#you never asked to be put in this position

[rockingbytheseaside]

✦ When someone tries to imitate you or take your place 

Pierro, Capitano, Dottore, Pantalone 

(tw: general mentions of violence and intimacy, swf. Old ask suggested by the lovely @pandaquick, better late than never)

Your position in the Fatui is a much more personal and delicate matter. You are not just some high-rank advisor or soldier idling within the Zapolyarny Palace, nor can you be defined as another Fatuus. You are someone of a different echelon - a Harbinger’s beloved, safeguarded with the utmost honor conferred by Her Majesty the Tsaritsa. It is no secret your significant other would utilize a whole army to protect you, but what happens when someone, in their foolishness, forgets that?

✧ Pierro was the first to notice that someone tried to imitate you. An individual of high status endeavored to emulate your work and areas of expertise. Subsequently, this individual began to adopt aspects of your appearance, from hairstyle to clothing. However, the breaking point occurred when this foolish person attempted to purchase an identical jewelry brooch to the one you frequently wore. It was a similar piece, one gifted to you by Pierro.

Except that imitator missed one important clue - Pierro orders you custom-made silver adorned with deep-cut sapphires that would put the Tsaritsa’s crown into shame. A one of a kind piece.

This cheap attempt to imitate you and usurp your spot was what forced The Jester to abandon his silent observation. His gaze has long caught the envious glances directed towards you whenever you accompanied him on meetings, whenever he linked his arm with yours, whenever he generously kneeled beside you to put his coat over your shoulder and keep you warm from Snezhnaya’s cold - the same individual, always seething with resentment. Thus, it was time for the Director to silently act. 

He kept tabs on this person via a network of spies, gathering intel on their behavior and intentions. And with the most skilled spies raised from the House of the Hearth, it didn't take long to have a whole pile of evidence right on his desk. And with the simple snap of his fingers, he effortlessly orchestrated the apprehension and subsequent banishment of the culprit, sparing no unnecessary words. Hearsay will not be tolerated in the Fatui, but to see some lowly scum tarnish your reputation by cheap mimicry then it’ll be his responsibility to weed out. 

“Pierro, dearest, What's wrong? You seem so deep in thought.” - Your gentle murmur broke The Jester's train of thought. As he lay in bed, your head resting on his chest and his arm draped over you, he reminded himself that he was in the comfort of your love. He doesn't have to mull over the bloodied ordinances when he feels the warmth of your skin underneath the covers.

“Apologize, my divine. It seems my mind was drifting to troubling thoughts. But it no longer matters when you're here.” - Thus, he gently planted a kiss on your forehead and tucked the covers around your body which harbored marks of his devotion earlier that night.

✧ Il Capitano clutched the hilt of his sword in resolution. Something was wrong and he could see it. The Harbinger was in the middle of his morning spar with you, a regular training session where you and the Captain warm up as a routine. He stood in a defensive stance, his movements fluid yet measured as his sword received blow after blow from your weapon. You, on the other hand, moved like a silent tempest, your strikes precise yet frustratingly urgent.

It was unlike you to be so unsteady, noted Capitano to himself, especially when fighting. Despite the unspoken patience, an undercurrent of concealed despondency and anger laced your body language. 

“Alright, my dear, I can feel your unease. What troubles your heart?” 

You shook your head, panting as you almost faltered. You insisted on continuing the training session, but it was clear your brave facade was almost crumbling. 

“It would be foolish to continue. And I care about your well-being. Please, confide in me, my beloved.”

You tried, you really did. But before you know it, your lips pursed into a thin line and a flood of tears escaped the moment you shakily lowered your weapon. Now the Captain was on full alert, rushing towards you and gently supporting you before you could hide your tearful face in shame. With an arm around your trembling form and much persuasion - you relented and shared the source of your frustration. A newly enlisted soldier had undergone thorough training under the tutelage of Il Capitano, and their impressive advancement was unmistakably evident in their unwavering dedication. However, this individual began to devote more time to the Captain, delving into military intelligence and climbing the ranks. You genuinely felt joy for the new recruit, truly. Yet in timid humiliation, you had to confess you felt obsolete as if your power alone wasn’t enough for a harbinger of his caliber and ranks.

“Ah, my dear, you are far from weak. My time with the trainees is merely a duty, a part of my job as the 1st Harbinger. But when it comes to you, my dear, your might and wisdom are incomparable. You don’t deserve my ranks, you deserve my life laid before you.”

But whatever gentle words of affection were coming out of the Captain, your next words of truth made him halt at once. “... At least, that’s what the recruit told me when we spoke. That I'm weak.” 

“...What did you say?” 

The gentle armored hand on your shoulder now tightened in restrained anger, fury flaring within his chest. Capitano now understood: your tears, your sudden insecurity, your doubt, your silence… It wasn’t coincidental. This recruit who was so conveniently rising in the ranks made sure to aim not just for the Harbinger. Specifically, you; to sow self-doubt onto you and hinder your precious relationship. Someone was deliberately bullying you.

You looked up at Capitano’s dreadful silence, asking him what was wrong.

“It… seems, my dear, someone has crossed an unforgivable line. One that would cost them their life dearly. And I am to blame for not noticing when harm and doubt came your way. I must amend this transgression for your forgiveness.”

You blinked in response, not having time to comprehend the severity of his words; It’s hard to respond when your beloved suddenly kneels and bows like a knight on duty. In the end, Capitano ushered you to take a day off and let your mind rest easy.

The next day, Capitano returned home early but was eerily silent once more. He stayed with you the whole day, like a hawk overlooking his nest, his arms crossed but his touch gentle. Although he claimed nothing was wrong, you received news that certain recruits were gone, and any upcoming soldiers that would come into his care would receive even stricter training from now on. That day, you wondered why some Fatui soldiers feared talking to you. Not to mention the armor around Capitano’s knuckles seemed faintly red-tinted.

The Fatui organization was a constant battle of powers and ranks. But to climb the ladder and meddle with the life of The Captain was a personal offense, one that would result in quick and unapologetic bloodshed. Nevertheless, he made sure to remind his soldiers about that. 

✧ When one of the folks working under Il Dottore as a lab analyst approached you, you didn’t expect them to call you names so suddenly. You stood there, confused and apprehensive at the sudden barrage of insults from the stranger. But they explained:

“You don’t do anything when helping during research, you know! I don’t even know how The 2nd tolerates you when you’re this useless. I’ll tell you what, quit your special-treatment act, and don’t come back to the lab. The Doctor is better off with someone of his level of intellect.”

You didn’t fight or defend yourself, you didn’t even insult the assistant. Instead, you smiled simply  - “Very well, I won’t. Good luck.”

That day, you turned and left. The frustrated lab analyst was left in confusion but thought they succeeded in eliminating the only obstacle left to get closer to the elusive yet powerful Harbinger. After all, what the hell do you even do at his lab? You exchange a few words with Dottore, maybe sporadically point at what to do, and remain seated in the back, resting as if you were the Tsaritsa herself. The audacity. How come Il Dottore never kicked you out?

Well, it didn't take long for this person to find out.

The next day, naturally, Dottore couldn’t find you when he proceeded with work. You were neither at his study, nor at the lab, nor at your favorite corner of the library. It was barely noon, and receiving your warm greetings was his routine. And the Doctor always follows the agenda.

“Where are they?” 

His question was brief but pointed, and his subordinates knew exactly who he was referring to. They could sense the tension in his voice. The only individual privy to the reason for your absence smirked smugly and responded.

“Hmph. It seems they decided not to come, Lord Harbinger Dottore.”

That was their first mistake because The Doctor caught on to the haughty smirk coming from his new analyst.

“And you know so certainly how?” - he quickly gestured to a nearby Fatui servant with a flick of his wrist. “Send in servants to check in on my behalf. I wasn’t informed. If my darling is feeling tired or unwell, bring their preferred refreshment immediately, and ensure it is warm.”

However, this displeased the new lab assistant, as even while you were away, Dottore was still dotting on you as if it was his second nature to do so while he was busy with work. Thus, they cleared their throat and spoke up:

“They… barely accomplished anything in your presence, doctor. So I advised them to leave, to which they agreed. Pretty straightforward, s-sir.” 

“Oh? Did you, now” - A burning rage, like never before, flared up within Il Dottore. With clenched teeth and a rigid jaw, his voice oozed with venom. But any seasoned lackey working under Dottore knew that this was the calm before the storm. Because soon, an echo of shattering vials and slammed objects would ring out from the laboratory. And in your absence, nothing would prevent the doctor from showing a bit of despotism. 

Much later that evening, after everything was set and done, the servants informed him of your whereabouts. Il Dottore briskly made his way through the Zapolyarny Palace to find you. Spotting you tucked away in a secluded nook of the palace, he hastened over, anxious to ensure your well-being, fearing you might’ve withdrawn due to the influence of some blabbering lowlife. 

“Dear! There you are… No one has the right to speak to you like that ever. Are you alright? My dearest, why did you not tell me immediately?! I would’ve-”

Dottore’s frustrated rambles come to a halt when you place a finger on his lips to shush him. You didn’t look despaired, in fact, you looked calm - “Zandik? Did you have another tantrum in your lab while I was absent?”

The doctor gulped, remembering his place. Calming his senses, he placed his hands on your waist and ushered you closer to his arms.

“... Perhaps. But I had to. How could I be certain that no one had harmed you? Why did you comply with that impudent fool? You should’ve gone to me first.”

“Well, it was unpleasant to hear the insults, sure. But…" - you glanced apologetically and a knowing smile returned to your lips. "I knew you'd find out and deal with the issue very quickly." 

✧ You and Pantalone were an odd couple. You didn't hail from a rich background, nor were you well-versed in the art of business and finance. You were more proficient in adventuring, your travels taking you to all sorts of journeys and commissions, a polar opposite from your beloved Pantalone. This led to raised eyebrows among the aristocrats of Snezhnaya. How can the richest man of Teyvat, who lives and works in prestige, be associated with such a simple person as you? For some, this gave the impression that they had a better chance of winning him over.

Thus, once upon a night, Pantalone was invited to a luxurious soirée. Here he was, clad in his finest suit, silver rings complementing his equally expensive optics. But to the Regrator, the jewelry adorning him was the least of his concerns - because you were the most precious gem in this gala. You accompanied him, although reluctantly, feeling out of place amidst the grand assembly of extravagant guests and the languid orchestra.

“Pantalone, do we have to…? I know you said this is not a business party, but there are so many guests already lining up to talk to you.” 

“Oh do not fret, my sweet. Evening galas like these are where the real negotiation and connections entail. But I know the details bore you, so I promise we won't stick here for too long. Besides, I get to introduce you as my one and only!”

That's exactly what you were afraid of. As a company of some esteemed noble ladies adorning elegant gowns, you had difficulties matching Pantalone’s polite smile. Overwhelmed by the scrutinizing gazes of some guests, you politely excused yourself to the bathroom. Pantalone was concerned, thinking of following you, but that was exactly what the guests wanted. 

You spent a long while by the hallway alone, trying to stabilize your breathing. The muttering of guests enjoying drinks and strolling was faint, but you could hear some people nearby:

“How can the 9th be with someone like them…? Surely it’s a joke.”

“A charming, rich man like him, and he can have anyone he desires. Yet he wastes his time on a simpleton?”

“Someone was definitely in it for the Mora, maybe he hasn’t seen real class. Quick, let’s go talk to him while he is alone.”

You stood with your back to a wall, and for the first time, uncertainty crept in. With fists clenched by your side, you reprimanded yourself that you are not alone. You came here with your significant other - and he, above all else, knows that gossip has no place in your shared private life. Hence, gathering up your courage, you raise your head high and strode back into the gala.

Pantalone, unfortunately yet expectedly, was surrounded by the same foul-mouthed nobles who wished to impress him. They prattled on about his financial success, while ladies fanned their folding fans and stood too close for his comfort. While they humored him, The Regrator cast hurried glances around the gala in search of you. Where are you?

“Lord Harbinger, may we offer you more champagne? I am sure this expensive bottle is up to your taste.”

The 9th attempted to hide his frown at the woman's tone, his stomach unwilling to ingest any drink some excessively elaborate name. “No thank you, I’d rather decline. I am waiting for my dear. I promised her a dance later this evening.”

“Oh, please sir, I insist. The night is young and there is plenty more for-” 

Before the woman could continue, your voice cut through the air; calm, yet unmistakably firm. “He said no. Simple enough to understand.”  

A hush fell over the gathered guests, the weight of your words settling like a sudden gust. Only Pantalone beamed with a genuine smile. “Ah, dear! There you are,”. The Harbinger was about to step back towards you, when the same lady suddenly blocked his path, her back facing him while her tone edged with defiance.

“I beg your pardon, but I’m afraid the question is directed towards Lord Harbinger Pantalone. I am sure you wouldn't know the pleasure of tasting a 500,000 Mora champagne from Fontaine.”

You recognized the snark in her tone directed towards you, and you couldn’t deny the anxiety twisting in your gut as eyes narrowed in your direction. However, with a shake of your head, you reminded yourself who you truly are and simply said: “Sheesh, lady, you spend that much on a drink that tastes worse than sparkling water? To each their own, I presume”

Her smile vanished. The guests stared in stunned silence, but it was Pantalone’s genuine laughter that pierced the tension. The sound was rich and real—because only he knew how adept you were at humbling an overconfident aristocrat with a dose of blunt truth. That’s how Pantalone managed to push through the crowd and circle his arm back around your waist, leaving the astonished onlookers behind.

“Ah dear, you’re a savior. I apologize I dragged us into this unpleasant company…” - he confined to you apologetically as you two walked away. “You always knew how to be sincere in your honest way.”

“It’s not like I meant to pick up a fight…" - you sighed. "I simply couldn't bear the humiliation, Pantalone. I'm aware that some people give me strange looks when I'm with you. They regard me as if I'm some peasant standing next to a powerful Fatui harbinger. That I'm nothing. That's why I couldn’t just hide, I had to step up to defend myself.”

“Oh, darling… My sweet, precious darling.” - The two of you left the manor that hosted the soiree, the chill night breeze muting the faint sound of guests and replacing it with a symphony of cricket noise from the garden nearby. Pantalone's fingers intertwined with yours.

"You are not just 'nothing' - you're my everything. You did not come from riches, and neither did I. You of all people know that. Would I really hold respect for some rich fool who didn't know an ounce of hardship when Mora was all they had since birth? No, dear, I wouldn't."

With a tender hand, he rested his palm on your waist, gently guiding you along the cobblestone path as if leading you into a slow waltz by garden roses in the night.

"Besides, you should never be ashamed to seek out my help. Although I must admit... Your tone earlier - oh my. Use it on me more often, darling. I wouldn't mind." 

[starsofang]

CALL OF THE SEA / PART TWELVE

pirate poly!141 x f!reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, heavy topics such as death, blood, and past trauma mentioned masterlist a/n: thank you for all your support while i grow through a difficult time!! i appreciate all of you for being so patient and loving. long chapter for u!! <3

When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.

Ghost didn’t remember much about his childhood. His mind blocked it out for him. But he did remember the pain and suffering he went through at such a young age.

He didn’t deserve that. Seeing his family, massacred in front of him. The blood mixed with the metallic scent that even now seemed to tinge his nose with a nostalgia that made him sick.

He was only a child, yet that was the day Ghost was born within him.

It was like an awakening. He saw how cruel the world could be through a pure lens and it tainted his vision red. Nothing was ever the same that day, and gradually, Simon was forgotten and Ghost was his new muse.

He could recall the nights he spent alone, digging through waste bins and slumping out on the streets like a dead dog. Stealing bread from shop merchants and having to run, barefooted to avoid getting beaten. Freezing to death on the street corner when winter came around and the pure snow covered the ground in a blanket.

It was scary for a boy his age. Dehumanizing. He didn’t deserve that.

He thought he was lucky when a ship crew came along, parading the streets to offer security. A job, a place to sleep, and meals — it seemed perfect for somebody who had absolutely nothing.

He couldn’t have been more wrong.

Ghost never saw Simon again after that day. He was lost somewhere at sea, hidden under the roar of waves. Ghost didn’t know where to look for him until soon enough, Simon had disappeared and Ghost replaced him. Graves made sure of that.

A captain, like hell he was. Ghost knew something wasn’t quite right about Graves the moment he met him, yet as a child, he was desperate. Once he was in, it was too late, and the broken pieces of him became completely irreparable.

Graves held a devilish aura about him, one Ghost could practically see radiating around him. Every step he took was one closer to chaos.

No matter the destination, Ghost was held on by a leash with Graves being the handler. The sights Ghost saw, some being from his doing, was something he’d never get back. It was as if reliving that very day where he lost everything.

Living amongst Graves’ crew was worse than living in hell. He would’ve preferred it. To be banished for his sins, to taste the sweet nectar of death, and live his eternity punished. Anything to stray from Graves and his ship.

When he saw the way you looked—the darkness looming over you, the distress in your eyes—he saw himself. And when he saw Graves, he saw the life that was stolen from him.

That red that clouded his lens when he was a child was all he could see. Pure, angry red.

Now, standing in Price’s quarters, that red only grew angrier. This time, for you—for putting you in the same position he’d been stuck in for years.

You didn’t deserve that.

Your mind was a whirlwind of chaos. It was struggling to digest the information given to you. So much at once and you could barely manage to keep yourself together.

Everybody looked sorry for you. Ghost looked enraged. Price was lost. Soap and Gaz were remorseful. It was too much.

You hated that they looked at you like that. You hated when they didn’t look at you like that more. Having them worry, when for the duration of your stay it was like walking on burning rocks, it felt strange.

Their own worry caused yours as well.

“What is that?” you asked. “The mark of death. I— I don’t know what that is. What does that mean?”

You were becoming more frantic. The panic that ensued was growing, and you could tell it bothered Price. He was quick to grasp your shoulders, settling you.

“It’s complicated,” he explained quietly, hushing you. “That man you saw? His name is Phillip Graves. Some call him the Devil of the Seas. He’s a wicked pirate who feeds off of the innocent, their fear. None of us know what he truly is, not even Ghost, but we believe he’s apart of something sinister.”

“What, like he’s sold his soul? Made amends with the Devil? You are talking madness!” you exclaimed, exasperated.

“We are talkin’ truth,” Price corrected. He was as patient as ever, yet still held the firmness of a leader. “He’s that of a reaper. Souls is what he wants. The mark of death is his contract, you may say.”

“But you are not telling me what the mark does,” you cried.

Your head hurt. The world was spinning. You didn’t understand.

“I think it’s quite obvious what the markin’ is, dove,” the Captain said solemnly. “It is only by miracle it hasn’t happened to Ghost yet.”

“So I am to die? Is that it?” You flickered your gaze between each man. Your eyes told a million stories, and each of them were ones of fear and anguish. “I am going to die?”

“No,” Ghost snapped. You looked at him. He seemed as pain as you were, but the anger was taking over logic. “You ain’t dyin’. Not today, not tomorrow. M’not lettin’ it happen.”

“Ghost,” Soap tried, but he was quickly shut down.

“I said no,” he repeated resentfully. “Price, show her the map.”

Price turned to him, stiffening. It seemed he still didn’t quite want to let you know the full truth. Now, you felt it was to protect you rather than leave you out. It was too late for protection.

The Captain silently walked to his desk, pulling open the old drawer with a slam, shaking the table. He pulled out the map you’d seen so long ago, unrolling it and slapping it on the table.

“Come, dove,” he called, and you listened.

The men surrounded the desk with you, staring down at the map. The ink was still the same as it was before—islands crossed out with an X, while one remained circled.

“Suppose it’s time you knew, hm?” he asked, offering the smallest of smiles. You found that you missed his real one. The one he tried to hide when he found a joke of yours humorous.

Your nerves shot up. Your emotions were at an all-time high. You were scared, scared to find out the truth.

“These islands,” he began, tracing his finger along the map to point at the ones with an X, “are all land marked by Graves. Every single one, we went to in search of a medic. The one in the poem, remember?”

The one who heals the ill and poor

shall be the cure to all demise.

You weren’t sure how it linked to you. You’d never met Graves, nor had you met your pirate crew until they took you away. The connection wasn’t there. It didn’t make sense.

“Yes, I remember,” you confirmed quietly. “What does it have to do with me?”

“We searched for a medic from every village, yet when we arrived, they were famished with death, or on the brink of,” he explained. “All of the villages were all succumbin’ to Graves’ mark of death. We think he was attemptin’ to get rid of all villages as much as he could so we wouldn’t be able to find their medics. We don’t know how, but he knows we have the prophecy, and he doesn’t like it.”

“And how do you know the prophecy is related to Graves?” you questioned. “How do you know it relates to me?”

“Ghost got the prophecy a long time ago when he was still on Graves’ ship,” Soap piped in. His hands rested on the table and he leaned over the map, but his eyes bore into yours. “He was searchin’ for answers even then. This is all he got.”

You couldn’t imagine the desperation Ghost must have felt, knowing Graves had him under his despicable spell. Not knowing whether he was going to live or die.

Your heart ached.

“And me?”

The room went silent, as if your words burned a wound in them.

“Your village had the mark, yet nobody had suffered from it,” Gaz said quietly. His eyes were soft when he looked at you with the unmistakable glimmer of pity in them. “We knew you were the one we were lookin’ for.”

“My village was not cursed,” you denied, shaking your head. “There is simply no possibility. We rarely got outsiders unless they were coming to browse the merchants.”

It clicked in your head how quickly it must’ve happened. Graves, visiting your village under the guise of an innocent shopper, gearing his interest towards the various merchants that littered your small streets.

It would’ve been so easy for him. So terribly easy.

Your people died to Price’s crew, but the true evil was the man who gave the pirates reason to ensure a massacre.

“That’s why you did what you did,” you muttered to yourself in disbelief. “You killed them because of him. You killed Mary because of him.”

“The curse would’ve taken over the moment you left,” Gaz explained. “You were the shield protectin’ them without even knowin’. You’re meant to fulfill the prophecy, grantin’ you immunity until we found you.”

All this talk about a prophecy made you want to scream, cry, yell, anything. Why you? Why were you the one chosen, and why did it have to be you?

You wanted your life back. You didn’t want to be apart of this.

Before you knew it, tears welled up in your eyes. They stung, causing you to blink rapidly. You didn’t want to seem weak, but in this moment, you were.

“Dove?” Gaz called out, concerned.

“I don’t want this,” you cried, shaky hands balling into fists. “You—you knew I was apart of this and never told me. You kept me in the dark for this long, you hid me from the truth, and for why?”

“We don’t have all of the information yet, dove, please—” Price began, but you shut him down.

“Bullshit!” you shouted, and he reeled back in surprise. You had been outspoken before, plenty with the Captain especially, but he had never seen you lash out so fiercely. “You took my life away because you assumed I was the one in your ridiculous prophecy on a whim. You took a guess and went with it. I am hardly a proper medic, let alone worthy enough to be that person for you, so why have you chosen me?”

“You must understand, you were the only medic left alive,” Price defended. “We had no choice. We did what we had to do.”

“At my expense,” you argued.

“At all of our expense,” he retorted. “I did not care for your life when we stole it. I did not care for it when you were locked in the brig. I cared for Simon’s.”

You fell silent, whipping your head to look at Ghost. You’d heard Price call him Simon before, by a slip-up, but now he had said it purposely. Ghost simply looked away, arms crossed over his chest.

All that talk before and now, at your aid, he was as quiet as a street mouse.

“Without you, he will die. We do not know when. Graves hasn’t killed him due to the thrill of holdin’ his life in his hands. It’s a toy to him. He can take his life away at any moment, and I would not allow that, even if it meant ruinin’ yours.”

Price’s cheeks were reddened from the frustration and helplessness he was feeling. He was a Captain trying to save his crew’s life, uncaring of yours—in the beginning, at least.

Now, the mere thought of losing both had him kneeling like a pitiful dog to the Devil of the Seas.

“I do not wish to be here,” you murmured, taking a step back. Soap opened his mouth to retort, but you silenced him. “I need to be alone.”

The Captain gave you a sad smile, nodding his head. He was respecting your wishes.

“As you wish,” he agreed, and you made your way out of the suffocating quarters, returning to your shared one with Gaz and Soap.

“Dove,” a voice called out. It was quiet, like it was whispering, yet to you, it sounded loud. You hated its voice.

It was black. Your eyes couldn’t adjust to the light, no matter how much you shifted them to look around.

Your body felt heavy, as if something was weighing on you. Your lungs were tight, and when you opened your mouth for air, nothing came in. You slapped your hands over your throat, clawing at the skin.

Why couldn’t you breathe? You felt like you were drowning. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t take in an ounce of air, and you could feel your lungs beginning to protest.

A cold panic came over you, like an icy wave consuming you in its dangerous waters. You tried to move your legs, but they were stuck. They were too heavy.

All you could do was helplessly paw at your throat, praying to gasp for a breath, praying that the Gods had mercy on you.

“Dove,” it whispered once more. Where had you heard the voice before? You knew it, but your mind was blanking from the lack of oxygen.

“I’ll be seeing you, dove,” it mocked.

Dove. Dove. Dove.

“Dove!”

You shot awake, a sharp gasp invading your lungs. The burning in your chest was harsh, and it was as if you truly hadn’t been breathing.

Coming to, you blinked the groggy confusion away, lifting a hand to wipe at your eyes.

Soap peered down at you, his eyebrows knitted worriedly. His hands were on each side of your shoulders, as if he’d shaken you awake, and when you realized you had been asleep, you only guessed that’s what he was doing.

“I kept callin’ ye but ye weren’t wakin’,” he said wearily. “Are y’alright?”

You glanced around the room, taking it in. Gaz’s bed. The clothes strewn on the floor. The mess on the small desk that you’d never seen occupied.

You were no longer suffocating in darkness. It was a mere dream—no, a nightmare. A terror.

You were safe.

“I don’t know,” you confessed breathily, still catching air.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you recalled the nightmare. You couldn’t remember the voice, not when you were fearing a death that was merely fake, but you knew now.

“Tell me,” Soap urged gently, taking a seat next to you on the bed. You sat up to join him, frowning at the floor. “It’s okay.”

You risked looking up at him, searching his eyes. They were soft whenever they looked at you, and they’d been like that since the beginning. He was always patient, even when you did things that cost him a scolding from Price.

You felt like you could trust him, more than any of them.

“It was that man,” you explained. “Graves. I think he is messing with my head. I dreamt of dying, like… like I was drowning. I couldn’t breathe. The whole time, I could hear his voice, calling me out. Mocking me.”

Soap listened carefully, taking in every one of your words. He cared, that much you could tell, and the situation weighed heavy on him. The worry lines on his face were proof.

Graves was tormenting with your mind, feeding into your fear. He knew you were terrified, and he enjoyed it. The way he mimicked what he told you, whispering it the same as before, it sent chills down your spine and made your blood run cold.

You understood now why Ghost was always a mystery—because he was scared, too. He just hid it better.

“I am scared,” you confessed shakily. “I do not want to die.”

“And ye won’t,” he assured, but you shook your head.

“You do not know that,” you argued. “None of you do. You have not given me a chance at life. I am stuck in this without a choice, and I am the new target. It’s not fair.”

Soap’s expression dropped into one of guilt. His focus shifted away from you, avoiding your eye, before returning back to you.

“It’s not,” he agreed quietly. “We’ve done to ye what Graves did to Ghost. Treatin’ ye like—like burdening scum, like ye don’t matter. I can’t express to ye how sorry I am for everythin’.”

You didn’t want an apology, but you accepted it nonetheless. It was the first anybody had truly apologized for the mess you were thrown into. Maybe it was something you needed without realizing. You felt a sliver of weight lifted.

“I never had a family,” you told him, staring down at your feet that hung over the side of the bed. The shoes Soap surprised you with stared back at you. “The village did not like my values or my lifestyle. It was hard being an outcast there, but it is even harder here.”

“Yer not an outcast.”

Looking back up at him, you found him smiling, a faint sparkle twinkling back at you.

“Not anymore. We thought ye were a little strange in the beginning, though,” he said, the end of his sentence bordering a tease.

You couldn’t stop your own smile from forming. Despite carrying the crushing weight of the world’s worries, as well as growing a headache with every word spoken from each of them ever since your arrival, you found yourself growing more fond over them the longer you lingered.

It’d been a bumpy road, and there were still miles ahead of you, waiting to unravel. But you couldn’t fully convince yourself that there wasn’t a part of you, yearning to belong with them.

“You are all very strange,” you retorted lightly. “I have never met such people as you before.”

“Thank ye.”

“It was not a compliment.”

Soap snorted, shaking his head at the banter. “The Captain is bitin’ tooth and nail in his quarters, thinkin’ he fucked this all up with ye. Never seen him that worried before, but with Graves bein’ around again, I don’t blame him.”

The statement caught you off guard, and you found yourself curious. “He is worried for me?”

Soap eyed you strangely, as if it had been obvious the whole time. “Ach. ‘Course he is. Cap’s got a good heart, even if it doesn’t seem like it.”

“I did not realize he cared for me after everything,” you confessed.

Soap hummed, looking down at his trousers and picking at a loose thread. “We all do.”

You stared at him dumbly, cocking your head in question when he didn’t elaborate. You had become acquainted with them, surely, you lived with them now after all, but you weren’t aware they truly cared.

When Price had told you they’d grown fond of you, you didn’t quite believe it. You assumed it was his way of convincing you to trust him, but it seemed that wasn’t the truth.

The two of you sat in silence, staring anywhere but at each other. The awkwardness grew, and it felt strange to feel that when the relationships had been too uptight even consider having those moments.

You took the time to weigh out your options. The Captain being worried, especially over messing things up with you, had you in a turmoil.

As much as you wanted to deny the path chosen for you unwillingly, you felt an obligation to please them. Yet, not in the way you initially thought.

You didn’t want to let them down.

Maybe you truly were as strange as Soap thought.

“Is he still in there?” you asked Soap. He perked up, nodding his head.

“Aye. He’ll be rottin’ in there before we know it.”

You pursed your lips, facing that inner battle once more before coming to a conclusion. “Would you like to join me, then?”

Soap raised his eyebrows, watching you stand from the bed. You shot him a warm smile, tilting your head at his confusion.

“For?” he asked.

“You all need a medic,” you said, giving a nonchalant shrug. “And I do not wish to die by the hands of a filthy pirate such as Graves. I am in this now, so I suppose I’ll simply have to deal with it, am I correct?”

Soap’s smile slowly grew at your sudden courage, standing up to join you. He reached out for you, and once you became confused, he looped your arm with his, grinning down at you.

“Sure are, dove. I’ll come with ye.”

The Captain looked a mess when you entered his quarters with Soap. Ghost was beside him where Price sat at his desk, the map and prophecy still scattered on the table. The two of them were speaking hushed to one another, yet when the door opened and you stepped in, they went silent.

“She wanted to be alone, Soap,” Price protested, but you quickly shook your head, taking a step closer to the desk.

“It’s alright,” you assured. “I have had time to think.”

Price’s eyebrows raised and he glanced at Gaz for a brief moment before returning to you. “I see,” he hummed, nodding. “I have as well.”

You cocked your head, eyebrows furrowing. He gestured for Ghost and Soap to step out of the room, requesting privacy, and the sudden realization that you would in fact have to speak after your outburst made your nerves to churn.

Ghost gave your shoulder a light squeeze as he walked behind Soap, catching you off guard. When you looked at him, he stared forward, avoiding your gaze.

The door clicked shut as they left, and you stood uncomfortably in place, shifting on the balls of your feet.

“I owe you an apology,” Price began. “A true one. I may be a Captain, and I know in those regards, I come off rather violent. I can be a brute, I will admit, but I am also a man who knows times when he is right and wrong.”

He stood up from his chair, circling around the desk to face you. He leaned against the old wood, crossing his arms and clearing his throat. Upon quick inspection, you saw the faint smoke of his cigar swirling in its ashtray.

“I should not have treated you so unkindly since the beginning. I should have considered how scared you must have been, how alone it must feel,” he continued, eyes drifting off for a moment as if deep in perplexing thought. “I do not apologize for doin’ what I thought was right in that time to save my own, but I do feel sorrow for what transpired in your time bein’ here.”

You couldn’t help but wonder if Ghost had been the reasoning for this. He wasn’t a man of many words, but you knew the respect him and Price had for one another. It was safe to assume he’d speak with him privately regarding everything.

“I’d like to apologize as well,” you began, but Price stood up straight, quick to raise his hands in protest.

“You have nothin’ to apologize for—”

“I am sorry for lashing out the way I did earlier,” you cut off. Price stopped, lips pressing together. His gaze remained stuck on you, now that you had his attention. “It does not excuse what you have done to me, and I see you have realized that. If this is to be my life, I wish for compromise rather than seclusion.”

Price didn’t say anything at first. His eyes darted over your face, taking in your features. He saw the calmness you held compared to when you were last in his quarters.

You didn’t seem defeated, nor did you seem to simply agree for the sake of him and the others. You wanted this for yourself.

“I will grant you that,” he agreed in a hum, nodding once. “I do not wish for you to feel out of place no longer. You have had enough of that, I believe.”

You took in his words, and they made you smile. It was what you wanted to hear—no angry exchanges, no selfish banter. A simple compromise, one you both wanted.

“Graves came to me in a dream,” you told him. His expression soured. “I believe there will be plenty more instances where he will do that. Based off of what you have told me about him, I do not want to prolong his presence longer than I must. So, I’d like to be of help.”

Just as quickly as Price grew tense at the mention of Graves, he calmed down, shoulders relaxing when he realized your implications.

“Soap has not convinced you, yes?” he asked, uncertain. “This is your call. I may have taken you due to my own selfishness, but I give you the choice now. You do not have to be a part of it if you do not want. You are part of us now, but this is not your battle.”

“It is,” you disagreed, though remained a calm composure. For the first time around Price, you felt at ease in the same room. “If I am to be part of your crew, your family, then your battles are my battles. I may not have had a family, but I am certain that’s how it works. Does it not?”

Price stared at you; expression unreadable. It took mere moments for his lips to slowly curl up, granting you one of his rare smiles that seemed to radiate a certain light you’d never seen before. It caused your heart to pick up, though you were unclear as to why.

“That is how it works with us, dove,” he agreed softly. “Your battles are ours. You can count on it.”

“Wonderful,” you cheered with a smile of your own. “Shall we continue what wasn’t finished before, then?”

Price chuckled low under his breath, his amusement growing the longer you stuck around. He nodded, tapping his desk and calling you to it.

“Come on, dove.”

[tragedy-of-commons]

"You're burning up" + Aventurine?

"You're burning up."

Aventurine doesn't know what else to say, so he goes with those three words. Safe bet - the doting parents in all the movies and sitcoms say it just like that; with care and worry, palm splayed out across the ill's forehead.

And holy hell are you ill.

Collapsed on his lavish sofa, you groan in response, swatting his hand away. "I'm gonna be just fine..."

He's inclined to disagree. You're sweating buckets despite how he'd mashed the thermostat down to its limit - he even had to shrug on a jacket. Perhaps Aventurine would have poked fun at you for your intolerance, but he has enough decorum to hold his tongue. He really doesn't like seeing you so put out, as much as you're welcome to crash here.

"Your poker face could use some work. Save your words, we can hang out another time," he dismisses easily, bracing himself for your incoming opposition. He reluctantly breaks away from your side to amble over to the coffee table, beginning to clean up the remnants of game night.

"No way," in the corner of his eye, he notices you shifting restlessly, "finals are coming up. Won't have time after this..."

Aventurine sighs, sweeping his very nice clay chips into one hand while using the other to click open their case. This time of year, things become almost unbearably hectic. He has exams coming up in a few weeks himself, and though he never needs to study, he always adheres to your modus operandi of 'cram now, cry later'.

"Well, you're not going back to those dorms in that state."

"You sound like a dickhead," you murmur. "You think I wanna live there? Shitty thin walls... shitty dining hall food..."

He chuckles, snapping the case shut and dusting his hands of nonexistent dust. "You're cruder than usual when you're feverish."

Aventurine almost startles when you gasp. "I have a fever?!"

...and you're loopy, too.

He gets you to sit still with the promise of retrieving a fever reducer and some water. Aventurine roots through his bathroom cabinets, combing through his own extensive collection of self-care and skin products to reach where he keeps his medication.

It takes several minutes of crouching down on the tile for him to realize he doesn't have any. He clicks his tongue - well, it seems his own lifestyle has backfired on him once again. Aventurine doesn't get sick often, doesn't spend a lot of time at home, and has enough stubborn resilience to power through any ailment that might plague him.

But for you? The only reason he spends any time at all in this stupidly expensive penthouse?

Yeah, he'll make a quick trip to the drugstore.

When he walks back into the living room with his shoes on and wallet in his pocket, his heart warms. You've somehow slipped into an upside down position, hair spilling over the edge of the cushions. You somehow make it look comfortable, eyes closed and brow free of any creases.

"Does that help your sinuses?" he asks, really only to test if you're awake.

"You smell good..."

Aventurine ignores how those words make him feel, eyeing the door (and where your shoes are lined up neatly against the wall).

"I have to restock on Tylenol," he swallows. "Will you be okay by yourself?"

"Yes," you respond coherently this time.

Before he departs, he cajoles you into another position in case you throw up like that and end up choking - not without some strangely endearing complaints that you'd normally never voice, positive thing you are.

He doesn't get to the inside mat before you pipe up again, making him stop in his tracks.

"C'mere," you cough. "Please, humor a dying star's last wish..."

He really should be going so he can get your temperature down quicker, but leaving you on the sofa while you're about to cough up a lung strikes him as cruel. Aventurine gives into your dramatics - which happen to perfectly align with his own at times - and makes his way over to you.

"What is it? Did I forget something?" he sits down on the armrest, perching there with perfect balance. When you don't respond immediately, an odd little expression on your face, he rests his chin on his fist, pensive.

You hum.

He doesn't expect much; a request for another pillow, a plea for him to turn on a movie for you while he's out. Instead, he's caught off-guard as you throw an arm around his waist and pull, effectively whisking him off the high ground and right into your grasp.

Aventurine initially tenses but settles as you nuzzle closer. You're the only person in the world that can get away with loving him so easily.

"M'sorry I got sick on game night..." you whisper, uncaring that you're spreading your sickness (and your homely oxytocin).

He finds himself not caring much either.

"Do you believe me to be that hung up on you catching a cold?"

Aventurine's heart rabbits cruelly - he's sure you can hear it, with the way you're snuggled against him and whatnot, but maybe he'll get lucky like he always has, and you'll remain oblivious and perfect and unbothered, despite what you do to him.

You sniffle, words thick with exhaustion. "I dunno. Just stay."

He can't. Not just because he has to go pick up that Tylenol, but because he feels like he might die if you keep saying things like that.

"Five minutes," he acquiesces.

Aventurine waits for your celebration of victory, but no such thing comes. You're fast asleep, clinging to him like he's worth something.

He stays for a lot longer than five minutes, only wriggling out of your arms when he's sure you won't wake up to find him gone. When he returns later with his spoils (which also just so happen to include your favorite drink), you're cradling a pillow in his place.

Before Aventurine is your boyfriend or lover, he is a liar.

He is most definitely, unequivocally, one hundred percent hung up on you.

🏷️: @akutasoda, @aviiarie, @lowkeyren

a/n: modern au because i couldn't possibly resist. just wanted to mention here that u guys absolutely killed it with these quotes. you have my gratitude! also why is he like that. soggy wet cat

event post here

[hayakawalove]

Politely asking for spoiled princess and suguru uwu you would do that saur much justice im shaking at the thought EEEE

🗿

CW: Fluff, Eating, Reader Just Gets Babied, Gender Neutral Reader

W/C: 1,332

“Happy birthday to you,” you wake with a melodic voice filling your ears.

When you open your eyes, the first thing you’re met with is the beauty that is Suguru Geto. His eyes are crinkled as he grins, tone soft as he sings. It fills your stomach with an emotion that’s a bit hard to place. Joy? Gratitude? No, something deeper.

Suguru finishes singing and places a soft kiss on your forehead. Warmth bursts across your skin, trailing across the planes of your face. Suguru loves you. He loves you. He loves you. It was palpable, felt in everything he did.

He’s looking down at you, his fingers adjusting a piece of your hair behind your ear. He smells sweet, like icing and yearly wishes. You think he was probably making your birthday cake, and your-

“I made breakfast, want me to bring it to you or do you want to eat on the couch?”

It’s a tender question, because you know he would offer to bring it to you regardless of it being your birthday. That’s just the kind of man Suguru was.

He loves to spoil, loves to baby, loves to love. It was a bit overbearing at first. Over time you’ve learned to lean into it. In fact, you may lean into it a bit too much. Especially during times like these.

“Will you carry me to the couch?” You bat your lashes, perfectly playing the part of a needy partner.

“What, no ‘please’?” He teases as he stands.

“Suguru, it’s my birthday!”

“Ahh, I suppose you’re right. Manners aren’t required on national holidays, huh?”

“No!”

He grins and pinches your cheek lovingly.

You think he gets off on your defiance more than you do. Freaky bastard.

Suguru spins on his heels to bring your breakfast to the living room while you nuzzle into the blankets. If the promise of food wasn’t imminent, you probably would be drifting back to bed. But it was Suguru’s cooking you were talking about. Not a chance in hell you’d miss that.

He comes back after setting the breakfast down by the couch. Suguru lifts you up, his strong arm holding the back of your knees while your head rests against his chest. It’s a short walk to the living room, with golden light filtering in through your windows. He sits on the couch with you draped across his lap.

You peek an eye open and see the tray full of goodies in front of you. French toast, fruit, and eggs to name a few. It looks wonderful. The aroma floats over to you and makes you stir against him, but you’re so damn comfortable.

“Have you gone back to bed already?” The tone is teasing and it goes straight to your heart.

You grumble and nudge his chest with your head.

“Don’t you want breakfast?” He asks.

“Feed it to me…” you whine as you look up at him.

Suguru lets out a loving sigh. He’s putting on a front as if he may be bothered, but it’s a farce and you know it.

“What am I going to do with you?” He chuckles, looking down to cut your French toast.

You relax in his hold, your body laying across his thighs as he tends to you. He gathers a piece drenched in syrup before holding it up on the fork, looking down at you.

“You have to sit up, I can’t have you choking on your birthday.”

You pout and nuzzle further into him before shuffling into a seated position. Suguru brings the fork next to you, nudging it against your lips. The stickiness spreads across your mouth, dusting your lips with sugar. You open up and grin when the food hits your tastebuds. So good. He never misses.

“You could have me choking on any other day?”

“Don’t be a brat, sweetheart.”

You bite your lip and look up to him. There’s pink growing on his cheeks, and you can’t tell if it’s due to the hard work he’s put in this morning, or if it’s from the sight of you needing his help.

He places another piece in your mouth before setting the fork down to grab the fruit. He’s holding a grape, plump and cold as he brings it up to your mouth. You wrap your lips around the grape and eat it, flicking your tongue against his thumb as you do so. It’s hard to make Suguru flustered, but every once in awhile you’re able to achieve the task. Like now.

Suguru clears his throat and continues to pamper you, feeding you as you drape yourself across his body.

Once you’re finished eating, or more aptly once Suguru’s finished feeding you, you let out a heavy sigh. Your stomach and your heart were full.

“What’s next on the agenda?” You ask, as if you’ve had an arduous day so far.

“You tell me.”

There were so many options. More than anything, you just wanted to spend the day with him.

You also wanted to be babied by him, but that was neither here nor there.

“Suguru, will you paint my nails and do my hair?”

He looks a bit ruffled at the request. He was ready to offer you the world on a silver platter, and you just wanted to have your nails painted?

“Sure, baby. What color?” He gets up and shuffles around to locate the polish, grabbing all of the supplies he needs.

“Black?”

“Birthday black it is.”

Suguru told you that sadly, you’d have to come to the kitchen table to get your nails painted. He told you that a couch full of paint wouldn’t be very good, and you were inclined to agree. Suguru sits across from you at the table, brush in hand as he maneuvers around your fingers. He treats them as if they’re precious, delicate pieces of art.

It’s a sight to see. Soft locks fall over his shoulders as he analyzes his work, you think he must be biting the inside of his cheek.

Once he’s done, you marvel at the results. Neat, because obviously it was. Your nails shine under the living room lights, honestly it looked so good you almost felt bad not paying for it. He’s watching you, his fist propped up under his chin as he smiles at your enthusiasm.

“It looks so good Suguru!”

“Thank you, I’m happy you like it.”

You take another moment to appreciate your nails before you look back towards him. There’s love in his gaze as he admires you, a soft smile resting on his face.

“Hair?” You ask, wanting to feel his hands on your scalp.

Suguru raises his brows, and looks up towards your eyes as if you brought him back to reality.

“Hair.” He responds, getting up from his seat to gather the supplies.

He works silently while you talk his ear off. At the beginning of your relationship, you were a bit worried you annoyed him with all your talking. But now you know that’s not the case. He loves when you talk. He loves to listen. It’s not really a surprise when his best friend is Gojo, king of loud mouths.

When he’s done, he holds a mirror up in front of you. Suguru was talented in everything he did. Your hair was perfect, no strand out of place. The sight brings a grin to your face as you whip around to face him. He’s standing behind you, brushing a hand against your hair as he looks down.

“Thank you!” You jump up from your seat and throw your arms around his steady figure.

Suguru coos and hugs you tightly, resting his head atop yours.

“Of course, darling.”

Once you’ve had your fill, although you could hug him for much longer if given the opportunity, you pull away. You beam up at him while he lovingly looks back.

“Was that all you wanted to do today?” He questions.

“We’re just getting started!” You respond.

(THANK YOU FOR SAYING I WOULD DO IT GOOD YOU’RE SO KIND. SUGURU LOVES YOU VERY MUCH. I KNOW HE DOES)

[ryescapades]

— hybrid au (no kaiju), snow leopard!narumi gen x gn!reader cw: none, just fluff! a/n: to those in my taglist, lmk if you're not into this .. just in case i ever decide to make a pt2. and to lera, tq for brainrotting w me :3

snow leopard!narumi who had somehow ended up at your doorstep on one rainy and stormy night. sopping wet from head to toe, his floppy black and white ears droops slightly as rainwater drips everywhere from his body.

snow leopard!narumi whom you had dotingly taken care of; getting him warmly bathed, freshly clothed and well-fed in the safety of your home, he then gives you his thanks in the form of a begrudging, albeit embarrassed grunt.

and when you register the adorable sight of his twitching ears, lowered tail and blushed cheeks in your mind, you'd decided then and there that you just had to take him in.

snow leopard!narumi who, since then, has been living with you as your new housemate (he refused to be called your... 'companion', like some domesticated animal or something). your home is more occupied now than ever, with game controls, electronic devices and figurines teeming on most of your shelves.

snow leopard!narumi who just loves to take up your time and personal space, much like how an actual house cat would. you'd be in your room, scrolling through your phone out of boredom when he appears, standing ramrod straight in the doorway (literally the manstanding emoji) with an indecipherable look on his face.

snow leopard!narumi who glares (and unconsciously pouts) at you when you throw him a brief glance before going back to what you were doing previously. he hates having to ask for your attention, no matter how desperate he is for it.

snow leopard!narumi who grumbles out that huffy "oi." at you, causing you to giggle. "what? you need anything?" you ask, smiling oh so innocently at him. you take note of the way his fluffy spotted tail swishes from side to side agitatedly, his ears reclining to the back and going into that notorious 'airplane mode' felines usually have.

"you gotta tell me what you want, gen. i'm not a mind reader," you point out with a cheeky glint in your eyes. in the end, he relents anyway, body comically slouching in defeat. "play games with me, dammit," he'd mutter under his breath, and with no intention of ever denying your adorable, grumpy overgrown cat, you yield to his demand (though the teasing you send him never ceases either).

snow leopard!narumi who can detect whenever you're having a particularly bad and exhausting day at work with just a single glimpse. he silently watches with a frown as you trudge your way to the bedroom to wash up, the vertical slits of his feline eyes narrowing in rapt attention. his console now forgotten, he doesn't even bother pausing nor saving the game before he puts the device aside with a new motive in mind.

snow leopard!narumi who sneaks into your room later that night, knowing you're still not asleep yet. he could see you there lying in the bed, staring up at the ceiling absently as your arms splay wide in a starfish position.

with a slow swish of his tail, he invites himself into your bed, straight away plopping his body onto yours. you choke slightly, the air rushing out of your lungs at the sudden weight. "hey!" you chastise, which he pays no mind to.

he buries his face in your chest, occasionally nuzzling at the space between your neck and shoulder. you would've let him stay there, if not for the sudden warm, textured and wet sensation on your neck. you gasp when you realize what it is.

"gen! what are you—" cupping his jaw to pull him away, your eyes blink a few times when his face greets you. the heavily-lidded magenta hues of his eyes are dauntingly striking under the dim light, but the tongue poking out between his lips nearly made you laugh. though you don't get the chance as he lets out a soft growl, urging you to stay still and just... let him do what it is he's trying to do.

snow leopard!narumi who then continues to lick all over your neck, nose scrunching cutely from time to time as he nips at your skin with his fangs like how a cat would wash another. like how cats groom each other to communicate, to show affection.

snow leopard!narumi who basks in your touch all the while, closing his eyes in contentment as you run your fingers through his hair, scratching behind his ears and rubbing at his nape. his tail wanders aimlessly at your leg, lightly and airily brushing on your skin like silken wool. you wonder if he realizes the way it settles to curl protectively, almost possessively around your ankle.

snow leopard!narumi whose chest rumbles and vibrates in a soothing rhythm against yours, ridding all the thoughts and worries that have perturbed you that day.

ah, you realize. he's purring on you.

you've taken such a good care of him ever since he first set foot into your home (that has now become his too), so it's only right he does the same, no?

cats when they go :p or just straight up 👁️👅👁️ when they're mid-licking like oh god my stupid baby you're so cute and for what

ps big cats don't actually purr but for the sake of my own sanity, i'm still making narumi purr idc

taglist: @maruflix @iamjellyfish @ouiouimochi @yueliie @justwinginglife @lumiambrose @minasfwoopyponytail @17020 @bgyuus @pixelcafe-network @lerath

©🅁🅈🄴🅂🄲🄰🄿🄰🄳🄴🅂. do not steal, translate or repost my work anywhere else !

[xclowniex]

It's honestly a bit scary dating again as a jew.

I've come across so many people with "free Palestine" somewhere on their dating app profiles.

And whilst under normal circumstances, whilst I do have a bit of a visceral reaction to the slogan due to antisemites using it to be antisemitic, I like to be optimistic and assume that a person isn't inherently antisemitic as not everyone uses it to be antisemitic. I've met people who don't want the destruction of Israel and jews who say free Palestine. So I never want to assume.

However, what comes into play is that you typically put any politics you strongly agree with on a dating app so people who disagree with that see it and swipe left. An automatic weeding out. Any politics that you don't even want to entertain a person who disagrees with you on, you put in your profile.

So when someone is wanting to weed out anyone who disagrees with them about Palestine, I imagine doesn't want a peaceful one state solution or land for all, they want israel destroyed and jews to suffer.

Which has led to me the realization of "holy shit I may accidentally end up going on a date with an antisemite"

I've also had the wonderful experience of seeing someone who works at a different company but same office floor who has free Palestine in their profile, who I now genuinely feel unsafe being around. Like yeah there is a chance they will be normal about me being jewish and having family in Israel. But also, idk that as a fact and their bio seems to be leaning the other way from that. So now I make sure to avoid them in the elevator or bathroom as much as possible.

What has been a positive is my lesbian ass went on a first date with a woman and she asked me what I did this morning and I said I went to synagogue and she actually had a normal response. Later on in the date we were talking about family we had overseas and I mentioned I had family in Israel and again she was normal about it! She even kissed me a fee minutes later! This does give me some hope.

[maturemenoftvandfilms]

Mr. Walz

Featuring Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz

Back in the late ‘90s, Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz, and now Vice President Kamala Harris’ running mate, was a high school teacher and football coach in rural Minnesota. I attended Mankato West from 2000-2004, having Walz for 11th grade history. Being gay at the time, I initially expected to hate Walz, because he was a football coach and a hunter. But he was accepting and really friendly with me; with everyone really. He’s genuinely the goofy teacher that was in the hallway greeting every kid every morning, giving high fives and fist bumps. He and his wife, also a teacher at the school, provided vital support during my formative years. And to be honest, I thought he was cute.

He was in his late 30s and about 21 years my senior at that time, about my height, which is just shy of five foot-nine. He was chiselled like most middle-aged men with a gut. He dressed conservatively, usually a short sleeve solid colored shirt with a tee shirt under it and trousers which seemed to be a few sizes too small. I couldn’t help but find myself staring at his tightly held manhood, which showed a clear outline of his thick cock. That bulge had me daydreaming during our meets and school outings. I would jerk-off with this image in my mind every night.

After graduation, I didn’t see my ex-teacher again until I attended a campaign dinner in Falcon Heights, Minnesota. He instantly recognized me, smiling broadly and gave me a big hug. We’re talking 20-something years ago, and to have your 10th-grade geography teacher remember you after all of that time, it means something. I couldn’t call him Gov. Walz, because he will forever be Mr. Walz.

We talked a bit then, and a couple times throughout the evening. He asked me about what I was up to, if I was dating, the usual chit chat. I was so giddy to see Mr. Walz that I confessed that I had a crush on him in high school. I told him I thought about him every night when I jack off. How I use a big carrot up my ass, and pretend it was his dick. And I told him I knew he would never like me, that way, but I had to tell him.

Surprisingly, he suggested I should come over to his hotel, later, placing his hotel room card on the edge of the sink right next to me.

"Wait here, I'll have an agent escort you to my room in an hour." He said before leaving. I looked around to see if anyone had noticed, but no one had, so I quickly grabbed the key.

Sure enough, an hour later, a secret service agent escorted me to his hotel. The journey upstairs was unbearable. Reporters to dodge, people for the agent to nod away. By the time I got to Mr. Walz’s room, I was afraid he’d think I wasn’t’ interested, but when I entered the room, he was ready and waiting. The lights were dim, Mr. Walz was in a hotel bathrobe, and he’d ordered porn on the television.

"Is this what you really want?" I asked.

"More then anything." He replied.

I made the first move, leaning in to kiss him and as soon as our lips met, his arms went around me. Quickly, he started unbuttoning my shirt, unzipping my pants, and basically tearing my clothes off as he moved his tongue around inside my mouth. His hand was on my hard dick, feeling and testing the size.

"Oh, yeah." He moaned, as he ran his hand down my tender, sensitive cock before squatting.

With his mouth at my crotch, he ran his tongue up all seven inches, before gently pushing me towards the bed. On the bed, our bodies melded into one. His hard dick was teasing mine, as once again, our tongues found the other's mouth. Hands everywhere, as we hugged and rocked each other. Kissing my way down his chest, I left a trail of saliva all the way to his cock. Taking him in my mouth, I began to suck while I swirled my tongue around his boner before he started thrusting into my throat, making me gag. I guess he got pretty turned on by what I was doing to him as he turned me around and put us into 69 position.

As Mr. Walz took my dick in his mouth, I took his dick in mine. I worked on it with such skill that he began moaning deep inside his throat as he sucked my dick. And he could really suck; he knew how to please a man. I began to feel him starting to breathe rapidly and shake. I knew he was going to explode soon. I was getting close as well.

Wanting Mr. Walz to fuck me, I quickly seperated, and rolled off the bed leaving him laying there completely naked with a huge hard-on. Hurrying to my pants, I pulled a tube of lubrication out of his pocket before I bounded back to the bed. After telling him I wanted him to fuck me, I tensely watched as Mr. Walz applied the lubricate to his cock, knowing the pain I was about to feel. I couldn’t help but thinking back to my high school years when I first saw him. I had always wanted Mr. Walz to fuck me since then. Now was the time.

“You got a nice tight asshole.” Mr. Walz told me as he rubbed some of the KY onto my asshole.

He lifted my legs and stared me straight in the eyes as he guided the head of his cock to my ass. As soon as his dick made contact, he immediately thrust all 8 inches into me. I gasped loudly, so loudly in fact that I’m sure the people in the next room heard.

“I’m going to really open up your asshole.” Mr. Walz called out with a wicked smile on his face as he slowly started fucking me.

Noticing each time the fat head of his cock passed my hard prostate, pre-cum would squirt from the tip of my dick. He reached down and scooped it up with his finger, brought it to his mouth and licked it clean.

"Oh, man, that's good." He said, as he scooped up more, but I pulled his finger to his mouth, and sucked it in.

We smiled at each other before he leaned forward and kissed me deep, our tongues caressed each other, sharing my pre-cum. Then as we kissed he sent his cock plunging deeper into me. I arched my back as I was forced to take more cock deeper into my ass than ever before.

“Yes, fuck me, Mr. Walz.” I found myself saying when he broke our embrace, “Give it to me, Mr. Walz. Make me yours!”

And he did just that. Mr. Walz started fucking me hard and fast. I took each of the strokes of his his old manhood willingly. I wanted to give him total pleasure and I could tell from the far away look in his eye that the old man was as lost in me as I was in him. I knew he was getting close, and I didn’t want to stop him, so I didn’t say a word about pulling out. Having only had sex with his wife for all those years, he didn’t think of it either. Soon he was filling my ass with ropes of cum, and I felt it filling me up.

After we got off and caught our breath, he looked at me and we both started laughing and telling each other how glad we were that we'd just met up today.

[thefandomenchantress]

I know I predicted radio silence from me...But I had what I think is a cool idea and wanted to share it before anything gets disproven in the next episode (Brief, singular mention of the Eden!Culprit theory).

So, I saw a lot of people talking about the Arei-Eden parallels, and the Ace-Arei parallels (and differences), and the Min-Eden parallels in the hug scene...Because of that, I started thinking about how Eden and Ace relate to all the others. And then I remembered the very obvious Teruko-Ace parallels.

Ace and Teruko both trusted someone who betrayed them in one way or another. Teruko with...Well, everyone, and especially Min, and Ace with Levi. In chapter two, they're both pretty similar, being closed-off and trying to not care about others with varying degrees of success. And, of course, Ace almost dies just like Teruko did, in an attempted murder.

All those things are fairly obvious, especially them being the only participants to be almost-victims. And I'd always noticed that, but it got me thinking...

In chapter one, Teruko was the victim of an attempted murder, surviving on the pure luck of the knife just-so-happening to miss anything vital in her abdomen. Then, instead of sympathy for her life almost being taken, people are upset with/suspicious of her because they think she was the one who killed Xander. And that fact is no fault of Teruko's, she just had the misfortune of being at the scene of the crime (and Min moving the evidence to further incriminate her). Barely anyone asks if she's okay or shows much concern other than Min, who betrays her, and Eden. She is then forced to defend herself in the trial almost completely alone until finally some others start to come to her defense.

In chapter two, Ace has been put in the position of being the victim of a murder attempt but surviving through the pure luck of Eden and Teruko just-so-happening to come to the second floor late at night. If Teruko hadn't happened to forget her clothes on the second floor, chances are that Ace would be dead. No one feels sorry for what Ace went through, because he was a total asshole to Nico and along with no one taking him seriously to begin with, they think he, in a way, had it coming, trauma and injuries be damned. Now, he is forced to defend himself, presumably alone unless Levi decides he wants to help and be the Eden equivalent. And Ace has been blamed for Arei's death not through any fault of his own, but because he had the misfortune of being at the scene of the crime, where someone else tried to murder him.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that it would honestly be pretty cool if Ace finished this chapter going through rather similar events to the ones Teruko experienced last chapter. Some people say that Ace being her parallel will show her during this chapter that distrusting isn't the right way to go, but he doesn't have to die to show her that at this very moment. Hell, it might hit even harder if he manages to go through everything she did, since it would make them even more similar.

Plus, if Eden is the Min parallel, and Ace is the Teruko parallel, that's pretty dang cool! Of course, if Ace does all the Teruko stuff during the trial, it makes sense for Eden to have done all the Min stuff...And I mean, the episode seems to be saying that's depressingly possible, so maybe.

So yeah, I just thought Ace and Teruko's similarities continuing into the trial would be fun. After all, he's been pretty consistent about following in her footsteps so far, so you never know. Like imagine if he says a protag line or something it'd be hilarious. Especially if all his points during his defense are like Teruko's, but with an Ace-y twist that makes them more funny or stupid or whatever. Fun!

Or who knows, maybe Ace will just hire David as his defense attorney, since he's the only one to have successfully defended Ace so far. /j

[adoresia]

Imagine…

coming to the end of your date with Satoru and you want to film a TikTok video of yourself in memory of the view and also how good you looked. But for extra effect you wanted the wind to blow your hair so it looked like it was flowing in the wind in front of the setting sun, unfortunately there was no wind. So you had to take matters into your own hands…

“Omg toru, I didn't get any good videos wait.” You paused everything you were doing and ran up to the balcony of the restaurant he took you too. The sun hastily setting creating a warm hue in the sky

“We can go take them now look the sun is setting and everything! Might even take some videos of myself ngl.” Gojo exclaimed excitedly, he never wanted to miss out on an opportunity of doing stuff with you, whether it be filming a TikTok, baking, shopping… he liked what you liked.

“Who is we? Boy come help me take this video.”

“Lame, who wouldn’t want to see videos of me I’m literally the strongest.” He argued smugly.

“The only person who would probably like your video is Me, and possibly Megumi out of pity.”

“Your so mean to me I literally brought you on this date” he sulked

“Stop complaining and come blow on my face, there isn’t enough wind.”

“Why the hell am I blowing on your face.”

“Because I did my hair extra good today and I want it to flow in the wind like those beach girls on TikTok.”

Without questioning you again, Gojo positions himself standing a little bit to your side making sure he wasn’t in the frame of the camera. And blew with all his might.

“Why are you blowing so HARD… you are NOT the big bad wolf.”

“IM LITERALLY DOING WHAT YOU ASKED ME TO DO.”

“I ASKED YOU TO BLOW NOT CREATE A SPITTING HURRICANE WITH YOUR MOUTH.”

“Stop screaming at me you’re making me sad.” He cooed playfully

“You play too much. Never mind, let’s just go I give up.” You brushed off, you reconned you could just do it the next time he brought you out on a site-seeing date.

“No, please okay I won’t play around this time. I’ll do it properly.”

You stopped for a second debating if you really wanted to retry since you had already closed the app and put your phone away. However you gave in (very easily probably because of the forced pout Gojo had on his face.

“Omg okay fine stop making that face you’re scaring me.”

And so you go again, this time Gojo blows more gently, the air was more caressing as it blew past your face and through the strands your hair. However he stopped before the video had ended which confused you, causing you to turn slightly ready to be met with a harsh blow. But to your surprise, Gojo had walked into the frame dropping a gentle peck on your soft lips before taking your phone and smiling at the camera.

“Aww how nice, toru. I thought you were gonna start playing around again.”

“You didn’t expect me to kiss you huh? I’m so unpredictable.”

“No you’re just really silly, I already knew you were gonna do something like that.”

“Don’t lie now baby.”

You both watched as the video played on repeat, Gojo staring intently locking onto the features on your face and how the aroma of the sun setting behind you had enhanced your beauty even more. You were so enticing. He thought, he could never keep it to himself. That would be selfish

“You’re so beautiful, can I get a kiss back?”

— I saw this TikTok before going to bed and was like wait this is kinda cute imagine how funny it would be with satoru, so here is my thoughts basically LOL. I’m tired now goodnight this drained me omg.

Video inspiration below!!

[sturnsmia]

𝑾𝑯𝑬𝑹𝑬𝑺 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑻𝑹𝑶𝑷𝑯𝒀

you’re sitting in chris’s bed doing your hair in his dorm room as he paces around gathering all his lacrosse gear and equipment. tonight chris and his team plays north shore university, one of their biggest rival schools. you never understood much about sports until you met chris who attempted to explain the rules to you, but you never really got the hang of it.

“baby have you seen my jersey anywhere? i’ve looked everywhere and i can’t find it” chris says, looking through every drawer and hanger.

“i haven’t seen it but did u check ur laundry bin?” you asked, tying your silky hair back with a scarlet colored ribbon to match school colors.

“oh i found it, how did u know where it was? you’re so smart!” chris exclaims as he takes off his white tank top and replaces it with his jersey. you shrug and giggle quietly as u finish tying the bow in your hair. brushing your finger through your fresh curls before spraying hairspray all over. you notice chris standing in the middle of the room fiddling with his fingers as his eyes dart around the room. chris was never the type to be so anxious. but if his team didn’t win tonight’s game, they would be out of the running for championships.

you quietly walk over to chris after noticing his worried state and wrap your arms around his waist and rest your head on his chest.

“you’ll do amazing tonight, stop being so worried because your starting to make me anxious” you murmured quietly.

“sorry princess” chris chuckles, bringing his hand up to your hair and gently toying with the ribbon in your hair.

“hey don’t mess up my hair, this takes talent and time!” you say smiling up at him.

chris looks down and smiles before putting his hand up to your face and stroking your cheek with his thumb. unfortunately the moment was ruined by someone banging on chris’s door causing you to jump.

“chris cmon let’s go we’re gonna be late!” matt shouts through the door.

“alright alright, we’re coming!” chris yells back “you ready? he asked.

“yep let’s go!” you exclaimed grabbing your purse off his chair.

“wait!” chris says grabbing your wrist turning you towards him before giving you a quick peck on the lips. “okay now we’re ready!”

loud chatter surrounds you as you sit in the front row of the bleachers with nick (per chris’s request, he literally reserved a seat for you). you look to you’re right and see chris explaining his gameplay to his team, noticing how his blue eyes light up and eyebrows furrow every once in a while. his jawline enhanced by the bright stadium lighting. you were so caught up in staring you didn’t even hear the loud horn from the scoreboard to alert everyone that the game was starting.

“girl are you good? you’ve been staring for at least an hour. i promise you he’s not that good looking. me on the other hand though!” nick laughs while tapping your shoulder.

“stop it nick” you giggle looking over your shoulder, a red hue casted on your cheeks, slightly embarrassed you got caught staring.

the crowd around you cheers as the players run across the field into their positions. chris and matt dabbed each other up before running in opposite directions, matt going to the goalie spot and chris running to midfielder. before chris pulls down his helmet he looks for you in the crowd. you give him a small wave and blow him and air kiss, chris pretends to catch it and put it in his pocket then winks before pulling his helmet down and facing forward.

“CORNBALLS!” nick yells leading to you rolling your eyes and pushing his shoulders.

the referee blows the whistle and the game begins.

it’s the last quarter of the game with fifty seven minutes on the clock, leaving three minutes left of the game. north shore and boston university are both tied with seven points. both teams are on a time out. you and nick have been stressing out every second of the last two quarters, you can even imagine how chris is feeling. his team has managed to block countless goals, but north shore’s defense is just as good. the scoreboard blares loudly as the crowd cheers, awaiting the final score.

“y/n! y/n! y/n!” nick says worriedly shaking your shoulders.

“oh my god nick! you scared me, what’s wrong?” you ask with your hand over your chest.

“i’m gonna poop my pants im so nervous” nick laughs while you stare at him with a blank expression and lips pressed into a thin line.

you turn your attention back to the field and see chris fiddling with his crosse and breathing heavily. the whistle blows and both teams split off, either defending or running towards the goal. north shore takes ahold of the ball, passing it to different teammates. the opposite side of the field roars with excitement as their team inches closer and closer to the goal.

“north shore is getting closer to boston’s goal! will they score? chase addams from north shore has the ball, he shoots! but matthew sturniolo blocks the shot!” the commentator announces as the game goes on.

one minute left on the clock and matt passes the ball back to chris who runs and passes it to another team mate. chris run towards north shores goal and weaves through their defense before his teammate passes the ball back to him.

“christopher sturniolo is in possession of the ball, fifteen seconds left on the clock! this game will determine who will be crowned champions!! christopher is flying through north shores defense!! he’s getting closer to the goal and he scores!!!” the commentator shouts as the crowd cheers and yells.

people in the stands rise up while swinging their boston merchandise in the air. you and nick excitedly clap and cheer for matt and chris.

the boston lacrosse team on the field jump up and down pulling each other into tight hugs before running towards chris who just scored the winning goal. but chris only has his eyes fixated on one thing. as his teammates run towards him he’s sprinting towards the bleachers, to you. he drops his stick and tears off his helmet before stepping on a ledge and pulling you into a tight hug.

“i told you, you could do it chris.” you whispered in his ear, your hand wrapped tightly around his shoulders and his brunette locks. it felt like the world around you went quiet and it was just you and him.

“it was all for you baby, everything i accomplish, its always for you.” chris breathes out heavily, brushing a strand of your hair out of your face. he cups your cheeks and leans in to kiss you. your hand wraps around his neck as you pressed yourself closer to him. you tilt your head to the side, deepening the kiss. nick snaps a quick picture of the moment between you two knowing you’ll want this memory forever.

“you’re my favorite lacrosse champion” you say breaking away from the kiss and resting your forehead on his.

“how many other lacrosse players have you met?” chris asks furrowing his eyebrows

“only one, and he’s the best” you smile at him, pulling him in for another kiss. you’re not usually one to show public affection, but this was an exception. he is a boston lacrosse champion after all!

a/n: aye first jock!chris blurb who’s excited! if you couldn’t tell this was inspired by taylor’s swift song “the alchemy” and all the olympic couples running to each other after winning their sports :,(. that shit was so cute especially cause it was in paris, the city of love like hello. also im actually so stupid i asked for requests and asks in my inbox but i literally closed it on accident HELP LMAO. anyway send in more asks and ideas i love answering ur stuff!!

xoxo, mia ♡

[redtsundere-writes]

Tyrant's Favorite | Sukuna Ryomen

Part 17: Everything Is Cursed

King!SukunaRyomen x Servant!FemReader

Summary: You used to be just another servant among the army of humans operating under the command of the terrible king, Sukuna Ryomen. An ordinary human who only knows how to wash, clean and cook. Until one day, he notices something in you that you hadn't seen before.

Tags: MDNI. +18. Murder. Blood. Cannibalism. Sukuna Ryomen Is The Warning Itself. Nudity. Sexual Display. Vaginal. Fingering. Sometimes fluff, sometimes angst. Beta read.

Word Count: 6371 words.

Beginning. | ← Previous | Next →

One question was bothering you. You had been through hell and you still hadn't received your reward. That inquiry was running in circles in your mind. There were many answers, but none were facts. What was happening? Why were you going through it? How long would it be until it was over? Many possibilities, none seemed to be the right one. It was a doubt that arose the morning after the small funeral you prepared for your sister.

There was a small chapel past the garden and crops behind the terrible castle. Its white facade, with a classical curved parapet and a red tiled roof, emanated serenity in the middle of hell. On top of the facade, the emblem of Sukuna’s kingdom rose towards the sky. Vines grew around the open arch that reveals its interior. That small place had existed since Sukuna conquered these lands. With no function for that small building, Sukuna decided to leave it as it was. Sometimes the servants would go there in their free time to pray for their souls in case they didn’t survive another day.

You carefully placed the golden urn with Yorozu’s ashes on one of the shelves. Uraume had given it to you the morning after your little expedition with the king. That morning, you woke up, surprised to be in your room in the castle. Apparently, you had fallen asleep while watching the sunset and the king had to carry you back in his arms. “How embarrassing,” you thought before getting ready for the funeral.

You put on the cap of your black cloak so that no one would disturb you as you dedicated a minute of silence to your sister’s soul with your cheeks completely dry. You had quickly accepted that she was no longer with you and that you couldn’t do anything for her in life. Now the only thing you could do was honor her short life. Everything had happened so fast. A couple of months ago you were crying from happiness to see her, and now you didn’t want to cry from disappointment.

You listened to Kenjaku give his class, but you couldn't pay attention. It had been a week since Yorozu's death and something was missing. The reason why you had committed that atrocity that you wanted to forget but would haunt you for the rest of your life. You tried to pay attention to your teacher, but that doubt kept pulling you into the limbo of probabilities.

“Once you understand your opponent's point of view, it is easier to defend your own position more successfully, especially because that's how you avoid misunderstandings and arguing about aspects that the other side hasn't really said,” Kenjaku explained while writing the keywords on the board. “That's why studying the rival is very important in the debate.” He turned around to find you lost in your thoughts. You looked at the board, but you weren't really reading what it said. “Do you have any questions?”

“Why hasn't the king proposed to me yet?” You asked him, coming back to your senses. Kenjaku looked at you confused.

“I meant about class…”

“Ah.” You quickly read what the board said about the steps to learn how to argue. “I have no doubts about that.”

Kenjaku had noticed your strange attitude for a couple of days now, but as you continued with your education without delay, he never asked you. He thought it was because you were still mourning your sister's death or sad about not knowing the true whereabouts of your sisters. The teacher smiled to himself, just when he thought he could read you like an open book, it turned out that he wasn't.

“So that's what's been distracting you lately?” Kenjaku inquired.

“Did I do something wrong? The king promised to marry me once I killed someone of my kind, but he hasn't done it yet,” you explained worriedly.

“Do you want to marry him that much?” Kenjaku joked tenderly. It was nice to see a girl completely in love.

“Of course,” you answered without hesitation. Your master smiled at hearing you so excited. “My sister died because of that, I better do it.” That was not an answer he expected to hear.

“Excuse me?”

“I lost Yorozu because of that deal. If Sukuna doesn't propose to me, I would have killed my sister for nothing,” you explained, crossing your arms in frustration. “Do you know why the king hasn't done it yet?”

Kenjaku's enthusiastic smile disappeared just like that day when Sukuna came back with you in his arms, completely asleep and, worst of all, without a ring on your finger. The king was stupid for not taking the opportunity to ask you to marry him after all.

“I have no idea,” Kenjaku answered. “Maybe he's been very busy.”

That could be a possibility. You hadn't seen the king as often as before. You used to see him at every meal of the day, in the afternoon when you gave him your daily report, and when he sometimes poked his nose into your education. Now, you only saw him at breakfast time because he spent the rest of the day locked in his office. You couldn't even report to him because he wouldn't let you in. It was strange how everything around you had changed after your sister's death.

"I hope he didn't scam me," you thought, holding your head in guilt.

"The king may be many things, but a scammer isn't one of them," Kenjaku, I assure you.

The door opened, interrupting the teacher-student conversation. You recognized almost immediately the naturally bitter face, the gray hair, and the dull uniform in dark tones. It was that new servant who was so kind to you. All you knew about him had been from Mrs. Inoue, who had told you that he was such a reserved, serious, and somewhat grumpy man. It seemed so strange to you that you never perceived it like that.

“Sorry to interrupt you. The king calls you to his office,” he announced.

“Maybe the time has come,” Kenjaku commented with a smile.

“Finally…” You sighed.

It was strange. Kenjaku thought you would be more excited about marrying the king. You studied complicated subjects that fried your brain, trained until exhaustion, and got ready early to please the king’s eyes. It made no sense for you to work so hard for this moment and not be excited.

Sukuna let them into the office. You and Kenjaku entered after bowing in respect to the king and his right-hand man, Uraume, who stood faithfully behind him. Sukuna’s heart fluttered at the sight of you. He gripped his pen tightly to mask his nervousness at being in your presence.

Returning to the castle after his failed marriage proposal, he carried you to your room as you snored softly. He gently laid you down on the bed so as not to wake you up. He took off your boots before tucking you into bed. He sat next to you to admire your calmness. Your chest rose and fell slowly to the rhythm of your breathing. Your eyelashes stood out more when your eyes were closed. Your half-open lips invited him to come closer to kiss you like that night you spent together. “Enough!” Sukuna scolded himself in his mind to stop and immediately leave your room so you could continue your dream.

Since that night, he realized that he can’t think coherently when he iswas near you, so he decided to take immediate measures so you wouldn’t distract him when working. It was frustrating how your mere presence could upset him like that. He had to fight with all his instincts to concentrate on what mattered most now, the future of his kingdom.

You and Kenjaku approached the desk. Quickly, you noticed a large black box with a gold engraving of roses on it. It was almost as long as the desk. That must have been the reason you had been called. It seems that this was not what you were expecting.

“Open it.” Sukuna ordered you.

You looked at Kenjaku for a second, worried about what might be inside. Your master patted you on the back a couple of times, inviting you to come closer. You worked up the courage to open the box without a hint of fear. The latches clicked open at the same time. You lifted the lid to reveal the immaculate treasure.

A beautiful rose gold bow that radiated a special aura against the light. Your mouth dropped to the floor as soon as you pulled it out of its box, along with its matching pink-dyed leather quiver. You never thought you'd see such a beautiful weapon in your life. You pretended to load the bow with an imaginary arrow to test it out. It was lighter than the one you had before, and you could tell it was made with the best quality materials. As you lowered the bow, you noticed a small detail. In the small hollow of the handle there was an engraving, a small daisy. You smiled at the cute detail. You thought it would have a rose, since it was a common symbol in the Sukuna kingdom, but daisies are cute too.

“It's a cursed bow,” Sukuna explained, catching your attention. “That means you can kill curses with it. Keep that in mind when you train with my soldiers.”

“What's the difference from a normal bow?” You asked curiously.

“This bow is infused with the cursed energy from Yorozu’s body,” the king replied bluntly.

“Are you saying that part of my sister is here?” You stammered. Everyone in the room could tell that you were about to burst into tears.

“Yes,” Sukuna replied in the same tone.

You hugged the bow to your chest as you sobbed softly, hiding your face behind your hair and the upper limb. A pang of guilt attacked Sukuna’s chest. He really thought you would like his gift, since you deserved a cursed weapon made especially for you, but it seems he was wrong.

“Thank you…” You sobbed. “Thank you for giving me something to honor her life with.”

You looked into his eyes with tears running down your cheeks and a nostalgic smile on your face. Sukuna’s heart quickly skipped a beat as he realized the true reason for your crying. His lower hands, hidden beneath the desk, clenched into fists to control himself. How could you play with his feelings without even trying? Sukuna Ryomen, the king of curses, the powerful tyrant and the commander of thousands, was being corrupted by a mere mortal.

He hated these feelings you caused him. You made him so embarrassed he looked like a tomato, you annoyed him so much, but he couldn't get mad at you, and now, you could manipulate him with a simple smile. He would lose his temper when he was around you and that drove him crazy. If you wanted, he would be in the palm of your hand. He had to keep you as far away from him as possible to prevent the situation from getting worse for him.

“Just go train already,” Sukuna ordered in a grumpy tone, turning his gaze to an empty document to avoid seeing you.

It was a shame he hadn't asked you to marry him yet, but the king really did look busy. You could see the physical effect that being locked up in his office for so long had caused. He had purple eye bags, his posture was stiff, and his eyes scanned the document lazily. “Maybe later,” you thought disappointed before taking the quiver with pink feathered arrows.

“Yes, my king,” you replied with a bow to leave.

“We must leave then,” Kenjaku made you second.

“Who gave you permission to leave?” Sukuna ordered him.

The master was surprised at that. You and Kenjaku shared a confused look, but you decided to obey the king so as not to cause any more inconvenience. Your legs walked as quickly as possible, closing the door behind you as you left the office. Sukuna’s hands relaxed as he no longer had to keep his emotions in check. After making sure you had already left, Kenjaku approached the king.

“Why so secretive, my king?” Kenjaku inquired curiously.

“It’s not a secret, it’s just that she’s not ready to know what I’m planning yet.” Sukuna got up from the desk to take one of the scrolls that were displayed on a bookshelf. He unrolled the scroll with a snap to reveal an updated map of the great world they knew.

It was a large map made from parchment and black ink with wonderful detail. It showed all the important kingdoms and places of interest that made up the world. The Kingdom of Sukuna and the Kingdom of Jogo were to the west, the kingdoms of Gojo, Geto and Yaga; to the north. The kingdoms of Zen'in and Nanami; to the east, and finally, the Kingdom of Tsukumo was to the southeast. Currently, the great tyrant owned the east and planned to expand soon.

"I'm going to declare war on the Zen'in," Sukuna announced, pointing at the large territory with his finger.

Kenjaku looked at him impressed, but not surprised. He knew that one day the king would not be satisfied with keeping the infested lands with only curses, so he would go to conquer human lands. Kenjaku glanced at Uraume out of the corner of his eye, who had not said a single word the entire time they were there. He expected nothing less from the shadow of his majesty.

“Wow, how ambitious,” Kenjaku commented while looking at the map. “May I know why you made that decision?” He returned his gaze to the king with curiosity.

“The Gojo Kingdom and the Geto Kingdom are allied, so an invasion could be complicated with my current troops. The Nanami Kingdom, Tsukumo and Yaga are small but distant. They will be my next targets once I have the Zen'in.” Everything the king said made sense, but there was still a small kingdom that was at the equator of the world to consider.

“What about the Kamo Kingdom? It is small and right in front of the Jogo Kingdom. It is the perfect target.”

“How many times have Commander Mahito and his troops tried to kill them?” Sukuna asked him seriously. Kenjaku gulped at that indirect accusation.

“I have already lost count, my king,” he answered, embarrassed by his comrade.

“They may be a small kingdom, but they are stupidly powerful. They are watching their lands at all hours for living so close to the Jogo kingdom. If anyone is ready for an invasion, it is them.” Sukuna explained. "As this is my first invasion into the heart of a kingdom, I have spent all this time carefully choosing my first victim. Because once I do, the other kingdoms will know what awaits them."

"If you have already decided, I am ready to obey your orders as always." Kenjaku gave a bow of respect that Sukuna completely ignored to look at the window.

"My plan will be carried out once I secure the life of my heir, in case everything goes wrong," Sukuna explained. "During that time, you will take care of the troops of the Jogo kingdom."

"And what about the education of the miss?" Kenjaku asked worriedly.

"I already have that covered." Sukuna answered.

"So what is the first step?" Kenjaku inquired.

“Wait for the Zen’in to make the first move.”

You left your room after finishing getting ready for the day of training that awaited you. You had decided that from now on you would use Yorozu's dresses to train since they were lighter than yours, perfect for moving with complete freedom. Archery is a sport that requires complete mobility of the upper body, so it is annoying to wear elegant dresses that require a corset. You were heading to the courtyard, moving your shoulders in circles to warm up on the way, until you ran into that kind servant. He was dusting off an obsidian vase propped on a marble column with great laziness.

"Did everything go well with the king, miss?" The man asked you when he noticed your presence.

"Yes, he gave me a new bow." You showed it to him to show it off. He was amazed to see it.

"It is very beautiful. It is made with the best fiberglass and carbon. It must have cost the king a good fortune." He explained as he took it to examine it carefully.

“It's obvious that you know about this,” you said, somewhat surprised, taking back your bow.

“Of course I know, I was a hunter before I was a servant,” he replied.

“Really?” You asked, fascinated. The gentleman was going to answer, but another servant, who was passing by, intercepted their conversation.

“Wasuke, leave the lady alone and get back to work!” The servant scolded him angrily.

“Shut your mouth, idiot!” Wasuke replied in the same tone.

That sudden change in attitude took you by surprise. Now you understood why Mrs. Inoue said he was a grumpy man. One moment he could be a kind man and, the next, someone extremely rude.

“In fact, he is working. He is going to help me train,” you defended him. “Isn't that right, Wasuke?” You gave him a knowing wink.

“Of course, miss.” He gave you a slight smile when he realized what you were planning.

The other servant rolled his eyes and walked back the way he came, muttering insults under his breath. Typical attitude for an 80-year-old man. You and Wasuke looked at each other knowingly before smiling at each other as if you had done some mischief.

“I shall warn you that I am a very strict master,” Wasuke warned you.

“Just what I need,” you told him. “My name is Y/n,” you introduced yourself with a bow of respect to your new master.

“Everyone knows who you are,” he joked. “My name is Wasuke Itadori. It will be an honor to train you.” You had a good feeling about this.

Wasuke shouted encouragements at you while you barely did push-ups. As soon as you reached the parade ground, he told you that you were the weakest woman he had ever met in his life, so he forced you to do different exercises to strengthen your arms, shoulders, and back. Your weak muscles could barely support the weight of your own body each time you climbed up, keeping your back as straight as possible. You sweated, even in places you didn't know could sweat.

“Lift that neck, lady! Even a little girl can do 30 push-ups!” Wasuke yelled at you, small drops of saliva escaping from his mouth every time he opened his mouth.

“That's what I'm trying to do!” You complained between moans of exhaustion.

“I don't want a try, I want you to do it!” Wasuke spat. “Three more!”

With the little breath you had left, you lowered your body. The grass tickled the palms of your hands, but that wasn't going to stop you. You climbed up with your back straight and then lowered yourself again. This was more complicated than it seemed. Wasuke kept yelling at you to finish the simple exercise with a good grade. When he said he was a strict teacher, he meant it. You did the last push-up and collapsed to the ground. You groaned in pain as you breathed in the freshly cut grass.

“Get up now,” Wasuke ordered you. You reluctantly obeyed. “Now you are going to hold the bow in front of you for 5 minutes.” That sounded simple.

You took your bow, extended your arms in front of you and held the weapon with both hands. All was well until your limbs began to shiver from the exhaustion of the previous exercises. You tightened your grip on the bow to keep it from slipping from the sweat. You didn’t think you could last 5 minutes like that.

“Can I ask you something?” You tried to distract your brain from the exercise so that time would pass faster. “Why are you here? You look quite young compared to everyone else.”

Unlike the other servants, Wasuke was the youngest of them all, like you at the time. Most servants were between 60 and 80, he looked to be under 50. He had gray hair but still had dark hair, wrinkles from age, but he didn't look like a raisin, and sometimes he didn't hear well, but he was still strong.

“Do you want the truth?” He asked you. You nodded.

The truth was something he had a hard time telling. He was always a good liar to protect his family, especially his daughter. He didn't want her to live in fear because of living in a commune that was in constant danger of being attacked by a curse. His lies were the cause of his only daughter's giant curiosity. 

“My daughter died because of a curse. My wife committed suicide because she couldn't bear the mourning," Wasuke confessed with all the sadness in his heart. "I was a coward and couldn't follow the same path. That's why I'm waiting for the king to decide when it will be my time to join them." Your heart broke when you heard that. It was a tragic fate to suffer. "It's only fair that I too die at the hands of a curse. It's the price I must pay for not protecting my little girl." 

You knew perfectly well what he was talking about. There is no worse feeling than the helplessness of not being strong enough, fast enough, or smart enough to protect what you love. You had lost your family by not being able to fight adversity. You couldn't even protect that child at the harvest for a day who was killed by your lack of courage. You tightened your bow again, this time, out of frustration that both of you had to go through that.

"I'm so sorry," you stammered. You didn't think his answer would be so heartbreaking.

“Don’t apologize. Life is cruel by nature,” Wasuke sighed.

“Still, I’m sorry,” you repeated. “I know what it’s like to lose your family.”

“I know, Miss.” 

Wasuke remembered seeing you cry and scream at the sky for your sin of killing your own blood. He had never seen a person suffer so much physically, emotionally, and psychologically. Even though he was behind the strong walls of the castle, a giant window separated them, and he had a deafness problem, he could still hear the powerful wails of your soul in mourning. Your palms open like books, the blood splattered on the canvas that was your body, and your face in sorrow. It was such a powerful image that he doubted he would ever forget it.

The loud bells woke them both from the memories of their sad pasts. It was the alarm announcing an invasion. This was the second time you had heard it in your time in the castle, and you had an idea of ​​who it could be. Several armed curses ran towards the castle entrance through the battlements that were on the walls, while incoherent instructions were shouted to you.

“Don’t let him pass!” A strong-bodied curse ordered as he summoned a dark screen that slowly covered the entire castle.

“We must go!” Wasuke asked you before taking your arm. You were going to follow him, but you remembered what Sukuna told you on your first day of training:

“In case of an invasion, you will need a cursed bow that allows you to use special arrows to kill curses and use it against sorcerers.” You tightened your grip on the cursed bow he had recently gifted you.

“You go. I will stay here as reinforcement,” you told him, removing your arm so he could leave alone. “Tell everyone to prepare to escape if it gets worse.”

“Are you sure, miss?” Wasuke asked.

“It is an order,” you said, sure.

Wasuke looked at the entrance one last time and nodded, accepting the order you had given him. He returned to the castle at a quick pace to do what he had just been asked to do. You looked ahead before pulling an arrow from your quiver to load your bow. You were completely alone in the courtyard, as all the curses were either outside the castle or on the perimeter. You could only hear the war cries of the curses. You gulped, shaking at not knowing what was going on the other side. You had an idea, but you weren't sure.

The screams turned into wails in a moment. You gripped your bow, mentally preparing for your turn to engage in battle. Though, you were sure you wouldn’t be alone. There was Kenjaku and Uraume to fight next to you. Sukuna can defeat any enemy in the blink of an eye. He would take down this strong foe, wouldn’t he?

The curse screen dissipated into the air, announcing that this curse was annihilated. The chains of the drawbridge began to jingle, and the castle gate swung open. The large bridge fell into place, the ground beneath your feet rumbling. It shook you completely, staggering you in place. You tightly gripped your bow and aimed it at the invader. “A man?” you thought, faltering in your shot.

A tall man, great posture and immaculate aura, walked in confidently, leaving all the curses behind, turning into ash. His spotless black boots thudded against the thick wood, announcing his arrival. His splendid bottle-green military uniform had several gold medals decorating his chest, a black leather belt, and dark pants. He smiled proudly as he combed his blonde hair with black tips back with his fingers.

“Oh?” He stopped upon entering, staring at you in disbelief for a second, as if he had entered the wrong house by accident. “Where is the white-haired guy of questionable sex? He is the one who always greets me,” he asked, confused.

“Did you kill all the curses?” You asked, surprised to see so much ash evaporating into the air.

“You must be new.” The man smiled and confidently approached you. Not knowing his intentions, you stretched the string to load the bow to its limit, but this did not make him stop. “It is a very large weapon, do you know how to use it? I could teach you.” He spoke to you as if you were stupid. You frowned further, this stranger's attitude starting to bother you.

You had recently realized that people like him were the type you disliked the most. Self-centered people who think they can do whatever they please. Yorozu had given you the tools to deal with people like this. You forgave her because she was your sister, but him? This guy was a complete stranger to whom you owed nothing.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” You questioned with the most demanding tone you could fake, you had copied it from Sukuna from hearing it so much.

“I am Commander Naoya Zen'in,” he announced himself with a proud smile. “So I was right,” you thought.

You had only been a servant in the castle for a short time when you heard that name for the first time. You were washing the king's long robes in the backyard with a few other maids. Your fingers were beginning to wrinkle like they do from being in the soapy water for so long. The quiet and the voices of the gossiping maids kept you company. The little peace of the task was interrupted by the alarm bells that echoed throughout the castle. You stopped at the strange noise, having no idea what you were supposed to do.

“An invasion,” one of the servants announced, surprisingly calm.

“Do you think it's Naoya Zen'in?” Another servant, one who had been in the castle the longest, asked, somewhat excited.

“Winter is almost over, most likely,” Her coworker answered, wiping her hands on her apron after finishing her task.

“Who is Naoya Zen'in?” You asked them, butting into the conversation.

“A very handsome commander from an enemy kingdom who comes every year to deliver a letter to the king,” the first one answered. “Let's go see him,” she invited you to go with them to the entrance of the castle.

“No, thank you. I still have to finish washing this,” you politely declined.

The three ladies quickened their pace to find out if it was the man they could see annually. You looked at them curiously. “Was that man so attractive that you had to see him in person?” You wondered. Now you were curious to see this man, but you had a task to finish. You dipped your hands into the soapy water again to try to remove the stubborn blood stains from the king's white robes.

Now you understand why this man caused such a stir among the maids. Someone with such a presence had not been seen since Geto Suguru's corpse appeared in these parts. You looked towards the window that overlooked the great hall, a small group of ladies greeted Naoya from the safe point. The flattered young man returned the gesture.

“Women being women,” he sighed with a big smile. “Anyway, I have an important letter from Zen'in.”

“You can give it to me and leave,” you told him without lowering your bow.

“I think you don't understand your position as a female,” Naoya came closer without a hint of fear nor respect for you. “You're not going to be able to stop me.”

“No!” You shouted, making him stop at the loud objection. “You're the one who doesn't understand.” You lowered your torso so that the arrow's trajectory would change from his torso to his face. “One shot, and you're a dead man, commander Zen'in.”

Naoya smiled at the offense. Not because of the clear threat of death, but because a woman thought she could be a match against him. You and your pink bow were nothing compared to him. A replaceable servant couldn't be in front of a great commander of one of the most powerful kingdoms in the world. He was about to teach you a lesson, and it would be the hard way.

"Are you sure you don't want me to save you? I doubt a girl as weak as you would survive long here," Naoya offered, giving you one last chance to redeem yourself.

"I don't need you to save me," you spat angrily.

"Fine," Naoya pulled a knife from his back, spinning it in the palm of his hand to wield it. "Whatever you say."

You let go of the rope when you clearly saw his intentions to hurt you, and the arrow flew into his face. He dodged it with his knife before lunging at you in the blink of an eye. Before you knew it, he was already on top of you and his knife was already at your throat. It had all happened too fast. You had no idea how he had reached you so quickly. The blade swung down as Naoya's smile grew wider. You raised your hand to deflect it, but it wasn't going to make it in time. It came so fast that you couldn't even close your eyes to await your fate.

Out of nowhere, a gigantic fist sent Naoya flying, completely away from you. The powerful commander ended up being slammed into the nearest wall. Naoya groaned in pain before falling to the ground. You were perplexed at how bizarre that had been. You touched your neck on instinct, you didn't have a scratch on it. You sat down on the grass to look around for your unexpected savior.

At first glance, he looked like any other human, but up close, things were different. He was a curse with skin covered in stitches as if his body was made of patches. He had long, blue-gray hair that reached past his neck, and was divided into three large locks with bows at the ends. He also dressed like any other human. He was wearing a black shawl that separated into three pieces on the left sleeve and matching pants with white shoes.

“I'm just arriving, and they're already welcoming me with a sorcerer to kill, how fun!” The curse exclaimed as excited as a child in the park.

Naoya stood up with difficulty, dusting off his uniform. You stood up in the same way to retrieve your bow and load it with another arrow. You approached the curse with confidence, since it had saved you, even if it had only been for its own entertainment.

“Are you okay, miss?” The curse asked you with a big smile without taking your eyes off Naoya.

“Yes, I am fine. Thank you,” You told him, along with a small bow. “Who are you?”

“My name is Mahito, I am the commander of the Jogo kingdom. You must be the lady that the king ordered me to protect.” He introduced himself. “Did the king ask you that?” You asked yourself surprised. “So let me take care of this stupid sorcerer.”

“Who are you calling stupid, you fucking curse?!” Zen'in exclaimed before launching into combat for a second round.

Mahito pushed you away suddenly to transform his arms into two tentacles with dozens of knives on them and run towards his fast opponent. Naoya's knife challenged Mahito's along with the clicking of metals. The curse laughed as if it were a game, angering Naoya even more for underestimating him. They were both moving at speeds your eyes could barely keep up with, but you loaded your bow with another arrow anyway. You tried to aim for Naoya, but he was stupidly fast and Mahito was in the way. “Maybe it’s best I don’t get involved now,” you thought with some disappointment.

Mahito changed one of his tentacles into a large sword that fell on top of Zen'in. Naoya barely dodged it, his breathing ragged from the cursed energy he was expending by keeping his technique active for so long. "Who is this guy?!" He thought annoyed before moving away with a couple of backflips until he landed on his feet.

"Fine, you win..." Naoya took the envelope out of his jacket and threw it at you like a ninja star, landing on the grass in front of you. "Just for today," he said before running towards the nearest wall to climb it and escape.

"Oh, not so fast!" You exclaimed annoyed before pulling the rope.

You looked for a target before he left your sight. You focused on his back, which was the area that was free, as he climbed the wall as if he were an agile ant. You let go of the rope and the arrow flew through the air. Naoya saw it coming and dodged out of its path, but the arrow unexpectedly changed its trajectory and stuck in his back. Naoya bit his tongue to stop himself from letting out a cry of pain and continuing on his escape route. In less than a second, he had disappeared from your sight and Mahito's.

"Ah, the king is going to scold me for running away!" Mahito whined, disappointed in his efforts.

"How come that arrow didn't stop him?" You asked yourself confused. Clearly, it hit him, but he still slipped out of your hands like a damn cockroach.

"Those Zen'in have a very strong pride. That's probably what it was," Mahito complained. "But you're very good." He gave you a thumbs up. You smiled slightly.

You looked back at the card that was lying on the grass. You picked it up to examine it. It was a brown envelope with the Zen'in Kingdom's crest stamped on a wax seal at the opening. A purple orchid on the stamp decorated the envelope, giving the package a more elegant touch.

“Gimme that,” Mahito snatched it from you, ready to open it.

“You shouldn't open it,” you warned him. “It's for the king.”

“It's from an enemy,” Mahito said as he looked for a way to open it without destroying the contents. “It could contain poison, activate some bomb or a weird technique they made up. Believe me, these Zen'in are capable of anything.”

Mahito pushed you roughly to get you away from the possible threat. You had no choice but to listen to him. This was an unusual curse. He had a playful attitude, very different from what you imagined a commander should have. You covered your ears as soon as he finally opened the envelope, in case it was a bomb. Instead of a glass or smoke bomb, it turned out to be a confetti bomb. It shot towards Mahito's face, surprising him immediately, as a colored piece of paper fell into his eye.

“Oh!” You quickly approached him. Mahito rubbed his eyes in an attempt to get it off. “Let me see,” you asked.

You grabbed his chin and pulled his hands away to meet his different eyes, since his left eye was navy blue and the other, gray. Even though it was a strange looking curse, his eyes were very pretty. You blew into his eye so that the paper flew away. Once near the tear duct, you reached for it with your thumb to remove it completely.

Your touch was very kind and warm. Mahito was so used to humans treating him so badly that it was a little uncomfortable for him that you were treating him so calmly and with such appreciation. He now understood why Sukuna had chosen you as the future queen, you were a special human.

“That's it,” you smiled at him. “What does the letter say?”

“You read it, my eye hurts,” Mahito reluctantly gave it to you, rubbing his injured eye.

You opened the envelope to check its contents. You thought it was a declaration of war or some important meeting, but no. Nothing like it. Your mouth dropped to the floor as soon as you saw what it was.

Open fanfic commissions!

Masterlist.

Tag list: @bbnbhm @pxnellian @kbirdieee2540 @konigswifeyforlifey @kyo-kyo1 @calico-cheriies @imas1mpp @alone-the-honored-one @vlads-dracula3 @bigraga-sk @neeke-lilac02 @shaazd @airandyeah @energiepie @awkward-walking-potato @delightfully-studying @catobsessedlady

(let me know if you want to be tagged in next chapters!)

[darlingofdots]

What is a romance novel, really?

So far, the response to this post has mostly shown me that a lot of people don't actually know what a romance novel is, and that's okay! I don't expect everyone to know! However, for my own peace of mind, I am going to do my best to explain what we mean when we talk about romance novels, where the genre comes from, and why you should not dismiss the pastel cartoon covers that are taking over the display tables at your nearest chain bookshop. Two disclaimers up front: I've been reading romance novels since I was a teenager, and have dedicated the majority of my academic career to them. I'm currently working on my PhD and have presented/published several papers about the genre; I know what I'm talking about! Secondly, all genres are fake. They're made up. But we use these terms and definitions in order to describe what we see and that's a very important part of science, including literary studies!

The most widely used definition of "romance novel" to this day is from Pamela Regis' 2003 A Natural History of the Romance Novel, in which she states that "A romance novel is a work of prose fiction that tells the story of the courtship and betrothal of one or more [protagonists]."* People also refer to the Romance Writers of America's "a central love story and an emotionally satisfying and optimistic ending" and another term you will see a lot is "Happily Ever After/Happy For Now," which posits that the protagonists must be in a committed and happy relationship at the end of the novel in order to count as a romance novel. That's it. That's what a romance novel is.

Of course it's a bit more complex than that; Regis also posited the Eight Essential Elements which describe the progression of the love plot over the course of the book, and there's a similar breakdown from Gwen Hayes in Romancing the Beat that is intended more as writing advice, but both of these are really useful for breaking down how this narrative structure works. My personal favourite part of the Eight Elements is that the romance opens with a definition of the society in which the protagonists exist, which is flawed in a way that oppresses them, and then the protagonists either overcome or fix it in a way that enables them to achieve their HEA. A lot of social commentary can happen this way!

It can also be a bit difficult to pin down what exactly counts as a "central love story" because who decides? A lot of stories have romance arcs in them, including dudebro action movies and noir mystery novels, but you would never argue that the romance is the central plot. A lot of romance novels have external plots like solving a mystery or saving the bakery. A useful question to ask in this case is whether the external plot exists for its own sake or to facilitate the romance: when Lydia runs off with Wickham in Pride & Prejudice, it's so that Lizzie can find out how much Darcy contributed to saving her family from scandal and realise her own feelings for him. The alien abduction in Ice Planet Barbarians happens specifically so the abducted human women can meet and fall in love with the hunky aliens. There are definitely grey areas here! Romance scholars argue about this all the time!

I have a suspicion that a lot of people who responded to the post I linked above are not actually romance readers, which is fine, but it really shows the lack of understanding of what a romance novel is. I have a secondary suspicion that the way we have been talking about books has contributed to this miscategorisation in a lot of people's minds, because especially with queer books we will often specifically point out that this fantasy book is f/f! This dystopian novel has a gay love story! This puts an emphasis on the romance elements that are present in a book when a lot of the time, the romance arc is just flavouring for the adventure/uprising/heist and we are pointing it out only because its queerness makes it stand out against other non-queer titles. It makes sense why we do this, but there is SUCH a difference between "a sci-fi book with an f/f romance arc" and "an f/f sci-fi romance." I could talk for hours about how the romance genre has evolved alongside and often in the same way as fanfiction and how there are codes and tropes that come up again and again that are immediately recognisable to romance readers, even down to phrases and cover design, and how romance is an incredibly versatile and diverse genre that functions in a very specific way because of that evolutionary process. The same way that dedicated fantasy readers can trace the genealogy of a given text's influences ("this writer definitely plays a lot of DnD which has its roots in the popularity of Tolkien, but they're deliberately subverting these tropes to critique the gender essentialism"), romance readers are often very aware of the building blocks and components of their books. These building blocks (that's what tropes are, lego pieces you put together to create a story!) often show up in other genres as well, especially as part of romantic arcs, but that doesn't make every book that features Only One Bed a romance novel, you know?

Romance is an incredibly versatile and diverse genre and I really highly recommend exploring it for yourself if you haven't. I personally read mostly Regency/Victorian historicals and I've been branching out into specifically f/f contemporaries, and there are so many authors who are using the romance framework to tell beautiful, hard-hitting stories about love and family while grappling with issues of discrimination, disability, mental health, capitalism, you name it. The genre has a very specific image in a lot of people's minds which makes them resistant to it and it's not entirely unjustified, but there is so much more to it than Bridgerton and repackaged Star Wars fanfiction!**

*the original text said "heroines" but Regis later revised this. There is a very good reason for the focus on the heroine in the first couple waves of romance scholarship, but that's a different post!

**neither of these are a bad thing and part of that genealogy that I mentioned earlier.

[beauty-and-passion]

Did you see Thomas Sanders' YouTube community post about his plans for videos, including Sanders Sides?

... well, it looks like something happened in the SaSi fandom. Jeez, I cannot leave for a couple months to celebrate the Gravity Falls renaissance, that Mr. Sanders decides to pull up some stunts while I wasn't looking :P

Maybe he hoped I wouldn't notice. That I was gone. Well, unfortunately for him, I am always around - and if I lose something, there are always nice people ready to give me a heads-up. So here I am again, ready to give my unrequested two cents about the latest updates.

A lot of things happened since dear anon wrote me this ask, so I will not talk about one single post (also because I have no idea what post the anon was referring to :P) but I will briefly talk about the latest info taken straight from the ts_criticism tag, which is always the most updated place regarding SaSi.

No, Mr. Sanders' updates do not count, considering they're non-existent.

_____________

Season 2 finale: to watch or not to watch?

There was a survey going on in the criticism tag regarding the season 2 finale and whether people would watch it on YouTube, another platform, or just ignore it.

Now we can tell ourselves all the stories we want, but at the end of the day, we know everyone will watch it - no matter if on Thomas' YouTube page or somewhere else.

And even though we already know it will never be worth the years of waiting, I am sure everyone will still give it a chance. The view count will be high.

But if that's true for part one, who knows what will happen for all other parts? What if part 1 is not worth the wait? Will people still be willing to give a try to the other parts? Will they be willing to wait who knows how long for them?

_____________

The hilariously bad Brei Grace situation

Is it so surprising, that Thomas lost another person working for him? It's basically a constant, considering people keep being laid off, disappearing or not getting paid enough. By now, you would think this man learned something from the past but hey, it looks like I overestimated his intelligence.

What I find incredibly funny about this situation is not that Brei herself had to tell the truth to the public because Thomas, as always, refuses to be honest about anything. It's about this specific part of his post regarding Roleslaying with Roman:

Oh my god, this is so bad it's hilarious.

So Thomas laid his last writer off, but apparently he wasn't clever enough to find a proper replacement before doing it and he openly admitted in a post, to his fans (including his investors) that he has no writer to replace Brei and will have to keep following/begging her to get more of the script, because there's no one else who can develop the story in her place.

Do I really have to explain why everything about this is so stupid? Do I? Okay, then:

Thomas was apparently very quick at firing Brei, but not quick enough in finding another writer before doing it. That's not how any competent person works: when I left my last job, my boss asked me to stay for a couple more days, just enough to get a replacement. But hey, I suppose "finding a replacement" and "not leaving a vacant position" were too complex, too difficult thoughts for Mr. Sanders.

Mr. Sanders showed his investors he's so disorganized and impulsive, he fired someone with no backup plan and, as a result, had to put the series on hold. One of the series people are paying him to produce. If I were still paying him, I would stop immediately after this: if you're this unprofessional, you don't deserve money.

After laying Brei off, Thomas still wants to reach her for details regarding the story. The same story he fired her from. If he was so desperate for more of her work, he should've found a way to keep her around, not laid her off, then waste more time trying to find a way to get more of her.

If I were Brei, I would ignore Thomas forever and refuse to write even one more word regarding Roleslaying. But I'm a cold, heartless person, so I don't count. Still hope Brei will have some self-respect and refuse to share her work for free just because he's begging.

Or, at least, I hope she will ask for pre-payments first.

Thomas thought it was a great idea to show how unprofessional and disorganized he is via Twitter post. And refused to say the whole truth too. And no one was in the room to tell him: "Hey, what if you get a replacement first, so at least you won't have to admit you are dropping a series because you have no writer left?".

That's so stupid it doesn't even make me mad. It simply goes all the way around and becomes pure genius.

It also (involuntarily?) reconfirms a thought I had long ago, when Joan left. When I watched the goodbye video, I expected Thomas and/or Joan to tell us: "Hey, Joan is leaving, but here is the person who will replace them!".

But nope, no introduction of a new writer, no update post. Literally nothing. Joan left and no one came in. Only vague mentions of other people and names, but mostly Thomas confirming he was the main SaSi writer.

Thomas. Who is not a writer - let alone a competent one.

That's so stupid it's hilarious.

So, since now Thomas got rid of his last writer, what will he do? Learn how to become one? Considering his lack of progress in general, I suppose not.

So what? Will he hire another one of his friends? Will he think he can do anything and write RwR himself? Or will he keep trying on SaSi, a series that is so difficult to handle and with so many stakes, that even a competent writer would have problems with?

The incompetence has just reached a new level and I can't wait to see how deeper we can go.

_____________

The spoilers for the next SaSi episode

Thanks to @t-slanders, who appeared out of nowhere and decided to feed us something more than the absolute nothing Thomas gave us for years, we know what the next SaSi episode will be about.

And look, it's a plot in which:

The main topic of discussion is Thomas and Nico's relationship

Roman is ready to push things further

Janus and Virgil are not

Virgil is hiding he's on Janus' side

Wow. Wow. That's what Thomas came up with, this is what he's working on for 4+ years and hasn't finished writing yet.

Now, I'm not saying he should've created another plot: that's the only possible plot he could've developed. The only one that made sense, considering how WTIT ended and what was hinted during the 5 year anniversary special.

Why am I so sure of that? Because those are the exact same plot points for the season 2 finale - part 1 I came up with: in my version, Thomas was questioning if he was ready to have a relationship with Nico, Roman wanted to push things further, Janus wanted Thomas to be more cautious, Virgil was siding with Janus but refused to admit it.

Sure, some elements are different of course, but the plot points are the same. The biggest difference is that it took me a few months to develop them into a plot, not 4+ years.

And since those are the plot points, I already know how they will develop too. And not because I'm a genius but, again, they can only go in one direction: Thomas will eventually agree with Janus, it will become obvious Virgil is siding with him, Roman will feel betrayed and his arc will start in the next parts. It's already all written here, it can only go this way. The time travel idea is an "embellishment", but the plot can only go one way.

However, that doesn't mean the season finale will be automatically bad. A lot of stories I can predict end up being great anyway. So no, I won't judge it for its predictability. I will judge it for the production time and the characters' personalities.

And speaking of personalities...

_____________

The tweet video

I watched it at 2x speed, because didn't want to waste too much time on it.

It was... okay. Just okay. The characters' personalities are just okay. Everything is just okay.

Sigh. I'm tired of everything being "just okay".

And no, I cannot shake the feeling that Thomas pulled out this video in 0.2 seconds, only because he had a sponsorship to do.

One last thing I want to tell now, so consider it a warning: if the next episode and/or eventual season finale part 1 are "just okay", I will consider it negatively. From a canonical episode, I expect more than to feel "meh" while watching it.

_____________

And now?

We do the same thing we do every night, my dears: we wait forever for Mr. Sanders to finally decide to update us, to work on SaSi, or to do some stupid shit worthy of a discussion.

Of course, that doesn't mean we should burn him at the stake or cancel SaSi: we are all adults here, so we will simply highlight the shit Thomas does, because if you do stupid shit, you deserve to be criticized. That's not a personal attack, that's just being objective. I hope, one day, he will learn that too.

And maybe, who knows? He will also learn from his mistakes, hire someone competent, pay them properly and not lay them off without finding a replacement first.

Or, maybe, he will just find the perfect excuse to drop SaSi/put the finale on hold forever, so he will be finally free from the burden he clearly feels. When that day comes, I wish him to find a series he will be truly passionate enough, to keep it on until the end.

And sure, of course I will be around when the supposed next episode will supposedly come out: one part of me hopes it will be good, while the other part loves shooting a fish in a barrel. So... well, at least I will be satisfied either way ;P

[ihopesocomic]

I find Nothing's immediate attachment to Hover actually pretty realistic in a sad way.

She's been abused all her life, even before she was born into a society that told her she had little to no value to anyone because she was a female cub

Then she got injured defending herself and instead of protecting her her mother married the person who caused her disability and then put all the blame on her for being a child who was attacked.

Hover was the only person who wa remotely nice to her, of course she immediately fell for her eventhough Hover is terrible

She immediately attached herself to someone she thought was the one person who wouldn't treat her like her family did, and even when Hover treats her just as bad she still want sto be with her because Hover *has* to be different. Because if Hover treats her like nothing too, maybe that's just what she is

It's so depressingly realistic how Nothing jumps from bad familial relationship to bad romantic relationship

Like MP could've done something with that where it shows Nothing going from an abusive mom to an abusive partner and thinking that partner treats her better because she doesn't want to face reality or she just doesn't know how bad this is and only realizes when she meets someone else who does treat her right and she reflects on how awful Hover was(yknow with her meeting new friends she goddammit she deserves a healthy friendgroup who doesn't mistreat her or downplay the abuse she's faced)

Because Hover is just awful

But instead of addressing this very real thing victims of abuse go through with how people like Hover who jump at you for any mistake you make will 100% turn their back on you when you need their help because you didn't do what they want

They instead make it that Hover was just angwy guys :c and Nothing made mistakes too!

Ignore the fact that she left her disabled girlfriend to fight a bigger lion to defend her brother AFTER she just got berated by her mother for being disabled(Hover was too busy picking her nose to defend the supposed love of her life), only to then ALSO berate Nothing for missing her assessment while Nothing's life was just threatened, she was verbally abused, and her brother is in danger, AND HOVER DID NOTHING

but priorities

It's just

So scarily realistic how Nothing sought safety and love from a partner and she ended up with someone like Hover

And she was literally never treated with any kindness ever that she doesn't even know what it looks like anymore

I actually touched upon this in the other ask regarding Nothing x Hover where I said that Nothing appears to be emotionally vulnerable and needy in this situation and I was absolutely not giving the show kudos or leeway by saying that.

The bottom line is that folks like you and me care more about how these characters came across or could potentially come across than Tribble herself ever did.

Like you say, it would've been an ideal thing to show that Nothing is supposed to be in this vulnerable position with Hover. But the sickening thing is that the relationship is sold as being very healthy and wholesome to the point where there's a shit-ton of ship art out there where they're being just that.

Not to mention Hover wasn't even nice to her. She was what an able-bodied individual's perception of being nice to a disabled person is... which is asking intrusive questions about our disabilities, making jokes at the expense of our disabilities... You get the idea.

But yeah, I agree with all this and it just further solidifies why Nothing's relationship with Hover was very one-sided and abusive.

It could also be argued that Hover was also very used to only thinking about herself and nobody else as a prideless lion, hence why she chose to go off with Farleap and Silentstalk. Because they could offer what she felt Nothing could not, which were cheat codes to get through the huntress assessment.

But Hover fans like to pretend this didn't happen, of course. Along with everything else you've pointed out. Trust me, we've been there. It's certainly a group of stans that love to cherry-pick and ignore blatant evidence that their fave is problematic. lol - RJ

[allpiesforourown]

What’s something you WOULDNT do for shizun? No cop out answers either. No “I’ll do anything for shizun” type bs. Be real.

Stuff like this is always very interesting to me because "what would you do for the person you love" is an age old question despite being a completely useless one. Because honestly, it doesn't matter what you would do for a person, what matters is whether you want to do it and if they'd ask you to do it regardless.

For example, lets say "I would not push an old lady for him." This statement has no worth. What we should be saying instead is "would he ask me to push an old lady? Would he be happy if I did it? Do I love the kind of person who wants me to push old ladies?"

When I say I would do anything for shen yuan, obviously there are a lot of things that I wouldn't actually do. What I mean by that statement is, I love shen yuan enough to know anything I would need to do for him would never be something that I don't want to do.

And this applies to all relationships btw not just romantic ones. A good friend would never put you in a position where you'd have to do something you would not be willing to do for yourself

[mikaela-the-slut-expert]

Hiii! I have a request.

Something that starts with smut and ends with angst.

My idea is that Hualian and we would be having casual sex, until one had the idea to try to do something rougher. Of course, before doing so, they asked for our consent, and believing that it would be no big deal, we accepted.However, after the first slap we receive, s/o ends up being a little shocked and scared, but not wanting to spoil the fun he kind of accepts.The smut would continue normally, our character would break even when he was in a position that was kind of "suffocated" (it can be the one that the person takes in the ass and in the mouth at the same time, wow it was funny to write this 😂), and because he can't breathe properly and already feeling pain due to previous actions, the character starts to cry and pats the thigh of whoever was in front of him. As soon as his mouth is freed, he speaks the safe word while his body trembles in terror.I would like it to end with anguish or comfort, but I leave that to the writer's discretion!

The idea in general is this, but if you feel that an ending with only dialogue doesn't look so cool, you can include a soft smut!!Thank you for your attention and please take care of yourself ;) Also, sorry if there were any grammatical mistakes, English is not my first language.

Too Much

Hualian x gn!reader

Tw!!! Safe word usage, NSFW, slapping

I just don't feel like my writing has been up to par lately y'all 🖐️😃🔫

____________________________________

You're sandwiched

Literally.

It's one of those nights when all three of you happen to be free of duties, and all of you are home. So what do you guys do when you're all home? Have sex.

It's nothing over the top, just casual, cuddly, sleepy, gentle sex. Hua Cheng is slowly fucking you from behind, but just because he's slow doesn't mean he isn't reaching deep. His dick is big and Hua Cheng knows how to use it, effectively hitting that spot that makes you moan and cry for more.

Xie Lian sits on the edge of the bed near your head. He runs his fingers through your hair and every so often he'll share kisses with you or San Lang. No one knows why and nobody asks, he just has a thing for watching.

You're lying on your back, eyes shut, with soft whimpers at Hua Cheng takes his time with you. Xie Lian runs the back of his nails across your cheek to get your attention. "Baobei, do you think you would be alright if this one were to get a little rough with you?" He hums softly smiling down at you.

Xie Lian always asks, he never dares to put his hands on you without permission. San Lang stares and waits for your answer, because although he won't be hitting you he'd like to fuck you deeper if you'd allow him to. And of course you trust your lovers wholeheartedly, you've gotten rough before so what's new? "Yes, that's fine"

As soon as yes slips past your lips Hua Cheng takes the invitation to quicken the smack of his hips against your ass. He loves to fuck you fast and deep, he really just likes to make you feel good. You yelp when he suddenly flips you onto your stomach and plunges into your hole again. Hua Cheng easily manhandles you around, bruising clutch on your hips and thighs.

Xie Lian catches your attention when he moves in front of you so that your chin rests on his soft, milky thigh. You go to say something to him but you're interrupted when his hand slaps across your cheek. "Don't speak unless you're spoken too, Qin Ai De"

It was relatively normal. It wasn't unusual for Xie Lian to get a little rough with you and make rules for you. It wasn't uncommon for him to say degrading things if you had allowed him to. The slap hurt and you're barely able to process it with how rough Hua Cheng is fucking you. It honestly leaves you a little frightened and on edge. You don't know why, this is a relatively normal bedroom activity but today it doesn't sit right with you.

Maybe you're just overthinking it, so you let them throw you around some more and you let the night keep going. It's not until later into the night that everything goes horribly wrong.

Hua Cheng is still fucking you from behind but Xie Lian has no joined in on the fun and he's fucking your throat. Also not uncommon. It was usual for you to let them do this, keep all your holes filled at all times. You enjoyed it usually but today it feels awful and no matter how much they fuck into you or talk to you, you don't feel good. Your skin pricks with discomfort and you can't stop squirming which had earned you a few more slaps.

You haven't said anything though, you wanted to make your lovers feel good they deserved that much but you can't. You feel like you're going to hurl on Xie Lian's dick if they don't stop. You feel disgusting, and smothered. It feels suffocating.

Tears align your vision and your hand smacks against Xie Lian's thigh. Albeit confused, he immediately pulls back and Hua Cheng pulls out as well. You cough and spit up mumbling the safe word through harsh pants and that's all it takes for them to know tonight's done.

Hua Cheng gets off the bed and you don't really get an opportunity to see where he went because Xie Lian holds your face in his hands. "What's wrong? Did we go too far, baobei?"

You want to answer but you end up just sobbing in his hands. He lets you curl up on his lap while he threads his fingers through your hair, cooing at you and telling you that you had been very good, that you had done well. Hua Cheng comes back with warm towels to clean the three of you up, and he carefully washes whatever swear or stickiness covers your body.

It's silent for a while, not an uncomfortable silence, calm and safe. You eventually speak up. "I'm sorry... I- when you slapped me I got scared and it just set me off for the whole night. I don't know why, I'm sor-"

Hua Cheng kisses the corner of your mouth to shush you. "Sorry for what? You do not need a reason to feel unsafe or uncomfortable. We'll always stop if you are. Do not feel sorry for us" Hua Cheng lies atop of you like a log. His face is scrunched, like he's personally offended at himself for not noticing.

Xie Lian runs his fingers across your cheek, peppering soft kisses across your face. "It's alright, this one apologizes. I won't slap you in the future, Qin Ai De. You know we love you dearly, we would never hurt you purposefully. You must tell us immediately next time Y/n we don't wish to make you feel this way ever again." his brows are furrowed and you can tell he's probably beating himself up over it.

You don't feel suffocated anymore. You nuzzle Xie Lian's leg. Mumbling a soft "Okay... M'love you both"

They both know that there won't be anymore sex tonight so they both cuddle up next to you and dote on you until you fall asleep.