(ty for the detailed request chica!)

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A gentle mist curled through the dense forest, weaving between the ancient trees like a living thing. It was quiet here—peaceful, even—as though the world outside had forgotten this secluded place existed. In the heart of the woods, nestled between wild ivy and glowing mushrooms, sat a humble cottage.

Inside, candlelight flickered against the walls, illuminating shelves stacked with aged tomes, glass jars filled with ingredients both mundane and mystical, and dried herbs hanging from the rafters. In the center of it all, stirring a pot with a practiced ease, was Ren. He hummed under his breath—a quiet, familiar tune—before glancing over his shoulder.

“You’re sulking again.” His voice was warm, teasing, but held an edge of knowing.

Lounging lazily on a cushioned chair, you flicked your tail, letting your claws idly scratch at the wooden frame. “I’m not sulking.”

Ren arched a brow, unimpressed. “You’re upset because I wouldn’t let you eat that traveling merchant.”

It wasn’t your fault. By nature, you weren’t meant to be tame. Whatever you were—whether it be a beast of shadow, a spirit born from forgotten fears, or something even worse—humans had always feared you. Yet, Ren had never wavered. He had summoned you, bound you to his side not with magic or chains, but with something far more frustrating.

Kindness.

Annoying, infuriating kindness.

Even now, as you watched him move so effortlessly through his craft, there was a steadiness to him that made the restless part of you want to curl up at his feet and forget why you had ever resisted this bond in the first place.

A warm ceramic cup was suddenly pressed into your hands. You blinked, looking up to find Ren watching you with that small, knowing smile.

“You’re thinking too much again,” he murmured. “Drink. It’ll help.”

You sniffed at it, catching the scent of honey, cinnamon, and a hint of something otherworldly.