Over the next few days, the memories come more frequently, little fragments of your life that make him pause, that bring a flicker of recognition to his eyes. Sometimes it’s just a look he gives you, a soft smile that feels so familiar it makes your heart ache. Other times, it’s a touch—a hand on your back, a gentle brush of his fingers against yours—that reminds you of all the little ways he’s shown his love over the years.

And every time he remembers something, he falls in love with you a little more.

One night, as you’re both lying in bed, you reach over to turn off the light, but Tony stops you, his hand catching yours. He turns to you, his gaze soft but intense, filled with a depth of emotion that takes your breath away.

“I might not remember everything yet,” he murmurs, his fingers brushing your cheek, “but I know that I love you. I don’t need memories to know that.”

You feel a lump in your throat, a warmth spreading through you that’s both comforting and thrilling. “I love you, too, Tony,” you whisper, pressing a soft kiss to his hand. “No matter what. I always have, and I always will.”

His smile is tender, filled with a gratitude that makes you realize just how lucky you both are, how strong this connection is between you. He leans in, kissing you with a softness that melts away all the uncertainty, all the fear that’s lingered since the accident.

And as you lie there together, wrapped in each other’s arms, you realize that this isn’t just a return to the life you had before. It’s something new, something deeper and more meaningful, a love that’s growing stronger every day. It’s a love that doesn’t need memories to survive because it’s written into every touch, every glance, every kiss you share.

The morning Tony’s memories come flooding back, it feels both surreal and inevitable. He wakes up beside you, his gaze fixed on the ceiling for a long moment before he turns to look at you, his expression a mixture of wonder, relief, and something deeper—something vulnerable. When he speaks, his voice is low, as if he’s afraid of breaking the spell.

“I remember everything,” he murmurs, his hand finding yours beneath the covers. His thumb traces gentle patterns on your knuckles, as though he’s grounding himself in the reality of the present. “Every detail, every moment. I remember…you.”

You blink away the tears that threaten to spill over, smiling as you reach up to cup his face. “You’re really back,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “I missed you.”

He gives a soft laugh, his hand covering yours as he presses his forehead to yours. “You never really lost me, you know? And I… I missed you, too. Even when I didn’t remember all of it, I knew. I knew you were everything to me. I'd always fall for you.”

You fall into his arms, both of you holding each other tightly, like you’re afraid to let go. And in that embrace, you feel the weight of all those lost days lift, leaving only a warmth that radiates between you. He’s here, fully, and the two of you are whole again.

Later, you’re curled up on the couch together, a blanket draped over both of you, his arm wrapped securely around your shoulders as you cuddle into his side. You’ve both been talking, recounting memories, laughing at the more amusing fragments that came back to him in flashes. And then, an idea strikes you.

“Tony,” you say, glancing up at him with a mischievous grin, “there’s something you need to see.”

He raises an eyebrow, smirking as he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. “Oh, really? And what might that be?”

You grab your phone from the coffee table, pulling up a series of videos you took during his days without memories. Each one holds moments that, at the time, you’d been scared would be all you had left—little fragments of his affection, of the new ways he showed his love for you while he was rediscovering himself.

“Brace yourself,” you say, hitting play on the first video.

In it, Tony is sitting across from you at the kitchen table, his eyes sleepy and his hair a mess. He’s holding a mug of coffee, and he looks up at you with the softest, most adoring expression, blinking slowly like he can barely believe you’re real. “You’re so pretty,” he says, his voice a murmur, his gaze fixed on you as if you’re the only thing that matters in the entire world. “How did I get so lucky?”

The Tony beside you lets out a surprised laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Wow. I don’t think I’ve ever looked that…well, cuddly before.”

“Oh, that’s just the beginning,” you say, grinning as you play the next video.

This one shows him lying on the couch, his head in your lap as you’re reading a book. He’s practically burrowed into you, his arms wrapped around your waist, his face buried against your stomach. Every now and then, he looks up at you with these wide, affectionate eyes, and even without memories, he’s the picture of absolute adoration.

“Is that…me?” Tony asks, a touch of disbelief in his voice as he watches himself look up at you like that. “I’m like a…like a giant puppy.”

“Oh, you were,” you laugh, rubbing his arm affectionately. “I have so many videos like this. You’d barely let me out of your sight. I think losing your memories made you even clingier.”

He snorts, shaking his head as he pulls you closer. “Well, can you blame me? I mean, look at you. Not remembering you was bad enough—I guess I was just making sure I didn’t forget you again.”

The next video is of him in bed, lying half-asleep with his arm stretched out, reaching for you. His voice, groggy and low, calls your name softly, and you hear yourself laugh from behind the camera as you step into view. When you do, he pulls you into the bed, wrapping his arms around you like he never wants to let go. He sighs in contentment, pressing his lips to your forehead and murmuring something unintelligible, and even watching it now, you feel that familiar warmth spread through your chest.

Tony, watching beside you, is silent for a long moment, his gaze softened as he watches himself cling to you like that. When the video ends, he turns to you, a tenderness in his expression that takes your breath away.

“I can’t believe I didn’t remember you,” he whispers, his fingers brushing your cheek. “But even when I couldn’t…I needed you.”

You place a hand over his, smiling softly. “I think a part of you did remember, in a way. You were still you—maybe a little cuddlier than usual,” you tease, “but you were still you.”

His lips curve into a playful grin. “So, I was clingy, huh? Was I any good at it?”

“Oh, you were very good at it,” you say, laughter bubbling up. “I mean, I kind of got used to waking up with you practically draped over me. I’m almost going to miss it.”

His grin widens, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his lap. “Well, if you liked clingy Tony, I think I can accommodate,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your ear as he tightens his hold on you.

You giggle, curling your arms around his neck as he presses a series of soft, lingering kisses along your jaw. “Mmm, maybe I did like clingy Tony,” you whisper, your fingers threading through his hair.

He chuckles, his lips trailing down to your neck, his hands running up and down your sides as he nuzzles into you, his warmth enveloping you. “Well then, Mrs. Stark, it looks like you’re in luck.”

His mouth finds yours, and he kisses you deeply, his hands gentle but insistent as he pulls you closer. The kiss is soft and tender, but there’s an intensity to it, a passion that feels even stronger now that he has all his memories back. It’s like he’s making up for lost time, savoring every second, every touch, every shared breath.

When he pulls back, he leans his forehead against yours, his voice a low murmur. “I don’t think I could ever let you go again,” he says, his hands sliding to your waist as he holds you close. “Every second without you felt…wrong, somehow. Now that I know everything, it’s like my whole world is back.”

You smile, brushing your fingers along his jaw as you gaze into his eyes. “Then don’t let go,” you whisper, your heart racing as he closes the small distance between you again, his mouth meeting yours in a kiss that’s both familiar and exhilarating.

soft Tony is just a baby <3 if you liked the story leave a like and a reblog and drop a follow if you want to read more!

[brujaluas]

What character would you be if you were in a movie/series/book?

pile 1

you would be a badass person, you recognize and know your values, your limits, everything that happens and doesn't happen, you remind me in a way of hippies, you would definitely have that vibe, of being those good vibes friends who never seem like they are in a wrong frequency because they already understand what life wants but with a roguish smile they carry that secret in their pocket.

pile 2

bridget jones, yes, you have that vibe, or something similar, in some way you would be starring in a romantic film or series or about overcoming a relationship, one of those stories where the person is completely devastated at having ended the relationship but discovers in the end that all along she just needed to give herself a chance.

pile 3

look, it would be something related to a journey of self-discovery, you feel lost with life, or something that you thought would be right for you turns out not to be putting all your beliefs into a thoughtful mode, you would travel to somewhere far away and relax and maybe discover something new from you, it reminds me of one of my favorite films that I love most in the world, eat pray love.

[hotvintagepoll]

Edward Everett Horton (Holiday, Top Hat, Arsenic and Old Lace)—Edward Everett Horton was a character actor who appeared in over 100 films between 1923 and 1971 who excelled at playing nervous, tightly-wound characters encountering mishaps or otherwise out of the element. You only have to watch his world-famous double take to see why people kept hiring him as the nervous best friend of the main character, a put-upon suitor to a leading lady, or the person in charge of making sure the show was a big success. A 1940 article in Time Magazine stated that “In all his contracts, Horton includes an unwritten clause that he shall not be compelled to play a married man, kiss a woman, have any children.” This does not reflect the roles Horton actually played, either before or after 1940, but it does sum up his vibe pretty well, his vibe being “gay and anxious.” It’s a wonder he’s not already tumblr’s favorite character actor! In another article about a Broadway run of Springtime for Henry (a show that Horton toured around the country, to the tune of more than 3,000 performances in his lifetime) he’s described as having a “persimmon face, crow beak nose and scissor lips” which feels pretty “scrungly” even if, at six foot two inches, Horton doesn’t really fit the definition of “little.” He steals just about every scene he’s in, thanks to his excellent expressions and impeccable comedic timing, managing to be funny and believable. Or as Horton himself said “The reason people think I’m funny is because I remind them of someone they know. Somebody who probably annoys them considerably, but for whom they really have an affection”.

Lotte Lenya (From Russia With Love)—She's a Russian assassin who tries to kill James Bond with her shoe! What a legend! And is immortalized in the song Mac the Knife.

This is round 1 of the contest. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. If you're confused on what a scrungle is, or any of the rules of the contest, click here.

[additional submitted propaganda + scrungly videos under the cut]

Edward Everett Horton:

He was just perpetually anxious, and being around Fred Astaire trying to woo Ginger Rogers, or whatever Cary Grant was doing would make you anxious. I just feel delighted every time he graces my screen

i know he's already in but he's the funniest character actor who ever existed so have some additional propaganda for the most perpetually startled and put-upon and woe-betide-me crumpled napkin of a man to ever sigh beleagueredly on the silver screen. master of the double take, the triple take, maybe even the quadruple take. he's in SO many movies and he bumbles and scrungles his way exquisitely about all of them with the deft precision of his comic timing and the minute flicker of every facial expression. he's the odd little man i'm always happiest to see pop up anywhere. tends to play a charmingly ineffectual fussy bachelor in need of a tums who things are always happening to.

Lotte Lenya:

[ttkinnie]

Tokyo Revengers characters as animals 💖 (for no reason)

Kazutora: let's start with the most obvious one, our resident tiger. Which is funny considering he gives 0 tiger vibes. Or maybe rescued declawed tiger from an abusive circus. Wait a sec... Hanma and Kisaki have a circus theme going on... why did I never notice this? This starts well. Saddest tiger pic I could find

Baji: A black gray wolf of course. 'nuff said

Chifuyu: A cat. Kitty kitty meow meow. Not crazy enough to be orange, but he's gotta have green eyes and a kind face. This tuxedo:

Koko: Talking about cats, here he is. Most obvious choice I've ever made. Black cat of course, very fancy, will knock shit off the counter and eats only the most expensive wet food

Inupi: second most obvious one because you've gotta pick the race of the dog too. I say he's the only serious golden retriever you've ever seen.

Takemichi: A mouse. He is squeaky and scared, looks like he eats cheese. Very cute. Big eyes.

Hinata: A doe, beautiful and kind but will ram into you if you touch her loved ones

Naoto: a buck because I am unoriginal. he does give off buck vibes tho

Hanma: I know the official art makes him a caracal but I love being contradictory so maned wolf it is. Plus look at its long legs and creepy demeanor, it's him

Kisaki: Listen, I am not the most partial person when it comes to him. He's my little meow meow, I wanna put either cat or bunny ears on him and squish his cheeks. But! Let's be honest, that boy is a snake. The deadliest snake in the world, the saw scaled viper, not the most venomous but highly aggressive. He eats mouse Takemichi for breakfast. Also look at its scales, they remind me of his adult hair.

Mikey: A honey badger, small and cute but will bite your balls off and kill your family for fun.

Draken: A lion, beautiful mane and a symbol of strength. Lives among a tribe of lionesses (lucky him)

Mitsuya: I do not like spiders. At all. But an animal literally producing silk is the only choice for Mitsuya. However I am not masochistic so i won't put a spider image, just the web

Taiju: Great white shark. Very smooth skin. Anyone who tells you they have sandpaper skin is lying.

Hakkai: A seal, same eyes, same innocence, favorite prey of the great white shark

Yuzuha: An orca, beautiful but deadly. Only predator of the great white shark. Also eats seals but let's not comment on that. I support women's wrongs.

Pah-chin: it's too cliché to put warthog here, so i won't. He's a cane toad, one of the stupidest animal on Earth, one of their most common cause of death is eating shit they shouldn't because they stuff their mouth without thinking. They also hump anything, including dead animals from another species, and lay their eggs anywhere, which leads to a high mortality rate among their offspring. Why did I give so many facts? I don't know. Look at it.

Peh-yan: A tarsier. it's the eyes.

Sanzu: Arctic hare, crazy eyes and a gift for divination if you can understand his language

Senju: a cutie baby. Bunny x2, will kick you.

Takeomi: a rat. I am not a hater, rats can be cute, but this guy definitely gives off rat vibes

Wakasa: So very pretty. White leopard of course.

Benkei: A bull. I always thought his tattoos were a bull, but I was wrong I just looked it up. Still a bull.

Shinichiro: This one was though, but I'd say a koala. I'm partial about it, but I feel like he would give his children poop to eat, and their reproductive habits are also not a good look on them.

Emma: Japanese dwarf flying squirrel because I play favorites and that's the cutest little furball ever. it looks like it's wearing eyeliner

Izana: Another small but deadly thing, the Australian box jellyfish, found notably along the coast of Malaysia (I feel so clever right now)

Kakucho: Fiercely loyal dog, he's a Rottweiler. Don't tell me Izana and him don't have some kind of puppy play going on.

Ran: Secretary bird. Canonically hates Kisaki which explains why he stomps snakes to death. Wears killer eyeshadow and looks like they hate your fashion style

Rindou: Did you know a group of male Pacific tree frogs is called a chorus? me neither, which is why Rindou is a Pacific tree frog. Peace of music, yeah

Mucho: Polar bear, cold and aggressive. Plus arctic hare and polar bear, there's a theme

[nevermeyers]

Yeah, I know I said I'd keep quiet about it because I plan on ignoring the ending. I've done it plenty of times, even with books I consider my favorites. "Oh this book is so good, it's one of my faves... How does it end? I don't remember." I'm going to do that with jjk because I've done it more times. Anyways.

Seriously, where's the character development? Why dedicate an entire chapter to showing how much criticism affects you and making excuses for your narrative instead of fixing it? Gege could have written about the characters and their problems, their worries, their evolution even while talking about how the politics of jujutsu world are changing rn.

What are Nobara's thoughts right now? There could have been an entire chapter dedicated to her character to fill in the gaps and finish defining her, what about her mother? How does she feel about her childhood friends? What are her plans now?

What about Megumi? Yeah, seeing him laugh was therapeutic, but honestly his character hasn't had the development/ending I expected. The timeskip was weird, his acting is literally the same as the beginning of the manga. It feels like I'm reading the same person who appeared in chapter one and not a traumatized boy who is learning to live. Where is Itadori teaching him that it's actually worth moving on? Where's the whole PTSD thing I'm sure he has? (fuck megumi haters btw fuck them, and fuck the way they victim blamed a kid). What are his thoughts about Gojo? About Sukuna?

Yuuji... Our mc. I was expecting to see him mourning Choso, mourning Gojo. But no, apparently it's more important to explain that there was a secret society (lmao) than to have him show respect and tears for those people he loved. His family, who he never got to spend time with, and his sensei, who decided not to execute him and who taught him almost everything he knows. I wanted to see him taking his friends to the movies to see some B-movie horror instead of going through the horror of watching characters insult him and tell him that it's better if he were dead.

And yes, I know there are two chapters left and some of the things I mention here might appear, but we've already wasted our time with one chapter, that's many pages. There won't be time to fix whatever is this. I feel bad :/

Now, one of the things that bothers me the most is that there are characters that were implied to be dead and now suddenly appear alive. I thought this was about letting the new generations create a fair world, but no. Do you know which character bothers me the most? Mei Mei. No, I'm not against someone writing sa/csa in fiction as long as it's not romanticized (I accept the unreliable narrator because that happens a lot irl and it's sad). The thing is that Mei Mei literally embodies the values ​​of the jujutsu world. In the jujutsu clans there was everything, sexism, abuse, neglect and most likely incest since (at least that's how I see it) they are like the monarchies of the Middle Ages. Mei Mei is the embodiment of all those rotten values ​​that Gojo hated, that the new generations are destined to eradicate. Seriously. What is she doing alive? Take her out rn. Gojo didn't die for this.

I read someone saying that maybe the point of this chapter isn't to break the cycle, but to repeat it. I have to say that I'm a big fan of that trope! It reminds me that humans repeat the same mistakes, but even if that were the point I think it wouldn't be well written.

There came a point in the story where both options: love is worthless and love is worth it were acceptable by the end of the manga. This is the ending where love is worth it, but why hasn't anything changed? The characters we saw in 269 are almost exactly the same we saw in chapter number one.

If this is a story about how love is worth it, accept the consequences and write characters who, thanks to love, move forward and build a new world instead of neutralizing any kind of development

[nixmori]

Astarion x Wren

The Lovers Tarot: upright

A fun pass time for me is always thinking which tarot card fits the characters at different parts of the story, and the primary themes that govern them.

Wren (my primary Tav) is the reversed lovers card for much of her early story/game. She longs for connection but is met with a cold, detached world, resulting in mental imbalance and the absence of self-love. She’s lonely and insecure, fearing rejection. Her closest relationship up until the events of the game was with her patron—the capricious (but not malicious) Archfey Kol. He offered her power and the pretense of connection, but never anything real.

For Astarion, while I think another card represents himself (I’m keeping that to myself because I have another art planned around it!) I feel his struggle aligns well with the devil card. He is, of course, more than figuratively shackled to Cazador, but also to the years of abuse, trauma, and his own demons born of that time. The shackles depicted in that card are loose—showing they can be broken should the person choose to be free of their demons.

The lovers and the devil cards are mirrors of one another. The lovers shows security and balance, but also the temptation of the fruit and the snake that could lead to back down the road to self destruction. Alternatively, they are a reminder of what it took to come back from that to a harmonious state.

In my interpretation of The Lovers here, I’ve retained the shackles from Astarion’s devil card. He’s chosen a new path—one where he can be true to himself. The scars will always be there, but the chains are broken. I’ve retained the forbidden fruit as Wren’s crown, with the leaves too represent the personal growth of both characters while the berries (fruit) represent the temptations that would have lead them down a very different path (which I will leave out due to spoilers!)

Fun fact, the Angel in the original card art is Raphael! Very different from everyone’s favorite demon in the game. This Raphael represents physical and emotional healing. I didn’t think an Angel would fit the aesthetics of what I wanted so I replaced him with the moon and Polaris. The first reason has to do with Astarion’s spawn ending so I won’t go into it. The second is taken from the moon card itself, where the moon reveals one’s true self. Paired with Polaris, it represents the moon’s light as a guide, as both embark on their long journey of healing. It won’t be an overnight venture—something that can be fixed by a single entity, so the moon as a guide works better in this context, I believe.

As a personal addition, Wren holds a few nerine lilies—a flower that has been associated with freedom since Ancient Greece. They also symbolize unity, and feelings straight from the heart, which felt appropriate for a relationship where both characters started as strangers to emotional intimacy. (I used to be a florist, I HAVE to have my flower symbolism)

Finally, the clouds at the bottom started life as flames, which in the og tarot card represent passion. As the art took form though, they took on the appearance of smoke/clouds. I could have made it more flame-like but I really liked how this looked, but I also think it fits the slow burn the story ended up taking. There’s a fire, somewhere—but it isn’t the most important thing here.

If you made it this far, thanks for reading my essay. I hope it was coherent!

[sapphicvqmpires]

❁ཻུ۪۪♡ seven wonders

Pairing - shuri x black!fem reader

Word Count - 7.3k

Contains - smut (18+), soft!dom shuri, sub!reader, cunnilingus, fingering, tribbing, edging, choking/breathplay, overstimulation, clit play, shuri is a tease, praise kink, fluff

Divider From - @firefly-graphics

Sneak Peak - “What life took away from me, Bast replaced with you. You, my angel, are my gift.” She places a kiss on your cheek, the salt of your tears lingering on her lips and she allows it because she wants to stay here forever, wants to sulk in everything she’s feeling as a reminder that this is not a dream. She begins crying with you, overwhelmed with the gift that was you, overwhelmed that she had explored the world’s most intricate of beauties and yet you were still the most beautiful to her.

Tags - @inmyheadimobsessed @amplifiedmoan @vampzxi @abenomeiiii @imjusthere2readbruv @desswright29 @heejayy @shurislover @shurismainbxtch @garden-of-venus @tiii-iiiiii @verachii @ihearttish @playhousedistee @somethingcleaverandwhitty @niyahwrites @tishsrealwife @oceean @sookiesookie @myaraines @cafehyunji @6-noir @ventingfanfics @ririslove @marsolgy @shaiwritesss @naomis-daydream @prettymrswright @pocketsizedpanther (comment if you wanna be tagged in future fics, 18+ please)

Song Inspiration - another heartbreak: giveon, pov: ariana grande (readers pov), favorite song: toosii, reflections: dustystaytrue ft. toosii (shuri’s pov)

Writers Note: this fic is me self projecting in both of these characters. I just wanna love and be loved. This fic lowkey kicked my ass, why is writing fluff lowkey hard?? But shuri loves her baby girl so much in this one like whew, I need herrr. Anyways, as always, I hope you all enjoy my lovessss :)

♪ ༘⋆ Tears don’t fall when you’re right here, Perfect for me that’s my fear ♪ ༘⋆ (another heartbreak - giveon)

❁ཻུ۪۪♡ The evening is nothing short of perfect, sitting on a rooftop in Rio de Janeiro while the sun sets in the distance, a perfect image of the panoramic painting you sat in. Vibrant hues surrounded you as you sat in front of a small circular table that came alive with the flickering glow of candle light, a vibrant bouquet of exotic flowers and the fresh aroma of Brazilian cuisine. There were the sweet sounds of Bossa Nova playing in the distance, mixing in with the gentle rhythm of waves that settled in the not too far shore. To complete the picturesque view is what you were in this city for in the first place: the Christ the Redeemer Statue.

It was at this very moment that you found yourself at the final stop of your trip around the world. It was a trip orchestrated by your beloved girlfriend, Shuri, who cherished you deeply and wanted to show you what beauty the world had to offer. You had visited the Seven Wonders, each destination bringing you that much closer to the true joy you deserved. Shuri understood that before her arrival, you did not get out much. Not because you had no desire, not because you didn’t have the funds to, but because you simply had no one to share the world with. Life has presented you with hardships, constructing barriers that made you wary of the genuine splendor life had to offer. It obscured your understanding of what love truly entailed, as your past relationships, be they platonic or romantic, introduced individuals who made you question your self-worth. However, once again, you found yourself on a rooftop, accompanied by your girlfriend who quite literally gave you the world, even within the few fleeting months you two had spent together. Her love for you surpassed any other person you had encountered, and it was precisely all of this that frightened you.

“What’s on your mind, sthandwa sam?” Her voice held a gentle quality, infused with a subtle rasp that made you dizzy. It was flawless. Almost unnaturally flawless.

“Kwenzeka ntoni kula ntloko yakho intle?” (“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”)

Being with Shuri was the most transparent you had ever been. She consistently motivated you to express yourself fully, urging you to share your emotions openly and honestly. She possessed a deep understanding of your thoughts and the fears that were buried in your heart, which often hindered your ability to fully embrace the love she shared with you. Nonetheless, Shuri loved and respected you unconditionally. She yearned to hear your emotional release, offering her unwavering support to catch and discard them, surpassing any previous support you had ever received. She aspired to be there for you, her princess, in ways that no one else had ever been. And this is why it wasn’t terribly challenging to open up to her.

“Shuri, you know what I’m thinking.”

“I know, nkosazana, but I wanna hear you say it. Thetha nam ndimamele.” (“Speak to me and I’ll listen.”)

“Shuri-”

“Please, y/n. Please.”

You observe her, appreciating the exquisite features that decorated her face. She was so beautiful, so full of love in a body that has also been through pain and suffering. Shuri intimately understands the harsh realities of life, having experienced her own share of adversity. That's precisely why she gently encourages you to release the emotions you've kept bottled up. Her intention is never to cause discomfort or obligate you to share your past traumas. Rather, she seeks to help you acknowledge and process the feelings your mind and body are urging you to confront, enabling you to progress forward.

You bask in her warm glance for a few moments longer before you softly exhale, preparing your heart for what’s to come.

“It’s just a lot, Shuri. Not in a bad way. It’s never in a bad way when it comes to you. You’re so perfect, your love is overflowing and shit. It’s just…I’m just…”

“Yitsho.” (Say it.)

You sigh.

“Shuri, I-I just…”

Shuri notices your struggle, the way your voice breaks off and she immediately runs to your side, placing a kiss on your forehead before she lowers herself on one knee in front of you. She takes your hands, running her soft lips against your knuckles and you could cry. You loved her so much and it scared the shit out of you that you knew she deeply loved you too.

“I’m scared, Shuri.”

“Mhmm. Keep going, my love, I’m right here. Let it out.”

“I’m scared that…” Your voice gradually faded with your words becoming entangled in your throat, making it harder to breathe. You took a brief pause, collecting your thoughts so that they could flow effortlessly from your lips. “I’m scared that one day you’re gonna look at me and not love what you see anymore.”

You stopped there, curious as to what kind of response she would give you. But of course, she only encouraged you to proceed.

“You’re doing so good, y/n. Keep going…I know there’s more in that big heart of yours.”

You let out another sigh, not born out of annoyance or frustration, but rather a sigh of relief.

“I’m just worried that one day you’re gonna get tired of me, that I’m going to be…I don’t know…I guess just too much. To be fair, I am kinda a lot to be around…I-I understand that I’m not the easiest person to love, and that I can be a handful…”

You were on the verge of tears, but you didn’t allow them to escape you just yet. “I’m just scared you’re gonna get tired of me and I’m just not sure I can handle that, Shuri.”

“Mmm,” Shuri hummed, not once taking her gaze off yours as she continued to kneel in front of you. She brought your hands in for a kiss, loving lips attaching themselves to your soft, brown skin. She lifts herself up to reach your forehead, placing one last kiss before she speaks.

“You know why I chose you, y/n?”

You shake your head, unable to speak in fear that your emotions might overwhelm you and you did not want to ruin this perfect evening with Shuri more than you already felt you had. Shuri lets out a soft chuckle, her pearly teeth revealed through a crooked grin that placed butterflies in the depths of your stomach.

“It’s actually quite simple, nkosazana. I chose you because I love you. I love everything about you. I love your dimples when you smile, and those beautiful eyes, sthandwa. I love your body, everything about it is perfect. Your stomach, your thighs…what’s in between your thighs-“

“Shuri, you’re just talking about my body--”

“Ssshhh, I’m not done. I love your sense of humor, how you’re always laughing and it makes me laugh. Puts a smile to my face when I have no smile to offer. I love your strength and your capability to love even though the world has not been so kind to you. I love your creativity and how artistic you are, it balances me out because you know I love my science. It's nice to have an artist to level the plane. I love your beautiful dark skin and all its simplicities and complexities. I love how you encourage me to be my best, and you push me to be better, for you but most importantly for myself…”

“Shuri…”

“Wait, sthandwa, I have more to say. When…when I lost my brother, I felt as if the world came crashing down on me…he was my favorite person to be around and when he was gone…there was just…nothing…”

Her voice started to falter, unveiling the enduring pain that Shuri carries within herself each day, concealed by the smile she presents to you. A solitary teardrop escaped from her eye, though she hastily wiped it away. She wasn't prepared to break just yet, and neither were you.

“Shuri, you don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to.”

“I want to…and I need to. And you need to hear it.”

You offer a tender smile, conveying to Shuri that everything would be alright. Shuri breathes in, lightly grazing her lips against your hands before proceeding.

“And then…when my mother died…I just…”

“Shuri-”

“I had no will to live anymore because what was the point? I had no one. Nothing. Until…until you.”

You choked down a sob, one that would undoubtedly have torn through your entire being had you let it fully consume you.

“You reminded me of what it is to be happy, to laugh, like genuinely laugh…haven’t done that since my brother, I almost forgot what it felt like. You showed me that there’s so much more to live for, so much the world has to offer and I wouldn’t have it any other way, nkosazana.”

You offer a subtle nod, tears streaming down your face with an unrestrained flow, and this time you permit it. She was utterly flawless, an exquisite fusion of affection and happiness, seamlessly mending the shattered fragments of your own existence. Her embrace provided solace, her gaze offered a sense of security, and there was no place in the world you'd prefer to be at this very moment, and no one else you'd rather be with.

“Umhle kakhulu, y/n,” ("I love you, y/n”) she says with one last kiss before she stands, gesturing to you to stand as well. She pulls you into her embrace, a hug that engulfs every fiber of your being, immersing you in the warmth emanating from her body and permeating back into yours. She placed a firm kiss onto your forehead before you pressed your face into her chest, allowing gentle tears to cascade down your cheeks and onto the fabric of her shirt. Yet, she doesn't mind. She wanted to catch every single droplet that escaped you and tuck them away so you were no longer burdened by fears that weren’t truly there. She hated that you felt scared, apprehensive about the future and the uncertainties it holds, because she will never abandon you. She needs you just as much as you need her. Perhaps even more so.

She cupped your face in the palm of your hands, looking down at puffy eyes and puffy lips as you sniffled.

“You’re literally so beautiful, y/n,” she promises, pressing a kiss into your nose. “Just pour it out, let yourself feel the things you feel, my love. You have to let it out, y/n. Do you understand me?”

You nod, your lips forming a pout before more tears fell from her words.

“I’m not saying you have to explain things when you don’t feel like it. But what I am saying is I am your partner, your girlfriend and I’m here for you. I love you. And I want you to know that I love you, more than anything or anyone else in the world, and that I need you just as bad.”

If you hadn't been a tearful wreck before, you most certainly were now. Cheeks marked with traces of tears remained within Shuri's grasp as you drew her closer for another kiss.

“That’s it, y/n. Just let it out…I’m right here. Ndizohlala ndilapha.” (I’ll always be right here.”)

“I love you so so much, Shuri,” you promise, your voice broken from the lump in your throat.

“You know what the best part of this trip was, sthandwa sam?”

“Hmmm, what could that be, baby?”

A beautiful smile adorned her face as she lifted you up and twirled you around, dancing on a rooftop while your laughter echoed with genuine delight. She sat down on the chair, bringing you into her lap as you straddled her, holding her like it was your last time.

“We may have just traveled the world and its most exquisite landmarks, but you…you were my favorite part. No building or ancient structure is as beautiful and strong as my girl.”

The smile that graced your face was a sight of pure bliss in Shuri's eyes, as she cherished nothing more than the radiance of your beautiful smile. She buries her face in the nape of your neck, gently pressing her lips against your firm yet sensitive skin.

“Every morning I woke up next to you…every dinner I shared with you…every night I had my way with you…”

With each declaration, her kisses grew more fervent, targeting the places she knew weakened you. You wrapped your arms around her neck, fully embracing how much she rendered you powerless through every movement she made and every word she spoke. She was addicting, all consuming, fogging each and everyone of your senses but your pounding heart was a reminder as to where exactly you were.

“Shuri…we-we’re on a public rooftop,” you stuttered, trembling beneath her passionate kisses as you struggled to contain the pulse that found its way between your thighs.

“No one is coming. I made sure of that,” she replies, her face still sunken into your neck as she begins lifting your dress up to bunch around your waist. The light pulsing between your thighs transitioned to heavy throbbing, as melanated bodies grew more eager to feel one another.

“Let me know if you’re ok, y/n,” Shuri says, wanting to make sure that your head and heart is in the right place to proceed with her intimacy. You were more than ok, because even though your heart was often troubled and your mind was in constant battle, your body was always willing to receive whatever obstacle Shuri would give you.

“I’m ok, Shuri,” you reply desperately, slowly grinding your crotch in her lap. Shuri notices this, wasting no time in cupping your saturated cunt, casually stroking you over the thin lace of your panties. It was torturous, how close yet so far she was from where you needed her.

“Shuri,” you whined, a wounded sound that made Shuri smile.

“That’s it, sthandwa. Yilangazelele.” (That’s it, baby. Be desperate for it.”)

“Mmmm,” you moaned as she carefully pulled the fabric to the side, gliding her fingers through your folds, grazing your pulsing clit and it made you frantic. “Sh-Shuri.”

Her strokes came to a halt as she pressed into your clit, a shocking sensation radiating through your thumping nerves.

“Show me how you do it,” she whispered into you.

“Hmm?” you moaned in question.

“Show me how you do it, my pretty girl. Rock on me. Be desperate for it.”

She gently caressed your clit for a few more beats before ceasing, signaling your cue. Gradually, you widen the space between your thighs, allowing her more room to tenderly touch your delicate clit with the pads of her fingers, exerting a firm pressure as you slowly but surely start to grind in response. She wanted to watch you work for it, observe your struggle as you ascended towards your own pleasure.

“Shuri, baby. Ah.”

The feeling was deeply fulfilling, your clit fluttering with each swipe as your soft moans pleased Shuri’s senses. A grin appeared on Shuri's lips as she observed how your pleasure radiated through your facial expressions. Your eyelids grow heavy, your eyebrows relaxed as your mouth falls open. The knot in your stomach tightened as your grinds became harder, your pussy getting louder as you soaked her fingers.

“Look at you go.”

“Unh.”

“Yeah that’s right,y/n. Mntana oyimtombazana.” (“Work for it.”)

“Shuri, unh..shit.”

Shuri gently grabs your throat, not enough to hinder your breathing but enough to get your attention. She entices you closer, pulling you in as she presses her lips to your ear, her words eliciting a shiver that surges through your body, infusing your pounding clit with waves of pleasure, as if it wasn’t already too much on your body.

“Such a needy little pussy, huh?”

“Mhmm. Yeah.”

“So slippery, nkosazana. All this just for me, yeah?”

“Yes, baby yes.”

It was absolutely sensational, her fingers coming in contact with your body as you rubbed against her created a knot in your stomach as the heat coursed through your legs and Shuri’s gaze remained on you, shifting from your pleasured face to your tired cunt.

“Your pussy is so pretty, look at how swollen you are…Bast.”

“Sh-Shuri,” you tremble, a warning that you were close. “I..I..I’m close. Mmm…uhn.”

“Hold it, sthandwa. I know you can.”

“B-but I can’t. I need to.”

“You can do it. Cuz you got no choice, my pretty girl. The most beautiful girl.”

Her carefully selected words seamlessly intertwined with your every gesture, engulfing you in a sensation that overwhelmed your mind and your pussy. The intensity compelled you to surrender, to embrace the fiery passion swirling within your core, while your pussy delicately throbbed.

“Shuri, stop talking like that…you’re gonna make me…f-fuck. Shit.”

“What is it, y/n? Can’t handle being my pretty princess?” She gained pleasure from teasing you, relishing in the sight of your blissful torment while you writhed on top of her, fighting hard to obey her and not cum until she let you. “Would you rather be my pretty slut?”

“Baby…please,” you begged.

“Mmmm,” she hummed low. “You can be both.”

“Shit,” you whined, unintentionally slowing your movements down to give your swollen clit a moment to wind down.

“Khange ndithi ungacotha. Qhubeka uhamba. Ndibonise ukuba ufuna embi kangakanani.” (I didn’t say you can slow down. Keep going. Show me how bad you want it.”)

“Shuri..I-I…”

As you were at the threshold, a few more swipes away from releasing onto her, she removed her fingers from you, a long sticky line connecting with her fingers until she drew them into her mouth, cleaning them dry as she kept her eyes on you.

“Wh-why did you do that?,” you struggled to say as your impending orgasm remained trapped between your legs, so close to being released from your body before she denied you. Shuri chuckles before kissing your cheek, still tear-stained from earlier.

“Ssshh, my love. You’ll get it soon. Don’t worry.”

Gently raising you from her lap, she clasped your hand as the two of you headed back to your hotel room. Your tense pussy nerves made walking a challenge, causing you to falter occasionally, but Shuri guided you every step of the way.

♪ ༘⋆ You love my lips ‘cause they say the things we’ve always been afraid of, I can feel it starting to subside, learning to believe in what is mine ♪ ༘⋆ (pov - ariana grande)

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

"Oh my god, Shuri!" you exclaim, caught off guard, as Shuri effortlessly lifts you off the ground and twirls you around, cradling your body in her embrace as you walk down the hotel corridor. With a playful gesture, she plants several kisses on your cheek, eliciting another burst of laughter from you. “Shuri, put me down!,” you manage to utter amidst your genuine laughter, even though your plea for her to let you go was anything but.

“Absolutely not, nkoszana,” she teases, spinning you once more before you make it to your hotel door. It was then Shuri placed you down, trapping you between the door and her body as her mouth traveled back to that sweet spot on your neck. Your hand made its way to the back of her head, gently grasping her soft curls as her passionate kisses milk a moan off your lips. Her hands creep down your body, caressing your curves before her fingers slowly find their way between your legs again, causing your knees to give out for a split second as you were still sore from your unreleased orgasm.

“Wait-Shuri…shit.”

The instant her fingers stroke you over the drenched material, a familiar sensation stirs within you, beckoning your orgasm to well up once more, eager to escape from your body.

“Shuri…please.”

“Hmmm?”

“Shuri…I…inside please, let’s go inside?”

She lifted her face from your neck, her hungry eyes meeting your pained ones as she continued her assault on your pussy. She dips her ring and middle finger beneath the fabric, coming in pure contact with your swollen clit once again, sending an electric pulse swimming through your aching cunt.

“Shuri-ah!,” you moaned loudly, most likely audible to anyone that may have been occupying any other of the hotel rooms. Shuri lifted a finger to your lip, a gesture that told you to keep quiet.

“I-I’m sorry,” you whispered, struggling to keep your heavy moans at bay.

“It’s ok, sthandwa, you’re ok. Let’s go inside now, yeah?”

You nodded, the only response you could give because if you dare to speak, coherent words would not fall out. Shuri only smirked at you, opening the door before lifting you up once again, shutting the door behind her aggressively while the two of you passionately kissed until your back gently pressed onto the bed.

Shuri was delicate in removing your dress from your body, gliding the zipper downwards and gracefully allowing the slender straps to slip off your shoulders. Your panties, she was not so gentle with, hooking her fingers underneath the lace that hugged your hips and tearing them, causing a whine to escape your lips.

“Shuri!”

“I’ll get you another pair, my love, do not worry.”

You yearned one another intensely, craving Shuri's touch with a deep hunger, and she desired you just as deep. For a moment, she got off the bed, allowing herself to become entranced with the way your slick glistened your inner thighs, doing all this as she unbuttoned her dress shirt and rolled up her sleeves, her small gold chain crystalline against her ebony skin. She was so beautiful and the sight of her only heightened your arousal, your core pulsing beneath her gaze.

Shuri got on the bed, resting herself on the headboard before motioning you to sit on her lap and you oblige, spreading your legs over hers as your pussy lingered above her crotch. She wasted no time sinking her eager fingers through your folds, her digits getting lost in your thick, swollen pussy as you feel the coolness of her rings up against you. She occasionally brushes over your clit and you flinch every time, still sensitive from her lingering touch.

“Shuri, stop playing baby,” you whine, completely unashamed of how needy your plea sounds.

“Where do you want me?”

“Inside…pl-please?”

“Mhmm….” Shuri pressed into your clit once more, pushing loving circles into you before she made her way down to your clenching hole. You were drenched, desperate for her touch but Shuri desired to savor this moment as if it were a rare occurrence, aiming to reaffirm that you were more than what others perceived you to be because in her eyes, you meant everything and even more.

She traced her fingers over your entrance, feeling the way your pussy chased after her in desperation. The relentless teasing she subjected you to was unbearable, driving you to the edge of exhaustion as your impatience mounted, begging her to put an end to it.

“Shuri, pleeease.”

With a sly expression, Shuri's crooked grin compliments her fingers as they firmly dig into you, using her free hand to guide your body onto her as if you were sitting onto her strap. She continuously pushes into you until her knuckles kiss your pussy lips, Shuri’s fingers are well acquainted with your body, swiftly linking the pads with that special spot inside you that makes your pussy walls convulse violently, prompting you to bury your head into her as you moan into her shoulder.

“Oh yes, Shuri, unh.”

“I want you to bounce, nkosazana. Ride me like you ride my dick.”

With her words infused with the depth in her tone, it provided all the motivation you required. A shiver rushed down your spine, intertwining with the shiver that surged through your pussy walls, instantly targeting your g-spot as you milked Shuri’s fingers.

Raising your head from her shoulder, you met her gaze fixed not on your eyes but on your body, observing every reaction you had to her touch. The way your breasts bounced frantically in tempo with her thrusts, and the way your pussy lips swelled from the stimulation made it evident just how much you desired her and how eager you were to surrender to the woman below you. Shuri brought her lips to your face, her eyebrows scrunched together as she planted fervent kisses on your temple before softly whispering words of reassurance into your ear, causing your walls to clench around her with urgency.

“Injalo, ntombi yam entle. Yileqe.” (“That’s right, my pretty girl. Chase it.”)

“Shuri, please.”

“Ukhangeleka umhle ngolu hlobo. Intle kakhulu xa uyinqwenela.” (“You look so pretty like this. So pretty when you’re desperate for it.”)

It’s moments like these where you’re thankful that you learned to speak Xhosa fluently, your mind becoming foggy with the native words that spill off of Shuri's tongue as her thrusts and your bounces simultaneously find each other in your g-spot. It was nothing short of pure bliss as your orgasm crept through you, the heat in your stomach igniting as your wet pussy echoed through the hotel room.

“Sh-Shuri…I’m gonna cum, Shuri.”

“Then do it.”

“Ah!”

For a few moments longer, Shuri showers you with praise, extolling your body and emphasizing how flawlessly your pussy compliments her, designed to take her and listen to her and this was all made clear with how her voice radiated through her next words, instantly pushing you to your orgasm.

“Cum, baby. Let this aching pussy have what she’s been begging for all night.”

And with her words, the pressure built to your breaking point as you released right onto her, oozing onto her hand and trailing down to her crotch. Your orgasm crashed through you wave after wave as Shuri continued to praise you through it, making promises of forever and how much she loves her pretty girl.

“Shuri, yeah,” you trembled, moans shattered and delicate, struggling to articulate thoughts while your mind and pussy absorbed everything.

"Ngokwenyani ungoyena mntu umhle ndakha ndambona. Ndifuna nje ukwenza ukuba ube cum ngokuphindaphindiweyo." ("You're literally the most beautiful person I've ever seen. I just wanna make you cum over and over again.")

“I..fuck.”

“Will you let me do that, y/n? Make you cum all the time? Whenever I please?”

You nod frantically, the pulse in your walls growing as Shuri continues to fuck you through it, switching between rubbing your clit and thrusting into you as you struggle to come down from your blissful state.

“Fuck, I love you,” she mumbles, repositioning you so your on your back, almost unaware of where you were but you snapped back to reality as you feel Shuri spread your legs open and place her mouth inbetween them, grazing her lips over your still sensitive clit and your whole body spasmed at her touch, absolutely fragile from your lingering orgasm.

“W-wait Shuri…I can’t…please,” you whimper, placing your hand over your aching pussy.

“Yihambise.” (“Move it.”)

“Baby…I-I…”

“Y/n…I said move it.”

You shake your head from side to side in protest, your face contorting in a mix of desperation and fatigue as your delicate pussy continues its rhythmic throb. Shuri removes herself from between your thighs, leaning forward to meet your gaze as she gently pinches your chin to redirect your attention to her. Cradling the back of your head, she holds you close, her light chain dangling inches from your face.

“There isn’t a woman in the world as strong as my baby girl. You can take anything. I promise. Do you understand me?”

You vigorously nod and she chuckles at the sight of your vulnerability, noticing how your responses have been reduced to mere head gestures, as you grapple to form coherent sentences.

“I know what your pussy needs, and from the way you’re still leaking onto these sheets like a slut, I know she wants more. Am I right?”

Another nod.

“Uze ube yintombazana elungileyo kum, nkosazana, wenze le nto ndiyithethayo. Hambisa isandla sakho.” (“Then be a good girl for me, princess, and do what I say. Move your hand.”)

You hesitated at first before you obeyed her words. You removed your hand from the heat between your thighs, revealing your pussy that continued to drip for her. Your pussy lips were puffy, your clit enlarged as you opened your legs wider for Shuris devour and she practically salivated at the sight of you before she dove into her meal with one flat lick through your folds. Instantly, your hand gravitates to your pussy again but Shuri lightly pushes it out the way, allowing nothing to get between her and what belongs to her.

“Ungakhe ucinge ngayo.” (“Don’t even think about it.”)

Finally, she takes your clit into the swells of her lips, pulling you into her mouth as she sucked and slurped both in and around you. Your legs rest on her shoulders, her hands hooked around your thighs, your toes perfectly pointed. It was overwhelming, her mouth on you as she moaned into your pussy and connected her gaze with yours. You brought your hand to gently fist her curls, using them as a handle to grind down on her tongue.

“Shuri, oh my god, baby yes,”

“Take it easy, sthandwa. I don’t want you cumming just yet.”

“Oh…okay…fuck.”

The squelch of your pussy resonated loudly, wet lips meeting wet lips as you sensed your impending climax. Your stomach started to twist into knots, the soles of your feet and palms of your hands tingle while your pussy hole tightened. You weren’t certain with how much longer you could keep it in as Shuri’s tongue work seemed to intensify, causing your cunt to clench repeatedly.

“Baby…I’m gonna-you’re gonna make me-”

Once again, Shuri moaned into your pussy, a sound that added to your already soaked cunt before reluctantly letting go. The physical and mental turmoil of nearing the threshold, only to be abruptly pulled away was agonizing. But Shuri had a different plan for the both of you. She wanted to experience your body entirely, to witness your release directly onto her as your body completely unraveled and understood that you belonged to her and it will remain so as long as you allow it.

She locks eyes with you while standing by the bed. With elegance and sexual frustration, she begins to unbutton the rest of her dress shirt, meticulously lifting the fabric from her body. Her perky breasts rest beautifully on her chest, her dark skin seemingly eager to intertwine with yours. As she begins to undo her belt buckle, you shift your position to sit at the edge of the bed in front of her, wanting to take over and complete the task yourself.

“Here baby, lemme take these off of you,” you plead. She nods in agreement, making room for you to complete the job. You earnestly unbuckle her belt, undoing each button one by one as you press your lips against the valley in her breasts. When her pants were undone, you slipped your hand beneath her boxers, your palm coming in direct contact with her dripping pussy and she took a sharp inhale as you glided through her folds.

“So wet just from tasting me,” you whispered with a smirk.

“Ndimanzi kuba ndikuthanda,” she replied. (“I’m wet because I love you.) She completely removes her pants and boxers from her body, standing before you fully bare in her petite yet toned body. “Lala phantsi ngenxa yam.” (“Lie back down for me.”)

In no time, Shuri grips your calf, guiding you into a perfect position where her pussy can meet yours. The moment she touches you, the instant her aching bud kisses yours, a surge of immediate pleasure overwhelms you, your jaw falling open as you sing soft melodies of praise meant for her ears only.

“Fuck baby.”

She embraces you, swaying back and forth until it feels like the entire universe is within your grasp. Your melanated skins meld as one, two feminine bodies intertwining to form the most exquisite shades of brown.

“Sh-Shuri, un-UNH.” Your moans escalated, becoming filthier by the second and you couldn't help but feel a tinge of embarrassment with how easily aroused you became and so you bit your bottom lip to try and contain the shameful moans that sat in the pit of your throat. Shuri's face was concentrated, eyebrows furrowing as she was captivated by the sight of your puffy pussy on hers; concentrated on sloshing cores and the friction created below. But she was determined to hear you, reveling in your inability to keep quiet as she pleased you with her body. She allowed muffled moans and gentle whimpers to linger on for too long, fully aware that you wanted to completely unleash yourself. And she would make you.

“No, don’t do that.”

“Hmm?”

“Don’t hold back.”

No matter how many times she saw you naked, how many times she’s fucked you into oblivion, you always became embarrassed with how effortlessly compliant your body was, how loud your mouth and your pussy desperately became.

“What’d I say about holding it in?”

You shake your head in defiance, struggling to muffle the pitiful moan welling up within you. It's almost as if you're testing her, curious to see how she'll respond and whether she'll get her way. Shuri doesn’t hesitate to snake her palm around your throat, almost in a loving manner as she grins. She presses lightly, again, not enough to hinder your breathing pattern but enough to get your attention on her.

“Answer me, princess. What’d I say about holding it in?”

“Y-you…fuck. You said n-not to,” you struggled to say amidst Shuri’s heavy grinding.

“Injalo, ntombi yam entle,” she responds (“That’s right, my pretty girl). Still, you resist her, intrigued to witness the depths of determination in your normally tender and affectionate Shuri, to see how far she'll go in pursuing her own desires. You feel the compression on your windpipe escalate much harder than it was, oxygen struggling to move down your throat and it makes you soak as you moan in unison with your guttural gasps. You clasp her wrist for support, a soft smile appearing on your face as you get lost in your dwindling breathing pattern.

“I…Shuri…AH!”

“That’s it, y/n. Pour it out, just like I said. Let yourself feel the things you feel. Let me give your pretty pussy what she deserves…shit.”

“UNH.”

“Nantso ke sthandwa sam, mandikuva.” (“That’s it my love, let me hear you.”)

Your pussy entrance clenched frantically, your used clit beating like rapid thunder as your orgasm awaited you. And it was no different for Shuri. It was written all over her face. The more she spoke, the more broken and disheveled her sentences became, her jaw twitching and abs contracting as she chased her own high, absolutely desperate to feel your pussy cum all over her palpitating clit.

“Sh…Shuri! Ooooo fuck baby…I-I’m gonna…”

“Do it. Flood m-me…unh.”

Both of your moans were messy, filling the air with cries of each others names as Shuri continued to fuck you with her drenched pussy. It was exhilarating, a rush of warmth that surged through your body, starting as a tight ball of heat in your sex and radiating outward. The thump between your dewy folds pulsed at a faltering rhythm, one beat upon another, as you felt Shuri's clit continuously twitching and teasing against you.

“Fuck, y/n. You make my pussy feel so g-good,” Shuri moaned, struggling to descend from her own state of bliss. And she was a sight to see. Her dark skin glistened with perspiration, the chain adhering to her body due to the sweat. Her curls were ruffled, their natural pattern still discernible but marred by the droplets of sweat that trickled down her forehead. And you could always tell how hard her orgasm was rushing through her body with the way her abs tightened and her jaw clenched, her pussy puffed out as her clit jolted with pleasure. Your girlfriend was ridiculously sexy and the way her body reacted to yours was a testament in itself with how much she loved you.

Before you were able to come back to earth, you felt one last lick up your folds and you shuddered violently forcing Shuri to grip your thighs tightly in order to keep you still. You were still so achy, pulsations still finding a way to decrease as Shuri pressed her mouth onto you, kissing your pussy lips like they’re the lips on your face.

“Ugqibelele kakhulu,” she hums into your cunt before licking your juices up (“You’re so perfect,”). “Intwana yakho igqibelele.” (“Your pussy is so perfect.”)

Another lick through your folds that makes you jolt and you consider trying to squirm out of her grasp but the sight of Shuri worshiping words of praise into your pussy in her native tongue is enough to let you keep her there.

"Ndifuna ukudlala kwi intwana yakho ngalo lonke ixesha.” (“I want to play in your pussy all the time.”)

“Ufuna ukwenza ukuba uze ngapha nangapha nangaphezulu kwakhona.” (“Wanna make you cum over and over and over again.”)

“Nanini na ndifuna.” (“Whenever I want.”)

"Kuba ndiyakuthanda." (“Because I love you.”)

“Intwana yam.” (“My pussy.)

“Umntwana wam oyintombazana.” (“My baby girl.”)

They were words of promise, words of desire as you cum once more. The waves of her husky voice surged through you as her mouth wrapped around your clit and you whimpered through your overwhelming orgasm, legs trembling as you trapped Shuri between the thickness of your dark thighs.

“Sh-Shuri…please. I-ah…I can’t take it anymore.”

“I know, baby.”

“Then…please.” You were shaking, completely overtaken by it all. “Please Shuri…I can’t.”

Shuri plants one last kiss onto your clit and you shudder, breasts and thick thighs jiggling one last time before Shuri removes herself from the heaven between them. You were her baby girl, her princess, her everything and she didn’t want you to feel anything less. She comes back up to face you, caressing your cheek as sleep crept through your mind.

“Y/n…are you able to wash up yourself?”

You nodded and Shuri smiled, proud of you.

“Then go do it, please. I’ll be out here waiting for you.”

“W-wait…why can’t we wash up together? We always do it together,” you pouted.

“Sshhhh,” she whispered, still caressing your beautiful face. “Kukanye nje, sthandwa sam. Ndiyacela." (“Just this once, my love. Please.”)

You hesitate, but nod, bringing her in for a kiss as you taste the remnants of your pleasure on Shuri’s lips.

“Good girl. Always my good girl.”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

♪ ༘⋆ Open up those gates to your heart, Only if you’ll let me ♪ ༘⋆ (favorite song - toosii)

After finishing your shower and changing into pajamas, you step out of the bathroom only to be greeted by a heartwarming sight that leaves you holding back tears. A trail of rose petals leads from the bathroom door to the neatly made hotel bed, where you and Shuri shared your intimate moment. Placed on the bed is a large stuffed panda bear, a thoughtful reminder that Shuri noticed your love for these creatures during your trip to China to visit The Great Wall. Right in front of the bear sits a beautifully wrapped box. Shuri's smile warms your heart, and you rush into her arms, straddling her with a passionate kiss. She changed into low waisted black joggers with a matching black crop top, showing off her sculpted body and toned arms as the subtle gold chain remained on her neck. She looked damn good.

“Baby, you didn’t have to do all this.”

“Of course I did. You’re my girlfriend.”

“Shuri…”

“Sshhh, y/n, just open it.”

“But I didn’t get you anything.”

“Y/n…I don’t get you things to get things in return. I get you things because I love you and because I can. Now open it…please?”

"Mmmm okay!," you giggled, playfully pecking Shuri's nose before removing yourself from her lap. You picked up the gift, giving it a little shake before eagerly unwrapping it. Inside, you found exquisite souvenirs from each of the stops you and Shuri had made on your trip to the Seven Wonders. The items looked rare and valuable, serving as a beautiful memento of the precious time you had spent with the woman you cherished the most.

“Shuriiiiii! Where-how? How did you get these??”

Shuri shrugs her shoulders, a half cocky grin painting her face. “I have my ways.”

You rolled your eyes in a playful manner, proceeding to dig through the gift. Along with it all was a kimoyo bracelet, and you smiled at the gesture.

“Thank you babyyyy,” you squeal, wrapping your arms around her neck. “Now I can do all the things you do!”

“Welllll not quite. Wouldn’t want you hurting yourself now,” she chuckled. “I made this mostly so I can keep you safe even when I’m not around. That amongst…other things.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“What things?”

“Oh you know…like…things…like I can give you orgasms with it.”

“Oh my god, Shuri!,” you laugh, playfully hitting her once more before proceeding to look in the box, finding a folded piece of paper at the bottom.

“Oooo, what’s this??,” you ask before Shuri takes the paper from your hand, laughing in your state of confusion.

“I wanna read this to you myself,” she says, her voice smooth as silk.

“What is it?”

“Just relax for me. Here…hold this,” she says, placing the panda plush in your arms. It was so cute.

Shuri slowly unfolded the paper, kissing your lips before inhaling deeply.

“I call this piece ‘Seven Wonders’.”

“Piece? Shuri, what is this?”

“Just…listen...”

✎✯ “They say the world contains wonders, I heard there were seven

But what wonders do they speak of if we don’t live in heaven?

They say the world contains beauty, but for me it was tragic

And though I don’t believe fables, I believe you are magic

I say the world contains death, yet in you I find life

And though now I’m your girlfriend, I hope one day I’m your wife

I say the world is but hell, yet you are my heaven

And if the world contains wonders, then you are all seven” ✯✎

With each word, each stanza and rhyme, you were brought to a state of healing. A state where you could feel Shuri’s words pick up the pieces for you and mend them back into one. You were an emotional wreck, tears falling down your cheeks uncontrollably to a point where softs sobs ripped out of your mouth. Your chest felt heavy and light all at once, as you were overtaken and consumed by the love you had for your girlfriend.

“Shuri, what the fuck???,” you cried, basking it all in. “That was so fucking beautiful, what? I don’t even know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything, nkoszana. You just have to believe it.”

“Shuri I…I didn’t even get you anything.”

"Baby, come here," she murmurs gently, gesturing for you to return and settle back into her lap, and you comply willingly. With your puffy eyes meeting hers, she can't help but be overwhelmed with love for you.

“You are my gift.”

Your lips form a pout, eyes twinkling with your tears.

“What life took away from me, Bast replaced with you. You, my angel, are my gift.” She places a kiss on your cheek, the salt of your tears lingering on her lips and she allows it because she wants to stay here forever, wants to sulk in everything she’s feeling as a reminder that this is not a dream. She begins crying with you, overwhelmed with the gift that was you, overwhelmed that she had explored the world’s most intricate of beauties and yet you were still the most beautiful to her.

“Thank you my love,” you whisper for her ears only, nuzzling your face into the warmth of her neck as she kisses your temple in longing. “You’re my everything, Shuri.”

“Nawe ungowam.” (“And you are mine.”) ❁ཻུ۪۪♡

♪ ༘⋆ I see reflections of me when I look at you, and I ain’t never felt this way, and I can’t lie girl you got it, and I got pain all in my body you helping me heal from, lil’ mama a real one ♪ ༘⋆ (reflections - dustystaytrue ft. toosii)