#Autumn Sleep Aid

[ivesambrose]

PAC : YOUR AUTUMN BLESSINGS 🍁

1. 2. 3.

May the remaining months of 2024 lead to a favorable plot twist for all of you reading this 🖤

To book a personal reading with me DM or email me at ivesambrose@gmail.com

Services offered

Reviews

Thanks for the tip

Picture 1

• A lot of you will be blessed with foreign travel to a destination that heals this restlessness in your heart. It seems as though you had been fighting against the odds for so long and have also accumulated so much mental strain and grief because you've felt like you couldn't grow where you're at and you're right. You're going to feel the most alive you've felt in a long time. Don't turn down the opportunities that come your way. • Unexpected wealth or income from an unknown or foreign source. • Venturing out of your home or comfort zone. A change in perspective as well. • The sun rising after the darkest hours of your life. It's amusing that it's happening during fall when things usually wither away that you're getting your color back. You may feel like you're Venturing out alone or that your journey is a solitary one. You aren't too bothered because you're so used to it even as it terrifies you. But along the way you'll find people who want to walk beside you even as the cold threatens to sink into your bones. You might just find your soul family this fall. Perhaps home isn't confined to four walls but rather, the people and the places you've yet to step foot into.

Picture 2

• You'll be blessed with finding a balance in your life that earlier was bound to topple over no matter what you did and how hard you tried. You'll confront certain habits and behaviours that you have and actively choose to work through them. Some of them have been hindering your growth and costing you your own peace of mind as well as relationships. • Improvement in health. As well as recognition and reward in your workplace or emotional fulfillment via the work you do or your lifestyle changes. • Heightened intuition and foresight. Trust your instincts over fear mongering from others. • Possible expansion in social circle or connecting with people you can learn from without being ridiculed. You'll be introduced to people or spaces with a more positive outlook to life and circumstances rather than the ones who have a cynical approach to everything. • A better self concept and increase in confidence. Do not allow anyone to walk over you or be little you in any shape or form. • you may also get the confidence or the money to shop for certain fashion items you had earlier been stalling on or might be gifted the same.

Picture 3

• You'll be blessed with something rather abrupt. You may not even consider it as a blessing at first till realisation dawns on you. • I significantly see a blessing that's financial in nature something that will aid you in the long term. You might be too fixated at things going wrong at first. Please don't do that. When the opportunity arrives please have the courage to reach for it and make it yours. You may have the tendency to worry to the point that anything good happening for you is too good to be true. Thing is you tend to be blessed in rather unconventional ways. Certain things you may have quiet literally looked over for months or years. This autumn take some time to reflect on certain aspects of your life and how regardless of what was going wrong or what wasn't 'working out' for you had been in your favor all along. The more you bring in your awareness to that the more of these blessings you'll receive. • A lot of you do struggle with mental health as well as sleep issues. You're rather artistic however but may have kept your arts and crafts aside for a long time. You'll be revisiting things that have brought you joy in the past and feel happy this time instead of feeling performative. • Lastly, allow good things to happen to you.

[flemingology]

sparks and spokes ─ jessie fleming x reader

in which: jessie's unlucky flat tire leads to an unexpected connection

warnings: none

wc: 1.9K

a/n: this might be a bit unrealistic, considering the timeline of events in this. but let's ignore it. based on this request! hope you enjoy it.

Ever since making her big move to Portland, Jessie had found her love for biking again. She hadn't particularly lost it while playing in London, but it's safe to say that it wasn't the easiest city to navigate, especially not during rush hour. In Oregon, Jessie felt a bit more comfortable on her bike so once she got the all-clear from her coach and was allowed to ride her bike to home games and training sessions, she'd never arrived by car again.

After a first few weeks of settling into her new place, she ventured out to the bike store a couple minutes from her apartment. After a couple minutes of looking around without purpose, she spoke to an employee who picked out the perfect bike for her. A black, slightly more sporty type of bike is what she went for in the end. She also got a helmet, a lock and a pair of spare bike lights, all set to explore Portland on two wheels.

It was gameday today, lunch time kick-off, so Jessie went through her usual morning routine. Waking up at 8, doing some light stretching before jumping in the shower. She made herself breakfast – eggs on toast, as usual – and a coffee, which she kept in her travel mug to keep with her throughout the day. By 10 she was out the door, double, triple checking she had everything with her in her bag. She was a forgetful person, but couldn't afford to miss out on anything today. Especially seen as she rode her bikes to games these days, she couldn't just quickly drive back to her apartment in case she had forgotten something.

Jessie unlocked her bike that she parked in the bike shed last night. She had gone out for an evening ride after the 5pm rush had relented, enjoying the slight breeze that was blowing through her curls. Autumn was around the corner in Portland, framing the city in a hue of yellow, red and orange. Jessie biked around aimlessly for a little hour before going home and getting in bed early, making sure she got her 9 hours of sleep.

She wasn't this lucky this morning, even though the initial morning rush had passed, 10am wasn't particularly forgiving either on the roads. She rode her bike out of her apartment complex and hit the streets, expertly manoeuvring herself through the busy roads of Portland, trying to make it to her game in time.

She didn't notice it at first, but the moment Jessie felt like she was riding on metal rather than on rubber gave away that something was wrong. The Canadian silently cursed and made her way onto the pavement, getting off her bike and quickly checking the deflating front tire. "Shit", she mumbled. She must have biked over something sharp that was laying around on the bike line, without noticing. The tire had fallen completely flat, Jessie's attempt at feeling whether there was any air left only aiding in letting it run empty.

She tried not to panic while mentally assessing what her options were. She could lock her bike up here and walk the rest of the way, but she would certainly be late. She contemplated calling an Uber, but by the time the driver would've navigated his way through Portland traffic, there's no way she would make it in time. Jessie ran her hands across her face and sighed deeply. After a couple moments she grabbed her phone, which she had neatly tucked away in her backpack, and started dialing coach's number to let him that she would most likely be late for warm-ups.

Her finger hovered over the call button when she felt someone tap on her shoulder, slightly jumping up at the surprising touch. Jessie's head twisted to the side and noticed someone standing behind her, cheeks equally flushed and hair just as disheveled as hers – Jessie assumed you were out for a run, considering the sporty attire. She turned her body towards you and cocked her head to the side, expecting you to speak up.

You were still catching your breath as you tried to form a sentence. "Hi," you started. "I noticed that you were struggling with your bike," you took a deep breath and tried to control your heartbeat, having abruptly stopped your run to help out the stranger that seemed to be in a bit of trouble. Jessie's cheeks flushed again, not due to the breeze this time. "I don't know how much time you have but I live two minutes down the road and I'm pretty sure I've got a spare laying around in the garage."

You had to catch your breath again, creating an awkward silence between the two of you as neither spoke. You cocked your head at the freckled girl in front of you, expecting a reply. Seemingly she noticed, because she cleared her throat and spoke up. "Uhm, yeah," she rubbed her hands off on her sweatpants. "I'm in a bit of a rush, though," Jessie said nervously. Her heartbeat was still racing, unsure whether it was caused by the biking or by the girl that was standing in front of her.

"You stay here, I'll get a run on it and get you that tire. I'll be back in max 5," before Jessie could quip anything back you'd already set off towards your apartment.

True to your word, you made it back to Jessie and her bike in 4 minutes. If you were out of breath when you first spoke to her, you surely were now. You didn't say much, instead getting to work on her bike immediately. You'd have a bit more decency on another day, but knowing the girl was in a rush you thought this was the better approach. Jessie felt a bit helpless, chiming in every now and then to see if she could help but ultimately she took a step back and let you do your thing, her interrupting probably only prolonging the process.

A couple moments later you stood back up from your kneeling position, dusted off your hands on your top and took a step back, sparing another look at the new front tire you had just put on the bike. "That'll do, I think. Should get you where you want to be."

Jessie clasped her hands in front of her and braved a look at you, locking eyes. "Thank you so much, honestly," she felt warmth creeping up her cheeks when you shot her a wide smile.

"Not a bother. Honestly. I needed to get rid of that tire anyway. I hope it doesn't give out too soon, seen as it's been lying around my garage for a good couple months."

Jessie nodded, clearly unsure of what her next step should be. She rocked back and forth from her heels to her tippy-toes before clearing her throat and finding eye contact with you once again. "Jessie," she started, but frowned. "My name. My name is Jessie", she said, cursing herself about how awkward she was being. You didn't seem to mind, though, sporting a toothy grin when she finished her sentence.

"Well, nice to meet you Jessie. I'm Y/N."

She stuck out a hand which you eagerly shook, as you allowed yourself to take in her features, not having had a chance to properly look at her before. She was slightly shorter than you, curly hair framing a freckled and defined face. She was wearing a matching tracksuit, telling you she was probably on her way to a sporting event. Her lips were slightly chapped, the first autumn breeze clearly already leaving it's traces behind on the Portland residents.

Unbeknownst to you Jessie was doing the same, her eyes taking you in and maybe even losing track of time a little, forgetting that she should've been on her way to the stadium already.

She let go of your hand that she kept in a handshake for embarrassingly long, clearing her throat before speaking. "Okay, I should go. I'm running late already," she put her helmet back on and threw one of her legs over the bike saddle. "I owe you one. Big time."

You waved away Jessie's words and bid her a final goodbye, smiling to yourself at the heartfelt interaction you just shared with the stranger. You walked the rest of your way back home with an extra spring in your step, fueled by the brown-haired Canadian you had no idea was now on her way to play football in America's highest league.

Later that night, you catch yourself thinking back on what happened earlier that day. The handshake that lingered, her eyes scanning your face and her flushed cheeks whenever your eyes locked – you couldn't get your mind off the girl.

You knew her name was Jessie, but that didn't get you far. A bit of mindless scrolling through profiles of Jessie's near you didn't give you any clues. Suddenly, you thought back at the clothes she was wearing. You'd noticed the red badge adorning both the pants and the hoodie. You started a google search of Portland sports teams until you came across a badge that looked exactly like the one Jessie was sporting, and your jaw fell slack.

As much as you liked your running, you knew nothing about other sports. Especially not football. You'd never really understood the appeal to it, not finding it entertaining enough to sit down for 90+ minutes and watch 22 people run after a ball. You quickly made your way over to the social media of the Portland Thorns, still not really believing that you'd encountered a famous footballer a couple hours ago and neither you or her spoke a word about that.

A bit of clueless scrolling later you found yourself checking the score of the game that had been played a couple hours earlier, surprised at a certain 'Jessie Fleming' being on the scoresheet. You figured as much, but you were still taken aback when you looked her name up and saw the person you gave your spare tire to merely hours ago.

Your hands felt clammy all of a sudden, nerves spiking up about how you could approach this. You certainly wanted to hear of her again. Even though she said she owed you one, you figured that with a busy schedule, repaying you might not be on the top of her list.

A couple nervous minutes later, you had found Jessie's instagram. You scrolled through her posts, mindful not to like any posts or do anything that would give away that you were stalking her socials. As little as there was on the account, you could see a bit of personality seeping through. She clearly loved taking pictures, liked nature, seemingly had a dog and just seemed fun to be around. You rubbed one of your hands across your face, contemplating your options.

Jessie arrived home late that night, having stayed at Sinc's for dinner after the game. She parked her bike in the bike shed and quickly made her way upstairs, desperate to be enveloped in the warmth of her own home again. She unlocked the door and threw her keys in the basket on the counter. She took off her shoes and neatly put them in their place on the shoe rack, her slight clean-freak personality shining through once again.

She slumped down on the couch and turned on Netflix for her umpteenth rewatch of a brainless show, before grabbing her phone from her pocket. Her eyes grew wide at the top notifications.

Y/I/N started following you.

Y/I/N: So, a footballer huh? Nice one, Fleming ;)

A/N: I hate the use of Y/N but I couldn't really get around it this time lol

[onlyswan]

summary: in which music waters a wilting flower on a chilly autumn night and jungkook is stuck by the glue onto you.

> idol!jungkook x reader / strangers to lovers / fluff, slight angst / wc: 4.4k

> warnings: mentions of oc’s toxic ex bf, slutshaming, and alcohol

> in which masterlist!

note: the in which couple’s first encounter reveal?! has arrived with a bam cameo at the end <3 recommend reading the ‘first times’ in the masterlist next if you haven’t yet :D as always reblogs and/or feedback are appreciated 🥰 and yes. i love beabadoobee.

—

“sir, will you help me-“ you panic, eyes pleading for help as you look between the door and the owner of the music shop. “i think it’s stuck.”

“oh! of course, of course. i apologize about that.” the middle-aged man, quick to your aid, ducks out of the counter. “i ought to get this thing changed soon. spent a fortune on it but it’s not doing what it’s supposed to do.”

you copy his chuckle, watching him push up the still half-closed door before shoving it open to the side.

“thank you!” you politely bow your head before stepping out.

“come back again next time! i’ll give you a discount!”

“really? a discount? then i have no choice but to come back!” you whine playfully, smiling at the promise of saving money in the future. you present him another bow. “have a good night! close the door now, it’s cold.”

the 90’s love song playing inside becomes muffled when the transparent glass completely shuts out the outside world once again. instead, the lead vocalist’s voice is replaced by a golden and dulcet humming by a stranger.

you scan for the source of the sound, and at once, you discover it when you whip your head to the right. scrolling through his phone, he’s sitting at the far corner of the old wooden bench— the same boy who was paying at the counter when you stumbled into the store. unbeknownst to yourself, your heart skips a beat. you were transported to a field of flowers when you brushed past him, and you met his big brown eyes briefly when he turned to leave.

burdened by the heavy and uneven weight you’re carrying on your shoulders, you decide to rest on the other side of the bench while you wait for a taxi to pass by. you spare a glance at the oversaturated band posters on the off-white wall behind it before sitting down as their audience.

the humming ceases when he feels your presence beside him.

you cautiously set down the padded guitar bag on the ground, securing it in between your thighs, anxious of getting so much as a scratch on the precious instrument. it’s a dear friend’s birthday tomorrow, and you only found the time and the money to purchase her gift today.

you check your wrist watch. 10:13pm. you fell asleep in the library while studying for a test, and because of that, you’re probably going to be home at around midnight. this place is pretty far and secluded, but apparently it’s known for its good and rare finds. you went here with your friend two months ago just to window shop and one of their bass guitars caught her eye. naturally, you couldn’t resist. her birthday gift has to be this. for some reason, it just feels easier to spend money on your loved ones than yourself.

will you even manage to send a birthday message before you pass out to sleep again? god, you hope so.

you feel your empty stomach grumbling angrily, and you’re not sure if it makes a sound or if it’s all just in your muddled head. yup, you missed dinner, too.

“i’m so hungry.” you cry out quietly, resting your forehead on the neck of the guitar.

fine, maybe you subconsciously said it a little louder than quiet. it was a shot in the dark, curious if the stranger beside you would have any sort of reaction. you hope for a glance at most. he has beautiful eyes, ones you almost feel envious of.

“me too.“ the sulky response slips out of his mouth with an exhausted sigh.

the sound of his voice makes you perk up in pleasant surprise, gazing at him with an amused, tight-lipped smile. on the other hand, he stiffens from the realization of what he just did. he stops manspreading, straightening himself up and awkwardly clearing his throat.

“sorry… it was a reflex.”

“it’s okay.” you reassure him with a quick laugh.

you tear your eyes away from him, watching the moths frantically flying under the street lamps. it’s silent for a moment, except for the shop owner’s on-going playlist and the occassional singing of the abundant crickets.

you face him again with a flair of innocence.

“do you want a granola bar?”

he lifts his head to look at you, the screen’s light reflecting on his tan skin, and that grants you the ability to see his breathtaking eyes. there might’ve been countless instances when they hated how small this bench is, most likely a tight fit for three people, but right now, you wouldn’t have it in any other way.

“it’s just that… i’m going to eat it and it feels rude to eat alone knowing you’re hungry, too.”

his teeth sinks in lower lip, contemplating for a few beats before nodding his head. “yeah, sure. i’d like one. thank you.”

you bring out the tupperware from your messenger bag, unfastening the sides open and separating the lid. as your own wordless way of telling him that they’re not poisoned, you grab one first, taking a small bite, before offering the container to him.

“here you go.”

you stifle a cackle when he pulls down the sleeves of his black hoodie as if he’s preparing to eat a whole course meal. he’s so fucking cute, gentle and dainty while picking up the granola bar along with the parchment paper underneath it. that leaves you with three left. you set down the tupperware between the two of you, loosely putting the lid on top.

“huh?” he exclaims with big round eyes, hand hovering over his mouth as he chews. “did you make this?”

the question makes you wince nervously. he didn’t like it? you could’ve sworn it's the best batch you’ve made so far. “uhm, if it tastes good, then i did. if not-”

“no, no. i like it.” he giggles, waving his hand to shoo your worries. “it’s not too sweet, and it’s soft? how did you make it chewy?!”

“oh-” you breathe out a sigh, clutching your chest in relief. “i just follow a recipe i found online! my neighbor gives me honey like every week so i found a use for it.”

“well, it’s really good. thank you.” he gives you a kind smile, scrunching his nose before resuming to eat the snack you spent your sunday night preparing.

and it’s quiet again. you look the other way to hide the proud smile playing on your lips, the fluttering of your unguarded heart raging and stubborn. maybe if you put food in your mouth, you’ll stop talking… not.

“i’m ___.”

he swallows before replying, distinctive dimples near his mouth making an appearance. “i’m jungkook.”

jungkook. it suits him so well. it’s perfect.

“do you play the guitar?“ jungkook asks curiously, motioning at the instrument you’re holding.

“oh, no- i just got this for my friend’s birthday. she’s in a band.” you share with a chuckle. “what about you? what do you need those giant speakers for?”

“ahh, they are big, aren’t they?” he scrunches his nose, glancing at the two boxes beside his feet. “i just figured buying new speakers would motivate me to work on music more.”

“are you a singer?” you gasp dramatically for effect. “or perhaps, a rapper?”

“i mean…” he smiles sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders. “i guess i can rap, too.”

“that’s cool. i think you have a pretty talking voice, too.”

“aigoo, thank you so much.” he jokingly bends down his torso for a bow, clasping his hands together with the small remaining piece of granola bar in between before taking it in between his teeth.

the harmony of your laughter bleeds through the chilly air, providing your hearts a wave of much needed warmth.

“thank you too. you gave me an idea what to gift my friends next time.”

“speakers?” his face lights up like of a kid unboxing presents beside the christmas tree. you’ve never met anyone who looks this passionate at the mention of the said device— this whole interaction is giving you the urge to dive deeper into the world of music beyond the sphere of being a casual listener. “they’ll love it. it’s the best gift for me personally.”

you tilt your head to the side. “you know a lot about them?”

“hmmm, i don’t know.” he purses his lips as he hums, eyes falling on the ground as he ponders. “they’re important for shows and work so i naturally learn a lot about them… i often look for reviews and new releases. it’s like a hobby?”

“really? then i’m sold. i need you.”

the carelessly casual words escape your mouth before you can think twice.

“need me?” he repeats your word in surprise, pointing at himself.

you disguise yourself with a nod and a coy smile, acting nonchalant as if you’re not screaming inside. you’ve always been this shameless when you have nothing to lose, but he’s just so pretty that you want to learn shit like what his favorite food is and whether your zodiac signs are compatible even though you don’t believe in them.

“help me choose the best speakers to buy, one year from now. i don’t know anything about music at all, so i always have a hard time with gifts.” you’re pouting sadly by the end, your words bearing the weight of truth, albeit you’re also using them as an excuse to glue yourself onto him.

in your mind, five seconds feels like it’s stretching into eternity. he breaks out into a shy grin, playing with the parchment paper left in his hand before folding it over and over again until it becomes the same size as the nail of his thumb. he stuffs it into the pocket of his washed denim jeans.

“okay then, i should help you. give me your number?”

your hands graze each other as you lay hold of his phone, clueless instruments of your and jungkook’s youthful impulses and anticipation.

“do you have other ___’s in your contacts? should i name myself ‘___ from mj’s music box’?” you inquire half-jokingly, raising your eyebrows at him.

”ey, come on. there’s no need for that.” he chortles, staring back at you with an unnamed emotion in his eyes, but you quickly revert your attention to the screen and you don’t notice.

“i don’t think you’ll remember me just by my name a year from now, though.” you mutter to yourself as you tap on the screen. after that, you tap the call button to save his number on your phone as well.

you’re already handing him back his phone when he finally constructs a reply-

“is that so? then make it difficult for me to forget.”

and the air gets robbed from your lungs. it makes you wonder how many hearts he has broke, being this handsome and charming, and if you’ll even drag this out and stick around long enough to find out.

“be careful of your words. i’m pretty competitive.” you playfully taunt him, softly tugging his wrist to put the device on his delicately wide palm. “don’t blame me when i end up being the only person you think about.”

he matches your energy, a cocky smirk tugs at the corner of his lips as he shakes his head. “psh, why would i? that doesn’t sound like a bad deal.”

why are you thinking of ways to keep this flowing instead of retreating and coming up with an obvious excuse to leave? as always, you find yourself most liberated when you meet new people, even when you know they’ll only be a fleeting presence in your life, here to leave a stain or a scar. you wish a taxi never arrives. you wish to be left stranded here for the rest night so you can hear him talk about the first song he ever wrote and you can tell him about the stupid song your first boyfriend wrote for you.

but alas, the universe intervenes with your fantasies and the approaching blazing headlights almost blind your blurry eyes.

you wave your hand to hail the taxi, and you smile at jungkook one more time. “time for me to go.”

“oh, okay.”

the vehicle parks infront of the bench. he watches you hurriedly toss the granola bar you never finished into the transparent tupperware, a feeling akin to disappointment gnawing at his guts.

“wait- weren’t you waiting for a taxi, too?” you wonder out loud as you slide the resealed container inside your bag.

“i’m fine, i have a ride. you go take it- oh, oh- let me help you with that-” he stands up abruptly when he sees you struggling to stand up, lifting the guitar to relieve you of the barrier.

“thanks, jungkook.” you laugh airily, getting on your feet, closer to him than you’ve ever been. he’s taller than you originally thought, and it’s hard to ignore the fact that his flexing forearms are veiny… (you have a suspicion that he’s doing it on purpose. the guitar bag isn’t that heavy.) those, paired with that pretty baby face— he’s so manly and so adorable in a way you’ve never seen in anyone else. he’s a beautiful, refreshing sight to behold.

you’re holding your breath, as if that would freeze the hands of the clocks, halt the earth from spinning on its axis because it’s the only way for you to stay without blaming yourself. the love songs haven’t stopped playing, and a slow acoustic sets out to delude you that this is a scene from an indie romance film, a beginning of something beautiful, but it rarely is. it never is.

his bunny teeth sink into his bottom lip, tainting it a darker shade of pink, before his tongue sneaks out to lick it. “you can go inside.” he generously says, slightly raising his arms to gesture at your cherished gift he’s grasping securely.

you only nod in understanding, walking past him and proceeding to open the door to slide into the backseat. you assist him in putting the guitar inside the taxi and over your lap, and you force your brain to shut down before you can speak again and your friskiness gets you into trouble.

“get home safe, ___!” he brightly chirps, waving at you goodbye.

your cheeks are starting to hurt from all the giddy smiles, but you just can’t stop, not when he has this contagious and bubbly expression painted on his face that’s simply impossible not to adore.

“you too, jungkook.”

his meticulous eyes briefly wander around your figure, checking if you’re too close, and then he carefully slams the door shut. you sink into your seat, swallowing the lump in your throat before telling the taxi driver your address.

you don’t want to think too much, so you close your eyes, hoping to get more sleep to recharge your mental and social batteries. unsurprisingly, you grow restless not even five minutes after. the soothing piano ballads faintly playing in the radio aren’t much help either. an infuriated scream hangs on the tip of your tongue, and you bite it down into dust. instead, you dish out your phone from the pocket of your bag to save jungkook’s number… but then the venomous voice of your ex calling you degrading names ranging from ‘an ungrateful, attention-seeking bitch’ to ‘a slut’ after you broke up with him echo in your tumultuous head, and you begin feeling pathetically small and nauseous. for a split moment you find yourself contemplating whether you should just delete it or not. out of guilt or out of fear, maybe both, you’re not quite certain.

what ultimately pull you out from the dark abyss of relentless overthinking are the first notifications you ever receive with his name attached to them.

Jungkook:

hey this is JK

i just thought of this now ?!..

trade my music equipment expertise for your magical granola bar recipe? :)

you bury your face in your hands, silently crying out— “ah shit, this is so annoying. why does he have to be so cute? i need a drink.”

—

“i’m hungry.” the grumpy complaint spills from your tongue now that bam, your not-so little happy pill, is out from sight.

“me too.” jungkook juts out his bottom lip, lifting his head from your shoulder to look at you. “do you still have strawberry wafers in your bag?”

his question prompts you to hug it defensively. no, just no. “i’m saving them for emergencies-”

he puts his index finger infront of his lips, shushing you with a shake of his head. he tuts. “i know. this is an emergency, baby.”

cornered at the armrest of the couch, you have nowhere else to go. you unwillingly surrender to satisfying his craving, grimacing as he starts rummaging through your bag. this is exactly why you told him you should eat brunch before bringing in bam for his grooming, but jungkook insisted that it won’t take too long. sure, maybe the grooming session itself won’t… but the waiting in line part? that definitely took too long. making an appointment is technically futile when you’re visiting on a weekend.

“mhmmm, i love it.” he moans in satisfaction, devouring the slice of wafer in only two consecutive bites.

you glare at him when he offers you the plastic bag with a teasing smile, seizing it from his grip to snack on the treat while you continue to wait at the lounge area. you’re the only fur parents left here, the last clients before the staff goes on their hour-long lunch break. the sign on the door has been flipped to say ‘CLOSED’.

jungkook wraps one arm around you, pulling you closer by the shoulder and cupping your face with his warm hand to plant an apologetic kiss on your cheek. “i’ll cook you a hearty meal for dinner when we get home.”

you melt in his hold, leaning further against the backrest to release the tension from your body bred by hunger and impatience.

“really?” you feign nonchalance as you make the futile attempt of hiding the pleased smile curving on your lips. “i want chicken. the one you made before, with the creamy and spicy sauce.”

your mouth is practically watering as you describe the dish, the smell and taste of his cooking still vivid in your senses’ memory. it’s making the food you’re eating painfully insipid, but it’s better than nothing.

“and wine, too. no- actually, i’m craving tequi- argh, i’ll settle with wine.”

“okay! chicken and wine for dinner!” he agrees straight away, pressing a kiss on your temple before pinching one more stick of wafer between his fingers. he breaks it into two halves and gives one of them to you.

you accept it wordlessly, but a peculiar feeling is slithering its way into the tight confines of your heart, and you can’t withdraw your eyes from closely observing your gorgeous boyfriend. he brushes off the crumbs that fell on his white t-shirt and his lap after he finishes his share, still chewing as he tenderly takes the empty plastic from your hand. just as you predicted, he finds entertainment in folding it as small as possible.

“this is giving me déjà vu.”

“déjà vu?” he tilts up his head, doe eyes widening as you’ve captured his attention.

“uh-huh, you know when we first met…” you trail off, sending him a threatening look when the confused expression on his face stays unchanging. “you remember, right?”

his mouth hangs open before his eyebrows knit in irritation, posture straightening as he stammers with his defense. “what kind of question is that? you’re hurting my feelings- you were wearing a varsity jacket with the number 6 on it!”

“jungkook, i wore that like everyday for four months.”

his expression softens, pierced lip forming a pout. “do you even know that i-i… ah, i’ll show you instead!”

“show me what?”

he digs his hand in the pocket of his dark blue denim jeans, dishing out his wallet. you peer at him with curiosity as he rapidly unzips it to comb through his cards, pausing at his driver’s license and removing the white paper hiding behind it.

“no way-” you splutter, nearly choking on your own spit as your hunch grows enormously.

he unfolds it to reveal the faded blue ink that writes the most crucial and specific details of the first time the universe conspired to make your paths cross.

“look, i still have the receipt from the night! november 11…”

you notice him squinting at the faint characters, and you momentarily disconnect from the surge of mixed emotions to pull out his prescription glasses from the collar of his t-shirt. you affectionately wear it on him, weaving your fingers through his hair to brush away the loose strands from his bun blocking the lens.

“thanks baby- it’s november 11, 2017. at 9:55pm!”

jungkook originally kept this receipt for a month incase he had to return the speakers due to unforeseen defect or damage. but then you never stopped talking, and you became the only person he thinks of 24/7 just as your coquettish warning told. the thought of throwing it out never occured to him. instead, he preserved it in his wallet because he carries it with him everywhere he goes. he would even argue that it’s his most important property in it. he can have his credit cards cancelled then replaced, but this piece of paper is once in a lifetime.

mj’s music box closed down due to the pandemic. he hasn’t told you this, didn’t want to break your heart when he found out. he knows that you treasure the place as much as him, if not more.

meanwhile, the new-found knowledge has rendered you speechless, unblinking, buffering.

“what’s with that face? you’ve never seen this in my wallet?” he quizzes you in bewilderment, smiling humorously.

“of course i haven’t! you want me going through your wallet without permission?!” you whine, hugging his arm and hiding yourself behind his back to calm the intense pumping of your heart.

oh, your sweet, sweet jungkook— he never runs out of way to make you fall in love with him all over again.

“my love, you know i don’t care about things like that.” he chuckles, astonished by how you still highly value and respect his privacy and boundaries despite how long you’ve been together. it just occurs to him then, that at the very core of your relationship, this is probably why he never once regretted moving in with you. he says it all the time, but he just feels so goddamn lucky to have you in his life. he loves you. he loves everything about you. even the things he doesn’t like, he loves.

“aren’t you going to eat that?”

you’re overflowing with his love, you can’t stomach anything else.

“i won’t.”

“i’ll indulge myself then.” he cages your hand in his, raising it for the wafer to reach his lips. he bites it all the way down like a bunny eating a carrot, ending the journey with a chaste kiss on your knuckle. “you’re too quiet… are you crying?”

you shake your head profusely, tightening your embrace. “i love you so much, i can’t think. i just want to hug you.”

he smells a different type of sweet nowadays— more manly, more mature, binding you in an enrapturing spell, and with a suble hint of a baby scent that somehow makes him much more intoxicating. it’s overwhelming to think about— the amount of perfume bottles you’ve bought and consumed after asking one another if they smell too basic or too strong; the amount of times jungkook changed his wallet and took the receipt along with him because it only felt right.

“mkay, i’m not going anywhere.” he whispers, nosing at your hair.

and so, he stays stuck by the glue onto you as he gulps down a bottle of water, as he returns his wallet in his pocket with grunts of difficulty, as he deletes a promotional text on his phone sent by his service provider. he suspects that you’ve already fallen asleep. after all, you did spend the entire night dancing to the songs he sang along to. you wore the crocheted blanket you made as a cape and a dress, flowing with your graceful movements controlled by the lyrics and the beat and the melody and his compliments and his giggles.

he’s proven wrong when you slowly turn your head, cheek squished against his bicep. with heavy eyelids, you search for his hands, tangling them with your lonely ones.

“want to hear something silly about that day?”

“i’m all ears.” he beams eagerly, watching you twiddle with his long and slender fingers.

“do you know why i offered you my food?”

“because you couldn’t let a pretty boy like me succumb to starvation?”

“weeeell, there’s that…” you admit to his confident guess. “but aside from that, i wanted to see your nails closely.”

“my nails?”

you make a noise of confirmation as you trace his tattoos, a laugh seeping from the cracks of your relaxed demeanor. “to see if they were clean and trimmed or not.”

“so…” jungkook, the most hygienic man you’ve ever met, is digesting what you just confessed to him. “if they were dirty, you never would’ve told me your name?”

“hmm, yeah. because i always badgered my ex about it and you know how that relationship ended, so i thought enforcing those type of rules would help because i don’t want to deal with that shit again.” you cringe at younger you’s naivety and desperation, smiling shyly. “and it kind of… worked out so well? it sounds so funny to me now. i actually love myself for that.”

“fuck, baby,” he sighs.

he can’t imagine how a human being could ever dare to treat you with anything but gentleness. literally, can’t. it makes him sick to his stomach, makes the blood in his veins boil. he feels disturbed by the memories that still haunt you, and he feels angry because he is powerless and he can’t erase them no matter how hard he tries.

he caresses your face, planting doting kisses on your lips. the ghost of his affection lingers, like an invisible lipstick mark. “i wish i met you sooner.”

“what are you saying? i think we met at the perfect time!” you console his frustration, grinning when the epiphany lands on top of your bittersweet flashbacks. “out of the 365 days of the year, we met at 11/11. you’re my wish come tru- bam!”

the shocked, high-pitched squeal freefalls from your mouth when bam excitedly jumps on your laps out of nowhere, the weight of his upper half crushing your thighs underneath him. the dog smiles at you, panting.

“bam, i missed you but i was just about to tell your dad something romantic!”

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask / dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Bloody Cuddles | Cassian x Reader

Day 16: No one else to Turn to w/ Cassian

Summary: Cassian has no where else to go except to you when he shows up at your door in the middle of the night, beaten and bloodied.

Word Count: ~1.2k

Warnings: blood, bruises, mentions of swords, stitches, partially naked man, cuddling

A/N: honestly idk what’s happening in this one, hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

It was past midnight when he showed up.

You’d already changed into a t-shirt and shorts, sleeping clothes in your opinion, dishes, and laundry done and put up, stomach full of what you’d had for dinner, house warm and cozy, fending off the chill of Autumn Court that tended to roll in during the night. Your magic usually helped keep you warm, anyway.

You’d been just about to crawl into bed when a heavy knock on your door sounded, your dog jolting to his feet, slim ears perked up as he let out a low growl.

“Quiet,”

You murmured, hand smoothing over his short, silky fur, trying to soothe him as you walked over to the door, opening it half an inch and peeking out, trying to slam it shut when you saw who it was.

His gloved hand, bloodied gloved hand, slid between the crack, not letting the door shut. He didn’t even grunt when it slammed down on his palm, siphon not flickering a bit as it was also squished between the wooden door and doorframe.

Your dog growled, clearly not happy with the Illyrian behind the door, or the way your scent soured.

Just as you were about to hiss out for him to leave, he spoke.

“Look, I don't want to be here, I just don’t have anywhere else to go. One night. That’s all I'm asking for.”

Something in his voice struck a chord in you. Maybe it was the gravelly tone carrying the weight of exhaustion and something else, something further, or maybe it was just the way he wasn’t teasing or prodding you like usual. Still, you would have fun with this.

“Why? Did your precious Inner Circle finally grow bored of you?”

You taunted, waiting for the usual snapback, expecting him to at least try to insult you or your family. Anything, really, other than the heavy sigh you heard from the other side of the door.

“I fucked up. Bad.”

His voice was rough with emotion, growing thicker with each word. He sounded vaguely like he was about to cry.

You glanced down at your dog. He’d stopped growling. You and the animal shared a long glance before he huffed and walked off to curl up in his bed. He’d made up his mind, you supposed.

You opened the door, and there he was.

He was still in his fighting leathers, looking torn up. Forming bruises coated his body, some turning purple and yellow, a few even green, while blood coated his knuckles and drooped from his nose, eyes bloodshot and flickering from exhaustion. Every breath sounded wheezy and more like he was about to heave.

His eyes looked vacant.

You scowled, but the little gleam of worry in your eye was unmistakable as you stepped back, letting him in. As soon as he was in, he walked over to the kitchen and collapsed into a chair, looking like he was about to fall asleep.

“Oh, no you don’t. You’re getting blood all over my kitchen.”

You hissed, and he gave you a flat look.

“I don’t care.”

He replied, and you huffed, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him over to the bathroom, except for the fact that he refused to move, simply sitting in the chair while you pulled your hardest. After a few moments of watching you, he finally took mercy on you, getting up and stumbling over to your small bathroom, collapsing onto the toilet.

You pulled out a little emergency first-aid kit from under the sink that hadn’t been used in at least a century, popping it open, before grabbing a towel from the cabinet and wetting it, raising a brow at Cassian while he sat motionless on the toilet seat.

“What?”

He asked, and you gave him a look that was questioning his intelligence.

“To clean your injuries, I’m going to need to see them.”

You spoke slowly as if talking to a small child, and he exhaled through his nose, clearly annoyed, but he shifted and pulled his shirt off regardless, pants following, leaving him in just a pair of boxers.

You tried not to let your gaze wander as you pressed the damp section of the towel to a large slice across his abdomen, one that would probably require stitches, even with his Illyrian healing. It was a wound from a sword, clearly.

“Who’d you piss off to get this?”

You asked, keeping your tone purposefully detached, almost bored. He only grunted, probably in discomfort, as you padded the blood away.

“Rhys.”

He eventually admitted, and you let out a snort at that, placing the towel aside and picking up the needle and thread from the first-aid kit, threading the eye of the needle while replying.

“I’m guessing you did something to Feyre?”

He stiffened slightly as you let the needle puncture his skin, beginning the stitches, but didn’t reply. It seemed he was done talking about it. You would probably just pester him more in the morning when he was in a better mood and get it all out of him then, anyway.

A few quiet minutes later, and the stitching was done, the bloody towel being thrown into the bathtub as you closed the kit, putting it back under the sink where it stayed.

He went to grab his leathers, presumably to put them back on, when you shook your head, swatting the clothing out of his hands into the bathtub as well. It could be washed later. Not now, when it was too late into the night anyway.

“You can sleep in the guest bedroom.”

You said blandly, walking over to your bedroom, not bothering to give him any directions as you slid into your bed, pulling the cold blankets over you, palms warming with a spark of magic as the room’s temperature increased within mere moments.

You closed your eyes and were out like a light.

~

It must’ve been hours later when you woke up, the sun still not peeking out from your blinds, the night sky still twinkling.

You tried to turn, the spot where your head was laid a bit too warm for your taste, only to realize that you couldn’t move. Mainly because of a pair of warm arms wrapped around you. And the owner of those arms dozing off while wrapped around you, limbs entangled.

You huffed in annoyance, trying to push him off, only for him to grumble and let out a sleepy grunt.

“Get off-!”

You half whispered, half yelled, and he grunted again.

“G’ back to sleep.”

He mumbled, eyes screwing shut until his body relaxed again, and he was out like a light.

And so you were stuck with a big Illyrian oaf cuddling you in the middle of the night.

As you sighed, slowly settling and drifting back off to sleep, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t so bad.

Tags:

@hawke1917

@angstober

@fourthwing4ever

[kvohru]

sweet nothing | s. gojo x reader

in which gojo satoru and the reader cuddle to sleep. they're so in love. was written as a fem reader but im pretty sure it could also be seen as gender neutral!

Lazy days — like today — were your favourite. Those mid-autumn days where the summer heat finally broke and made way for a chilly breeze, and the sky looked a cool white instead of bright blue. The quiet clicking sound of your typing floated through the air in your otherwise quiet room, and along with the faraway sound of the shower running, aided in the creation of a quaint atmosphere.

Time went by, and just as you were finishing up your work on your laptop, you heard the shower turn off, and the distinct creaking of the hinges on your shower cabin door. With an exhausted groan, you decided you'd worked enough for today, and you stood up from your chair, stretching your sore body. Your head pounded as you turned around and walked towards the king-size bed you shared with your boyfriend, and the moment you were close enough, you let your body fall into the bed.

The relief was so acute you couldn't help the sigh of relief that escaped your lips, your whole body melting into the Purple mattress your boyfriend convinced you to buy earlier that year. Gosh, who knew your mattress quality would have that big of an effect on your quality of life? Well, Satoru clearly did.

“Hey.” The sound of his voice pulled you from your thoughts, and you tiredly turned your head to the other side to look at him. Satoru, dressed in nothing but a pair of sweatpants hanging low on his hips and a white towel on his shoulders, was shutting the bathroom door, steam escaping through the small crack. “You done?” he asked, lifting the towel around his neck to his hair and quite aggressively drying it.

You had half a mind to remind him how damaging towel fibers were for his hair, but, remembering the fact that his hair remained silky regardless of anything, you forewent the thought.

You didn't respond to his question immediately, your eyes idly roaming over his body from top to bottom. From the wet, white hair that was falling over those brilliant blue eyes of his, to the wide expanse of pale skin and taut muscles. “Hm?” he prompted, movements lithe as he walked to the vanity and uncapped his leave in conditioner — the only hair maintenance product you could convince him to use.

Your eyes automatically followed his movements, now meeting his in the mirror as you adjusted yourself and climbed into bed properly, albeit with no real intention of falling asleep. He seemed to have that effect on you. Like a sunflower turning towards its namesake, no matter where he went, you always gravitated towards him, both consciously and unconsciously.

“Yeah,” you responded eventually and grabbed the fantasy novel you were in the middle of, “there wasn't too much to do, anyway.”

He hummed in response, raking his product-coated hands into his hair before shaking it out. With effort, your eyes slid away from his and focused onto the open book in your lap, and you let yourself be taken away by the intricate world woven by the words of your favourite author.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

A few hours went by, and despite having ‘no real intention of falling asleep’, you fell asleep. Shocker.

It was now a little later in the day, the sun no longer cresting the sky, but rather melting into the horizon, the priorly pale gray sky turning varying shades of purple, pink and orange.

“Babe, do you think—” Satoru started, turning his gaze away from his phone, where he'd been checking his emails, to you, whom he was laying in bed next to, his (still shirtless) body angled towards yours. He had his phone in one hand, while the other was resting over your shoulder, idly playing with the ends of your hair. His question dissolved on his tongue at the sight of you asleep, eyes shut with your lashes fanning over your cheeks and lips ever so slightly parted, making way for soft breaths.

His own lips stretched into an amused grin, dimples etched into his cheeks. “I'm not gonna fall asleep, ’Toru,” he muttered, repeating your words from earlier. “I'm just gonna lay down!” He grabbed the book you had left open on your stomach and slipped the bookmark — that one the two of you had DIYed a few months ago (yes, he has a matching one) — back into it.

He turned the paperback over in his hand, long fingers splayed over the 500-page behemoth. It was by an author he'd seen you read numerous times, that one you had a whole shelf dedicated to. With a hum, he turned to place the book on his bedside table.

He twisted his torso away from you, that innate need for physical closeness to you keeping the rest of his body fixed in its spot. His defined obliques rippled with the motion, and he released a quiet noise from the back of his throat as he stretched to put the book down.

Straining to push it further with his fingers, as soon as Gojo was sure it was a safe distance away from the edge, he turned back to you, his arm snaking around your waist to pull you closer. Your arms, which were loosely folded in front of your chest, pressed against his hard chest when he pulled you into him, and you instinctively nuzzled closer, drawn by his body heat and the faint smell of his cologne.

He pushed his phone away before resting his hand on your upper back, his thumb rubbing unceasing circles between your shoulder blades, and he reached down to kiss the top of your head. Only lightly, though, he reminded himself, since he didn't want to wake you up.

One kiss turned into two, and he used his unoccupied hand to push away a strand of hair from your face to press his lips to your forehead, before the two kisses turned into three and the three into four.

He pressed another tender kiss to your temple, and you, despite his best efforts at remaining gentle, stirred in his arms, your eyes flitting back and forth underneath your eyelids. He cursed under his breath, mentally chiding himself before brushing a stray curl away from your face and whispering a soft, “Sorry, baby.”

You made a soft humming noise but, thankfully, didn't wake up, only rested your head against his arm. He let himself relax against you, content in watching you sleep while playing with your hair, and eventually, his eyes fell closed and he drifted off with the feeling of your soft, warm skin against his.

Man, lazy days were his favourite.

[lucysarah-c]

If I tell you a secret, you swear to keep it?

Captain Levi wasn't sure when all of this started, and he dared to say that it had never truly begun; perhaps it was just his mind playing tricks on him. Was it due to stress, the lack of sleep, something he ate, or perhaps something in the air? Could it be some hallucinating mold he hadn't heard of before, requiring him to deep clean the entire Scouts' facility?

Somehow, it made him feel morally wrong and, overall, childish. Levi had drawn the attention of his own squad by doing so. He told Jean and Connie that it was inappropriate to stare at a person for so long, emphasising that, as their superior, you deserved respect. Hormonal teenagers, especially boys, saw a hole in a wall and wondered if they could stick their dick inside. They seemed unable to think of anything else when the other head was doing the thinking.

You haven't been working for the Scouts for long, but Levi dared to say it's been long enough for him to feel somewhat comfortable around you. You're the nurse sent by the medical sector to fill the infirmary. Levi understood the nature of the job—a common fetishized and sexualized profession. It didn't help that the male cadets from his squad acted as if they had never seen an ankle. The pristine white uniform was modest and always had been, but Jean saw a skirt despite its length, and his face turned red.

Even though Levi understood all of that and more, why was he reacting this way? You asked him if he wanted the flu shot that the government had sent, and he agreed. His hand gripped the edge of his shirt sleeve as he sat down in the infirmary, yet his eyes were fixed elsewhere. Your silhouette against the window, the still strong autumn sun coming through, almost making your clothes transparent. He could see the shadow of your legs underneath, your rosy lips as you played with the pencil while reading reports, your soft hands—why were they so soft?—against his arm as you prepared the skin, your big doll eyes looking up at him as you examined the skin for a good syringe penetration. "It may hurt a little, Captain," you said. Levi had to remind himself to breathe and swallow the saliva that had accumulated in his mouth. His brain had decided to stop working; he couldn't have a single rational thought.

"Oops," you casually said as a few papers flew because of the open window, moving hastily to close it and then bending down to pick them up. Your modest skirt softly raised, allowing him to catch a glimpse of the tender flesh of your inner legs. 'I bet they are even softer than her hands,' he thought.

What was he thinking? Forcing himself to look elsewhere as she walked back to him to put a band-aid on after the shot, he hadn't ever felt this way. "You may feel a little bit down today or tomorrow. If you feel like you are getting a bit of a fever, that's also normal," her voice came so soft. "There, green," she chuckled, "so it matches your cloak."

Levi's eyes travelled down to admire the green band-aid as if he were a kid in need of colourful stuff to celebrate his bravery in taking a flu shot. "Thanks," he grunted out as he lowered his folded sleeve. There wasn't anything he wished for more than to run out of there. It was humiliating how he felt he couldn't control his own thoughts. You were being your usual nice and cheerful self, sometimes a well-received contrast to the harsh life of a scout. But today, he simply couldn't take it.

Levi groaned softly, tossing and turning in his bed. His mind was racing with conflicting emotions: shame, disgust, desire, and a hint of excitement. "It's the shot, I must be getting a fever or something," he tried to self gaslight himself out of it. He had plenty of paperwork to do, why did he decided to try to catch some rest? Eyes forcefully closed, trying to convince himself to use this time to sleep. When the idea of you kneeling between his legs, under his desk, big cheerful eyes looking up to him, teeth biting down and smiling. Levi shook his head vigorously, banishing the lewd thoughts for now. "This is ridiculous," he muttered to himself.

However it was too late, he could feel the tent in his trousers, demanding him attention. Levi groaned softly, his hand slipping inside his trouser's waistband. It wasn't long before he had freed his erect member from its confines, rubbing it against the fabric of his boxers. The sensation was driving him wild, and he rested on the side, arching his hips slightly to increase the contact. His cock throbbed in time with his heartbeat, growing harder and heavier in his grasp.

The image of you bent over flashed through his mind like a cruel tease, his loins burning with desire. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to shake off the thoughts. But the pull was too strong, and he couldn't resist any longer.

Then, he sat up abruptly, unable to contain himself anymore. If he was going to do it, he was going to do it right. He kicked off the sheet and stripped. The last thing he needed was sleeping in stained sheets. 

Levi's cock throbbed with need, his erect member stood tall and proud, leaking copious amounts of precum onto his stomach.

Heart racing like a wild animal penned up too long, leaping onto the mattress, he landed on top of it with a thud, arching his hips upwardwards. Mouth gathering the saliva before he spit on his right hand and let his head fall backwards.  "Fuck…" he groaned out, unable to resist it any longer. He wanted release so badly it hurt.

His hand moved on its own, fast and harsh. Closing his eyes imagined something better than his own hand, pushing the foreskin of his cock to reveal the head and began to pump it. Levi's eyes remained closed as he let his imagination run free.  You were standing before him, a curvy figure illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the window. His cock twitched in anticipation, leaking more of his sticky pre-cum onto his stomach. Reaching down, he wrapped his hand around his member, stroking it roughly yet somewhat tenderly. Perfect body crawling on top of him.

His hand moved faster as the fantasy turned more explicit. You sat down on his legs and his dick buried balls deep in your hole as you rode him with energy. "Yes! Mh-Ahg so big" you would say. "Captain!" moaning out his title, head thrown backwards, messy hair falling like a waterfall "Cap- ahh yesss, fuck me harder!"

You sucking him in, taking all of him so effortlessly as if you were made to take this cock. "You feel me right there? I'm rearranging your guts,". Your mouth hanging open while letting out the loudest moans and your eyes rolled backwards.

Grunting heavily, he brought his other hand to his balls, squeezing them rhythmically to heighten his arousal "You're a filthy whore, aren't ya? this cunt loves swallowing my load" he murmured as if his fantasy could hear it. 

Levi's hand quickened its pace, his cock throbbing in sync with his heartbeat. The head of his member was glistening with precum, leaking copiously onto his stomach. His breathing grew heavier, almost labored as he imagined fucking you rough and hard.

In his mind's eye, you were panting heavily almost sobbing of how good it felt each time you sinked down and his hips snapped upwards. Your body quivering with each powerful thrust. "Enjoying that dick, pretty?" he growled, his voice low and husky.

You would be hanging your mouth open unable to think anymore, head bobbing as you hummend positively as saliva slightly dropped from the corner of your lips.  His cock was starting to twitch violently, warning him that release was imminent.

"Captain…" you would whimper softly in his mind, begging for more. "Please give me your cum, please… I won't waste a drop."

Levi's hand tightened its grip on his throbbing member, moving faster and harder. His abdominal muscles contracted rhythmically as he neared his climax. "I'm close, Y/N," he growled out your name raggedly. "Right there…"

With one final powerful thrust, he released his seed, shooting hot white ropes onto her stomach and chest. Panting heavily, he continued to pump his cock slowly until it was painful to keep going. 

Collapsing on the bed, Levi lay there for several minutes, catching his breath. Gradually, the post-orgasmic bliss began to fade, replaced by a haze of embarrassment and confusion. What had just happened? How could he have thought such filthy things about a fellow soldier? A nurse? He groaned softly, sitting up on the edge of the bed, trying to compose himself.

He felt embarrassed for multiple reasons. First, he had just seen a skirt raised up a bit and he got hard as a teenager. Even worse, as a teen he jerked off a couple of times and came all over his own body. It felt stupid how sexually frustrated he was. If it wasn't because his hands were still filthy, he would be groaning with his head in his hands while questioning himself how he was going to face you in the hallways.

Was it the uniform? The skirt? You were undoubtedly gorgeous, but… Was it because most of the women in the Scouts didn't have time to take care of their appearance, or they simply didn't care? There was something stupidly arousing about your soft and clear skin, how you took care of yourself, the tight little waist highlighting the difference between your swinging hips underneath the skirt, perky breasts under the blouse.

"Captain," your cloying voice whispered his worst intentions, "Captain, you need a hand?"

Levi's eyes, looking to his left, caught your mischievous smile as you looked at him. "I… Um…" He was confused.

"Do you want a hand, Cap?" you asked again, looking deeply into his eyes. 'Well… if you want to…' he wondered, lost as your eyes softly looked down and then back up.

"Do you need help?" The haze of sexually inciting began to fade. "With the tea, I mean… you had been staring at the kettle for ten minutes," your voice now lacked all the previous sweetness, and he felt like an idiot.

"No, thanks," he spat back, angry but not at you. Levi forced himself to get back into his senses and returned to brew his own tea.

"You sure? You seem a bit… lost," you commented. He groaned an unworded reply and then handed you a cup. Soft fingers brushed against his before raising the liquid to your lips, letting out a pleased moan. "Ah~ nothing better than tea in the mornings," you said before adding with an innocent smile, "Hot, strong, and deep, exactly as I like it."

Levi swore he was trying to breathe, but he simply couldn't. "Have a nice morning, thanks for the tea! You really know how I like it," you said back before walking away. 'Maybe I should visit a church or something.'

Yet his eyes were still glued to your back as you walked away, skirt swinging as you moved. He didn't mean to stare, but something smacked him on the head with strength, forcing him back to his senses. "Oi!" he turned around to confront the person, only to find Hange with a handful of papers rolled up in their hand.

"Stop staring~" they signed back with a mischievous smile.

"I wasn't," he replied while his hand caressed the top of his head. "Stop laughing, four eyes," he insisted as he could hear Hange's chuckles.

Suddenly, Hange wrapped an arm around his shoulders, resting their entire weight on them, and their heads touching. "You know… if I tell you a secret, you swear to keep it, right?"

"Get off my ass," Levi replied, not interested in being dragged into Hange's silly games.

"The other day, I was talking to Erwin," their voice dropped as they began to whisper, "And we both agreed that Y/N has such a great ass."

Both looked at each other from the corner of their eyes, Levi frowning deeply.

"Don't tell the cadets, though… we don't want to set a bad example."

--

Tags!: @nmlkys @jimoonbeau @fictiondrunk @notgoodforlife @nube55 @justkon Wanna join my tag list? Here!

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

chapter xxv – gust & flame

Eris Vanserra x Reader

Eris Vanserra has been a prisoner in his own home since the day he was born. He has done what he had to in order to survive and protect the few he loves. And he is playing the long game. Waiting, waiting, and waiting for the right time to make his move, to usurp his wicked father and become High Lord of Autumn Court. But things become even more complicated when a human girl drops into his life. Perhaps Eris can wait no longer to take his throne.

Word Count:  4,100+

masterlist

Y/N wanted to wake up to Eris’ warmth wrapped around her, to have his autumn scent taking over her senses once again, and his strong arms reminding her that she was protected, safe. 

But Eris had left hours ago – and so stealthily that Y/N had no idea when. 

Instead, Y/N had shot up in bed breathing heavily. 

There had been a surge of power. So strong that it jolted the witch from her deep sleep. 

Both her movements and the surge woke Ronan up, growling as if there was danger in the bedroom. 

“Eris,” Y/N breathed. 

Somehow she knew the power had erupted from him. 

Something was wrong – very wrong. Even the night Eris had defeated Beron, even the night Y/N followed him deep into the forest to test his new strength…she had never felt such power come from Eris. 

If he were using it now, then he was under some sort of attack. 

Y/N jumped out of bed, flinging off her nightgown and threw on trousers and a tunic – quicker than worrying herself with a dress or a damn corset. 

If she was off to battle, she would order a sentry to fetch her the same armor Eris had forced upon her before. 

But Y/N needn’t look far, for as soon as she flung the door open, she was met with a handful of sentries standing guard outside her chambers.

Amongst them were all of Eris’ smoke hounds. And as soon as they heard their master’s mate open the door, they had shot to their feet and whined with anticipation. 

Y/N’s eyes raced amongst the sentries, half expecting Lucien to be with them.

But Eris’ brother was nowhere to be found, which meant he was surely with him. 

“Where is the High Lord?” She asked curtly. 

“There was rebellion in Drumenthoul,” the highest ranking responded quickly. She recognized him well enough to know his name: Captain Respen. 

Her brow furrowed. “Lord Muiris’ demesne?” 

“Yes, my lady. It is one of Autumn Court’s largest cities. Its subjects attacked the manor of the late lord, after they heard of the attack on you. His son retaliated, using what was left of his father’s army to wreak havoc on his own people. But it appeared to be an attempt at a trap.” 

Y/N’s stomach dropped. “Walk with me,” she ordered all of them. 

Instantly, they fell into step with her. 

“Ready my horse with my weapons,” she continued. One of the sentry rushed ahead to do as she asked, making his way to the stables. “I must go to him.” Then she looked at Captain Respen and silently told him to continue.  

“Before the attacks started, Lord Muiris’ son had called for reinforcements...from any Lord who did not agree with the High Lord’s usurping.” 

“They knew Eris would aid his people and they used that to lure him intro a trap with a bigger enemy than he could have anticipated,” Y/ noted aloud. 

“Precisely, my lady.” He didn’t hide how impressed he was with her intelligence. She had the makings of a High Lord's wife, despite her mortal and witchling upbringing.

“Do not fear though, Lady Y/N. Eris anticipated such an attack. He brought his best infantry.” Respen hesitated before he added, “And he has gained much power since becoming High Lord.” 

Y/N knew Respen was trying to calm her, to assure her Eris couldn’t be in danger. But no words would calm her.

“And you were left behind to guard me?” Annoyance was clear in her voice. 

“Protecting the High Lord’s mate is no lowly task, Lady Y/N. It is a great honor. The High Lord will take no chances at you being attacked while he is preoccupied with civil war. It would be the exact time for an assassination attempt.” 

When they reached the courtyard, Aengus was indeed ready, with her sword, bow, and satchel of arrows attached to the saddle.

But Y/N suddenly remembered that Drumenthoul was on the north coast of the court.

She had included cardiography in her Autumn Court studies. And it would take days to reach. 

Why had no one said anything?

“Can someone winnow me?” She asked. 

All the soldiers shifted uncomfortably, not meeting her gaze. 

Captain Respen was the one who broke the silence. “We are under strict orders to do no such thing.”

He at least had the decency to look guilty about it. 

That was why no one had questioned her orders to grab her mount: she would never get close to the danger in time.  

“Lucien is with them?” She asked quietly. 

He nodded. 

“So I am to just wait here?” 

Before anyone could answer her, there was another surge of power. 

Between the courtyard of the Forest House and the outer gates, there was a half mile. 

But despite the distance, Y/N could see him – no – she could feel Eris. And she sensed that something was not right. 

The next second, she was jumping onto Aengus, and digging her heels into gelding. The horse needed no other signals to throw him into a run. 

“Accompany Lady Y/N,” was the last thing Y/N heard before she was in the forests and meadows between the courtyard and outer wall. 

When she was close enough to take in her mate, she noted that while Eris was walking on his own, his entire body was tense. 

A gust of wind hit her. “He is injured…faebane…faebane…faebane.”

Another gust of wind. “He took…his beastly form.”

Y/N had heard of the High Lord’s beast form from a night of drinking with Cassian. He tried to scare her by sharing the murderous creatures she could stumble upon in the Prythian wilderness. 

“But none are more terrifying than the beasts of High Lords," he had whispered to her for dramatic effect. Then went into great detail of the few times in his centuries when he witnessed Rhysand’s own beastly form. 

Y/N still didn’t know much about them, but she did know it drained one's power. It was no parlor trick, but a skill that only a powerful High Lord could wield – and use sparingly. 

That must have been the blast of power that had woken her up. 

When she was just a few yards away, Y/N swung her leg over the side of the saddle and jumped while Aengus still cantered and had yet to come to a stop. 

“Eris!” Y/N gasped at the sight of him. 

Though he walked on his own, Lucien watched his eldest brother with caution a few steps behind him.

And now Y/N could see that Eris had at least twenty arrows sticking out of his back. 

Then she heard the galloping of her guard catching up to them. 

As soon as Eris’ spotted them, his posture straightened even more. 

He does not want to appear weak in front of his men, Y/N realized. 

“The infantry?” Y/N asked the two of them. 

“Only a handful lost,” Lucien told her. “But many injured. They are being winnowed. The rest will return on horseback.”

Y/N turned to her guard. “Ready the infirmary tents! The injured will be returning any moment. Have a female alert the human women that I will need their help. They will know what to prepare.” 

Captain Respen barked orders at the others, but he and another lingered. 

“Leave us,” she ordered them, more harshly than she ever would if the situation did not call for it. 

Respen eyed Eris. 

“Do as my mate demands, Captain.” The High Lord finally spoke.

Y/N was surprised by how strong his voice sounded, when it was becoming more and more clear to her how much pain he was in. 

Respen and his lieutenant nodded before galloping back to the Forest House. 

Once they were out of eyesight, Eris fell to his hands and knees. 

“Eris!” Y/N whispered, not wanting any fae senses picking up their panic. 

“For Cauldron’s sake!” Lucien growled as he helped his brother off the ground with Y/N. 

Y/N carefully put one of his arms over his shoulder, while Lucien did the same with his other arm.

“How bad?” She hissed.

“I shall live,” Eris muttered. 

His pale skin was not its usual glow, but sickly looking. His hair was covered in mud and blood – and she could only hope most of it was not his. 

“It’s the faebane,” she acknowledged. 

Eris and Lucien looked at her with surprise. But she ignored them. 

“Can you ride?” She whispered to Eris. 

He gave her a shaky nod. “Behind you,” he clarified. 

She nodded and whistled for Aengus. “Lucien, help me get him in the saddle.”

Y/N climbed on first, and pulled him up as Lucien lifted from the ground. 

Eris growled at the pain, making her heart race with panic. 

As soon as he was sitting, Y/N gave orders. “Lucien, get a cot brought to my witchery.  Do it yourself and tell no one. Discretion is key.”

Lucien nodded and winnowed to the Forest House. 

“You want to show them how strong you are, then show them,” Y/N muttered before she urged Aengus into a gallop. 

When they got closer, she softly urged him. “Take the reigns.”

Eris did as she said. 

Y/N knew why Eris did not winnow back into the Forest House on his own. She knew why he would not show pain, despite his back being littered with faebane-poisoned arrows. There were those who still questioned his power. Therefore, he would not show weakness. 

Instead, it looked like two lovers returning after sharing a relieved embrace. 

Y/N jumped down from Aengus and handed the horses to a stableboy, making sure not to watch Eris with worry as he dismounted on his own. 

“Make sure all the healers have been alerted,” Eris told his sentries. Then he looked over his shoulder of the forest and meadow they had just come from. 

With the wave of his hand, a hundred tents appeared out of nowhere. Healer tents for the injured that would soon be brought back. 

“Come,” Y/N offered her hand to her mate. 

Eris didn’t hesitate, taking it and letting her lead him into the Forest House. 

——

Y/N had offered Eris a pain relieving tonic, but he refused it. 

Not having time to argue with him, she fluttered about her witchery, brewing a potion and cutting herbs. 

All while Eris sat patiently on the cot Lucien had snuck in.

Within minutes, Y/N had a healing paste ready. 

“The arrows,” she gulped. “Shall I remove them one by one or all at once?”

Eris met her gaze over her shoulder, “All at once.”

“I will help,” Lucien offered. 

“Touch me with your grimy hands and I will set you alight,” Eris growled in warning. 

Y/N ignored the outburst. “Ready?” She whispered. 

He nodded. 

But Y/N moved in front of him and crouched before him. She took both of his hands in her own, squeezing them lovingly.

She closed her eyes and started chanting a spell.

And Eris immediately felt his back start to heat. 

Even as a bystander, Lucien felt the witch’s power fill the room. 

Eris almost forgot he was about to suffer, too enamored with watching his mate take over with her magic. 

Y/N’s eyes snapped open, but they looked at no one and nothing. 

Lucien watched as they glazed over in white, which they had all put together was only when she was stretching her magic to new and powerful heights. 

And then, as if there was an invisible lasso around all of the two dozen arrows in his back, Y/N’s spell got louder and then abruptly stopped. Along with her spell ending, the arrows were all ripped from Eris’ back in one pull. 

But the only noise that came from the High Lord was a low growl. 

Y/N gasped at the exertion of power, and was quickly trying to catch her breath. 

But her eyes had returned to normal. 

Lucien leaned over to look at Eris’ back. “Well, you sure got all of them.” Then he bent down to pick up the fallen arrows from the ground, burning them in his palm until they were ash. 

“You better clean that up,” Y/N warned as she saw it flutter to the floor. 

She turned her attention back to Eris. “Alright?”

He just nodded. 

“I must clean the wounds individually now,” she told him gently. “Some will need stitching, but not many.”

Silence filled the room as the real work began. Y/N treated Eris’ wounds as if he were made of glass. She was gentle and kind, always giving him a moment when his body tensed with pain. But he never complained and barely made a sound. 

“It was not…it was not how it should be,” Lucien finally spoke after some time. He was sitting on the ground now, knees propped up as he watched from the corner.

“What do you mean?” Y/N asked with confusion. 

Lucien watched Eris, who would not meet his gaze. “Beron’s beast form was that of a multi-tailed fox – still a tremendous size – and with the wings of an owl. Smaller than the beasts of the other High Lords, but still ever so deadly.” 

Y/N’s eyes narrowed. “And…?”

But Lucien didn’t speak. 

“I was something else,” Eris finally answered, trying to pass through the subject. 

“Something more,” Lucien corrected darkly. 

“I don’t understand,” she admitted quietly. 

But Eris just stared at the ground, his face emotionless. 

Lucien cleared his throat awkwardly, but continued. “He too turned into a fox, but that of a bear – something to rival even Tamlin. He had the antlers of our court’s stag. And the flames…he was engulfed in flames.”

Was it fear in Lucien’s tone... or awe? Y/N couldn’t figure it out. 

Lucien finally finished with, "The arrows you pulled from his back are just those of hundreds that failed to take him down.” 

“Then I shall thank this beast when I see him,” Y/N snapped. “For he seems to be the reason that Eris returned alive.” 

That was her only warning to Lucien to stop his antics. 

“Leave us,” Eris ordered his youngest brother. 

He didn’t need to be told again. 

“I will check on the injured,” Lucien announced to no one in particular. 

He closed the door louder than necessary, making both of them roll their eyes. 

The only sound to be heard was the crackling of the fire in the witchery. 

“How do you know how to treat faebane?” Eris’ tone instantly switched to the softness that was only reserved for his mate. 

“I shall tell you when you tell me why you ran into battle without waking me," she countered grimly. 

Eris was smart enough to look guilty, even though she couldn’t see his face as she worked on his back. “I did not wish to worry you.” 

“And being woken up by your surge of power was not more worrisome?” 

“I did not realize you would sense my magic in such a way,” he admitted. 

Y/N paused her healing and walked around to look down at him. “You could have been killed, Eris. And I never would have even said goodbye.” 

Without hesitating, Eris reached up and gently grasped the back of her neck, pulling her down until her lips crashed to his. 

She was sure the movement did not feel good for his back. But one would never know from the way his body only tried to pull her in further.

The subject was lost for a few moments, while their lips moved together.

Eventually, they pulled apart. 

“You are right,” Eris told her, voice raspy. 

“I am right?” She questioned, suddenly forgetting what they had even been talking about before he kissed her. 

“I should have woken you before I left,” he clarified. 

Then he smirked. “But I knew you would have tried to come.” 

“Of course I would have!” She admitted with a playful glare. 

His eyes darkened in warning. “You cannot rush into battle alongside me every time there is danger I must face, Y/N.”

“And why not?”

“Because I need you safe. Do you forget why you are here? And because these are not your battles to fight."

Y/N looked into his eyes before she answered, “They would be if I accepted the bond.”

She yelped when she was suddenly sitting across Eris' lap. He had pulled her so swiftly that there was no stopping it. 

“Do not tease me with such things, witch.” 

His body felt so hot, it was as if there was fire itself beneath his skin.  

Y/N swallowed. “I need to finish healing your back, High Lord.” 

Eris watched her before allowing her to get up. 

A tension filled silence settled in the room. 

“Will you let me see your beast form?” She finally asked him, her tone innocent. 

Eris smirked, only because he knew she couldn’t see it. “Why, so you can make me your pet, like Ronan?”

“I think it would be rather hard to cuddle a grizzly fox that was immersed in flames…” She thought aloud. “Cuddles would be much easier when you are in this form.”

Y/N had finished with her spells and healing salve, and was now wrapping Eris in gauze to keep it in place and protect the mending. 

“Where is this torment coming from?” Eris asked as he slowly stood. 

Y/N stepped to him, her eyes seemingly innocent. 

Then she suddenly kissed him again, but pulled away only after she bit the corner of his lip, making him hiss – not from the pain, though it did sting – from arousal. 

“For not waking me,” she answered, as if it were obvious. 

She stormed out of the witchery and threw open the door to his bedchambers that were next down the hall. 

“Also, I put a sleep tonic on my lips. So you will want to get in bed in the next few minutes, or you will be passing out on the cold, hard floor. And if you ruin my hard work from that, I shall punish you even worse.” 

Eris looked at her, utterly stunned. 

“You poison your High Lord?" His eyes narrowed playfully. “Finally, your true self is revealed: you are an evil, little witch after all.” 

She ignored his teasing. “To bed, now.” 

Eris sauntered past her into his personal bedchambers. 

She waited until he sat on the bed, then she slammed the door behind her. 

Instantly, she started chanting a protection spell. 

Yes, she had just knocked Eris out, which left him even more vulnerable than he already was with his injuries and exertion of power from using his beast form. 

Therefore, she would not leave him unprotected. 

She knew his guards would be lingering further down the hall. Lucien would have ordered to give the two of them space until further orders. 

All of them straightened to attention when they saw her round the corner.

“The High Lord is to stay in his rooms and rest,” she explained firmly. “If he comes out, do not engage. One of you is to inform me immediately. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Lady Y/N.” They all said in unison. There was no mockery or questioning; their tones held only respect and understanding. 

—🍁—🍁—🍁—

Eris awoke feeling much better than he probably should – and he knew he had Y/N to thank for that. 

It was dusk now. And he’d left for battle before the sun had risen that morning. So he must’ve been asleep for quite some time. 

Y/N’s poison had knocked him out so quickly that he hadn’t even bathed since battle. Though she had cleaned his wounds, he probably smelled of sweat and blood. 

Eris quickly went to his bathroom and bathed, finally ridding himself of the battle filth. 

Then he threw on a simple tunic and trousers, and rushed out of his chambers. 

His sentries were waiting for him and bowed immediately. 

��The injured?” He asked, getting straight to the point. 

Captain Respen stepped forward. “Tended to, High Lord.” Then paused before he added, “More were lost, their injuries to dire. The healers did all they could.” 

Eris frowned, but gave a slow nod. 

“Where is my mate?” 

All the sentries behind their captain shared a look, silently communicating. 

“She insisted that you are to stay in your bedchambers and rest,” Respen explained.

Eris ignored that. “Where is she?” 

——

Eris entered the grounds where all the healer tents had appeared. He expected to hear moans of pain or tears of grief. But there was a subtle peace amongst the camp. 

The sun had just passed the horizon, leaving the forest and sky with a unique mixture of faded blues and oranges. 

“This way, High Lord,” Captain Respen nodded in a direction past the tents. 

Servants had erupted countless fire pits to both warm the camp and make visibility easier for everyone, despite faelights glowing inside each healer tent. 

Eris’ walk slowed when he heard the giggling and laughter. 

It was not a common sound in Autumn Court.

Once they walked past the last of the tents, Eris halted. 

Y/N, ran around with the mortal children they had been sheltering. It appeared they were playing a game of tag. But every time one of them got away from her grasp, a gust of wind would tickle them, causing a fit of giggles. 

“She has been running around all day, aiding the healers in any way she can. She has saved many lives today.” Captain Respen told him quietly. “When someone finally managed to get her to take a break, she came to entertain the children whose mothers were still helping the wounded.” 

Eris didn’t respond, just watched his mate, who looked utterly exhausted, yet smile and played with the children despite it. 

“Will she stay?” Respen dared to ask his High Lord the question that all of Autumn Court had come to wonder. 

Eris ignored him, but the clenching of his jaw was visible. 

He stepped towards his mate, purposely making noise to bring attention to his arrival. 

The children’s laughter stopped immediately at the sight of the High Lord. Some of them even eyed him with fear. 

“It is alright,” Y/N assured them.

Then she beckoned Eris closer, to her. 

He did as requested, following that invisible string attached to his heart.

“Is it true you turned into a beast?” One of the brave children asked hurriedly. 

Y/N bit back her smile. 

“Can you show us?” Another cried out before Eris could even answer. 

“I do not think your mothers would appreciate that,” Eris told them. 

“I don’t have one. So can you at least show me?” Another begged. 

“Now, now,” Y/N playfully scolded them. "The High Lord is far too powerful to show off his gifts like some court jester.” 

“Awww!!!” They all whined in unison. 

But Eris kneeled before them, pausing dramatically to get their attention back. 

The children leaned in, believing they changed his mind. 

With a subtle and small flick of Eris’ wrist, his palm twisted to the sky, and fireworks erupted above them. 

The children cheered and jumped underneath the fireworks as they continued to erupt in every color they could ever want, some even turning into little animals before exploding. 

They tried to catch the falling light in their hands. But it would always disappear before they could, creating a new game for the children. 

Y/N moved to her mate’s side to join him in watching the new joy.

“Neat trick," she told him.  

Eris gave her a shy smile. “I used to do the same for Lucien when he was a child. Sometimes it was the only thing that could stop his crying fits after father… reprimanded him.” 

But they both knew it was more than reprimanding.

Eris sighed. “It has been so many centuries, I almost forgot about it entirely...until now. 

“How are you feeling?” Y/N asked him. 

“I am fine,” he answered too quickly. 

She sighed, but didn’t push. 

“My guards say you have not rested since tending to me,” he pointed out. 

She shrugged dismissively. “There were many injured. And the healers were overwhelmed. I helped as much as I possibly could.”

“And I am grateful for it.” He countered. “But for someone who does not wish to join this Court, you certainly care about its inhabitants.” 

“Shhh,” she warned. “None of that. I am quite tired.” 

The next second, Eris had scooped Y/N up in his arms. 

“Eris!” She admonished. “Your injuries!”

“My injuries are healing – thanks to you.”

Eris passed his guards, who had been watching over them from a distance. “Once the fireworks finish, make sure the children return to their mothers and caretakers.”

“Of course, High Lord. The children will be looked after.” Captain Respen bowed. 

When they were at the doors of the Forest House, Eris locked eyes with one of the footman who stood at the ready. 

“Bring dinner to her bedchambers,” he ordered. 

The footman nodded and rushed off. 

Eris looked down to see that Y/N had closed her eyes and rested her head in the crook of his neck. 

“Are we too tired for a bath?” He asked quietly. 

Without opening her eyes, Y/N mumbled. “Never too tired for a bath.”

Eris huffed a laugh. “Good. It is my turn to take care of you.” 

“Will you promise that I will wake up next to you tomorrow morning?” 

“I promise, Y/N.” 

-----------

Thank you thank you thank you for your patience. I'm sure no one will read this...but work was really terrible around the holidays. I was trying to find a new job, but the job market is so terrible. So my mental health just took a real hit. I've also really gotten back into reading, so that because my thing unwind after work, instead of writing. I had also been doing a lot of different personal art projects – painting, editing, and photographing. And those started feeling better than writing for me.

Anyways...thank you for those who stuck with me and were patient and supportive.

[n1ghtfurys]

Apocalypse with König

Part 1: Word count: 9475

There's a little bit of gore, mentions kidnapping, weight loss due to lack of food

You'd found him on the road.You'd been planning on making it to your grandparents, since they were in the country. You figured you'd be safer with them if they were still alive and if not you'd at least have a house, maybe their food was still good. They had a greenhouse and so maybe you'd even be able to figure it out.

You hadn't expected to find anyone on your way. Especially since everyone of importance had been evacuated to quarantined cities, and most of the other people who hadn't made the cut had either: started or turned. An unlucky few probably fell prey to the military, and other people who had decided it was better if everyone was dead.

The motorways were mostly deserted and as much as you were out in the open, you felt safe enough. There were deserted cars for cover, which you'd pick through, and sometimes get lucky in finding a first aid kit or something wearable.

You'd lost your mother and siblings in the chaos of the first days, you hadn't heard from them in months and figured…hoped they'd gotten to safety. You knew deep down that they'd probably died looking for you but it was, and still is, easier to hope.

You'd never been great at maps but you could remember places from how they looked and the road signs were all relatively intact. Unlike the movies with zombies, the government hadn't tried bombing or burning down populated areas. They'd simply taken the rich and important and hid them, stowed them away, and left the regular people to die. At the start there were churches and homeless shelters trying to help; Taking in traveling families and stragglers, trying to at least; especially, in their own cities but all it took in those places was for one infected to get in and they'd all be gone.

You'd tried one for a while, even made a few friends, but you'd barely managed to get out with your own life so you didn't figure anyone else had.

When you found König, him finding you might be more apt but still, you were running low on water. You didn't trust yourself to leave the main roads and since you hadn't come across any running water you didn't have the chance. It was autumn so you'd scavenged blackberries from the bushes on the side of the road and occasionally you'd come across a granola bar in one of the cars but other than that you'd been hungry and tired. Sleeping in cars hadn't done you much good either.

It has been quiet, eerily so. You hadn't come across an infected in at least a few days, which had surprised you but you didn't want to jinx your sudden good luck. Dealing with the infected was hard, at least before him it was. They were often stronger than you, and even if they weren't they were hell bent on ending you. You had managed to get your hands on a hatchet from the back room of a hardware store somewhere along the road.

You were sleeping in the back of an abandoned car before you heard his footsteps. You weren't sure if he'd seen you or not, you hoped not. Most people on the road were desperate, like you, so they were often willing to use whatever force they deemed necessary. Of the bodies on the road, at least the ones you'd come across in the past few days, only a few of them were probably due to being infected, the rest had various stab wounds; while others had arrows sticking out of them- You wondered who had provoked who.

The memories of all the dead you'd passed on the road in the last few days came flooding back. You had thought, at the time, that the chances of the guy who was practically stomping around out there, was probably the guy who killed all of those people; People like you, who were just trying to get from point A, to B. You tried to stay low hoping that he wouldn't see you. you could just about see him in the rear view mirror.

He was tall, like really tall and very built. The bruising on some of the bodies made more sense considering the size of him. You waited until he had disappeared completely from view before you got the courage to open the door.

It opened more quietly than you had expected, much to your appreciation. You pushed forward, essentially following the man. He was slow and gradually more meticulous the further along the road he got. When he had passed you he was just casting fleeting glances around the sea of deserted cars but now he has started peering through the glass and checking under cars. You had managed to stay relatively out of sight or at least you thought you had.

You hid behind a car when he turned back on himself. You hoped he wouldn't see you. He didn't move for a while and then he chuckled deeply. You heard what sounded like the creaking of a slowly deteriorating car as he assumably lowered his weight onto the hood. “I know you're there maus” his accent was heavy but his voice was definitely not what you'd expected. You'd expected deep and gravely. It had only met one of your expectations.

Regardless, his acknowledgement of your presence made your blood run cold. You were already on edge, the lack of food and good sleep had left you in a state of near constant anxiety. You didn't say anything in response hoping that maybe he would just forget about it and leave you alone. “Come out, kleine maus” his voice was softer this time but he was still a threat.

Maybe if you managed to surprise him ,If you injured him enough then he wouldn't be able to come after you. You settled on making a run for it.

You often wonder if things would be different now, if you had chosen to attack him instead of trying to outrun him. If maybe you would have joined the bodies on the road or even made it to your grandparents.

It ate at you for the first few months with him. You resented him for taking you away from the road, for being nice to you when you treated him with such venom. For keeping you there, at first you had felt like a prisoner, refused to talk to him- look at him; even to eat for the first few days but that didn't last as long as you'd hoped it would.

You'd hated him for months. Despised him so entirely that you couldn't count the number of times you'd considered his death.

You'd attempted to escape a few times only to end up lost in the dark, then thrown over his shoulder the next morning when he'd somehow find you.

You hated it. Hated him for it. Just hated everything. In hindsight it made sense, he was probably just lonely and really, you were too but at the time it felt like hell.

When he brought you back; Originally, you'd kicked and screamed doing no real damage past hurting his ears. You did the same every other time he found you. You both had a routine by your third escape; he would find you curled up under a tree, trying not to freeze to death (after the second time he started putting out wooly clothes, in case you tried to run off again) and then he would carry you back to the house. You'd be locked in the sitting room for about 10 minutes, before he'd open the door and wait for you to walk through it. When you inevitably refused, he would just throw you over his shoulder again.

You would be put down in the bathroom next to a hot bath, which you would refuse on the grounds that you don't want to like him. Despite him being incredibly nice to you (past the kidnapping part) you didn't want to like him. You found out after the first night that he'd give you about an hour; in that hour , you assumed, he hoped you would bathe but when he came back he'd always find you wherever he left you- which for the first few times was the floor but later became a rocking chair.

It was a nice chair, rustic. It looked almost as if it had been hand carved, probably not but maybe. After his failed attempt at a bath he would move onto food.

In between your attempts to run away, you'd begrudgingly accept food. Usually, it would go cold before you would even consider touching it, but it was never too long before you to got sick of ignoring how your stomach growled.

You assume he took note of what you liked eating or at least did his best, because more often than not there were things you liked on your plate. You're not sure how he knew really, if it was how quickly you ate or which order you chose to eat things. He never really said anything, not that you would have responded but still.

Since the last time, you'd been trying to figure it out, racking your brain and trying to remember which way he had walked on the first day. If you ran fast enough you could probably make it back to the road, or you would end up terribly lost and scared and utterly screwed.

You waited until all movement in his room had ceased and then made a break for it. He hadn't taken any of your stuff. You thought that it was because he found you entirely unthreatening or he thought you were too weak to use it- either way it pissed you off. Sure you'd been living on scraps long enough for it to take its toll on your body but you weren't weak. Boney, sure but weak? No.

You managed to get out of the house with ease, as much as you thought he'd kidnapped you; he gave you free range of the house and the garden. It was nice, you could see yourself living there if it wasn't for him.

You make it to the forest and come to the conclusion that it was downright idiotic to try this again. The leaves of the trees made such a thick canopy that they all but separated the sky from ground, so much so that when you made your way into the forest you could barely make out your hand in front of your face.

You ignored the ringing sound in your ears and the way your heartbeat was hammering in your chest . You grip the hatchet you'd found on your trip and venture deeper into the forest. You hadn't heard any howls as of yet, so that was a good sign- it was actually relatively still.

You made your way deeper and deeper. Sinking slowly into the monotonous task of walking and the comfort of silence. You came to what looks to be the center of the forest, you can't remember whether you had come this way when he took you from the motorway.

The bushes behind you rustled and panic seeped into you. You recognised the uneven steps and incoherent muttering almost immediately- infected. You freeze, maybe it wouldn't see you. You thought you only heard one set of shuffling feet. Maybe it wasn't even coming in that direction, maybe you would have gotten away but your luck was never that good.

A scrawny, unkempt man stumbled out from the bushes. You tried to stay completely still but it was no use, he'd either spotted you or heard you earlier. His gaze was trained on you. He was probably about 17 before he got it, he was missing a shoe. It would have been funny if it wasn't for your impending doom.

He'd stopped muttering, the froth around his mouth dropped down his chin as he drooled. The government had tried experimenting on the first hundred-ish infected. The only thing they had determined was that it was similar to rabies. There were some consistent traits, infected wouldn't go near water, you could even hear them screaming whenever it rained. At first it had upset you listening to them wail but it had become a regular occurrence especially since it was autumn then.

It was all good and well knowing that they didn't like water but it did you no use then. You didn't know where the nearest source of water was. You couldn't hear the sound of a stream or anything similar.

The boy hadn't moved the mixture of froth and drool that had collected around his mouth made you feel sick. It was vile, worse to think that he probably had a family or friends that he probably hurt without even knowing. He had a bite mark right above his ankle, on the foot without a shoe.

You wondered how long he'd been wandering around. If maybe he was like you and he just happened to be less lucky than you. Maybe one of them had gotten him from under a car or while he was sleeping.

He took a step forward and you were forced back to the reality of your situation. That you were probably going to die, in the woods alone. You stepped back almost on instinct. He took another step, then another and then broke out into a full on sprint. You did the same, you bolted forward until the shrubbery got too thick and then wrapped around a tree and came back on yourself.

You looked back to find him only a few feet behind you, he was breathing heavily but quiet. You always hated when they got quiet, meant they were focused, determined. He was probably hungry too.

Your foot caught something as you ran and you hit the floor hard. You scrambled back as fast as you could but he was on you before you could even get up.

That was it, you were gonna die in the forest alone. All because you didn't want to accept help from that shockingly, nice kidnapper.

You locked your arms out in hopes you could hold him back but he was heavy and strong and even though you'd been eating again, you hadn't had time to get much weight back on, let alone muscle.

He wasn't focused on your neck specifically, he was searching around for any exposed flesh. Your mind flicked back to the people you'd seen on the road, the few you had figured weren't by the man. They'd all been missing flesh, the infected here were hungry. They definitely weren't fast enough to catch wildlife and these places didn't get much foot traffic.

You heard a branch snap. It was most likely just a deer or something being far smarter than you and leaving the area before it too got itself killed but for whatever reason the movement had caught the boys attention too. He stopped trying to push towards you and instead looked up at the source of the noise.

A large boot crossed your line of vision before it made contact with the boy. It sent him flying back off of you. He didn't even have time to react before a machete was pushed through his chest. The sound of ribs cracking under the strain made you feel sick, the boy tenses and let out a strained sound. The man twisted the knife, another crack but this time he went limp.

You wanted to be sick, wanted to cry, wanted to run but your chest hurt and your legs wouldn't move. The man looked over at you then back at the body in front him

“Sorry Maus.”

You looked back at him entirely dazed- He'd got a mask on. He had never worn a mask around you before. Looked more like a sheet he'd thrown over his head with some stitched eye holes. It's funny, it should make him less intimidating but the fact that he's upwards of 6’6” eliminated any sort of humour in the situation. 

You were completely frantic and scared. Tears welled in your eyes, you tried to will them back down but you couldn't. You didn't want to cry in front of him, didn't want him to think of you as any weaker than he already did but you couldn't stop them. Overwhelmed was an understatement. You were relieved but still so terrified. 

You looked past the wall of a man in front of you and watched the boy's body twitch. He was definitely dead but that didn't make it better. You felt sick, disgusted by the sight of his mangled chest. Plus the adrenaline was leaving your body faster than you would have hoped. It left you aware of how fast your heartbeat was, how much your arms hurt from having to hold him back and a dull throbbing in your wrist. 

He retracted his hand and made his way over to a log. He sat facing you, you couldn't make out his eyes under the mask, you didn't even know what colour they were. 

He didn't say anything, just watched you. He didn't speak; didn't make any more moves towards you- just sat there and watched. It was weird but you felt safer having him there. Maybe it was because he'd saved your life or because it was in his interest just as much as yours to kill the infected on sight but it was still a comfort.

You eventually pulled yourself up from the floor, you did your best to avoid putting pressure on your wrist. With the last of the adrenaline having worn off, the dull ache had morphed into shooting pains. 

He watched you get up, probably watched how your legs trembled slightly. “Nobody's keeping you here Maus” His voice was soft, nice and somewhat familiar. He didn't talk much, at least not to you, but he'd mutter around the house or humm songs in what you assumed was German. 

You immediately started off walking in a direction you hoped was the motorway but there was no way to tell.The forest was thick and it was dark and there could be more infected; not to mention the  state of your wrist. It wasn't going to be much use to you if it was broken. You barely made it out of the clearing before you stopped and turned to look at the man still on the log. 

He cocked his head to one side and examined you. You had supported your damaged wrist with the other arm and lifted it to dull the throbbing, at least a little. Not that it had helped much but still you had tried. 

“You're hurt?” He sounded almost amused by it. That had annoyed you, how was any of this funny? You had almost died and he was amused by it or maybe it was the crying- either way it pissed you off to no end.  

You moved to flip him off but it sent waves of pain up your arm. Maybe it was broken. He watches you wince and lets out an amused huff. 

“So yes?” he still sounded the same, slightly softer after watching you wince but still. You bet he had a stupid smirk on his face. 

“Why the mask?” It's the first thing you had said to him since you met. It seemed to shock him. He took a while to answer you. 

“Military. Used to be part of my uniform.” It didn't really explain much past the sheer size of him. Actually it didn't explain anything at all. He wasn't still in the military since it didn't exist anymore and you had absolutely no context to why he put on the mask in the first place. You nodded regardless. 

You weren't really sure what you wanted. If you wanted to go back to the house where you knew it was at least safe or if you wanted to run. Ok you did know, you had wanted to run but that feeling of safety he had, unfortunately,  presented you with made you want to stay. You hadn't felt truly safe in months and it was nice, even if you didn't want the source of safety to be him. 

“What are you doing, Maus?” It was as if he could tell what you were thinking. Maybe he could. 

“What?” You responded quickly. Pretending to be confused by the vague question. 

“You wanted to leave, no? This is your chance. Leave.” he sounded a little flat, there was always something to his voice when he spoke, some sort of emotion but it was gone. “Nobody is going to stop you Maus.”

You're not sure why but it upset you, that he was suddenly so flat. “What happens if I stay?” 

His head fell to the side. “Change of heart?” 

You nodded. Really you just wanted to not be attacked. You didn't exactly enjoy life on the road, not that you enjoyed life with him any more but at least you didn't have to deal with the stresses of the road if you stayed. 

“So I don't have to carry you back?” He chuckled and you just nodded again. It had become part of your ritual, a part that you didn't want to admit you enjoyed but it was fun to see him lift you with such ease.

Still, it wouldn't have made sense to make him carry you back after you agreed not to run off. “No.” You nodded and got up from the log, you kept your arm in your clutches, it still throbbed. 

The walk back was entirely silent. You kept your eyes trained on the floor and he walked slightly ahead of you. You weren't sure why at the time but you had appreciated it. 

When you got back, he fell right back into his old routines. You found yourself back in the living room, although this time when he had gone to lock the door he paused and simply left instead. You considered following him, watching him draw the bath but you decided against it. You weren't sure why you wanted to be around him, maybe it was the whole saving your life thing or maybe it was because he was sweet. Not that you would ever admit it. 

He came back right on time, around ten minutes and stood at the door waiting for you. You stared back at him, you didn't really know how you wanted to play this. He wasn't keeping you here, so you didn't want to be inconvenient but you still didn't like him. Not that you had as much of a reason to but regardless it didn't change how you felt about him. 

He stared back for a while before he sighed and pushed himself up off of the door frame. You looked back down at your feet and then stood up. You heard his footsteps stop as you got up, he waited for you to look up at him before turning and waking off. 

He looked back after a moment to check that you had followed him, you had. He still had his mask on, you were so curious about it. Once he escorted you to the bathroom he paused at the door. 

“Let me check your arm.” He held his hand out waiting for you to present him with the wrist that was still throbbing.

You looked at him skeptical before you offered your wrist, you flinched when he ran his fingers over it. After a few moments of examination he lets go. 

“I don't think it's broken, and if it is, it's a fracture. I'll put it in a sling later. Just try not to bash it on anything.” He sighed and started to leave.

“I'll be back in-” he started looking back at you as he said it.

“Yeah, 1 hour. I know.” you cut him off. You expected him to be annoyed by this but he wasn't. You could see his eyes crinkle up and he made an exaggerated exhale sound, one that could be mistaken for a laugh. 

“Clean yourself up, Maus.” his tone was lower,softer. He sounded quite nice really. You listened to his footsteps as he walked back down the stairs. For such a large man he was rather quiet. 

You looked around the familiar room; at the bath tub which was filled with hot water and what looked and smelled like rosemary; at the chair in the corner which had a folded up towel resting on the seat; at the door that barracked you from the rest of the house; at the walls that separated you from the outside- from them. 

The thoughts came flooding back to you and you shuddered, thinking about what could and would definitely have happened if…you still didn't know his name. He had a whole nickname for you and you didn't know his name. You felt a little ashamed by that. 

You shook your head and tried to remind yourself that you didn't care about him even if he was really nice to you and clearly cared, at least a little for you. 

Your muscles ached and you would be lying if you said a bath didn't sound good but you were still reluctant to be so vulnerable in such an unfamiliar place. He did say you had one hour and you knew you had one hour. Reluctantly, you started to pull off your shoes. 

Who would it hurt? You were already in pain and if he had wanted anything like that he would have done it already. There was no point stressing, it wasn't going to help anyone, least of all you and you really wanted to not be in total discomfort. Especially not with the sharp pain in your arm. 

Eventually, you had pulled off all but your underwear. Folded all of your clothes in a pile next to the tub. Only now had you realised just how dirty they were, how dirty you were. You dreaded having to put those back on but that was a problem for later. For now you wanted to enjoy warm water and an actually nice smell. 

You looked back at the door once more, still a little paranoid that he would burst in and find you like this. All of those thoughts went away when you lowered your foot into the water. You hadn't had hot water since everything had gone to shit. 

You put the other foot in and then lowered yourself into the water. You sighed audibly as the warm water enveloped your aching body. It was nice, you felt lighter even if the smell wasn't doing anything to help your pounding head. 

You sat back, resting your back against the edge of the back and spreading out. Letting the warm water soothe your body. Gradually, you relaxed more and more. If you weren't so paranoid about a six foot ten man in a mask storming in on you, you would have stayed there forever. 

You didn't let yourself relax for too long since your mind had drifted back to the boy, so you busied yourself with washing all of the dirt from your skin. You watched the water gradually go from clear to a milky brown, as you scrubbed the dirt from the skin and hair. It felt nice to be clean and to smell of something other than sweat. You looked up at the ceiling and tried to figure out how long you'd been in the water. It must have been coming up to an hour now.

If you listened really carefully you could hear him pattering about in the kitchen. You managed to pull yourself out of the embrace of the slowly cooling water when you heard the pattering switch to slow footsteps up the stairs. When he reached the door he knocked, you panicked even though you had already wrapped yourself in the towel he had left on the chair. 

He opened the door a crack, clearly waiting for some indicator that you weren't still nude or in the bath. 

“Maus?” He seemed unsure. Whatever semblance of confidence he had, had left his tone. 

“I'm decent.” you assured him. You heard him puff out a little sigh of relief at that and he opened the door the rest of the way. He was holding a roll of bandages.

“You bathed.” he seemed both shocked and entirely unsurprised. You just nodded and looked down at your feet and the gradually expanding pool of water around them.

“I've got the sling.” He laughed at himself. “It's not a sling yet but-” He trailed off and looked down.

“I can do it later if you want Maus.” You shook your head and let him sling your arm, his hands felt warm on your skin and the fabric clung to the water still dripping from your hair. It wasn't so bad though, since some of the pressure on your arm was finally gone.

Your eyes drifted to the pile of clothes you had stacked by the bath. You really didn't want to have to put muddy clothes back on your finally clean body. His gaze followed yours to the pile of grimy clothes you had stacked by the bath.

“Come Maus.” This time he didn't look back to see if you were following. You hesitated for a moment, before you grabbed your clothes and scrambled to catch up with him. You weren't unfamiliar with the house. You had been there for a while, but now you were actually walking around it: One, when you could see and two, not while being flung over his shoulder.

It was nice, quaint. You had mostly envisioned living in a place like this when you were a kid. It was small and the floors were rickety, even crooked in some places, but it was nice. The walls, at least in this hallway, were a muted green and at the top of the stairs there was a table with a pot of flowers and a small book with a pen lying next to it.

He led you to the room in the corner. The one he had stowed you in, in the first few days. Originally, you had felt trapped but it was nice to walk around and actually take in the place.

He stopped at the door and waited for you to go in, then nodded towards the clothes he must have folded and placed on the bed.

You had previously refused to take in the room, but now that you were looking at it, it was nice. The walls were a pale violet and all of the wood in the room was light (birch maybe?); it was bright and airy, despite the fact that it was probably the early hours of the morning at this point.

You jumped when he shut the door. You heard him walk back down the stairs and figured it was probably time you stopped standing around in just a towel. He had left you another wooly jumper and a pair of baggy jeans, which were slighting too big on your waist, but you could definitely sort them out with a needle and thread.

You pulled your socks on before admiring the room for a little longer. There was a flower on the windowsill, you had never been good at flowers, but you were pretty sure it was a lily. On the wall to the left of the bed was a fireplace, it wasn't lit, but it was still warm from the fire he had built the night before for you.

You eventually made your way down the stairs, your steps never sounded quite as heavy as his. You placed that more down to the worn converse you had on, in comparison to his heavy combat boots. You could hear him humming in the kitchen, so you followed the sound and found him, slightly hunched, over the stove.

It was a little funny watching him in the kitchen, the ceilings were just high enough for him to stand up straight, but there were wooden beams running across the room in almost all of the rooms, so he had to hunch a lot. You wondered if he ever forgot and hit his head.

He turned his head when you hovered in the doorway. The mask lay next to him on the counter and he smiled when you met his eyes.

He hadn't said much of anything really, but he did nod towards a glass of water on the counter, which you reluctantly drank. You tried to look around him to see what he was cooking, but there was simply too much of him.

Instead, you retreated to the rustic looking table in the corner of the room. There were more plants in there than you had expected;it probably shouldn't have shocked you, because what better had he got to do than tend to plants?The world had literally ended.

You had thought about raiding a few bookstores, but you had never gotten around to it. You thought carrying books up the motorway would be a waste of valuable space and hell on your shoulders, but maybe if you were going to stay here you could get some? Who would it hurt? Not the already dead economy; definitely not the probably dead authors. That's if you were going to stay here. You had come back so you would have thought that meant- yes you were staying but were you really willing to stay with the man that had kidnapped you? Even if he wasn't still keeping you here.

On the other hand, it would be really nice to not have to worry about the world, or what would happen if you ever did make it up to your grandparents and they weren't there or they weren't alive or they had…Yeah, you would rather not think about that part.

It was times like these that you wished you had your mum, you hoped she was okay. That she had gotten somewhere safe and she had managed to stay with your siblings. You can't imagine she dealt well losing one child, losing more would probably break her.

You looked up to find him looking at you. You didn't entirely know what to do with that so you just stayed where you were and just looked into the water you were drinking. He turned back round when you didn't meet his eyes.

Whatever he was cooking didn't take long once you were downstairs, so you sat in a somewhat awkward silence for around 10 minutes before a bowl was placed in front of you.

You weren't exactly sure what it was, soup of some kind?. It smelt nice enough but you were still wary of it. It's not like you hadn't already been taking food from a stranger, but that was different. You needed that considering how long it had been since you had eaten real food and not just berries on the road.

Regardless, it felt different now, you pushed your spoon around the bowl and watched the vegetables move through the broth. It even looked like there was meat in there. It made sense, to you at least, you had assumed a man like him would know how to hunt.

He studied you for a moment, before leaning back against the counter and eating his own portion. You figured that was a good enough sign that he wasn't trying to kill you. You didn't really know why he didn't sit down at the table with you, maybe he was trying to make you less uncomfortable, maybe he also didn't like you. That thought bothered you a little, it's not like you should care because you didn't like him but what had you done to make him dislike you? Why did you even care that he might dislike you?

You decided to drown out your thoughts with soup- it was nice. Nothing particularly special but it was nice, you wondered if he likes cooking or if it was just a necessity for him. You didn't think you would mind picking up chores like that, if you did stay that is.

You took almost twice the time he did to finish your food. Especially since you spent most of the time pushing it around the bowl; it was mostly cold by the time you had finished, but you could feel his gaze on you and looking up felt like an unachievable task.

When you finally managed to look away from your empty bowl he smiled. “You look tired Maus.” He sounded sweet, almost concerned.

“Well I didn't get much sleep with my planning to escape and all.” Your response came out a little more dry and snappy than you had intended.

His face morphed into a frown at your response. “Maybe you should sleep then.” This time his tone matched yours. “You know where your room is.”

You felt a little bad, but you made your way upstairs anyway. You had no clue what brought on you being so rude in that moment. Maybe you were tired. You pulled the door, to what he had called your room shut, and got into bed. It was near dawn, but it was dark enough to sleep or at least to try. The bed was comfortable, a little dusty but it was nice, far better then the car seats you had been sleeping on prior to meeting him, you still didn't ask his name. Could you even now? Without it being awkward. Maybe? It's not like he knew your name either but he has been calling you Maus and you were okay with that.

You weren't sure when you drifted off, but now you wished you hadn't. You were back in the forest, you could hear the same shuffling from earlier, that poor boy's incessant muttering. You had tried to run but he was faster this time, on top of you in seconds. You stumbled, both of you hitting the floor hard and before you had time to react, he was pinning you down. The vile mix of froth and drool hanging from his mouth.

You screamed and thrashed, trying desperately to get out of his grasp or put some form of distance between the two of you- but it was no use.

Your eyes stung with tears and a sob tore through you, your wrist started to hurt again. The ache started morphing back to sharp pains. The boy shook you…the boy shook you? You slowly came back to reality, to the pale violet of the walls, to the dusty smell of the room, to the two warm hands that cupped your cheeks.

“Maus?” The man looked down at you, the concern he was feeling evident on his face.

You take a few deep breaths and then realise that he's touching you. You rip yourself away from him, as comforting as it was, you didn't want to like him. You did have to admit that it was comforting, but still you didn't want to get attached to someone and you definitely didn't want that someone to be him.

He seemed a little hurt but let you distance yourself from him.

“He can't hurt you, Maus.” You know he was just trying to comfort you but you also knew that the dead kid in the woods wasn't going to start walking again, and something about the fact that he felt the need to point it out annoyed you. Maybe it was that you were tired, you would have liked a good night's sleep or maybe it was just because you didn't want to accept that he was really nice.

“I know.” The words once again came out more snappy than you had intended. Maybe it was your lack of human contact prior to meeting him; you had never considered yourself to be one for holding grudges, but maybe it was because he kidnapped you.

He sighed and stood up from the bed. “I'll let you be Maus.”

“Um-” You immediately regretted opening your mouth. “What do I call you?”

The corners of his mouth curled into a slight smirk. “König.” His voice was low, almost a whisper, as he made his way to the door.

You hadn't heard a name like that before, when he reached the door you were suddenly struck with panic at the thought of his absence.

“Stay.” Your voice came out slightly strained and higher at the end, almost making it seem like a question. “Just until I-” Your cheeks had definitely flushed. “In case I-” You were embarrassed,you sounded like a child asking for a night light, but this was rational, right? It made sense to want someone there.

The smirk on his face morphed into a small genuine smile, as we walked over to a chair in the corner of the room. It was a bit worn but went shockingly well with the room. The chair groaned under his weight when he sat down.

You would be uncomfortable having his gaze on you if your eyes weren't so heavy. It was a struggle to keep them open. “König, is it German?” Your voice comes out quieter than expected, but he hears anyway. Despite your heavy lids you saw the nod he gave you.

“Are you German?” You muttered again, fighting off the need to sleep and taking advantage of your hazy mood.

“Austrian” he responded in the same soft tone.

By this point you had stopped trying to keep your eyes open. “Like Hitler.” your voice was heavy with sleep and you could hear your words starting to slur slightly.

He chucked at that, it was a nice sound. You heard the chair creak as he moved. “Yeah, I guess.”

You eventually managed to fall asleep, you weren't sure for how long, but when you eventually got up there was a warm stream of sunlight hitting your face. You weren't sure of the time, but you couldn't hear birds like you could in the early morning and when you looked over to the chair, König was gone. You could, however, hear grunts coming from somewhere beneath your window and the sound of metal hitting wood? You thought it was anyway.

You made your way over to the window, partly because it meant you got to enjoy the sun on your face for a while longer but also to investigate the noise. The room you were in backed out into the cottage's overgrown garden. Considering the size of the house the garden was quite big, although most of it now had been turned into space for crops there were still patches of unruly grass lining the areas of tilled dirt and the greenhouse that sat in one corner, near the hedge lining the back.

In the opposite corner was König, next to him were two piles of wood, one looked to be what he would use for fires and such and the other like the lumber he clearly intended to cut; He used a large tree stump as a surface to cut the wood.

You glanced around your room, the wardrobe caught your eye. It was nice, dusty for sure but nice. It had carved flower details on each panel of the door and a mirror on each side separating the panels. It didn't look like it had been opened in…well ever.

Much to your shock when you opened it, there was a small selection of clothes. You figured he must have scavenged clothes of all sizes ,but the ones in here seemed nice. There were a few pairs of jeans, more of those wooly jumpers he would put you in and some plain t-shirts. Folded up in the very back was a dress, it was sage green and had small embroidered flowers. It looked a little big for you -at least on the bust- but if he would let you, you'd take it in.

You held the dress up to your body, you even shut the doors so you could look at it against your form. You smiled at your reflection, it was a pretty dress and it suited you quite well.

As much as you wanted to wear it, you decided against it. Instead, you took one of the t-shirts and a pair of jeans before you folded the dress and placed it back in the wardrobe. It belonged on a hanger but they were none in there so delicate folding would have to do for the time being. Regardless, you had no intention of letting it gather dust in there.

You wondered if you would be about to find fabric in some of the looted stores, you had always had an interest in sewing and the idea of creating your own clothes brought a smile to your face- Something particularly rare since the outbreak.

You glanced back out the window and let your eyes fall on König as he brought down the axe on another piece of wood and finally made your way down the stairs and into the garden.

The sunlight felt just as nice, as it had through the window and the light breeze was equally pleasant.

König looked up when you walked into the garden. “Maus” he greeted you and placed the axe against the tree stump. He had worked up quite a sweat, which made sense;His sleeves rolled up and his breathing heavy from the activity.

“Good morning.” You had to look away because of how you felt your cheeks heat up. You had absolutely no idea what was happening, you hated him. He had essentially kidnapped you, so what if he had nice arms and his voice made you smile? So what if he was nice to you and had given you your freedom; not that you were sure he ever really took it away now. He still did it. Technically.

You looked up at the sun and figured it was probably late morning. Your days on the road had made it easier to judge, since after dusk you would have to take shelter in cars to avoid the sick.

“Do you do that often?” You cringed realising how much that sounded like a shitty pickup line.

He clearly picked up on that too because when he looked up from the stump he was smirking. “Gonna offer to buy me a drink too, Maus?” He teased. “I was running low.” He chuckled and picked the axe back up before looking at you again.

“Why don't you try, Maus? I'm sure it will make it more fun, at least for me.” He smiles and hands you the axe. “Know what you're doing?”

You nodded, even though in truth you didn't and having only one usable arm would probably make it harder. You hoped that what you had watched from the window would be enough to not have you make a complete fool of yourself. König set a log on the stump for you and then took a step back.

You gave him a nervous smile as you lifted the axe and then brought it down onto the piece of wood. The wood barely splintered but it was enough for the edge to go in. He snickered to himself while he watched you attempt to get the tool out; or the rest of the way through the timber.

“You can't laugh!” You complained. “You're ruining my performance!” You hadn't really noticed, but you were grinning too. You gave the wood a few more bashes before dramatically tossing it down.

You looked at him for a moment, trying to keep a straight face before the two of you burst out laughing.

“I did a great job! How dare you.” You spoke between fits of laughter. “Plus I'm down a hand!” You gesture to the sling before you cast your eyes back to the unchopped wood. “It was just really strong wood.” You tried to say it as seriously as you could, but it only made the two of you laugh harder.

“Thought you would be better with an axe” He nodded towards a bench at the back of the garden. Not too far from where he was. “Geh und setz dich.” When you tilted your head in confusion he smiled and translated for you. “Go sit, Maus.”

“You keep calling me Maus.” You weren't really sure if it was a question or if you were simply stating the obvious to him. In all honesty you were a little curious but maybe it was better not to know. “It sounds like mouse.” Yeah, definitely just pointing out the obvious.

“That's because it means mouse.” He chuckled again and if you were looking at him he would definitely still be grinning.

“You've been calling me a mouse the whole time?! Why?” You weren't sure why it shocked you but then again it wasn't exactly a common nickname.

“Because you're small, and cute, like a mouse.” He said it like it was obvious, you felt heat rise to your cheeks but that was just embarrassment- obviously.

“I'm like average height, you're just the size of a small house.” he let out an amused breath.

“Whatever you say, schatz.” the smile still hasn't fallen from his face, when he brought the axe down on another piece of wood. You gazed around the garden, it was pretty and very organised. You looked over the rows of crops, you couldn't imagine a guy like him gardening. Nurturing little seeds and shoots, but needs must right?

You got a little lost in your thoughts and the rhythm of him bringing the axe down onto the pieces of wood; You barely even caught yourself staring.

Why were you staring? It's not like you had never seen a man before. Technically, never that much man but still. He was just a guy, a 6’ft something guy that looked like he could snap a person in half but just a big guy.

He didn't seem to notice anyway, not that it stopped you from feeling embarrassed. You spent most of your time around him for the past few hours in some state of flushed. Which made no sense because you were still mad at him right? It only made sense to be. Even if he was sweet you were supposed to be upset.

You looked at the man you regarded as your captor. You didn't feel like that anymore. It was like if you really wanted to leave you could, probably could have in the beginning. He was sweet if nothing else, he was even willing to sit with you while you fell asleep ; You wondered how long he sat there for before he left. If he got up the minute you drifted off or if he waited.

God you were being such an idiot. It was definitely just because you had been alone for so long- Nothing more, just enjoying human interaction after so long.

You jumped when he brought the axe down on the wood again. You looked between him and the growing pile.

“Surely that's enough.” He nods in response.

“Probably.” He brings the axe down on another chunk of wood. “But I don't like doing this so it's easier to get a stockpile.”

“How long have you been here?” Considering the crops it must have been a while right? That would make sense at least, maybe it was a holiday home? Or he just moved here when things got bad because it was secluded.

“Found it.” He looked down at the wood, and his voice was quieter than before. “When I found it there were two-” He sighed.

“A couple lived here, when I got here they were already sick… I think the wife got it first, she was worse off.” He looked back up but didn't make eye contact. “They attacked, probably half starved and- well”

You got the rest, you kinda got the rest the minute he started talking. That explained the dresses in the wardrobe, the pretty furniture and probably the garden too.

After a while, you broke the silence. “Did the military know anything about it?” In asking, you failed to change the subject and lighten the mood but you were curious. You couldn't help it.

“Higher ups said it was like rabies, but they didn't tell us much more than shoot on sight. Not a lot else really” He seemed so nonchalant about it.

You knew that much, that much was on the news; then the radio when the TVs went down. The government knew it was like rabies and that you couldn't get bit, or swap any sort of fluids.

Regardless, it all happened so fast, since it was quite slow acting and nobody really showed signs;Until most people had it and by that time it was too late to think about a cure or a vaccine. Last you heard the government, or what was left of it, wasn't even trying to make a cure or a vaccine. They had simply hidden out in some ‘safe city', but that hadn't really shocked you either.

“Did you have to do that a lot? Shoot on sight?” He nodded in response and started piling the chopped wood back into the little storage shed in the garden, presumably to keep it dry.

When he got to the last few pieces, he picked them up and put them under his arm before making his way towards the house.

“You coming Maus?” You nodded and followed behind him, pulling the door shut after you. He placed the wood down in a basket and then went to the kitchen.

Lunch was cold soup, because he said he didn't want to start a fire this early in the day.You didn't particularly mind even if it was better when it was warm like yesterday.

The rest of the day was very uneventful, König went back into the garden and you sat with him. Mostly in silence, since you had run out of conversation topics and he was focused on the garden. Shockingly, more focused than he had been while he was working with the axe.

Over the next few weeks, you picked up the routine, it was rare that you would have breakfast; and lunch was always whatever had been cooked the night before. König would hunt every other Thursday- mainly hare. You went with him a few times, eager to spread the chores more. Only because you were going to stay, or at least until your arm healed then you might get back on the road.

So far you have volunteered for collecting and boiling rain water as well as cooking. Originally, you had offered to help garden (or hunt) but with one functional arm you weren't particularly good at either of those. The other problem with hunting being that you didn't really like guns or killing the animals.

So instead of hunting when he went out, you would forage somewhere nearby so he could keep an eye on you. He never put it like that but you knew that was why. It wasn't like you wanted to go far anyway, for fear of another run in with a wanderer.

It had been working well, the both of you appreciated the company and spreading the workload seemed to be helping König too. He looked less tired than he did before, you can't say he got any softer because he was always smiles when you were around but he did have more energy.

Obviously you did too, since you were finally able to eat more than scavenged granola bars, you were doing better too. The protein was helping your arm heal too and you couldn't deny how nice it was to have someone around to talk to.

Before you even really knew it, you had been with him a few months and your arm had almost completely healed. It was weaker than the other one and sometimes a bit achy but overall it was better and you were happy. The thought of leaving now was silly, why would you? To go up to your grandparents and probably find them dead? There was no appeal to it anymore, you had already lost enough people and the idea of potentially losing more was not something you really wanted to dwell on.

So it seemed like you were staying; regardless, you had become a functioning member of the house. You had jobs, jobs that weren't just to stay alive and not get lost.

So you decide you will stay because it's smarter, and that's easier to admit than staying because you're happy. Plus you just so happen to like the guy that ‘kidnapped’ you.

[charlie-thewitch]

Fox finds, fox keeps.

Yue Qi was taking care of the baby he found in a ditch one day, trying to get enough money to buy him some milk when a fight breaks between some of the other children. He sighs and lets the baby out of his arms so he can go and stop the others.

What a surprise it is that his little charge is not where he was supossed to be.

A gratting noise -something akin to the raspy laugh the old tavern lady has after years of lung issues- directs him to the alley a little bit to the left of where he was begging. There, he almost has a heart attack.

A fox. A normal, if bigger than usual, red fox is dangling Xiao-Jiu from it's maw by the back of his tattered clothes, making that horrible sound again before bolting into the forest just behind the alley.

Yue-Qi naturally gives chase without even thinking about the severe punishment he'll earn from the slavers, all that he can think about it's his poor Xiao-Jiu.

Along the way he collects sticks to fight the fox with, droping the ones that wouldn't work and yanking a new one from the trees he is forced to weave trough. Trying -while running- to give them a little point or otherwise edge.

But when he finally reaches the fox it proves to be unnecessary as the creature is comfortably laying on it's side and letting Xiao-Jiu... drink? from it's tits, completely uninjured and not even crying as Xiao-Jiu is prone to do when anything, absolutely anything, bothers him.

Another cackle and the fox pushed the apple that was next to it's head in Yue Qi's direction, as if the fox wanted to feed him too.

And that's how Yue Qi decided to go back for the rest of the slaves and, together as a familly, began calling that fox A-Niang and living in the forest.

A-Niang teaches them how to find fruit and when to pick it. A-Niang also teaches them witch plants to pick that can be sold in the town to make good money. How does the fox do that? A mix of deranged cackling, well placed nips and pushing with it's nose insistently until they figure it out.

Years latter, after the devastating loss of one of their siblings they all collectively decide to try for Cang Qiong discipleship.

Yue Qi gets picked up by Qiong Ding, Their 3rd sister for Xian Shu and Xiao-Jiu for Qing Jing. The rest of their siblings are devastated but with the promise of funds from the ones in the mointain and their own skills picked up from A-Niang they get a big farmhouse and make do as farmers. All festivities are celebrated in this family home and the ones in the mointain have a home to go to when it's vacation season.

A-Niang stays with Shen Jiu in Qing Jing because that's it's baby and it gets very anxious if it can't see him. The fox gets to see it's other children when disciples go home so it's not like they never see their mother anymore.

Do the other Qing Jing disciples make fun of Shen Jiu because his mother is a literal fox? Of course. But Shizun knows that was his condition to join and it's not like the fox disturbs the peace or anything. It just likes to sleep in Shen Jiu's room and hunts and forages for food in the bamboo forest. Sometimes it brings him a frog.

Naturally the same day the Qing generation ascends A-Niang manages to cultivate a human form, aided by Qing Jing's high natural Qi and watching it's children cultivate for years (It sneaked into Qiong Ding and Xian Shu every other day to see it's other children and give them kisses and a frog it found).

And that's how the next sect leader and his second in command (3rd sister didn't make head disciple but it was cuz she was too busy being a lesbian and QQQ is scary) find out their mother was male all along.

Well. A-Niang is still very proud of them and being a humanoid fox spirit is weird so they are more preoccupied teaching him to use hands than to be shocked by his being a him.

Next family gathering is filled with tears and love that autumn.

Next thing they know, all of their martial siblings are trying to seduce their mother. And how DARE-

[atoltia]

What his eyes can see, part 2

In which March was annoyed when he hasn't seen a certain farmer in a while. this installment was inspired by @fieldsofwriting 's headcanons about the farmer always stopping by to chat

Original prompt for What his eyes can see is by @itsabea found here

-0-

He noticed it almost immediately.

It wasn't like he was watching for her in particular, no, no, definitely not. No matter what other people said, no matter how much his brother pestered him during their downtimes, he did not dedicate any time or brain space on her at any given time of the day.

And yet there was a subtle weight at the back of his head, a buzzing that he couldn't quiet down even in the night. It was as if he omitted something from his day to day life that his body was reacting negatively to the lack of that particular stimulus.

He knew what it was, of course.

Ever since the day she arrived, March already had the sense that she would be the cause of many headaches to come.

Like this one.

March refused to count the days that he didn't see her. Refused to even acknowledge that he's missed Sandra's daily chitchat for three days in a row, absolutely disregarded the worried chatter from the other villagers that said they haven't seen her in a while.

Ryis kept him up to date, seeing as he was one of the people helping her fix that goddamned bridge by the beach (why wasn't it him, he wondered? Why couldn't it be him, instead?)

She wasn't looking too good, his friend told him one Friday night over a big stein of beer. He could tell that she wasn't getting much sleep, with the way she would just zone out for a few beats and the dark shadows beneath her eyes.

Ryis said he tried to ask what was wrong, and if she needed any help, but she just smiled and waved him off. Just some weird noises at night, no big deal.

Both March and Ryis knew it was bullshit.

So here he was, trudging towards south of town to the farm she occupied in the annoying morning chill, hands in his pockets as he grumbled all the way.

-0-

She was exhausted.

It was one of the things that she expected when she moved to Mistria many months ago. From her time in the capital, it wasn't the first time she'd witnessed towns and villages needing to be rebuilt after a disaster, natural or man-made.

She needed the work, she admitted. Not for any monetary gains, no. Sandra already had enough of that to live comfortably for a long time. She didn't need much of anything anymore - or at least, that's what she believed. Just get busy, just get focused elsewhere.

Just forget.

And still, the heavy clang of steel against steel still resounded in her mind. The rancid stench of iron in the air suffocating, suffocating, clouding the rivers in red. They couldn't hear her amidst the shouts, couldn't hear her orders to fall back, fall back, regroup.

She lost eleven of her soldiers that night. That grueling night of holding the last bastion at the north from enemy forces alone, surrounded, without aid, without so much as acknowledgement from the Capital on the loss of her eleven valiant warriors. But they persevered and held the line.

It infuriated her when the Capital didn't care, when they were dismissed. To protect and serve. For the good of Aldaria. That was what they believed in. And yet the country that they laid their lives on the line for turned their backs against her, against her people, the moment they were needed the most.

She sucked in a breath when a wide and sloppy tongue lapped at her hand, knuckles bone white from gripping the fence gate too tightly. Sandra looked up, sighed when the large eyes of Peanut gazed up at her, breaking her from her nightmare.

"I know," she whispered as those lean fingers of hers ruffled the cow's fluffy head. She knew she had to rest, take some time for herself.

But still she had work to finish before autumn hit.

The crunching of boots alerted her, the rake she had in her other hand whirled along with her as she turned around.

"March?"

She sputtered a soft laugh as she leaned against her fence, Peanut now nuzzling into her side as both regarded the redhead. "This is a surprise visit."

"Hn." Ryis wasn't exaggerating when he said she didn't look well. There was a translucency to her skin that he didn't like, a slight tremble to her frame even when she's supported by the wooden fences. Her usual alert eyes were switching from being focused to not. At this state, a strong gust of wind would be enough to topple her over.

But then he remembered when she pinned him to the wall some months ago. She didn't look all too good back then, either. Half-dead and bleeding, if Valen asked him.

He remembered how strong she was when she had him against that wall and he wasn't sure he'd like a repeat of that.

"You look like shit."

Mirth twinkled in those exhausted eyes. It pissed him off.

"Not exactly something I'd like to hear from an attractive man so early in the morning, but thanks."

He felt the heat creep us his neck as he grumbled to her before shoving a paper bag at her. "Eat."

She raised a brow as she took the bag, tilted her head. "What's this?"

"Soup."

"Ah."

But they stood there for a number of moments, with Peanut nudging at the bag in her hands. March growled and, against his better judgement, took her arm and dragged her towards the stone bench right next to her house.

If it were another person, he wouldn't be as worried. But the way she stumbled into him, her body colliding into his back, alarmed him.

"Hey, hey." He quickly got the bag and set it down on a rock by the fence while one arm held on to her before stabilizing her into a better standing position against his body. "Oi."

Her eyes blinked rapidly before she snapped back, her brows furrowing as she lightly pushed a hand against his chest in an attempt for distance. "Shit," she breathed. "Sorry."

"When was the last time you slept?"

"Last night."

"Bullshit." Images of that time she slept over when he was sick flashed in his mind, images of her struggling to fight against a nightmare while she slept on his armchair. He swore.

Steeling his mind, he muscled her up and carried her on his shoulders as his other hand grabbed the bag before the cows decided it was their breakfast instead.

"March," she breathed, accepting her fate as she got fireman-carried towards her bench. "Warn a girl."

"If I do, you'll kick my ass."

"You don't know that."

"I do, in fact, know that."

"Hmph."

So he set her down, rather ungracefully to her chagrin, and had her eat. It wasn't often that she got to eat any breakfast so having Reina's cooking this early in the morning was a welcome treat.

"So, besides manhandling me, why'd you come here?"

March shrugged as he took the piece of bread in her hand. "You didn't say hi to me yesterday."

She sighed. "March, I was busy."

"But it's routine, damn it."

She chuckled at that, shook her head. "Well, if our local blacksmith missed me that much, then I'll make sure to add him to the schedule."

"Damn right." And he'll damn well make sure of it.

Next step: figure out how to get her to sleep for a full eight hours, damn it.

-0-

Not my best work but mmm the brain bunnies weren't working so well yesterday lol also some Sandra lore, finally

Masterlist

[mononijikayu]

bu wang — ryomen sukuna.

In the quiet sanctuary of his domain, surrounded by the echoes of the past and the shadows of the future, Ryomen Sukuna found a semblance of solace. Your memory lived on, tender of light in the darkness of his immortal existence. He was determined for it to last. He was determined to tie your destiny together, no matter what. And as long as he drew breath, he would ensure that you were revered, loved, and remembered by all who served him. He will live forever, to be with you like this.

GENRE: Heian Era to Shibuya Arc, 2018;

WARNING/s: Alternate Universe ─ Canon Divergence, Romance, Emotional Hurt, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Heavy Pining, Domesticity, Friends to Lovers, Character Death, Grief, Miscarriage, Mention of Depression, Mention of Mourning, Depiction of Physical Touch, Depiction of Mental Anguish, Depiction of Violence, Depiction of Harm, Depiction of Blood and Wounds, Depiction of Miscarriage, Depiction of Death, Depiction of Harm, Pseudo-Incest, Adoptive Cousins, Portrayal of Misogynist And Degrading Acts and Language, Smut, Detailed Depiction of Sex, Depiction of Sexual Foreplay, Sexual Penetration, Consensual Sex;

masterlist

ashes of love

song: bu wang by wang yibo

ko-fi

note: i was going to write this two days ago, but i ended up cleaning and sleeping my room after the mess of exams. please pray that my exams and my grades end up well, thank you~ anyway im on my vacation this time around, so ill be around more than you probably would like. i might start updating ko-fi too~ i might write an extra chapter about you (hiromi) and sukuna's short but blissful married life!!! anyway, enjoy this chapter, much love my darlings <3

IT HAD BEEN A SOLITARY EXISTENCE.  But he supposed that hardly mattered to anyone. Perhaps not even to himself. Ryomen Sukuna had learnt that nothing was ever worth keeping around for that long, nor getting that close to someone for that long. He had learned that too easily, as a human. But it was useless for him to pretend that he was a human being. He was not. He was all but a god that long forgot he wasn’t human.

Eighty years have drifted away like autumn leaves since your death, yet the memories remain vivid, haunting Sukuna's every waking moment. He had watched life blossom and life rot into flames. Over and over, generation after generation, he was the only one that had yet changed.  And perhaps never will. He knew that too well. It has been more than a century now. A century where he had burned off all that came with humanity and left only what could be that blank space that will never be full again.

In the secluded echoes of Hida, where the mountains whispered secrets to the wind, Ryomen Sukuna had chosen his solitude. It is not to say that Sukuna does not open his doors to worshippers, to people who long for his aid, to people who long to leave those offerings.

But that isolation keeps Sukuna aware that he is above all those around him. And there above, looking down through the mountain passes, how small those were above him — he realized how truly solitary the throne he sat at. The same throne he never thought he would ever seat in a hundred years or so of this wretched life.

Still, even with that isolation, he still had companions. He had servants full to the brim in these halls, who one after the other took to his every need. Though, it was Uraume who served him most faithfully. And at times, he was given women to pleasure him, as either sacrifices to keep their villages safe or as war prizes for each sorcerer village was pillaged. Sukuna however had little interest in such pleasures. He supposed that too died with his humanity. But perhaps that was a relief on the part of the women around his harem. 

In all that time, he found himself preoccupied. With their fleeting bravado, Jujutsu sorcerers came and went, defeated one after another, like moths drawn to a flame that inevitably consumed them. One after another, they came, at the behest of one of their lords or those wretched senile cunts. They all died the same.

He thinks that sparked quite the ire in Mikoto Masaomi, who kept sending his best sorcerer one after another. Each one failed their master and disaster led to Sukuna laughing at the fact that he was still alive, unchanged, unbothered by the man he had once known all too well.

He supposed that the same could be said about all the curses that had come his way. In these years, Ryomen Sukuna had nearly subjugated all the curses that plagued Japan, bending them to his indomitable will. Each and every one watched as one of their own died by his hands and more fell to their knees bowing with tears in their eyes, begging for mercy. He supposed that Masaomi was correct about one thing — the name King of Curses suited him better than the Fallen. 

But he supposed that Masaomi could no longer entertain Sukuna with such names. He had long died in his sleep and his only child, Masuyo, replaced him. Just like her mother, the girl ascended her seat as clan head. But Sukuna remembers that she was barely a girl of ten and five then.

The girl was younger than her siblings by years. He had only seen that girl once, and it was as if those eyes from a hundred years ago haunted him. The same eyes before the gods claimed you as their champion. Hazel glares like a tree bark under the summer burn. Tender features that were as pale as crystal snow. Sukuna wonders if she can wonder if ghosts do exist. Perhaps then he would have asked her. Yet he could not ask her.

And he did not ever. He let them do as they pleased, as they had let him do — and in the end, he never saw her again. She succumbed to that one winter illness, twenty years ago. Her children followed suit and left a lordling in the chair, barely aged five. And once again, a weak link is shown in the blood of majesty.

Sukuna had always known that the moment you had dulled the blood with that man, the name would falter and so would follow everything else. Everything that had been sacrificed perhaps was for nothing. In the same inch of stone his father died in, were pitiful hungry lesser men arguing over who should be the boy’s regent.

But that was not his to give any care about.

Ryomen Sukuna supposed that he can only watch.

Mortal beings and their squabbles were not his own.

Time had no dominion over Sukuna like it did for everyone else; he remained untouched by its relentless passage. While everything around him withered and succumbed to decay, he stood unchanged, an eternal monolith. The world cowered before him, acknowledging his unrivaled power, yet with all that power — he could not explain how none of it could fill the emptiness gnawing at his soul.

He had long forgotten the essence of human emotion, the tender intricacies of joy, sorrow, and love. After all, he was immortal. What use are the squabbles of humankind to a godly king like him?

Still, each day, a ritual of remembrance unfolded in the depths of his mind. Somehow, that was all that could make humanity echo in a god’s heart.  Since that fateful day they had parted, only you could linger in his thoughts, a ghost of the past refusing to fade. Near hundred years had passed and he could not forget how you both parted. How the snow fell like frozen tears, how the red of childbirth scattered the pavement, how your lilac eyes lost life ever so fast.

Sukuna did not know how to feel about it. But he knew, as he had been human, that your memory was a bittersweet refrain, an echo of a life that once brimmed with meaning. At this time, he could remember every detail, every moment. Yet, he could not remember the sound of your voice or your sighs of relief. The harmony of your tears, the battle cry to bring life. 

Nor could he remember the warmth of your touch or the drum of your laughter. But perhaps, he thinks, it was for the best. It was for the best to little by little forget what remained. You were no longer here. You weren’t here for him to have anymore — and yet….why have you stayed ever so constant? Why have you stayed so near and yet so far? He could not understand it. And perhaps he never will. But it was best he did not ask, nor think about asking. The was never going to be a point in it.

He doesn’t sleep much, he doesn’t need it.

But at times, Ryomen Sukuna likes to pretend.

And think about those days when you were there.

IT WAS ALWAYS QUITE A UNIQUE OPPORTUNITY. One that not even Ryomen Sukuna had thought would ever happen. This day of peace, rare and fragile, had dawned upon the Jujutsu world, granting Sukuna a brief respite from the ceaseless and dull conflict. Not that Sukuna thought it helped much. He could easily turn the table upon these people. But he thinks that they’ll bore him and it would not even be worth it. 

There was not a thought to him that he would ever agree to this day. But nearly four decades ago, it was what had become the common ground. The emperor and Fujiwara did not like it. Nor did Sukuna, if he was being honest. Yet it has. And he was here, a spectacle to those he passed by who cowered and lowered their eyes. Some had knelt and mumbling prayers. 

The imperial soldiers immediately sprung to bring them to their feet once more. The whole trail to the capital was full of them. He could only snicker. What could human beings do to a god? Not even sorcerers were enough. Sukuna though could admire the strength in the mortals before him. Many who had bowed,  they would not dare stand, not even when kicked and slapped. Some merely stood their ground, defiant as they stared at him down. Sukuna would have snickered, but he didn’t think he could bring himself to care about such trivial humanity. And so he just left them be.

On this sacred day was the only day he had the freedom to take leave of movement without the need to start a fight. Master Tengen had advised it, the old man Gojo and the lordling Mikoto approved it — what little choice did the emperor truly had? Ryomen Sukuna doubts that the Fujiwara would say anything about it. Not even forty years ago, their power too was easily crumbling, especially the powerful branch he had annihilated completely. Besides, it was one day, nothing more. 

But in that one day, the imperial capital was secured. He could not remember who these people were – but their clan badges informed him of who these nameless faces were. Mikoto, Gojo, Inumaki, Azuma, Kamo, Zenin — the latter two were ever so reluctant, he was certain. The others he was certain were around the emperor and the non-sorcerer branch of the political Fujiwara. 

All these folks were not truly as free as their counterparts from a hundred years ago. All these pampered brats are now from a generation which had led lives within the imperial capital’s walls. Experienced as they may, Ryomen Sukuna thinks that they would never be able to achieve what their ancestors have. Ever since the emperor had demanded them to move to the capital after the wars that had taken much, they had all become the system’s lackeys. 

In these many years, Ryomen Sukuna too had made himself an enemy of the emperor. Such conflicts that had brewed over the century had been worrisome to the crown and more so – the main branch of the Fujiwara, who held the throat of the emperor. But he could hardly care. And they knew that he would not care. Not once in his life could he. 

Uraume walked silently beside him, a shadowy presence that never wavered. They do not talk as much as Sukuna thought they would. His little servant had been an interesting one, always have been. But he supposed he had gotten used to that in all these many years. In the loudness of the world, Sukuna appreciated a space where there is silence. Years ago, it was in your arms, underneath the tree by that koi pond. But times have changed. And those moments would never repeat ever again. Uraume provides what they could. And perhaps it was enough.

As they traveled even further, bypassing Mikoto land, Ryomen Sukuna's thoughts meandered through almost a century of existence. The forest loomed ahead closer and closer and for a moment, a brief echo of memory pondered in his head. As though such memory mattered. You both had once sought refuge, fleeing the wrath of the Fujiwara. The trees whispered secrets of the past, their leaves rustling with tales that will never be known to anyone but to him and you.

“This place…..I recognize it.” Sukuna murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Do you, Sukuna–sama?”

“But it’s from a long time ago….I shan’t speak of it.”

Uraume nodded, a silent sentinel, understanding the weight of those memories. “Of course, Sukuna–sama.”

Sukuna wonders why he even spoke. But perhaps it was a forced habit, one that he had still yet perfected in abandoning. As they moved on and on, he could see the grassy plains that made up the Ryomen hunting grounds. It was the bane of his existence; how he could remember the way you would complain about the mud during the monsoon. How he remembered that night you both stayed long enough to see the bountiful firefly blossom in the fields. How he remembered how close you were in embrace. He could feel his mouth dry.

But it was the sight of Ryomen Manor that struck the deepest chord. The once grand estate had diminished, its former glory a shadow of what it had been. The Mikoto clan now occupied it, attempting to emulate the past magnificence of the Ryomen, but failing to capture its true essence. Ryomen Sukuna could barely allow himself to look at it. To even think that it was something that he could think of as home. It was nothing that it should be,  that was for certain. And now that the MIkoto have resided in the imperial capital — this shall be left in shambles now. And soon forgotten, a relic of a past that most people will question.

“This was my home,” Sukuna thinks to himself, his inner voice laced with a rare bitterness. “They have taken everything, even our name. Mikoto... they usurped what was rightfully ours.”

He does not know what sears inside him as he looks at it. It was as though it was never truly what it was. Ryomen Sukuna could feel every echo of his face turn into what could be taken as anger. Is this what he had sacrificed his whole life for? For the home that gave him something, to be left by all that it had sheltered, with nothing? Had it all been for nothing? After all this time? 

Uraume looked at him, as though trying to judge their master’s feelings. “Sukuna–sama?”

“We shall occupy that space, sooner or later.” Sukuna retorted to his servant. “It shan’t fall into disrepair.”

Those red eyes burned with anger. Uraume pursed their lips into a flat line and bowed. “Of course, my lord.”

In that sudden stillness, an echo from the past reached him. Somehow, he doesn’t remember whose voice it was. But as tender as it was, as warm as it was, as human as it was — he could only think that it was yours. He could only ask himself, if your voice ever sounded this soft and this haunting. He could not understand the words that were being said. It was as if it was another language, a long forgotten one that he would never be able to understand in his whole lifetime. 

But you were smiling at him, telling him something that would have made his heart flutter all those years ago. Has your smile truly ever been this pure? Has such truth in your person ever been this wondrous? He does not know. And perhaps, he will never know ever again. But he doesn’t know if he had it in him to wish that he never could. Not even who he is now understands what he wants. So, all he could do was let you haunt him. Let you haunt him in ways not even he could understand. And even then, he has to keep moving forward, as he always has.

The living always has to move forward.

There must always be life lived even unwanted.

That’s what he must always strive to do.

“Are you sure that you need nothing of me, Sukuna–sama?”

“Yes.” He answers in a flat tone, his feet facing forward. “Walk, Uraume. Follow.”

“Of course, Sukuna–sama.”

IF HE WAS BEING HONEST, HE HATED THE IMPERIAL CAPITAL. Ryomen Sukuna detested venturing into enemy territory. Even back then, when he had been a regular man, the thought of going to the imperial capital, even to do his duty as a sorcerer, was unpleasant. The crown hated sorcerers. They had to tolerate them because their lives, their destinies, were tied to the world of sorcery. Prosecutions had been done a thousand times over and over again. But each time, the futile idea of unity offered by one side or the other was what happens. And even then, the cycle of animosity continues.

Each step he took into the heart of the imperial capital felt like a betrayal to his own spirit, a reminder that you had died because of these people, for these people. The closer he got to the imperial capital’s center, the more he realized how vapid these foolish little humans are. Over and over again, they gawk, and they complain, they ask if they could go home already. They roll their eyes or shake their heads at the importance of what occurs on this day each year.

The thought of it gnawed at him, fueling a rage that simmered just below the surface. None of them knew the true cost of their peace, the blood that had been spilled for their sake. It was as if sorcerers died for nothing, it was as if what he had lived through all this time mattered little. What you had died for mattered, fought and died for mattered little. The peace you died for, to prevent any more animosity that could kill any of these pathetic beings — and they take it for granted. And every time, each year, he saw their oblivious faces, he wanted to kill them all.

Uraume, ever perceptive, noticed the darkening storm within him. "Is there anything you need, my lord?" they asked quietly.

Ryomen Sukuna remained silent as they continued on. He could not put himself in a position where he could cause an issue. Of all days, he thinks he shouldn’t. And so, he keeps his mouth shut. The red eyed towered everyone as he entered the widened gates. They had widened it to fit him, he was certain. The strident guards lowered their heads, refusing to acknowledge him. But he could hardly care. 

Uraume followed suit as he approached the inner courtyard of the  newly established Gojo Manor. The grand building loomed ahead, a symbol of the power and influence of the Gojo clan. Entering its gates, Sukuna's gaze fell upon an old man standing before him, eyes covered with Ryomen bandages. Despite his frail appearance, the old man before him could only exude a calm strength, standing with the aid of a cane but without a trace of fear.

"My six eyes see that you are still young, Sukuna-dono," the old man greeted, his voice steady.

"Your brain has yet to rot, I see… old man." Sukuna replied, a cold edge to his tone. “Have you no intention to die already?”

The gasp and whispers that echo that came from the vassals, members of court and the members of the Gojo household could not be any louder. Each year, they seem to be shocked by the audacity of the King of Curses. He had no crass no desire to abide by rules which do not apply to him. All were silenced by the rumbling of the old man’s chest into bumbling laughter. Sukuna sighed as he looked at the old man, the Gojo crest proudly wrinkled by such laughter.

The old man snickers soon after, releasing a raspy sound. "The gods keep their servant on the earth for a little more time, I suppose. And one should honor that! Besides, one must keep a sharp wit, even if the brain is too wrinkled.”

“I do not understand why the gods keep you with us this long.” The red eyed curse user sighed. “Are you not tired at all, old man? A hundred and so, and still parading like this, Gojo.”

“Why not? Retirement is too dull.” The old man retorted back to the curse user. “Besides, I must keep my sons and grandsons on their toes. They wouldn’t leave long enough if they covet only.”

He snorts at the old man’s words. “The tongue of a pompous soul.”

“Of course, there must be one that remains.”

“I doubt we need one that remains.”

The old man laughs, shaking his head at Sukuna. From what he had heard, the old man had not been in the best of health this past spring and autumn. But perhaps Sukuna should expect that. Gojo Seiryuu was well the age expected of any mortal that could even come close. And even more so for someone who wields the power of the six-eyes and limitless, living this long was a miracle. Sukuna was not stupid to assume that he had any years left, he was not going to last any longer. 

With some luck, there will be a year or two, maybe if there is something like a miracle, there will be a couple more. But peace will shatter once he dies. With the way the Gojo clan looked at him, no one else would be happy to curry any friendships with him. Fragile as it was, it was the best he and Sukuna had managed to stand upon. If his time comes, Sukuna cannot promise anything.

"I hope the journey wasn’t too tiresome, Sukuna–dono." the old man continued, his smile unwavering. “The roads are not of good import as of late. The ministers have been wasting good money, you see!”

“They’re corrupt as they come, I wouldn’t expect anything else.” Sukuna retorts, earning another round of gasp and whispers. “I would have thought you would have already unseated the bastards.”

“Now, now, don’t make it seem like I’m planning something bad or anything.” The old man says, causing Sukuna to roll her eyes. “But we shall talk about that sometime. I ask again, if the trip went well?”

"It was what must be done." Sukuna responded, his voice devoid of warmth. “It is part of our agreement, after all.”

"As always, you aren’t expressive." the old man observed, a hint of amusement in his tone.

Sukuna's eyes narrowed, his patience wearing thin. "And if that was the case? I do not think that my expressiveness ought to be welcomed by a crowd who holds no kindness towards me.”

The old man's smile faded slightly, but he held Sukuna's gaze steadily. "I merely wished to welcome you and offer my respects—”

Sukuna's jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides. "Your fellow human’s respect is of little value to me, old man. Remember, it is not what I hear for.”

The old man sighed and nodded his head. "Very well, Sukuna–dono. I shall lead you with me to the crypt, as I always have.”

Old lord Gojo nodded to everyone, making his way to the front. Sukuna followed as the old man’s cane led the path forward. Uraume bowed his head along with the others, before following suit. The others whispered over and over, muttering those same pathetic gossip over and over. Ryomen Sukuna wondered when their palms would sweat, when they realized that such peace was over.

Ryomen Sukuna pitied humanity for a moment.

He pitied what would become of them soon enough.

But once again, he could care less what happens to them.

IN THAT TIME, THERE HAD BEEN SOMETHING OF A FRAGILE PEACE.In the fleeting expanse of time, enduring peace was an anomaly, a delicate thread stretched taut across the centuries. For Ryomen Sukuna, the longevity of such tranquility was a marvel in itself. How had this fragile peace between the Gojo clan and the Mikoto clan persisted over eight decades? It was an uneasy truce, teetering on the edge of mutual distrust yet holding firm, a precarious balance that upheld a semblance of stability in the nation.

It was not born of desire but of necessity, forged by the relentless currents of power and obligation that bound them all. Sukuna, too, found himself caught in its web, his existence intertwined with the legacy of his beloved Hiromi and the intricate web of alliances and enmities that shaped their world.

Their children, heirs to both the burdens and hopes of their lineage, were bound by this accord, their destinies entwined with the echoes of past conflicts and the uncertain future that lay ahead. Each day, they walked the tightrope of peace, knowing that any misstep could unravel the fragile tapestry that held their world together.

In this precarious dance of diplomacy and duty, Sukuna pondered the fragility of their existence, the weight of history pressing down upon them like an unseen hand. How long could this peace endure? Would their children inherit a world of harmony or one torn asunder by the ghosts of the past?

As Sukuna looked out over the tranquil landscape, he knew that despite the uncertainties, they must endure. For in the delicate balance between war and peace, between love and duty, lay the essence of their existence—a legacy forged in the crucible of time, bound by the unyielding resolve of those who dared to dream of a future where peace could prevail.

For nearly fifty years, Ryomen Sukuna had cradled you, entrusting your body to the icy embrace of Uraume's cursed technique. Encased in an intricate ice coffin, your form remained untouched by the passage of time, suspended in a state of ethereal beauty.

The ice coffin, a masterpiece of Uraume's craftsmanship, rested at the heart of the grand audience hall. Above it, the ceiling soared high, adorned with intricate tiles blooming with gold and pearls. Rays of sunlight filtered through stained glass windows, casting shimmering reflections upon the smooth surface of the ice. It was a scene that seemed crafted for you alone, as if the very heavens conspired to honor your presence.

The hall itself echoed with a hushed reverence, the air heavy with the scent of ancient wood and the distant whisper of wind through tall, slender pillars. Shadows danced upon the walls, playing out a silent homage to your silent repose. Around you, the world moved in slow, measured steps, as though holding its breath in deference to your stillness.

Sukuna stood at the threshold, his gaze lingering upon your serene countenance. The flickering light painted your features in shades of silver and blue, accentuating the delicate lines of your face and the graceful curve of your hands folded over your chest. Time seemed to stand still in this sacred space, where beauty and sorrow intertwined in a poignant testament to love and loss.

As Sukuna looked upon you, he felt a pang of longing and remorse, his heart heavy with memories that stretched across decades. Here, amidst the opulence of the hall and the quiet majesty of your presence, he found solace and sorrow entwined. At least that was left true to what remained in his humanity for you.

Each day, Sukuna gazed upon you, venerating you as if you were a goddess. To him, you were a deity, a symbol of his defiance against the world that had taken you from him. In his dominion, Sukuna decreed that everyone must bow to you as they bowed to him. They must make prayers for your immortality, as they do with his own. 

Your presence commanded reverence, your memory immortalized in the rituals of his followers. Offerings were left at your shrine, tokens of respect and devotion, as though you were a living deity among them. It was the respect he thinks you were owed in your lifetime. If you would not get it in your life, then he would make sure he would give it to you now.

Sukuna stood before the ice coffin, his eyes tracing the delicate features of the wonder of your face. You looked as serene as you had in life, untouched by the ravages of time. You didn’t age and he does not want you to. He does not want to see you as anything else as what he had fallen in love with. You cannot be ash, not when you were still with him. Not when he still needed you.

"You are still with me," he whispered, his voice a blend of sorrow and reverence. "They will remember you, as they remember me. You are not forgotten."

Uraume, standing nearby, watched their master with quiet understanding. They had seen the pain etched into Sukuna's soul, the unending ache of loss. "Sukuna–sama," Uraume said softly, "Hiromi–samaremains as you wished. We have tended to Hiromi–sama well, Sukuna–sama. Please be rest assured—”

Sukuna nodded, his gaze never leaving you. "It is not enough, Uraume." he murmured. "It will never be enough. But….I must endure this. Being all I have.”

In the quiet sanctuary of his domain, surrounded by the echoes of the past and the shadows of the future, Ryomen Sukuna found a semblance of solace. Your memory lived on, tender of light in the darkness of his immortal existence. He was determined for it to last. He was determined to tie your destiny together, no matter what. And as long as he drew breath, he would ensure that you were  revered, loved, and remembered by all who served him. He will live forever, to be with you like this. 

After fifty years of solemn reverence, a fragile peace shattered in an instant. Those vexing, arrogant, thieves, those sons of Gojo Seiryuu, driven by ambition or folly, dared to steal the ice coffin that had cradled you for decades, spiriting it away to their clan. Ryomen Sukuna could never believe that such thieves would ever have the intention of care. 

Sukuna's fury erupted like a tempest unleashed, his heartache and rage merging into a torrential storm of wrath. In his grief-stricken fury, he embarked on a relentless rampage that tore through days and weeks. His presence was a whirlwind of destruction, leaving scorched earth and shattered remnants of lives in his wake.

Every step reverberated with the weight of betrayal and loss. Each strike echoed the anguish of fifty years of vigilance, shattered in a single act of defiance. In his wake, silence mingled with the cries of those who dared oppose him, their defiance crushed beneath the relentless tide of his fury.

The land trembled beneath his wrath, the skies darkened with his anguish. Sukuna's grief fueled a merciless onslaught, a testament to the depths of his despair and the ferocity of his love. For in that stolen moment, he lost more than an artifact—he lost a tether to his past, a relic of solace in a world fraught with turmoil.

As the rampage subsided and the echoes of his fury faded into the ether, Sukuna stood amidst the wreckage, his chest heaving with exhaustion and sorrow. It was then that Gojo Seiryuu had made himself known and came to confront the King of Curses. He stood below the throne Sukuna occupied, the elder man with dark red eyes gleaming as the man who had his cover.  The tension between them was palpable, a volatile mix of anger and determination. One could feel heat release from the echoes of his nostrils. 

"Sukuna-dono," Seiryuu began, his tone steady despite the danger he faced, "We must talk."

Sukuna's eyes blazed with fury. "Talk? You dare speak, talk of some ridiculous peace after what you've done? I will kill you, Seiryuu. You useless, impotent brat!”

A deadly silence followed, then Ryomen Sukuna released a barrage of the world-cutting slash aimed directly at Seiryuu. But a shimmering barrier materialized around him, absorbing the attack with ease. Gojo Seiryuu stepped forward, undeterred by Sukuna's rage. Sukuna’s eyes raged as it narrowed darkly against the Gojo clan leader. 

"You have to understand, Sukuna–dono." Seiryuu said, his voice calm yet resolute, "This is not where my mother belongs."

Sukuna's expression twisted with anger and pain. "Hiromi was my person first."

Seiryuu's gaze softened, a rare glimpse of vulnerability. "Your Hiromi was my only mother. And I was robbed of her. That bond you claim cannot surpass a son’s love.”

The words hung heavily in the air. Sukuna's breath came in ragged gasps, his mind a maelstrom of emotions. He wanted to tear Seiryuu apart, to reclaim what had been stolen from him. But beneath the fury, a sliver of understanding pierced his heart.

"Hiromi was everything to me." Sukuna said, his voice breaking.

"And my mother was everything to us," Seiryuu replied gently. "We need my mother as much as you do."

Sukuna's hands clenched into fists, knuckling white with the intensity of his emotions. His chest heaved with each breath, the weight of grief and anger pressing down upon him like a suffocating shroud. For a long, agonizing moment, he stood amidst the ruins of his sanctuary, caught between the overwhelming urge to unleash his fury and the desperate need to hold onto the memories that bound him.

Every fiber of his being screamed with anguish, a primal roar of betrayal echoing through his soul. The theft of the ice coffin, the violation of her sacred resting place, tore at him with a visceral pain that threatened to consume him whole. Images of you, serene and ethereal in your icy repose, haunted his thoughts, your presence now torn from him like a cruel jest of fate.

Memories flooded his mind—moments shared, promises made, and a love that transcended time itself. He remembered the tender touch of your hand, the warmth of your smile, and the unspoken vows that bound them together. And now, to see your resting place desecrated, stolen away by those who sought to defy his authority, ignited a fury within him that burned hotter than any flame.

His surroundings blurred as tears of rage and sorrow welled in his eyes, the lines between reality and memory blurring in a haze of anguish. The air crackled with unseen energy, the very atmosphere vibrating with the intensity of his emotions. Each heartbeat echoed like a thunderclap in the stillness of the aftermath, a testament to the tempest raging within him.

Slowly, Sukuna lowered his head, his fists unclenching as he fought to regain control over the tumultuous storm raging within. His gaze hardened with resolve, determination flickering in the depths of his crimson eyes. He turns to look at the younger man. 

"Very well." Sukuna finally said, his voice raw with emotion. "But know this: if you ever dishonor all of your mother’s memory, I will end you and everything you hold dear. This I swear, on a binding vow.”

Seiryuu nodded, understanding the gravity of the promise. "I swear on my life, we will honor my mother as what fits a clan leader of such rank."

“No.” He contests the clan leader, his eyes full of hurt. “Your mother….,my…..your mother is a goddess. Do not lessen such importance.”

“I shan’t.” He whispers back to him. “I am my mother’s son too. I hold too much devotion to not treat my mother a goddess.”

“....Very well.”

Silence engulfs them both as the words reverberated.

Sukuna turns his head away, his shoulders slumped.

Seiryuu purses his lips in a line as he tries to talk once more.

“You may see my mother, if you would like.” Seiryuu whispers to the curse user. “I shall have it arranged. You have my word.”

Ryomen Sukuna could not say anything else. As Seiryuu departed, The King of Curses watched him go, a storm of emotions raging within him. You were gone, taken to where you were also cherished, but the pain of your absence was a wound that would never heal. In the silence that followed, the King of Curses was left with his grief, his memories, and the bitter taste of a love that transcended even death.

Years later, Sukuna once more entered the crypt, his presence commanding attention and evoking a mixture of anger and disgust from those who watched him. He paid them no mind, his focus solely on the figure before him. Your body lay as perfectly preserved as the day he had last seen you, a testament to Uraume’s cursed technique. For a moment, he felt a glimmer of humanity, a faint light piercing through his demonic nature. Seiryuu, noticing the intensity of the moment, dismissed everyone from the crypt. Once they were alone, the tension between them grew palpable.

"Is it true, what I’ve been hearing?" Sukuna’s voice was low, barely masking the simmering rage beneath. "That your mother’s body is to be burned once and for all?"

Seiryuu met Sukuna’s gaze, his expression somber. "Yes, it’s true. It was an agreement between siblings over the years. We believe it’s time to finally put our mother to rest."

A heavy silence settled over the crypt, suffocating in its weight. Sukuna stood before you, his gaze fixed upon your form encased in the ice coffin. Memories, once cherished and now tinged with sorrow, flooded back with a force that threatened to overwhelm him. 

The sight of you, serene and preserved in timeless beauty, stirred a maelstrom of emotions within him. The thought of your inevitable fate—ashes scattered to the winds—gnawed at his soul like a relentless tide eroding the shore. 

Each moment spent by your side, each shared heartbeat and whispered promise, replayed in his mind with agonizing clarity. The echo of your laughter, the warmth of your touch, the scent of your hair—all now locked in a sepulchral embrace that mocked his inability to protect you from the ravages of time and fate.

The world outside the crypt seemed distant and inconsequential, blurred by tears unshed and words unspoken. In this sacred chamber, where time stood still and memories loomed large, Sukuna grappled with the weight of his helplessness and grief.

The silence stretched on, broken only by the soft whisper of his breath and the faint rustle of fabric as he clenched his fists in anguish. Each passing moment etched deeper lines of sorrow upon his face, shadows dancing in the flickering light of candles that bore witness to his silent vigil.

He reached out, fingers trembling as if to touch the icy barrier that separated him from you. His hand hovered, suspended in the air, as if unsure whether to breach the sacred sanctum that held your essence captive.

And in that moment of vulnerability, Sukuna whispered, his voice barely audible in the stillness of the crypt, "I cannot bear to see you reduced to ashes, my love. Not after all we've endured."

“I am sorry…..if that is not what you wished to hear.”

“I do not wish to see it, I do not wish to hear it. None of it.”

Seiryuu nodded. "My mother deserves peace, Sukuna-dono. We all do. Keeping my mother preserved like this, it’s... it’s not right. It’s time to let go. It’s…it’s time to let my mother go, Sukuna–dono.”

Sukuna’s hands clenched at his sides, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. He had held onto you for so long, unable to accept your death, unable to move on. Now, faced with the finality of your cremation, your erasure from this earth, from your wholeness,  he felt a profound sense of loss. For a moment, he felt human again. But perhaps, he will always be like that – when it comes to you. Only you.

For a long moment, he said nothing, his gaze locked on your serene face. Then, with a heavy heart, he spoke. “I cannot accept it. Not like this.”

Seiryuu nodded, understanding the depth of Sukuna’s pain. “I know, Sukuna–dono.”

Sukuna turned away, the weight of his grief almost too much to bear. “Do what you must. As long as I….As long as there is a way….”

Silence settled between Seiryuu and Sukuna, thick and palpable, like the frosty stillness of a winter's night. It draped over them, heavy with unspoken words and unresolved emotions, casting a chill over the atmosphere that matched the solemnity of their surroundings.

For Seiryuu, the silence held a weight of regret and sorrow, a recognition of the rift that had widened between them despite their shared history and familial ties. It was a moment of introspection, where the consequences of past actions and decisions hung in the air like frozen breath.

Sukuna, too, felt the silence keenly. It wrapped around him, a stark reminder of his own tumultuous emotions—anger, grief, and a longing that he struggled to reconcile. In this frozen moment, he grappled with the realization that their paths diverged irreversibly, bound by duty and destiny yet separated by divergent ideals.

Between them, the silence became a canvas upon which their unspoken thoughts and regrets painted themselves in muted shades. It was a moment pregnant with the weight of their shared history, their intertwined fates now strained by the passage of time and the choices they had made.

As they stood in the stillness, each lost in their own contemplation, the silence spoke volumes. It echoed with the echoes of unspoken apologies, of wounds too deep to heal, and of a future uncertain yet inexorably linked. In this frozen tableau, Seiryuu and Sukuna are bound together by bonds of grief for the one they loved the most, frozen in the deathly echoes in front of them.

Seiryuu broke the heavy silence with a gentle voice. "I understand why you want to keep the body whole, Sukuna–dono. But you must know, it was never my mother’s wish to be brought back to life."

Sukuna’s eyes flashed with anger, and he cut him off sharply. "Hiromi did not say that. Hiromi never did—"

Seiryuu sighed, his expression weary but resolute. "Regardless, my mother wanted to be free from all of this pain. What you would do, in trying to revive this body, would only bring my mother more suffering. I don’t want that for my mother, Sukuna–dono. I ask of you, as a son. Please.”

Sukuna’s jaw tightened, his mind racing with the conflict of his desires and the harsh truth Seiryuu presented. The silence that followed was thick with unspoken emotions, a chasm between their understandings of love and loss.

"Do you really think I wish for Hiromi to suffer?" Sukuna finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper, laced with a raw vulnerability.

Seiryuu met his gaze, unwavering. "I know you loved my mother, Sukuna–dono. Mayhaps, you still do.  But sometimes, love means letting go. Letting go of ties that don’t let our loved ones rest in peace.”

The words hung in the air, pregnant with unspoken implications that weighed heavily on Sukuna's heart. Rage and sorrow churned within him like a tempest, battling for dominance over his thoughts and emotions. 

Sukuna stood at a crossroads, torn between conflicting desires that tugged at his very soul. On one hand, there was an unyielding urge to preserve you, to shield you from the inexorable march of time and the fate that threatened to extinguish your essence. The thought of losing you, of seeing your existence reduced to mere ashes scattered in the wind, clawed at his heart with a visceral ache.

Yet, intertwined with this desperate longing was a stark realization—a haunting awareness that his actions, driven by love and anguish, might inadvertently condemn you to a fate far worse than death. The weight of his power, the consequences of his choices, loomed large in his mind, casting a shadow over his every thought.

In the stillness that followed, Sukuna grappled with the cruel irony of his predicament. To keep you close meant defying the natural order, challenging the very fabric of existence itself. And yet, to let go—to surrender to the inevitability of your passing—felt like a betrayal of the love that had defined his existence for decades.

As he stood there, surrounded by the echoes of his turmoil, the silence bore witness to the tumult raging within him. His fists clenched, nails digging into his palms, as if seeking to anchor himself against the storm of emotions threatening to consume him whole.

The room, once filled with the quiet reverence of your presence, now crackled with an intensity born of uncertainty and fear. Each passing moment stretched into eternity, the weight of his decision pressing down upon him like a leaden cloak.

And amidst the turmoil of his heart, Sukuna knew that whatever choice he made would shape not only his own destiny but yours as well. For in the delicate balance between love and duty, between defiance and acceptance, lay the essence of his eternal struggle—an agonizing quest for redemption and a yearning for solace in a world where nothing was certain but the inevitability of change.

"Hiromi was everything to me, boy." Sukuna said, his voice breaking. “There was nothing else but Hiromi.”

"And to us too. My mother was everything to us," Seiryuu replied softly. "We all want my mother to be at peace.”

Another silence descended, denser and more profound than before, wrapping Sukuna in a suffocating embrace of solitude. His gaze remained fixed upon Hiromi's serene visage, preserved in eternal repose within the icy coffin. 

In the depths of his crimson eyes, a tempest of emotions raged unchecked. Anguish and longing mingled with a raw, gnawing grief that clawed at his heart like a relentless beast. The weight of loss pressed upon him, each breath a struggle beneath the burden of Seiryuu's words—words that resonated with painful clarity, cutting deeper than any physical wound ever could.

Sukuna knew, deep down, that Seiryuu's admonitions held truth. The inevitability of letting go, of releasing your spirit from the confines of earthly ties, bore down upon him with crushing force. Yet, accepting this truth was a wound unto itself—a wound that pierced through the very fabric of his being, leaving behind scars that no battle could ever erase.

The room around him seemed to constrict, suffused with a palpable stillness that mirrored the turmoil within his soul. Shadows danced upon the walls, casting elongated figures that whispered of past regrets and future uncertainties. Each moment stretched into eternity, time itself bending to accommodate the weight of his indecision and sorrow.

As he stood there, a solitary figure amidst the silent tableau of memories and regrets, Sukuna's hands trembled with the urge to reach out—to touch, to hold, to defy the relentless march of time. Yet, even as he yearned for solace in the familiarity of her presence, the truth remained a bitter pill to swallow—a truth that threatened to unravel the fragile threads of his resolve.

And in the hush that enveloped them both, Sukuna grappled with the agonizing truth that love, in its purest form, sometimes meant letting go. For in the depths of his heart, amidst the ache of separation and the anguish of acceptance, lay the essence of his eternal struggle—a struggle that would surely blossom from what he had left of you.

Seiryuu broke the silence with a question that pierced Sukuna's brooding thoughts. "Are you still asking, Sukuna–dono?”

Sukuna turned his head, a flicker of confusion crossing his features. "What are you talking about?"

Seiryuu's eyes held a depth of understanding as he clarified. "Are you still trying to find mother’s soul?"

Sukuna paused, the weight of the question settling heavily upon him. Your soul had vanished shortly after your death. Sukuna had felt it leave you. Sorcerers could always feel the energy of life leave. In all that time, Ryomen Sukuna had spent countless years searching for a way to retrieve it, to reunite your truest essence with your preserved body. He had worked all this time, trying to find a way to have you again.

Seiryuu shook his head slowly. "It’s no use. You should stop chasing the same madness that consumed the ancients. You will never find the answers you seek, nor the closure you crave. Neither will I. We will never find closure, only grief. And what better way to love than to grieve, until our dying day?"

Sukuna’s voice was low, almost resigned. "I don’t know if I can even die. Nor do I remember what it was to love."

Seiryuu chuckled softly, a sad yet knowing sound. "That's a pretense, Sukuna. All you have to do is look at my mother and you’ll remember."

A heavy silence enveloped them once more, each man lost in his own reflections. Finally, Sukuna broke the silence with a question of his own. "Where will Hiromi be buried?"

Seiryuu's gaze softened, filled with a mixture of sorrow and determination. "Mother’s ashes will be scattered between the Mikoto and the Gojo, but my mother’s heart will remain in Hida."

Sukuna's nod was solemn, his gaze lingering upon your serene countenance for what felt like an eternity. In the delicate lines of your face, he traced the echoes of a life once vibrant with purpose—a life intimately entwined with his own, now frozen in eternal repose.

Turning away felt like tearing himself from the essence of his existence, a painful severance from the one who had anchored his tumultuous soul. Yet, he knew that lingering would only prolong the agony, prolong the inevitable parting that fate had cruelly decreed.

As he stood at the threshold of the crypt, a profound sense of loss washed over him like a tidal wave. The weight of your absence bore down upon him with suffocating force, threatening to engulf him in a sea of despair. Each step away from your side felt like a betrayal of the love that had sustained him through decades of turmoil and strife.

But in that agonizing moment of departure, Sukuna found himself paralyzed by indecision. His hand hovered uncertainty in the air, fingertips brushing against the cold stone of the crypt. The room seemed to constrict around him, the walls closing in with the weight of unspoken regrets and unfulfilled promises.

Time stood still, suspended in the fragile balance between past and present, love and duty. His breath caught in his throat, chest tight with the ache of longing and the bitter taste of acceptance. The air crackled with unseen energy, the atmosphere heavy with the echoes of their shared history and the uncertainty of what lay ahead.

For a fleeting moment, Sukuna dared to imagine a future where your spirit could find peace, where the echoes of your presence would linger as a gentle whisper in the winds. But reality intruded with merciless clarity, reminding him that some wounds could never fully heal, some losses could never be reconciled.

And as he finally tore himself away, each step echoing like a tolling bell in the silence of the crypt, Sukuna carried with him the weight of a love that transcended time and a sorrow that echoed through the corridors of his soul.As the meeting drew to a close, Seiryuu turned to Sukuna with a probing look.

"Before you go, tell me about the little girl you sent to me.”

Sukuna's expression remained unreadable. "The girl is important to me."

Seiryuu raised an eyebrow, curiosity evident in his eyes. "She looks exactly like my mother, Sukuna–dono.”

"It’s better to ask little to no questions," Sukuna replied, his tone cold. "The more questions you ask, the more trouble it will bring."

Seiryuu sighed, shaking his head. "You must have been such a bore if your words always echoed like this."

Sukuna made no response, his gaze steely. "I hope I never see you again, Seiryuu, because next time, I will kill you."

Seiryuu laughed, a genuine sound that filled the crypt. "You say that every time, Sukuna, and yet you never follow through. Do you have respect for your elders after all?"

Sukuna snickered, a dark amusement flickering in his eyes. "I have none."

With a graceful bow, Seiryuu offered a final word. "Thank you for making the time to see off my mother."

Sukuna remained silent, his stoic demeanor a stark and powerful response in itself. With a heavy heart, he turned away from the stairwell, leaving behind the crypt and the haunting memories that clung to its walls like shadows. The weight of his grief, a burden he carried with the weight of centuries, hung heavy upon his shoulders, echoing the pain of a past that refused to be forgotten.

Stepping into the fading light outside, the world seemed to darken around him, the encroaching shadows a tangible reminder of the darkness that still gripped his heart. Each footfall echoed with a hollow emptiness, the void that now consumed him—a void that no victory in battle or conquest could ever hope to fill.

Returning to Hida, his sanctuary amidst the mountains, offered him no solace this time. The familiar quiet that had once been a refuge now felt suffocating, a relentless reminder of the emptiness that gnawed at his immortal soul. Decades of relentless striving, of conquering foes and amassing power, had left him adrift in a sea of purposelessness.

The once-glorious halls of his domain now echoed with the whispers of lost ambitions and unfulfilled desires. His immortal existence stretched out before him, devoid of meaning or direction. What had once driven him—the promise of power, the pursuit of vengeance, the longing for a love lost to time—now felt hollow and meaningless.

As Sukuna stood amidst the silent mountains, their peaks piercing the heavens like jagged scars, he wrestled with the bitter realization that even immortality offered no escape from the agony of longing and loss. Each passing moment only deepened the chasm within him, a gaping wound that no amount of conquest could heal.

And so, in the fading light of day, Sukuna stood alone—a titan brought low by the weight of his own immortality, haunted by the echoes of a past that refused to be buried. And it bored him. It pained him. It turned him bitter, too bitter to even understand why.

Sukuna called upon Uraume, who appeared before him with a respectful bow. "Sukuna–sama," Uraume greeted, their voice tinged with concern. “You asked to see me?”

Sukuna met their gaze, his eyes reflecting a restless determination. "I’ve heard tales of a cursed user, who introduces themself as a sorcerer traveling the lands, granting wishes," he began, surprising Uraume with the unexpected topic of conversation.

Uraume tilted their head, curious. "Why would you be interested in such a thing, Sukuna–sama?"

Sukuna’s expression darkened with a hint of anticipation. "There’s something I want to do," he said slowly, his voice carrying an edge of urgency. "And I need your assistance."

Uraume nodded solemnly, sensing the gravity of Sukuna’s request. "Whatever it is, Sukuna–sama, I am here to serve."

Sukuna's mind churned with tumultuous thoughts, each thought of a turbulent wave crashing against the shores of his consciousness. For centuries, he had roamed the earth with purpose, driven by a relentless hunger for power and a burning desire for vengeance. Yet, amidst the eons of battles fought and victories claimed, there remained a desire—a yearning that whispered to him in quiet moments, a longing that stirred the depths of his immortal soul.

The prospect of fulfilling this desire now loomed before him, tantalizing yet elusive. It was a pursuit that had consumed him in quiet moments of reflection, a quest that promised to satiate a hunger deeper than any he had known. The flickering flame of possibility danced on the horizon of his mind, casting shadows of doubt and determination in equal measure.

In the labyrinth of his thoughts, Sukuna weighed the consequences of his next move. The path ahead was fraught with uncertainty, veiled in the mists of destiny and obscured by the echoes of past decisions. To grasp this desire meant unraveling the fabric of his existence, risking everything he had fought to build and protect.

Yet, the allure was undeniable—a magnetic pull that drew him inexorably forward, defying reason and logic. It whispered promises of fulfillment, of reclaiming what had been lost, and of forging a future where his immortal existence could find purpose once more.

As he stood at the crossroads of destiny, Ryomen Sukuna's resolve hardened like steel. With each passing heartbeat, he embraced the uncertainty that lay ahead, knowing that the journey to fulfill his desire would test not only his strength but also the depths of his resolve.

He cannot face this world like this any longer.

There must be another way to live with excitement.

There must be another way to be with you again.

“Seek out that man they call Kenjaku.”

IT WAS A CONFUSING THING. You stood amidst the rugged terrain, surrounded by towering mountains that seemed to stretch endlessly into the sky. The air was crisp and tinged with the scent of pine, a stark contrast to the bustling wind that swept through the valleys below. Your long hair danced in the breeze, lilac eyes scanning the unfamiliar landscape with uncertainty.

You looked left and right, Your gaze tracing the jagged outlines of the peaks that framed your surroundings. The silence of the mountains enveloped you, broken only by the distant call of an eagle and the soft rustling of leaves in the breeze. Each direction seemed equally daunting, equally unknown.

You didn’t know this place, but you truly wish you did. Its contours were foreign, its secrets hidden within the folds of its ancient rocks and whispering forests. Yet, despite the uncertainty that gripped your heart, something stirred deep within the depths of your soul. A faint whisper, a subtle urging, compelled you to move forward. To find that way somewhere.

Your brow furrowed in concentration as you tried to make sense of the inner voice guiding you. It was elusive, a fleeting sensation like the touch of a distant memory. It urged you to move, to seek out something you couldn’t yet define. But you could feel it, in your gut, in your mind, in your heart, in your whole soul — that you need to be somewhere, that something is calling to you.

You could only close your eyes briefly, inhaling deeply as if to draw strength from the untamed wilderness around you. The soul dragons, ethereal creatures of legend, fluttered around you, their presence both mystical and comforting. These soul dragons, they were ephemeral and ancient. And yet they were kind to you as they soothed you and your edges. Souls were pure, they always had to be. They were protecting you with their ethereal forms shimmering with hints of iridescent colors as they circled in a dance.

You were sure that they came here to rescue you. Wandering souls are often ones that come by here, you were sure. And somehow, they seemed to sense how overwhelmed you were and in their shimmering forms weaving through the air as if to point the way, as if to guide you to a safe zone. And you were grateful, that there was at least something that could help you feel like you weren’t alone.

Uncertainty lingered in your heart, but so did determination. You knew you had to go somewhere, even if you couldn’t articulate why. With a final glance at the vast expanse before you, you took a deep sigh and put your trust in your new found companions. You took a hesitant step forward, trusting in the unseen currents that guided your path.

"Where do I belong?" you whispered softly, your voice barely audible over the gentle rustling of leaves. “Do you know where I should be?”

The soul dragons continued their mesmerizing dance, their movements synchronized as if in response to your question. You furrowed your brows, focusing. You looked around the two, trying to decipher their silent language, searching for clues in the patterns they traced against the clear blue sky. But you could only sigh. You don’t know what they were saying.

A voice, soft yet commanding, echoed in your mind, urging you to look at their dances harder. To understand what they were saying to you. You turned again, trying not to give up. Before you heard a sound. You yelped as you hid behind the dragons, who formed a wall around you. You looked to the side as you gulped. You peered for a small moment and  saw a figure approaching through the rocky terrain—a dark-haired man with an enigmatic smile on his lips.

"Are you lost, traveler?" the man asked, his voice carrying a warmth that belied the remote wilderness surrounding them. “I’m sorry, did I startle you?”

“N–not too much.” The dragons seemed unmoving as you moved to the side, but they followed you. You purse your lips. “I’m sorry….my friends here seem overprotective of me.”

He smiles back at you, shaking his head. “Not at all. Please don’t be concerned.”

You hesitated, uncertain whether to trust this stranger who seemed to appear out of nowhere. "I... I don't know…" you admitted, your gaze flickering between him and the soul dragons that hovered nearby. “I don’t know what to say.”

The man's smile widened, as if he understood the turmoil within her. "You're searching for something, aren't you?" he asked softly, his eyes holding a glimmer of knowing.

You could not help but nod slowly, a sense of relief mingling with trepidation. "I feel like I have to go somewhere," you confessed, your voice tinged with both hope and apprehension. “But I don’t know where or how to get there….I’m very….”

“Confused?”

You nodded at him. “I am…”

The man's expression softened, and he extended a hand towards you. "Then let me help you," he offered gently. "Tell me your wish, and I will guide you."

You looked into his eyes, eyes widened. “Do you… do you know who I am?”

“I do, I do know you.”

"Then…then….I… I long to remember who I am! And…and where I'm meant to go," you replied earnestly, your heart yearning for clarity. “Please tell me. Everything!”

The man's smile remained kind and reassuring. "I can help you with that," he said, his voice resonating with quiet assurance. “Don’t worry.”

You felt a surge of gratitude towards this stranger who offered to illuminate the path she sought. "What's your name?" you asked, curiosity sparking in your lilac eyes.

His smile widened as he responded, "My name is Kenjaku."

“And…..and what is my name?”

“I’ll tell you, on the way.” He takes his haori off and places it on top of your shoulder. “Do you trust me?”

You blinked at him. “I….I do.”

“Then trust me, wholeheartedly.”

Your eyes warmed as you nodded.

And so began, a thousand years of hell.

facts about the chapter

the chapter is 10k words long and it was just me trying to fit everything in one chapter knowing it would be rough if i split it into two.

i took out some stuff because the draft was not drafting the way i wanted. maybe like 2k words?

the entire chapter echoes a lot about sukuna's hypocrisy. he believes that he is a god, belittles humans and ends up being more human than most. seiryuu sees it the most in sukuna, and perhaps its why he keeps him around the most.

seiryuu is the only remaining child of hiromi still alive. he is in his 100s, which is a very rare feat in that time and being a six-eyes and limitless user, he is in fact very strained. no one knows how he lived that long.

the ode that mikoto masuyo wrote only lasted up until the death of hiromi. so only seiryuu knows about things that happened 80 years later.

the first to die was masako. she died in childbirth just ten years after her mother passed away. her last wish was to be with her mother, but she never got her wish.

the way the gojo clan stole hiromi's body back was to come when no one was around. sukuna at the time was called to the festival where he meets yorozu, whom he hates. it was put into the gojo clan manor in the capital, until the siblings could decide what to do.

sukuna talked about stealing ryomen manor and he does, for the next few years before the genpei war starts and begins. this is the time sukuna ended up dying and cutting himself into different pieces to be revived.

he renovated ryomen manor and made the entire thing have frescos of hiromi's life from beginning to end. its one of the marvels of ryomen manor, but we'll see this in us and them, but sukuna is displeased that they took out the part where he and hiromi fell and love and married - the mikoto do not in fact subscribe to the reality that they were ever married.

hiromi's soul wandered a long time, but gained form only that year because the soul could not find anyway to be whole as the way hiromi died nearly ruined the essence remaining in the soul.

the girl that was living with seiryuu was someone that sukuna holds dear. sukuna sent her away because he doesn't want her to be stuck with him. this will be elaborated on in the next chapter and in us and them!!!

kenjaku in fact was the person that trapped hiromi for one thousand years and in fact helped sukuna afterwards. the whole reason he trapped hiromi was because of her powers.

we'll only find out next chapter how hiromi was trapped and how she appears in shibuya.

the gif quotes is hiromi and her descendant genmei talking. this happens post shibuya.

[dawneternal]

The Benevolent | Eris x Healer OC | Three

☁︎ notes: sorry it took so long to get this one out 💛

Clementia really is the goddess of mercy and healing but I made up the part about the feathers. There will be more half real/half made up references to mythology so buckle in lol also Eris is kind of Cardan-coded in this chapter

☁︎ warnings: talk of injuries, talk of Beron's abuse, drunk characters

☁︎ word count: 1.9k

☁︎ AO3 Link / Masterlist

☁︎ tags: @cauldronblssd @mybestfriendmademe @teddyhoneybear @tele86 @imma-too-many-fandoms @allyjoe755 @milswrites @shadowdaddies @zenkindoflove

The ring summoned Aya again nearly a week later, just as she had finally made it back to her dorm room in the Healer’s wing. Lessons had run late, after which she had been called to a family dinner by Thesan. Her feet were sore and the pair of clean pajamas waiting on her bed called to her. Her heart leapt into her throat at the thought of what sort of injuries had prompted that ring to glow, regret sinking its claws deeper into her gut. Another long night of keeping Eris’s soul tethered to his being?

She heaved a deep sigh, shouldered her bag once more, and winnowed away from her cozy room.

The designated winnow spot was in Edana’s private courtyard, surrounded on all four sides by her rooms. The Lady had carved a spot out of the wards - or had bribed someone to do it. Edana or one of her two trusted guards were to wait for Aya in the courtyard. The written copy of the bargain details instructed that if anyone else were to ever greet her, she was to winnow back to the Dawn Court without speaking to them.

All very calming, naturally.

Tonight, one of Edana’s guards met Aya in the courtyard, which she considered a good sign. The guard did not say anything, only nodded in greeting before turning on his heel. Aya shivered in the Autumn chill and trailed after him. No one had told Aya the guards’ names yet, and she was too shy to ask. They were a little intimidating, stone-faced and armed to the teeth. Obviously, they cared about Edana's safety a great deal, and she had not stopped to wonder what they thought of the Lady hiring a strange healer and adding her piece to this hidden game board.

The dark-haired man led her through Edana’s sitting room to the stone passageways. She followed him through the dim, winding halls, finding them to be as deathly silent as the first night. She was beginning to wonder if the whole house had a curfew, or if they had all simply adopted this code of silence as a means of survival. Everything had been tainted such a suspicious color after that first night.

His feet made no sound against the stone floor, even in those heavy, clunky-soled boots. Aya followed suit, keeping her steps light, though her satin slippers would not have made much noise anyways.

When she crossed through the wards into Eris’s rooms, a wall of commotion wrapped itself around her, such a contrast from the silent hall that it made her jump. Eris was cursing and arguing with his mother, the second guard attempting to aid her in holding him down. Aya’s widened eyes flicked to the couch by the hearth where a bruised and bleeding man lay unconscious. Or sleeping. He was nearly a copy of Eris - redheaded and tall, with broader shoulders and bulky muscles.

“They got drunk and had a fight,” Edana sighed as Aya made her way to the big bed.

“Bastard had it coming,” Eris spat loudly, trying again to free his arm from his mother’s grasp."

“Stay still,” Edana snapped, “You were stabbed, for Mother’s sake.”

Aya gasped at that, and Eris turned his head toward the sound. He had not even noticed her come in, too focused on earning his freedom. When his gaze landed on the healer he let out a cry of delight and held a bloody hand toward her without even so much as wincing.

“All is well,” Eris pronounced, “Clementia has arrived.”

“Hush,” Edana hissed, “Or your father will hear you.”

Aya’s skin felt hot, her stomach dropping in fear of the knowledge that the High Lord was at home tonight. She chewed her lip and set her satchel on the edge of the bed. Eris was still as a statue now, watching her with interest.

“Clementia is an angel of mercy,” Edana said to Aya, rolling her eyes as other guard chuckled. “He likes to read mythology.”

Aya’s cheeks burned and she looked down at the heir, his amber eyes fixed on her. She shook her head and grabbed a wet rag from the side table. She was familiar with Clementia’s legend but she had not made the connection of who Eris thought she was.

“Did you receive my prayer of thanks?” Eris asked, a hand clutched to his chest like he must brace himself in her presence. He still did not wince as she pulled up his shirt and began to clean his injury. It was shallow for a stab wound, but it certainly would not heal well if he started thrashing around again. She could humor him if it meant he stayed calm.

The second guard, blond and bearded, started to laugh at Eris’s smitten gaze, but Edana shot him a look that shut him up. The Lady turned her attention to her other son, out cold on the couch.

“Yes,” Aya said to Eris, gently moving away the hand that attempted to cover his wound. His bloody fingers wrapped around hers and held on. It was likely he was so drunk that he was not feeling the full effect of his injury. “It was lovely. Please stay still, Eris.”

“Yes, angel,” Eris breathed.

Aya kept her eyes on her work and did not dare look at the glowering Lady or her giggling guardian. She knew it sounded like a pet name. But she didn’t think she minded much, not with how lovely it sounded falling from his lips.

Eris stayed quiet now, obedient to her every command. He watched her with such reverence in his eyes, as if still surprised she had appeared, worried she may go away again at any moment. If only he knew she was just another healer from the Dawn Court, no benevolent angel of mercy.

She wondered if he’d ever truly know her or if all of their meetings would be this way - inebriated or delusional from blood loss. And she hoped for both their sakes that the next time would be different. And maybe a part of her hoped to meet him in a state where she could really learn something about him. Something to compare to the rumors. All she knew at the moment was that he liked mythology. And that he fought like a hellcat when drunk.

“Beron would not approve of them fighting, would he?” She asked as she worked, her voice soft. Every movement tracked by those diligent amber eyes.

“Not in this manner, no,” Lady Edana answered, returning to Eris's bedside, “Not without his command, at least. He sees more honor in besting each other with strategy.”

Of course he would. Only Beron’s hand could inflict pain. That was how he stayed in control. Everyone else must impress him by playing his games perfectly. Aya had never expected to gain so much knowledge about the Autumn Court’s High Family and everything she learned made her more grateful for her own court and Thesan’s gentle rule. It also illuminated another aspect of Edana's secrecy.

This foolish behavior was a stark contrast to the tales and rumors of the Autumn sons, with their father’s brutality and their mother's brains. It certainly dimmed the intimidation to see that hulking brother passed out, mouth open and drooling on the velvet couch. Whatever Aya saw gave her power. And that golden ring took it away again. Edana did not yet know that she had picked someone with such an ambivalent heart. Capable of indifference and yet undecided.

When Aya finished dressing Eris’s wound and cleaning his filthy hands, she slipped a sleeping pill into his water and gave his shoulder a pat.

“Sleep well Eris,” She said, eager to get away from his relentless stare. Then she turned back and added sharply, “And listen to your mother.”

She shifted, about to make her way to the brother on the couch, but Eris’s voice stopped her.

“May I have a feather?” He asked, his voice remarkably soft compared to his terrible volume control from before.

“What?” Aya asked, hoping their audience did not notice the break in her voice. She knew the myth. That Clementia bestowed a feather upon her favored for luck.

“May I have a feather for luck?” He asked again, the gleam in his eye so hopeful it was almost painful.

For a moment, she considered it. It wouldn’t mean much, it would quiet him down and that would be that. But the weight of the Dawn Court customs would not release her. The tips of her ears grew hot, thinking of plucking a feather and handing it to him. Feathers were for honor, promises, and love. Even in the far friendlier, casual environment of her court, it wouldn't be seen as appropriate.

“You’re lucky enough just to be in her presence, you oaf,” Edana muttered, shaking Aya from her stupor. Eris frowned but he didn’t argue. He looked resigned, like he agreed with his mother's sentiment.

Aya silently thanked Edana and turned her attention toward the couch once more. The brother was not in terrible shape, with just a scattering of bruises and small cuts that would heal by morning. Luckily, he was far too drunk to remember anything by tomorrow. She hoped that Eris would not remember any of this either.

She had not failed to notice Eris’s split knuckles and she wondered what this brother had said to provoke him so. She might have asked, as they had humored all of her questions so far. But it seemed that neither Lady Edana nor her guards wanted to meet her eye as she inspected the younger Vanserra. As if there was something about this fight they were not saying. Or perhaps they were just embarrassed.

Aya told herself she did not care either way. She had decided, throughout the course of this visit, not to ask any more prying questions or sleuth or try to solve anything. She could not help her curiosity, but Thesan had ordered her not to meddle. And every answer to every question sat heavy like a stone in her heart. She did not want to carry all of that with her, anyways. So she finished patching up the anonymous brother, left a tonic one for the now-sleeping Eris, and returned to the comfort of the Dawn Court.

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

The next morning, Eris’s shame pestered him as incessantly as his headache. Twice now, this poor healer had had to witness him in such a pathetic state. Gods knew what he had said last night. His mother wouldn’t tell him. She told him it was his punishment for being so foolish that he had to wonder what embarrassing things he may have said.

The only hint he got was in the note the healer had left him, beside a tin of fresh balm for his scars and a tonic for the hangover.

Drink lots of water, avoid stretching your wound. I look forward to your next prayer of thanks.

Your angel,

Aya

Eris blushed and cursed himself for it. He hadn’t known her name and had gotten into the habit of referring to her as Clementia in his mind. It must have slipped out.

He remembered little glimpses of what she looked like. Warm brown skin, eyes of lilac-grey, and small, capable hands. His fingers went to the wound in his side. Once again, he had been healed impeccably. This one had left a scar barely an inch long.

He had yet to thank her for all that she’d done and he wished that he could. But he did not know where to reach her or what a proper gift might look like.

Without him even realizing, without even having property met, she had begun to haunt his thoughts. Like a guardian angel, only a shadow of wings at the edge of his vision.

[youatemylollipop]

Feral alpha Mikey sano x omega reader where Mikey knocked reader up? Make it dark! And could you end it with reader being forced to marry him? Could you also make fem reader? It’s okay if you chose to not specify gender. It’s just that I have fad this idea for a while, and I liked the way you wrote for yandere Mikey! I understand if you don’t want. You can write when ur request are open again, not pressure !

A/N: I'm sorry if this one-shot turned out to be too dark!😖 For some reason, when I read your request, it was the first thing that came to mind. Additionally, English is not my first language, so please forgive any grammatical errors. They are more likely to occur in a longer piece of writing like this. There’s also this fact that I have never written anything close to being this explicit before, so it might not be the best, just so you are aware.

Synopsis: Manjirō had always been your guiding light, protecting you from the darkest of nights. But now, you're not so sure anymore.

Fandom: Tokyo Revengers

Characters: Sano Manjirō X Female Reader

⚠️ WARNING: Forced marriage, a/b/o dynamics, feral alpha Mikey, dark themes, non-con/dub-con, forced orgasm, forced pregnancy, breeding kink, knotting, marking, nipple play, fingering, oral sex (f.receiving), vaginal sex, loss of virginity, forced heat cycles, signs of manipulation, mentions of death, Kisaki Tetta is his own warning, MDNI!!

Word Count: 4.2K

You still fail to understand how things have turned out the way they did. Back then, you had always seen Manjirō as your knight in shining armor, your protector. He was always there when you needed him, and if not, he would make sure to keep his calling device close, in his pocket, one call away. Then he would dismiss any meeting, no matter how important it was, speeding through the busy streets of Tokyo to your aid.

The two of you first met in your second year of middle school as you browsed through the bookshelves in the school library, trying to find something that would fit your taste. That's when you spotted Manjirō, a 3rd-year student who was commonly known as the commander of the Tokyo Manji Gang, sleeping in the corner of the library with his head resting on the table.

You felt instantly drawn to the sleeping boy and were inclined to approach him, which was new to you. Your inner omega had always been quite picky when it came to attraction, and so far, not one alpha had managed to gain its affection. If the immediate reaction had not been repulsion, indifference would be the most positive response that they would achieve.

Manjirō shone like the sun, radiating brightness that required sunglasses to behold, lest you risk blindness. His smile was always radiant, a stark contrast to his onyx eyes that resembled a starless sky at its darkest hour. Gazing into them was like staring into the abyss, without the glimmer of stars to light the way.

He was like spring, full of life and childish wonder that fueled him to do the most rash yet exciting things. You, on the other hand, were autumn, more calm and collected, but still filled with various warm colors that would not let you turn into winter. Two opposites, drawn to one another like missing pieces of a puzzle.

Manjirō was not like other alphas. He respected omegas and believed that they deserved a better standing in today's society. Sure, they could go to school, but only if their alpha parent allowed it. Once an omega reached the age of eighteen, they were typically married off to the alpha chosen by their family. These arrangements were often made during adolescence, and you were no exception to this rule.

Kisaki Tetta, was the man your father had chosen as your future husband. However, Kisaki was not an alpha but a beta. You did not particularly dislike Tetta-kun, however, there was a certain amount of unease whenever the two of you were together. Your inner omega would always whimper in his presence, telling you that he was best to avoid. But you ignored it in favor of your marriage. Unfortunately there was nothing you could do, and the best way to approach this dilemma was to stay civil with your future husband.

You understood the reason behind your father's actions. Due to your omega's pickiness, it was hard to find a perfect match for it. However, a small part of you would have preferred for your father to let you marry the older Haitian brother at the time. Sure, he was four years older, but the marriage would have only happened once you had stepped into adulthood.

If it were up to you, you wouldn't mind marrying Ran. Unlike Tetta-kun, Ran clearly loved you. You could tell by how heartbroken he was when he found out about the arranged marriage. However, you knew that your father would never agree to marry off his daughter to someone with a notorious reputation within the delinquent world.

Although you did not love Ran in that sense, you were content with letting him love you. At the time, the perfect scenario did not exist in your mind. The chance of falling in love with someone equally fiercely as they have with you seemed like a far away dream.

But then you met Manjirō and the world around you soon ceased to exist. There was only you and him, and for the first time you felt truly happy.

Manjirō was always gentle with you. Sometimes, when you spoke about an interesting book you had recently read or a movie you recently watched, you would catch him staring at you with a look of pure adoration, while smiling dreamily. Whenever this happened, you would suddenly become a stuttering mess, which would cause him to tease you endlessly over how 'cute' he thought it was.

However, as time passed, Manjirō grew more distant. He still took you on rides with his Babu in the middle of the night when the whole neighborhood was off to dreamland. He waited for you near the school gates, but without his bike, knowing how strict your parents were about your associations. Yet the constant shine he once radiated began to fade.

You understood him, of course. Constantly being trailed by death after death would most likely make you emotionally exhausted. A part of you felt like crying every single time the blond would give you one of his now constant melancholic smiles, trying to mask the void that began to spread through his entire being.

But he was not alone. You grieved together. Sure, you did not know his friends for as long as Manjirō did. However, you had still formed a certain bond with a few of them. You still remember how sad Manjirō looked when he had suddenly called you one night, asking you if you could meet him at the hospital. His body shook tremendously as he replayed the scene of his stabbed, and now dead friend. They never even got the chance to reconcile.

You only knew Ryūguji for a few months, but during the time you spent together you began to see him as an older brother. You always felt a certain amount of amazement over the way he managed to deal with Manjirō on a daily basis. And Draken would always turn to you with a kind smile and tell you how it was nothing compared to the way you had managed to handle him.

Then it was Keisuke’s turn, and unlike the rest of the Tokyo Manji Gang, Keisuke was the one you had known the longest. Even before Manjirō. And it broke your heart when the blond had one day broken the news of his sudden death. The rash and brute boy that was the exact opposite of you but somehow became your most reliable confidant had left this world without any goodbye.

You remembered the day you first met vividly. It was raining cats and dogs outside, and you were unfortunate enough to forget your umbrella at home. As you walked down the main road, you suddenly stumbled upon a box lying near the dumpsters. You could hear meows coming from it, which compelled you to open it.

Keisuke must have seen you from the other side of the road, because while you were too busy examining the small kittens inside the box the rain had stopped hitting you. This was something that you realized was rather odd, since you could still hear the aggressive downpours around you. And that was when you had met Baji Keisuke, first division commander of the Tokyo Manji Gang—and surprisingly a big cat lover—holding an umbrella over your head whilst sending you a cheeky grin.

However, what you assumed had become the snapping point was the death of Sano Emma, the younger sister of Sano Manjirō but also your close friend and classmate. It was a truly heartbreaking moment - one second, you were having a normal conversation, and the next, she was lying cold and motionless on the pavement, completely unaware of the world surrounding her. And you honestly did not understand how somebody could be so cruel, that they were willing to kill an innocent teenage girl.

After that day, Manjirō had become a shell of his former self. But you still loved him because, as cold as he was with others, he remained tender with you. He would still smile, even though those smiles were now completely empty. Sometimes the two of you would sit near the river, and he would talk about your future together, how he could not bear to lose you to the hands of the Grim Reaper.

You were skeptical, but could not help but hope that the two of you would indeed have your happy ending. The happy ending where you were married and had a family together. Where you were not forcefully married to another man. To the man that you did not love.

Sometimes you imagined scenarios where you and Manjriō would run away together. Away from your parents. Away from his grief and constant feeling of emptiness. Away from these burdens that were clutching onto the both of you like a goddamn parasite.

“[Name]-chin.”

Manjirō suddenly spoke up, gaining your attention. A few hours prior your boyfriend had decided to take you to your shared favorite place near the river, where you have been sitting next to each other in silence enjoying the romantic atmosphere.

It was quite common for you and Manjirō to enjoy each other's company like this. You did not need to hold a conversation to feel content. Most often, you would sit with your back against a tree trunk, while Manjirō's head lay in your lap and you read a book. Sometimes, during school hours, Draken would find you in the same position on the rooftop.

“Yes?”

You sent him a quizzical look, but he did not return your gaze. Instead, he continued to stare blankly at the river, silently watching as the water slowly continued to flow.

“Kisaki had approached me a few days ago. Said that he knows about our relationship and that he wants to help us.” You hummed in response, taking a hold of Manjirō’s hand and intertwining your fingers.

Truth be told, you still felt a bit skeptical, and now that Tetta-kun was involved it made you grow more uneasy. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Kisaki’s intellect. But you weren’t stupid enough to see past his sometimes unethical ways to deal with things. Even though Tetta-kun had expressed his disinterest in your marriage, claiming that he already was in love with another beta girl, Tachibana Hinata, you couldn’t help but feel unsure.

At that time, the male claimed that he would have interfered with his parents' plans if he had the authority, but neither his opinion nor yours seemed to matter. Although he sounded sincere, a part of you sensed that he might not have been entirely truthful and could have had a hidden agenda. Besides, his parents didn't appear to be excessively controlling.

"Are you sure about this, Manjirō?" You asked, furrowing your eyebrows with concern as you pressed your chin onto his broad shoulder. It was the first time during your conversation that the blond had looked at you, but his expression was unreadable. You couldn't help but worry about him.

Manjirō carefully wrapped his right arm around your waist, bringing your body closer to his. He kissed your forehead softly, lips remaining there for a few more seconds before pulling away. But only enough to press his forehead against your own. His expression was still unreadable, but seemed to have softened up a bit.

Lost within the depths of the starless nights that were his eyes, you didn’t notice how his left hand had got up and cupped your cheek until you felt the coolness of his fingertips make contact with your skin. His thumb began to draw small circles across the surface as he continued to look at you with the same dead expression that held only a tiny bit of the usual warmth it did back in the old days.

“Do you still want me, [Name]-chin?” You furrowed your eyebrows at his question, not understanding where this was coming from. Carefully wrapping your arms around his neck, you sent him a look that expressed nothing but worry for him.

“Of course Manjirō, I love you.” The male seemed to visibly relax at your reassurance. He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, left arm wrapping around your waist where his other had been. His hot breath fanning over your sensitive skin.

You couldn’t help but feel flustered by this sort of intimacy. Sure, this was far from the first time and Manjirō had always been very affectionate with you, but it still never failed to increase the erratic beating of your heart. Sometimes it made you worry that it would just stop, not having enough stamina to keep up with his advances.

“I love you too.” He whispered, arms unwrapping from your waist as he placed the palms of his hands on your hips before squeezing on the clothed flesh.

“I promise that I will make it work out in the end.” Manjirō’s voice was low as he spoke the last part, finally pulling away from your neck to make eye contact. His gaze was unwavering and you couldn’t help but feel slightly dazed by this whole situation. And it was only then that you were able to pick up on a strange aroma that you’ve never smelled on him before. It was sweet and reminded you of the lavender flower.

Nodding dumbly, you let Manjirō take a hold of your hand as he led you towards his Babu. Everything seemed to go on autopilot afterwards. You did not even notice at what point you had arrived at his place. It felt as if you had been charmed with a serenade that kept your body completely at his mercy.

The blond led you towards his bedroom, and you followed numbly, your mind growing dizzier with each passing second. You thought you could hear the sound of someone locking the door, but you weren't sure. Your body started to heat up, and the sensation was both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.

Before long, a pair of muscular arms wrapped around your waist, jolting you back to reality. Manjirō was holding your body tightly against his own, and you could feel his body heat against your back. He was peppering your neck with small kisses, causing your body to heat up even more.

Your breathing was turning increasingly erratic and you were starting to feel uncomfortable. But as you were trying to squeeze yourself out of his grip it only became tighter.

“M-Manjirō, what a-are you doing?” The eighteen year old groaned into your neck as his hands went higher up to knead your breasts.

“This is the only solution we have, [Name]-chin.”

“H-Huh?” He swiftly turned you around so that you would now stand face to face with him, before tearing your shirt into pieces. More pieces of clothing soon followed, until he had you lying completely bare for his predatory gaze to take in. Manjirō growled, feeling cock twitch at the sight of his omega presenting for him.

Puffs of air left your mouth as you watched the alpha undress right in front of you. The sight of his muscular and well trained body, making your cheeks flush in the process. Your head was still spinning, and you had a hard time comprehending what was going on. All you could tell was that your omega’s neediness was growing at an alarming rate.

Not even once in your life had you experienced something like this. Sure, you were aware that at some point you would most likely want to become more intimate with your boyfriend, but not like this. Not this suddenly. You didn’t feel ready. However, your inner omega seemed to disagree as you noticed that Manjirō had already finished undressing.

For the first time in your life did you feel truly small, especially in your boyfriend's presence. Manjrō was hovering over you, his blond hair falling down his handsome face like curtains. His thick scent was growing stronger, which made you question if there was even any oxygen left in the air.

The smell was intoxicating and held a mixture of citrus and spice combined with a sense of earthiness that made you feel grounded. It was a strange fusion that made you both float in the sky whilst a feeling of stability still remained. Yet the control over your body remained nonexistent.

Manjirō tapped your cheek gently, snapping you out from your dazed state. Then proceeded by pressing a tender kiss against the corner of your mouth before going down to your neglected breasts. He enclosed your nipples with his soft lips and started sucking, while his right hand started to play with the other one. This action made you arch your back in pleasure.

Then he pulled away from the left breast in favor of tending the other. His warm and wet tongue encircled it before he once again started to suck. Nipping on the places surrounding it from time to time, leaving purple bruises in that area. He was acting like a starved animal, devouring your breast in a desperate kind of frenzy.

Manjirō then began to descend your body, leaving a trail of kisses down its wake. The lower he got, however, the less comfortable you began to feel. You didn’t want him there. You wanted Manjirō to stop, but something was restraining you from voicing your feelings. Tears began to pour down your cheeks, until a gasp suddenly left your lips.

Manjirō had spread your legs open, leaving your dripping pussy completely exposed. You could feel the amount of slick that had already been produced, dripping down on the bed sheets, which made the streams of air that the blond blew hit far more sensitively than it should have. He groaned as the smell of your sweet essence reached his nostrils, placing his tongue flatly against your sensitive pearl before licking in long and agonizing strokes.

“You taste so good, baby.” You unconsciously moaned, his words causing your womanhood clench around nothing. It was beginning to feel painfully empty and you had no idea what to do.

You bucked your hips against his face, craving more of the pleasure that his tongue was providing you. Noticing your increasing desperation, Manjirō placed his thumb on your clitoris and caressed it while peppering your sex with small sloppy kisses before plunging one finger into your needy little hole.

Clenching around the foreign thing that had entered you, your boyfriend simply continued to caress the outer part of your sex as you got used to the intruder. Once you relaxed a second finger was introduced, which was later followed by a third. His fingers were hitting you so goodly, causing each moan that you were producing to turn into screams of pleasure.

Manjirō let out an animalistic growl, each thrust becoming more forceful than the previous one. The pleasure hit you in increasingly powerful shockwaves as you began to approach your first orgasm. And just as you were about to topple over the edge, your pussy was suddenly left completely empty. However, you did not get to ponder over it for long, as Manjirō’s wet lips were suddenly pressing aggressively against your cunt.

Another moan escaped your lips as he started to tongue fuck you. Your hands flew up, taking a harsh hold of his blond locks as you pressed his face further into your dripping pussy. His grip on your plush thighs was tight, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care, far too gone in the immense pleasure that your alpha was giving you.

Manjirō was groaning, humping onto the mattress, desperate to reach his own orgasm. He was beginning to lose patience, however, the taste of your sweet pussy was too intoxicating to ignore. Then he took a small, barely noticeable bite of your sex, which caused you to spasm all over his face as he continued to eat you out through your orgasm. Letting you ride it out against his face.

Not giving you much time to bask in the afterglow, the alpha pounced on you, kissing you feverishly once your face was close enough for him to reach your delicious lips. You tried to break away in desperate need for air, but the male wouldn’t let go until he was satisfied.

“Need more,” he mumbled, finally pushing himself off of you. His cheeks were flushed and the sultry look that he was giving you made your inner omega preen. Manjirō took once again a hold of your thighs, before he wrapped your legs around his waist. That’s when you finally noticed his engorged cock. It was thick and veiny and a part of you was wondering how that thing was going to fit inside you.

“W-Wait!” You stuttered as his red and angry looking tip began to press against your entrance, heart rate picking up as panic began to flood your system. You didn’t want this.

“Shh…” The male hushed you, pressing his forehead against yours as he began to introduce his tip into your warm and inviting hole. “This is the only way, [Name]-chin.”

The words that were supposed to be encouraging, sounded more like a feral growl. He pushed into you with one single thrust, forcing a loud moan out of you in the process. The sensation felt so foreign, but not unwelcome. Despite the initial state of fear, your inner omega began to purr with content at the feeling of being filled by its alpha.

You, on the other hand, were trembling at the newfound sensation. It felt so weird and uncomfortable to have such a big, warm and throbbing thing inside of you. But Manjirō didn’t give you much time to get used to it as he began to thrust. The first two strokes were lazy and more testing before he began to increase his pace.

Groans and incoherent words were escaping his lips as he continued to fuck into you with intense force. The bed creaked and the headboard slammed into the wall with each of Manjirō’s thrusts. Your moans were increasing in volume, which urged the blond to fuck you harder.

“Fuck, pussy s’tight.”

Soon his thrusts began to slow down and you could feel his dick begin to grow in size. This caused your eyes to widen in realization as you began to trash around trying to push him off of you.

“M-Manjirō please!” But the male ignored you, wrapping his arms around you tightly, immobilizing you completely as he continued to pound into you. Moan after moan escaped your lips as suddenly a wave of pure ecstasy forced its way through your body, causing it to shake aggressively with the force of your second orgasm. It didn’t matter how much you didn't want this to happen. It was obvious that you stood no chance against a strong alpha like Manjirō, especially when your own inner omega seemed to welcome this kind of treatment.

Manjirō, on the other hand, was too far gone to register any of your pleas. His mind clouded by the thought of finally being able to mark you, to knotting you. Thoughts clouded by the images of you walking around in your shared house with a round belly filled with his puppies. Heavy tits bouncing with every step that you take while milk oozes out of your painfully hard nipples.

You feel the male sinking his teeth into your neck, earning yet another purr of contentment from your omega. At this point Manjiō’s knot had grown so large, it was only a matter of seconds before you’d be filled with it. And as if on cue, hot streams of his fertile semen suddenly began to spurt into your womb.

Everything went hazy after that. You still remember the way he would fuck his cum into you through vasts of the night, each time his dick would be ready for another round. You remember lying in your boyfriend’s embrace, his arms keeping you in a possessive hold with his knot buried deep inside of you. Only to fall asleep and wake up with him pounding into you yet again.

Only after six weeks did you find out that you're pregnant, which caused an uproar at home. Your father appeared to be more worried for your well-being, than angry. Your mother, on the other hand, expressed nothing but utter disappointment.

The wedding was held a few months later during your second month of pregnancy. Manjirō did whatever he could to help you during the process. He made sure to be patient with you and didn’t make any advances, remaining completely respectful of your boundaries. But no matter how tender and understanding he was, it couldn’t erase what he had done.

No matter how many times he tried to apologize and express how sorry he was, you began to drift away from him. You felt betrayed and nothing he did would change that. This time, it was you who had become a shell of your former self. Like one of those porcelain dolls that people would put on their shelves as a decor. Pretty in every aspect…

…except for the dead eyes that were now representing every dimension of your soul.

[heartfullofleeches]

I need to see Selene having a sweet morning w her neighbor(wife) so bad. She's so cute?? I just wanna see her be happy and making breakfast for/with them while the vibes are good and sleepy. Let this woman get to sleep in and cuddle her lovely neighbor after brutally murdering her husband just the other night

Selene always wanted of a spring wedding.

Beyond being a child of the season, in her eyes it was to be the most romantic - symbolic of the growth between young lovers to lifelong partners. Furthermore, both mother and grandmother had spring weddings - passing their knowledge and the gift of their wedding gown onto the next generation. Its soft emerald hue matched her eyes and the season 0beautifully. She dreamed of walking down the aisle surrounded by love, the cool spring air, and blooming roses.

So why was she here now - cold and without an ounce of love to her name. The artifical bouquet in her hands scratched at the delicate parts of her skin and hair, autumn winds biting her exposed neck and arms. Spring was too much of an inconvenience for her soon to be husband. He hated the outdoors and insects that roamed freely, and so their wedding was set for October in the confines of an old church.

Selene told herself she could be happy. This was meant to be the happiest day of her life and the start of her days as a doting, loving wife, but as she entered the chapel she'd find someone else taking her place. A beautiful soul with a smile that encapsulated everything she loved about spring. Warm and inviting - impossible to forget or ever let go. Dressed in her best, she could never dream be to as angelic as the creature standing up there with her lover. She falls to her knees, begging to be taken instead. To be loved by that angel. To be chains to that demon so he can never hurt them like he's broken her.

"Selene......"

She screams. Take me instead. Take me....

"Ms. Selene!"

Her eyes flutter open. No longer is she crying on the church floor. A gentle hand rubbing her back draws her from slumber, and the remaining tears from her eyes. The stiffness in her spine reminds her of the most uncomfortably comfort night she's had on someone else's couch.

"Ms. Selene, are you okay? You were crying in your sleep when I came to check on you."

Color darkens her pale face as she sits up, deepened by the hand that aids her. "Oh, I'm so sorry, I.... I'm normally not one to dream, and I believe that was the first nightmare I've had in... years.. "

"It's alright, Ms. Selene. You've had a rough night."

Recollection of the night prior barrel through her like a speeding train as she looks up at the face of her savior. She bawled her eyes out at your doorstep, pleading to stay just one night and be gone before down. Her husband had allegedly changed the locks before leaving town and it was too late for her to call anyone else. You offered your home and bed to her as any would do, but she settled for the couch not wanting to be more of a burden than she was.

You give her hand an affirming squeeze - unknowingly kickstarting the beat of her heart. "You have nothing to be sorry for, and you can stay here as long as you need. We'll call a locksmith later so you can get some of your belongings."

It's hard to believe someone that was a stranger only a few short months ago had shown her more kindness than her husband had in all of their years together. Your arm returns to her shoulder as more tears leak from her tired eyes, pulling her into embrace that wash decades of self loathing off her mind. All that lingers in its wake is how she'd kill to spend every morning in your arms - just like this. Even she had to relieve the pain of her past everyday, it would all be worth it to have you.

"Thank you, Y/n. I know we don't know each other well, but words can not describe how luck I am to have you. Without you I don't know where I'd be right now.."

"Ah, don't worry about it. I know you'd do the same for me. Are you hungry?"

She places a hand to her stomach, unsure when the last time she'd eaten. "Seems. Maybe i should make something for us. You've done enough for me already."

"Nah, don't think like that, we can do it together. I have some pancake mix and some fruit in the fridg if that sounds good."

Selene smiles. "That sounds wonderful, dear."

"Cool." Sporting a smile of your own, you lead Selene into the kitchen. You grab a cutting board and knife, placing both on the table as you digging around for the produce in your fridge. Cutting the fruit, Selene has never known more bliss from slicing anything than her husband's throat.

This truly was her new happiest day.

[viktoriaashleyyx]

Helion is a hugger. Fight me. ❤️

This is a pro Tamlin, anti Rhysand self insert revenge fic. All characters belong to SJM, but she wasn't treating them right. Tam x reader, Tam x Rhysands Sister (OC), First person narrative. This will also reference Elucien and Neris in the future but we aren't there yet.

Word Count: 2432 (Hey I figured out Word counts!)

Ch 1

Ch 7 >> Ch 9

Chapter 8:

Tarquin had written back informing us that he has decided to send aid and supplies to help rebuild the western most village. Tamlin traveled out there to meet them this morning right after breakfast. Lucien and I stayed at the manor to discuss the upcoming trip to Day.

“Have you ever met Helion?” I asked Lucien as I entered his office, curiosity getting the best of me. I knew Baron was volatile at his best and wasn't sure if he knew of the rumors or not. I sat a warm cup of tea in front of him at his desk, before taking my seat in one of the ornate chairs in front of him.

“Nope, but I am not unaware of the rumors.” Lucien admitted, ignoring the tea entirely. He was reading over the plans I had drafted to rebuild the eastern village.

“Would you be interested in joining me? Just to see him, face to face,” I was treading carefully. I couldn’t read Lucien's mood. He put down the papers and sat back in his chair, finally looking at me.

“I have spent my life feeling like a bastard, watching Baron's cruelty towards my mother. He was cruel to my brother's but it always seemed like I got the worst of it. I could never do anything right, even as a child. The thought of having a different father entirely is a scary one. What if he doesn't see it and doesn't want anything to do with me?” He said coldly.

“Oh, but what if he does?” I offered him a soft, hopeful smile. Lucien's eyes lit up for just a second.

“I have never allowed myself to even dream of what a father's love might look like. I wouldn't know what to do with it. I am just the 7th son of Autumn.”

“But heir to Day,” I sang. “You glow when you're upset. And if the rumors are true, that Helion and your mother are mates, that would explain why you were able to hold on so long, long enough for Thorin to revive you. Children born of mates will always be inherently stronger and more powerful.”

“It's hard to hold on to that hope. It would be nice, but like most things in my life, it just paves the way for more disappointment and heartbreak. I do appreciate, however, that you are the first person to have ever discussed it with me directly.” Lucien’s demeanor softened slightly.

“Sometimes, just talking about things that weigh heavily on you can help ease the burden.” I replied. “With Tamlin busy in the western village, I know he would appreciate that I didn't travel alone. And who better to ask than the male he trusts the most?”

Lucien smiled, “well, how can I say no to such a flattering request.”

I returned the smile, “thank you.”

“And since you brought it up, who was the.. guy.. that revived me? Thorin? What is the story with him?” Lucien prodded. “He looked a lot like Tamlin.”

I giggled. “He is a friend I made shortly after arriving in Azeroth. He showed me the laws of the lands and introduced me to their way of life. He is what they call a Night elf, and a druid. We had an… arrangement.” I answered with a cheeky grin. “We kept the communication open, he knew about Tamlin and that my ultimate goal was to return home. I still love him, he is a good friend and he's always treated me with respect and I, him. Love doesn’t always have to last forever for it to mean something. ”

“Now that I know of Elain, I don't know if I could ever sleep with someone else.”

“And that is a fair decision, one made with respect to your own feelings. For me, sex can be as meaningless or as meaningful as you make it. I can sleep with someone just for fun, and as long as all parties consent and are on the same page, there isn't generally a problem.”

“How does Tamlin feel about this?”

“We haven't discussed it in depth yet, but he knows I have had other lovers just like he has. He can't be too mad at me considering my last lover saved your life and his last lover ended in the destruction of our court. Communication, even, no, especially the hard stuff, is important to maintaining friendships and avoiding enemies.”

“So, if I am attracted to someone else, even considering Elain exists, I'm not a bad person as long as I communicate?”

“And set agreed upon boundaries, yes.” I assured him. “But the situation with the sisters does confuse me. Mating bonds are rare, Tamlin and I had known eachother since childhood and I was still 50 years of age before it snapped into place. They are all in their 20s. I know humans mature at a faster rate than us, and they were considered to be of age by human standards before being ‘turned fae’ but that doesn't change the fact that they have only been alive for 20 ish years. And all of them have a mate? If I were to give you any advice, let Elain live. Let her know you will come if she needs you, remain close and protect her, but she is going to make stupid and selfish decisions, we all have, allow her that. Allow her to grow up and don't take anything she does personally. She is incredibly young.”

“That makes a lot of sense, and is comforting in a way.” Lucien thought aloud. “I do sometimes feel…” he shook his head, “She doesn’t want me,” softly whispered under his breath.

“Tamlin shared his memories of that day with me. What she went through was horrendously tragic. Is it possible she is just mourning the life she lost? Give her the benefit of the doubt. Do things that make you happy in the meantime. Heal and become the best version of yourself so that if, and when, she comes to you, she gets the best version of you.” I said it as a matter of fact. “Can I ask you something weird?” I could tell he was getting uncomfortable with the turn this conversation took, so I decided to change the subject.

“Sure, go for it”

“You were in that room with me, my brother and Tamlin, am I misinterpreting the amount of.. tension.. there was? If you know what I mean.”

Lucien blushed, hard, and looked away, a growing smile on his face. “Yes,” he couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity, “almost a century ago, they thought they were subtle, but most of us knew.”

I laughed loudly, “he fucked my brother.” I couldn't contain it anymore.

“Please don't tell him I told you,” Lucien scolded lightly, holding back laughter himself, “And don't hold it against him.”

“I won't,” I said through laughs, “it's kind of flattering in a weird way.”

We finished our tea and prepped the last items we would need. I made sure to have the parchment with the spell in my pocket. “Are you ready? I don't want to be late.” Lucien sounded like he was giving me an order. I was slightly shocked but chalked it up to nerves. It seems I had said exactly what he needed to hear.

“Yes, I just have to do one thing real quick.” I opened a portal to the western village. I wanted to give Tamlin a kiss goodbye and let him know we were leaving.

Tamlin was carrying a stack of lumber over his shoulder, face flushed and chest glistening with sweat. I admired, even as a High Lord, how he was willing to get his hands dirty to help his people. “If you could do this, why did I spend all morning traveling here?” Tamlin asked, breaking the kiss.

I giggled. “You didn't ask me to, I figured you would enjoy the run.” I smiled innocently and gave him one last kiss before portaling back to Lucien.

♡♡♡♡♡

“Okay, ready now.” I grabbed Lucien's hand and portaled us to right outside the Day court castle. “Nervous?”

“Absolutely.”

“I'll be right here.” I whispered to Lucien then addressed the guards, “I have a meeting with the High Lord Helion.”

♡♡♡♡

“There she is, the beautiful Lady of Sp—” Helion's thunderous voice rang out before he caught sight of the male at my side. I've heard it is difficult to render the High Lord of Day speechless. They just stared at each other for a minute, before Helion spoke again, much softer this time. “You look so much like your mother..”

Lucien was frozen, I squeezed his hand in silent encouragement. “This is Lucien, my escort for today.” Neither of them heard me.

“I had heard the rumors, I could never find a way to reach you, or your mother, without putting her in harm's way.” Helion whispered, staring intensely at his son's face, then proceeded to pull Lucien in for a tight embrace. It took a few seconds but Lucien dropped my hand and held him back. “My son.”

I had no idea what to do with myself, I felt a tear escape, but I did not want to draw attention by attempting to leave. I could not ruin this moment for them. They both had dreamed and feared this day for nearly 300 years.

A few moments later Helion broke the hug, keeping one hand on Lucien's shoulder, “Look at you, a perfect blend of your mother and I.” He then turned to me, “you have brought me my son, this is the greatest kindness anyone has ever shown me, whatever you want, it's yours.”

“But I had a whole speech prepared.”

As the males took their seats in the meeting room, I just stared at my worst enemy. A throne. No, not a real throne, it's just what I just call the kind of seats with a high back and arm rests. In Tarquins meeting room I could just turn the chair sideways, but I can't in this case. “Do you happen to have a seat available that possibly doesn't have a back?” I asked, twitching my wing.

Helion let out a boisterous laugh, “of course, Lady, I hadn't considered that. The other illyrians I've met don't seem to have a problem with them.” He sent one of his men to fetch me a soft plush ottoman.

“Perfect, thank you.”

“So you wanted to discuss aid to rebuild Spring, is that correct?”

“Yes, but also, since my letter I must inform you that the Night court has committed an act of war. My brother attempted to assassinate the Emmasary of Spring, a son of Autumn and… the Heir to Day. Had I not stepped in your son would've been dead by Rhysands hand. Given they border you to the North, I figured it was pertinent information.”

“Spring has saved my life on multiple occasions” Lucien finally spoke.

“Well, it seems I am indebted to you then.” Helion looked at me.

“She doesn't like to hear that.” Lucien interjected. I just smiled and cocked my head as if to say ‘Lucien is right.’

We talked for a while, I gave Helion the same spell I gave Tarquin and he seemed shocked.

“Where did you find this? This is mighty impressive.” Helion proclaimed looking over the document. He looked to truly understand the weight this spell would have on the future of Prythia as a whole.

“I studied at the libraries of Aretuza for many years while in exile. I hear your libraries are also great. Once we get a handle on the Night court, I would love to spend some time here, if that is okay with you.”

“Sky, you are always welcome.” Helion gushed, looking up to me, then shifting his eyes to Lucien, and back to the parchment.

We spent the rest of the afternoon into the evening being shown the stunning architecture and cities of the Day court. I tried multiple times to take my leave and let Lucien and Helion catch up, but Helion kept pulling me back in. We sampled the sweet wines and toured a few of the libraries in the castle. Helion asked Lucien no less than a thousand questions about his interests, upbringing, skill set, and tastes. Lucien confided in Helion regarding his feelings about Elain, and shared stories of his travels. Typical father and son bonding that they both have missed sorely. I tried not to eavesdrop, and wasn't entirely sure where I fit in, but Helion was great at drawing me back into the conversation with a “Sky, what do you think about this?” Thinking of it after the fact, the playful banter we all three had going on could’ve been them flirting with me. Eh, it went over my head at the time.

As the sun began to set over the horizon, it was most definitely time to head on home. While Helion left the room to, most likely, fetch us another bottle of wine, I pulled Lucien aside, “I need to be leaving soon, if he offers, would you like to stay here for a while, or come back with me?”

“I would like to return with you, thank you for asking,” Lucien responded sincerely, “I need some time to think, all of this is getting a little overwhelming. In a good way, if that makes sense. I just feel I need some time to breathe and process everything.”

“I completely understand.” I reassured him.

When Helion returned we thanked him for his kindness and bid our farewells. He advised that he would send aid and craftsmen to assist in rebuilding the eastern villages. I made something up about Lucien being needed at the Spring court and he pulled his son in for another hug. “Come back soon, please.” Helion said as he broke the hug, holding eye contact. Lucien just nodded and smiled. I portaled us back to the foyer of the manor.

Just as soon as I stepped foot onto the tile floor, I was hoisted up and thrown over a broad shoulder. I screamed, playfully.

“Lucien, welcome back. I would love to hear all about how it went… tomorrow,” Tamlin wrapped his free arm around Lucien's shoulders briefly, “Sweet dreams, but I am stealing this one back now.” And he began carrying me up the stairs to our bedroom.

“Put me down!!” I played along, softly punching my fists against his back.

“Nope, I've missed you. It's my turn for your attention.” he teased.

Tag list: @ladythornofrivia @rcarbo1 @rin-u-pos @knoxic @lilah-asteria @littlefantasylover @julesvanslutta