#He's cursed for all eternity and beyond.

[cyarsk52-20]

Why? He would have killed Celie eventually. so no, and never

[scorpieuns]

GIRLS NEED LOVE | PARK SUNGHOON

summary: you can’t seem to listen when your best friend says her older brother is off limits.

word count: 3.2k

warnings (18+): smut. fluff (if you squint lmfao). swearing. alcohol. kissing. nipple play, fingering (f. receiving).

MINORS DNI!!

A/N: back again after my usual cycle of deleting and remaking accounts here (hopefully this is my last lol). edited and remade this just in case it sounds familiar!

The summer heat was relentless tonight, a thick, suffocating blanket that clung to your skin and refused to let go. You tossed and turned beneath the light sheets, frustration building with every huff of breath.

The air was humid, making it impossible to slumber. Despite having your eyes shut for what felt like an eternity, sleep remained elusive, teasing you from just beyond reach.

You’d like to think there were other reasons besides the warmth of the summer evening that had you feeling hot and bothered. The muffled hum of cicadas outside droned on, an irritating cacophony that seeped through the walls, mingling with the soft snores of your best friend beside you.

But, it wasn’t really the noise that kept you awake—it was the swirling thoughts in your mind, each one pulling you deeper into a mixtape of memories you wished would stay buried.

Your brain, ever the tormentor, delighted in replaying moments you’d rather forget. Moments that belonged in the past, locked away and never to be revisited.

You wanted to blame the events at Jake’s party on the alcohol—specifically that cursed, yet sinfully good, cherry vodka Jay made.

It was the vodka, after all, that led you to kiss your best friend’s brother in the first place.

At least, that’s what you wanted to believe. It was the alcohol…it had to be the alcohol.

It wasn’t the fact that you had a raging crush on him for months. If anything, it was his fault. Sunghoon was the one who escaped from the party to join you. Somehow letting aimless conversation fall into enamoured glances, droning about how pretty you looked that night.

He was the one who slid his hands around your waist and pulled you closer, lips ghosting over yours and pleading to kiss you.

Passionately. Feverishly. Hungrily.

Your eyes snapped open with a frustrated sigh, the darkness of the room doing little to calm the rapid thrum of your heart as you sat up. The memory of Thursday night played vividly in your mind, leaving your chest tight and your thoughts tangled.

Since that night, you hadn’t seen much of Sunghoon, his summer job at the beach keeping him occupied while you and Sooah roamed the town, searching for anything to distract yourselves from the blistering heat.

A part of you was relieved not to see him since Thursday night. You preferred the silence over the possibility of hearing him downplay what happened, blaming it on ‘party spirit’ or the alcohol.

With a sigh, you slipped out of bed, your feet softly padding across the carpeted floor as you made your way out of the room.

Maybe a midnight snack would help ease your restless mind, you thought, as you quietly descended the stairs, the faint glow from the living room spilled onto the wooden floor signalling that you weren’t the only one awake tonight.

But, preoccupied with the sole quest to sleep, you brush it aside, entering the dimly lit kitchen and making a beeline for the fridge.

When you open the fridge you close your eyes with a sigh, the feeling of the cold breeze hitting your skin making you feel a thousand times better.

“Can’t sleep?” Sunghoon’s voice tickling the shell of your ear startles you, slightly jumping with a stifled scream. “What the hell?!” You whisper yell, “don’t sneak up on people like that!” You chide, clutching your heart in an attempt to regain your composure.

Sunghoon’s smirk grows into a smile, seemingly humoured with scaring you shitless and you roll your eyes at him. It only takes a few seconds to notice how close he is to you, swallowing thickly as your eyes scanned his appearance.

Nothing but a pair of sweatpants and white socks…great, he was shirtless.

“I don’t think I will sleep anytime soon, thanks to you.” You grumbled in response to his question, awarding yourself for not sparing another glance at his naked upper half.

“Oh come on princess, it wasn’t that bad.” You roll your eyes again before returning to the fridge, trying not to mull over the nickname he had just given you.

You could feel Sunghoon’s gaze remain fixed on you, studying you intently, until he eventually turned his attention to the fridge. You felt as though he could feel the heat radiating from your skin as he moved closer— the gentle breaths escaping his lips and teasing the hairs on your neck, causing you to shiver.

You quickly emerge from the little world of the icy machine, settling with the first thing you see to avoid being with him in such closeness—which is a simple vanilla bean yoghurt.

The tension in the air feels painfully thick and awkward, and you silently mutter prayers in hopes that he leaves the minute he finds what he’s looking for— but he doesn't.

Sunghoon emerges with an energy drink, the crisp sound of the can opening cutting through the white noise. He effortlessly leans against the marble counter, taking a slow deliberate sip of the drink, Adam's apple rising and falling as he swallows. As he pulls the can away, he casually wipes his bottom lip with his thumb, gaze locking onto you again.

Your yoghurt suddenly looks really interesting, reading the indecipherable scientific words in the ingredient list and immersing yourself in the brand's origin story, all in an effort to avoid the intense presence of the guy in front of you.

“We should talk about Thursday night.” Your heart sinks in dread. Your face begins to burn and you nervously clear your throat, “talk about what?”

“You know what Y/N.” He says, stepping closer to you. Sunghoon settles the sweaty can onto the counter, surveilling your surroundings before he lowers his voice, “So you’re just gonna pretend like you don’t remember?”

You finally glance at the guy, whose brown eyes are already boring into your soul, searching for any sort of answer in your stoic expression. You swallow thickly as you revisit Thursday night’s events for the umpteenth time and it all still feels like a dream.

The way Sunghoon kissed you in a way that left you breathless, hands gripping your waist so tight as though you’d slip away any second.

You clearly remembered it as though it were yesterday, the tingling sensation of his fingertips on your skin, the scent of his cologne filling the air, the lustrous look in his eyes when he pulled away, only to have you lean in for more.

You indeed did kiss your best friend's brother.

“Sunghoon.” You sigh, "Can't we just put it behind us? We weren't in the right state of mind,"

Sunghoon shook his head with a frustrated sigh, leaving his spot beside you and positioning himself in front of you. His hands gripped the edge of the counter on either side of you, effectively trapping you and preventing your escape.

“Y/N, both of us know that isn’t true.” Sunghoon pauses and your breath gets caught in your throat when his hand meets your cheek, his cold touch sending delightful shivers down your spine.

"Are you honestly telling me that didn't hold any meaning for you?" His voice was low, almost tinged with frustration.

You finally look away, unable to keep the nerve-wracking eye contact but Sunghoon makes a sound of disapproval, his hand swiftly moving to your chin and turning you to meet his face again.

He emits a hum, eyebrows raised and anticipating a response, and your mouth opens, but you struggle to articulate any kind of excuse.

You hate just how much you dwindle under Sunghoon’s presence, hoping that he can’t hear the hammering of your heart, along with the nervous breaths that slip past your lips whenever he looks at you.

“Well it did for me.”

“I liked it.” He shrugs, leaning in, dimples denting his cheeks with a knowing smirk when he catches the way your body reacts.

“And I’d give anything to feel those lips again” He admits desperately, voice below a whisper. You can only let out a shaky breath as Sunghoon’s thumb toys with the plump flesh of your bottom lip, slowly inching closer to him and finally closing the gap between you two.

Kissing Sunghoon feels just like the first time, an electrifying sensation coursing through your body, with your heart pounding so loudly that it could reverberate off the kitchen walls. It's like a breath of fresh air, a mixture of exhilaration, longing and relief washing over you.

You sigh, hands finding his face as he kisses back, desperately leaning into the kiss as he matches your fervour, hands slipping to your waist and pulling you closer as if there were still some distance to bridge between you. Your hands wind around his neck, fingers tangling in his dark hair, pulling his face closer as the passionate kisses gradually blend into a makeout session.

The sounds of kissing fill the room, the fridge’s hums doing nothing to drown the rather lewd sounds out. Sunghoon breaks away from you, his breathing uneven. His cheeks carry a faint blush, and his hair is a cute mess.

It takes everything in you not to gravitate back to the solace of his soft and pretty lips and you’re taken aback, nearly letting out a surprised yelp when his hands swiftly reach for the back of your thighs, effortlessly lifting you up and placing you onto the chilly surface of the marble countertop.

You’re now at eye-level and without warning, he is back on your lips, hands finding themselves under the thin material of your tank top and the cold metal of his rings against your flaming skin make your arch your back reflexively.

He pulls away, teeth softly tugging your bottom lip, with a breathy groan before he moves your jawline, sloppy open mouthed kisses travelling down your neck, sucking and nipping at the delicate skin, softly whimpering and sighing as the sensation blurred any rational thought that was left in your mind.

His hand slipped past your sternum, over your flimsy tank top and under it, brushing over your hot skin and on landing your breast, giving the flesh a soft squeeze.

Sunghoon’s lips follow suit, lips gliding over your collarbone before lifting your shirt up and attaching his lips to your nipple without warning, soft moans filling the quiet room as his tongue swipes over the erect bud.

Your fingers weaved in his soft hair, tugging on it as he moved to the other, kissing, nipping and sucking, the feeling snowballing the ache between your legs.

He finally pulled away with a ‘pop’, glancing back at your clouded state, eyebrows furrowed and bottom lip between your teeth.

“You’re so, so fucking beautiful.” Sunghoon groans, gently grabbing your face, kissing you messily. His hands glide to your hips, lips moving sloppily and hungrily against yours.

His pulls you closer to his body, legs hooked around his waist and that’s when you feel it, something hard poking the inside of your inner thigh and when you pull yourself closer, it perfectly hits your aching cunt, a dizzying wave of pleasure coursing through you, your moans being swallowed by mouth— and you can tell you’re not the only one who feels this way when you hear Sunghoon’s lewd groans.

You can't help but subconsciously roll your hips against him, grabbing at his waist and looking for some kind of friction– chasing the same feeling of pleasure that you felt before. You shamelessly moan at the lovely feeling of his clothed dick hitting you in the right spot, only making you more impatient and needy.

Sunghoon’s low moans make your stomach flip, and you want to hear more of them but he stops—pulling away from your lips and gripping your waist so tightly you're sure it would leave a bruise.

“If you keep doing that, I’ll have to fuck you on the counter.” He warns, but you can’t take it seriously, not when his voice is so breathy and raspy.

“Then do it.” You whine, begging the man to throw you onto the counter like a rag doll and fuck you into oblivion.

But he only shakes his head, hands cupping your flushed cheeks, “I still want to make you feel good.” Sunghoon presses a soft kiss on your swollen lips.

His fingers tug the waistband of your shorts, and you lift yourself up as he swiftly removes them— the warmth of your skin meeting the contrasting marble. “As much as I’d love to hear your pretty moans, try to be quiet, alright?” You nod quickly, impatient and desperate for him to just touch you already.

You suck in your stomach with a quiet gasp when his fingers trail across the smooth skin of your thighs, “So soft…” He mumbled against your lips, hands sliding to the inside of your thighs, higher…higher, until his fingers find their way to your underwear toying with its lacy hem, before reaching the place where you need him most.

You inhale sharply, almost failing to hold back a moan when he finally touches your clothed clit, fingers rubbing over the wet fabric. You’re almost embarrassed by how quickly you lean into his touch, inaudibly yearning for more.

“Fuck Hoon.” You breathe out, hands covering your mouth, muffling your needy moans as he traced over the wet spot in circular motions, whimpering every time his thumb

“You’re so wet.” Sunghoon hisses, bottom lip between his teeth as he stares at you, eyes dark and pupils slightly blown.

“Shit, is this all for me?” Sunghoon's velvety whispers against your lips seem so far away as your eyes flutter shut, “Sunghoon, please.” You manage to whimper out, hands meeting his naked chest.

“Please what?” He hums, feigning obliviousness and you groan, feeling your pride slowly wither away. “I…I need you.” You whined. “So bad.”

“Yeah?” Sunghoon coaxed and you nodded desperately, a smirk creeping onto his lips that you wished you could wipe off— if it wasn’t for the pent up sexual frustration you felt and its fate lying in his hands…literally.

He wasted no time meeting your pleas, dragging the fabric to the side as fingers slid against your slick glistening folds, hand flying to your mouth and head falling back at the newfound pleasure coursing through you.

Your other hand gripped his shoulders, nails digging into the skin of his back and earning a hiss from Sunghoon’s lips. His fingers easily slip into your hole, your arousal more than enough to let his fingers move with his ease— and you feel like you’re seeing stars.

“Fuck” A choked moan slips past your lips with a gasp, hand falling limp– overwhelmed with pleasure. “You like that baby?” Sunghoon coos, and you only hum in content, breaths coming in hitches as Sunghoon worked his fingers inside of you, pumping in and out at a satisfying and rhythmic pace.

Holding in your moans was getting harder and he could tell, watching your face contort in frustration and both pleasure, surprised your lips hadn’t started bleeding from biting too hard.

“...feels so good” You manage to let out, half lidded eyes meeting the man before you, practically enamoured by your presence. “I d-don’t think I can...fuck” You choked out. “Come on baby, I know you can take it.” Sunghoon’s words almost send you over the edge. Your head lulls forwards, mouth falling agape as strings of curses spill out of your lips.

As though he wanted to taunt you, you felt his thumb press onto your swollen clit, letting out a shocked and rather loud moan into the air. “Sunghoon-” You moaned, lips pursed together as you tried to compose yourself, but you were already falling apart.

The obscene noises of your drenched cunt and your choked moans and whimpers fill the kitchen, feeling your face grow warm. You hide your face in the crook of his neck and you hear Sunghoon chuckle, leaning back and lifting your head with fingers holding your face, “Come on baby, I wanna see your beautiful face when I make you come.”

Sunghoon could feel your legs beginning to tremble, as your walls fluttered around his fingers, chest heaving and soft moans becoming just a pitch higher.

His fingers quicken its pace, curving at an angle that seems to send you over the moon, failing to hold back your moans as he moves faster.

Afraid of another slip up, Sunghoon lips meet yours, swallowing your broken moans that can’t be helped as you near your high. An aching intense feeling begins to brew at the pit of your abdomen, driving your nails down the skin of his chest undoubtedly leaving a mark.

You cry his name out, followed by a mutter of profanities as you finally come around his fingers. “So beautiful.” He whispers, hand meeting your face as his thumb brushes the tears coating your lashes. He presses a gentle kiss on your parted lips— still a bit lightheaded to return it, slowly coming down from your high.

Sunghoon’s fingers finally slip out, a broken mewl leaving your lips at the lost feeling. He takes the liberty of cleaning his fingers with his tongue, heat rushing to your face as hums at the taste of you.

“What?” Sunghoon’s shrugs, “You taste good.” He smirks, hands finding the mess of your hair and pulling you into his lips, the kiss softer and more saccharine than the ones before.

You can still feel something poking your leg and your eyes flicker down to Sunghoon’s sweatpants, but before you can say anything, you hear the sound of a door click open upstairs and you and Sunghoon both exchange a look of alarm and horror.

The sound of Sooah’s voice sends you two in a frenzy, Sunghoon helping you slide off the counter as you pull down your shirt and scramble for your shorts.

“Y/N?” She calls out, feet pattering against the wooden stairs, as she descends to the first floor.

You both grab your long forgotten midnight snacks, settling yourself on a chair across from Sunghoon while he stands behind the counter…rightfully so.

When Sooah enters the kitchen, she thankfully doesn’t speculate anything, you two are both glued to your phones, scrolling on some sort of social media platform.

“Sooah, hey!”

“Hey…I was wondering where you went.” She smiled at you before her eyes flickered to her brother, exchanging their usual sibling formalities by grimacing at each other.

“I just came down for a snack, that's all.” You smiled, trying to conceal the mild shakiness of your voice.

Instead she moves closer to you, hands brushing your stray hairs into place, “Okay, well…I’ll see you upstairs.” And with that she leaves the kitchen.

Both of you let out sighs of relief, glancing at one another. Your face feels hot again, and you rise to your feet, a slight tremble in your thighs.

“I should…probably head back too.” You sigh, nodding your head upstairs.

“Oh! Yeah, right.”

The ceiling light highlights the rosy hue flushed on Sunghoon’s cheeks, his messy hair and plump lips, flashing you one of his pretty smiles, “I’ll see you later princess.”

As you leave the kitchen, Sunghoon fights the urge to pull you in for just one more kiss. His eyes linger until you disappear from view, and with a soft sigh, he runs his hands through his dark hair.

Now how was he going to fix his hard-on ?

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hi!! could I request Argenti, Boothill and Jing Yuan when someone tries to flirt with their s/o? I absolutely adore your writing btw!! Hope you're doing good!!

Boothill

Has a bullet with their name written on it and it was in times like theses where he wishes his shit hadn’t been tampered with, just so he could curse the bastard out for merely brushing shoulders either you.

Words such as:

Mother fudger

Heck

And Gosh darn it

Weren’t exactly going to scare the person flirting with you off with their tail between their legs but threatening to shot them would. However after the person had scampered off, Boothill would be subjected to you scolding him about threatening people for simply flirting with you, when there were other ways to do so without the inclusion of unnecessary violence.

Boothill can’t help it! He hates it when people flirt with his darling and he isn’t one for sharing you either, he’d much rather hog all of your time and attention for himself! You were his partner! Not everyone else’s!

‘Boothill.’ You said warningly.

‘What?’ He said as he tugged you into his side, keeping his arm at your waist possessively. ‘He was getting a little too cosy and I had to remind that fudging idiot to keep his hands to himself.’ He adds with a smirk, stealing a kiss from your lips.

His jealously stems from his own hatred towards his metal body, you could find someone else who could feel you in your entirety beyond from their face and head, unlike him.

‘I get that and I thank you for running them off, but you know you don’t have to worry about me looking at anyone else.’ You reassured him as you held his face in your hands and watched as his smile falters and his featured relaxed into your touch. ‘You’re all I want, you’re all i’ll ever need regardless of your inability to physically feel.’ You then pressed your forehead against his, feeling him push himself further against you in a selfish need to feel you. ‘You’re my handsome, handsome cowboy.’ You whispered.

‘I am your handsome, handsome cowboy.’ He muttered under his breath.

Argenti

He’s not jealous in the slightest.

He’s the most trusting in the strength of your relationship and you to even allow for an ounce of doubt to permeate his thoughts.

If anything he’d agree with everything the person was saying about you while adding onto it, making the person feel as though their attempts at flirting with you were useless, especially when the cherry haired knight beside you was casually waxing poetry on your ethereal beauty.

‘Indeed they are a beauty to behold indeed.’ He’d say as he knelt before you and held your hands in his all the while making sure his eyes remained glued on you as he spoke. ‘I’d kneel before their alter for the rest of eternity if it meant achieving the impossible and catching their gaze, they truly are my reason for breathing, the reason I see beauty whenever I travel, as they are the true beauty I have been seeking for my whole life.’ He finishes by kissing the back of your hands softly, his thumbs caressing the skin there as though they were porcelain.

The person who was flirting with you left not long after because how could they compare with that?!

All they said was that you were cute and Argenti took that and made you come across as though you were a deity lost to time, finally having been found after so long.

They knew they couldn’t win and left for easier people to pull their mediocre pick up lines on.

Argenti is your Gomez, you are his Morticia. There was no one getting between you two because the love you had was stronger than most.

Jealousy doesn’t exist when you actually trust someone whom you claim is half of your own soul.

Jing yuan

He finds the face they make upon realising who’s s/o they’ve been flirting with particularly funny to be even remotely jealous.

Not to say that he doesn’t get jealous, he does but it’s not nearly as evident. He’s self assured in his relationship with you that he didn’t even think of the person flirting with you as a threat even in the slightest.

‘I’m sorry to interrupt your riveting conversation but I’d like my partner back now.’ He’d say as he stood behind the person flirting with you.

‘Look buddy I found them,’ the person looked behind them, and upon realising who was behind them, the words of annoyance were quickly discarded as they could only stare at a smiling Jing Yuan, ‘first…’

Jing yuan raised his brows as the Cheshire smile on his lips only grew at the evident regret across their face. ‘Hmmm? Cat got your tongue? You seem a bit pale, maybe you should go sit down and rest.’ He suggested and watched in amusement as the person didn’t fight back, but instead wordlessly followed his instruction and walked away for you both to go somewhere else.

‘You’re having too much fun with this.’ You’d tell Jing Yuan as he placed a hand on the small of your back and guided you out of the establishment.

‘What can I say, their expressions may be the same every time but that doesn’t stop them from being more humorous than the last.’ He replies with a chuckle as he presses a tender kiss to your forehead. ‘However I cannot blame them for finding you as appealing as I do if they’re so desperate as to flirt for your attention.’ He adds and you huff and crossed your arms. ‘As if you were any different.’

Jing yuan raised his brows, silently telling you to continue.

‘When you wanted my attention, you would sit next to me and rest your head on my shoulder before falling asleep.’ You added and Jing yuan chuckles. ‘I didn’t-‘

‘All. The. Time.’ You cut him off, emphasising each word that left your mouth. ‘Yangqing told me that you only did that to me, no one else got that special treatment from the all mighty general.’ You smirked at Jing Yuan who muttered a soft ‘Yangqing.’ under his breath as you held onto his side. ‘It doesn’t matter now because I thought it was extremely cute.’ You reassured him with a kiss to the cheek as you both walked home, tucked closely against one another, the events that happened prior having completely been forgotten as you reminisced the past.

[utterlyotterlyx]

Sweet Creature

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary - The bond snaps after a rather brutal breakup, and after witnessing you with another Vanserra, Azriel is trying to find a way to avoid being hurt once again.

Warnings - fluff, angst, pining, swearing, unrequited love, heartbreak, sad Az, happy ending (yay!)

Word count - 8.4k (oops)

Based on this ask

It had become so intense in the House of Wind that you had little to no choice in moving yourself to the River House. Between Nesta and Cassian's bustling sex life and the constant bickering arguments between Azriel and Elain, you decided that you needed some peace.

And fast.

Rhys had welcomed you at the door that day, his sort-of sister in arms surrounded by brown leather bags that he could almost envision you launching down the House of Wind steps just to escape as fast as possible. Flipping him off and smirking at his chuckle, you slipped around his form stood in the doorway and headed right to Nyx who was more than thrilled to see you, babbling incoherently and grabbing for you the moment you were in eyeshot.

"I take it that it's getting a bit loud over there?" Rhys turned to you, his shirt half unbuttoned and hands burrowed into his pockets. He was lucky. To have a mate and a child. To not have to live with the band of animals currently residing in the Night Court's most opulent residence.

"How am I supposed to get anything done wedged between that lot?" Nyx smiled at your cooing, lapping up all of your love and affection, "I'd much rather be here with my favourite prince."

Within minutes, your bags were taken upstairs by Rhys who was grumbling to himself about never being able to have any peace to which you blissfully quipped that you'd be out of his hair the moment he bought you a lavish apartment in the city. It wasn't as if he couldn't afford it after all.

Your position within the Inner Circle was irreplaceable. Not only were you Rhys' childhood best friend, the only one he could truly depend on before Cassian and Azriel flew into the picture, but you were also known as a witch. A powerful celestial being that had the capability to destroy and create as you saw fit with an affinity to sky and water magic.

The scales could have tilted in the wrong direction had you truly taken up Amarantha's offer to be her pet, the only reason you had confined yourself to that chamber Under The Mountain was to make sure that Rhys survived, and you played your part well, just as you always had.

A break was needed, the air in the House of Wind was almost suffocating, and no amount of your power was able to drown it. Elain was spending more time with Lucien, her mate, and Azriel was not happy about it considering that they were meant to be in a committed relationship. The barking insults and shouting had become too much to bare, so intense that your own power was itching for release in order to silence them for at least a couple of minutes.

"They're going to break up, aren't they?" Rhys certainly wouldn't be the first to tell Azriel I told you so, but he'd certainly be thinking it when the Shadowsinger would inevitably return to the River House just like you had to escape the nightmare of his life.

Humming softly, sadly, you looked up at Rhys, your godson in your arms resting his head on your chest, "I think so. Az hasn't been himself lately."

It was true, your friend had become a shell of himself, wallowing in self-loathing and doubt, and you cursed Elain eternally for turning him into such a thing. How anyone could hurt Azriel was beyond your scope of realisation, he was perfect in every way, devoted, kind, caring, and definitely a force to be reckoned with in the bedroom if your ears served you right.

Being attracted to Azriel was a natural bodily response, you had told yourself at least, it was difficult to not want to jump the bones of the illustrious Shadowsinger who kept a watchful eye on your every step. Like he was waiting for his moment to swoop in and save you.

But you had never needed saving, and you never would.

Elain and you had never really gotten along, it wasn't as though you hadn't tried to be friendly with the Made sister, she just couldn't stand to be around you. Maybe her own abilities clashed with yours, perhaps she was terrified of you. You couldn't blame her, the idea of you was one that stalked travellers and gifted nightmares to the young.

A celestial witch. In the flesh.

Anyone who knew you well enough would be able to dispel any wrongful intent, but Elain was not one of those people.

"I did warn him," Rhys' finger drifted to hook itself around Nyx's outstretched hand, and he shook it gently as he continued on, "A mating bond is not something to get entangled with."

"Az needs us to be his friends right now, Rhys. A breakup on its own is awful, but when it's so close, when he's been waiting so long for it, it's bound to hurt."

A firm hand on your shoulder comforted you, you knew how tough it must be for Azriel to go through it, after how painful it was to hold out hoping that he would be enough to suddenly not be, "I know, Witchling," you scoffed at the nickname as you always had and always would, Rhys pressed a dainty kiss into your hair, like a brother to a newly born sister, "Whatever he needs, I'm here, and so are you."

If you had known what awaited you that week, you'd take the telling words back in a second.

Like you had guessed, Azriel moved back into the River House, residing in his own room across the hall from your own. And boy, was he a raincloud if you ever did see one. Even his shadows looked solemn, and they didn't have faces. Azriel looked positively awful, constantly messy hair, large bags of onyx that imprinted onto the skin beneath his usually warm hazel eyes that had turned into nothing but dark pools of heartbroken sadness.

In the night, you had heard him crying, you'd stood outside of his door, not saying a word, but hoping that he knew that someone was there for him even if he didn't want them to be.

You had tried to talk to him, to coax him out of his haze by offering to train with him, or walk with him along the banks of the Sidra, you'd even asked him if beating your ass whilst you wore a mask of Lucien would bring a smile to his face. Unfortunately, everything you had tried had failed you, and you were at a loss as to help your friend.

"Honestly Rhys, how do you reach anything in here?" Rhys was hovering in the doorway, eyebrow raised with delight as he watched you try and scale the countertops to reach the top shelf of the cupboard.

There were chocolate chips for your cookies up there, and they had your name all over them.

"It's not my fault you're not Illyrian," his eyes darkened into a smirk, "Why don't you just hop onto your broomstick and fly?"

Even a silent Azriel emitted a gasp from his place on the opposite side of the centre island. If there was one thing you hated, it was being likened to the witches children sang about in their storybooks. It offended you how utterly unalike you were, and it made you seethe when someone, usually Rhys or Cassian, would use that hatred to rile you up.

"Oh," you stood on the countertop, towering over the High Lord by a few mere inches, "Is that why all of the doorways are so wide? Because your fat fucking head needs all the room it can get?"

Rhys stood speechless before you, the room fell silent.

Then a laugh.

Not yours of Rhys', you had to check it wasn't you making any noise before your eyes landed on the owner of the most joyful thing you'd heard in weeks.

A smile. Curled parted lips as a howling laugh ripped through them. Azriel's shadows danced to the sound, and his body shook with it. You could have cried, but you kept it together, you choked down your happiness to witness the momentary return of the one who meant the most to you.

It was no secret that you used to be Azriel's favourite. There was nothing that the two of you wouldn't do together, even if it was a medial task like taking you to the bakery or finding you a new Starfall dress that would make Mor dim in comparison. Azriel was always happy to come along. Until Elain, and then you had stopped seeing another, you'd drifted so far apart that he didn't even properly greet you anymore, all you were adorned with was a curt nod and tight lipped smile before Elain would whisk him away.

The male in front of you was nothing like that one, not in that singular glimmer of hope at least. Once his laughter died down, and a serene smile planted itself on his lips, Azriel opened his eyes and moved them to you, they glowed with something you couldn't quite understand, and then they widened. His eyes faltered. His smile faded.

Azriel gasped.

"Mate."

Darting your line of sight to Rhys, you pointed at him, flickering your gaze back to Azriel who had rose from his seat "Him?"

Rhys swatted your finger away, "I'm mated, y/n," Rhys glanced between you and took a step backward.

"So?" It couldn't be. Not right now. Not now.

"I can't do this," Azriel was struggling to breathe, his chest was rising and falling rapidly, sweat beaded at his brow and his skin had paled.

Scrambling down from the worktop, you went to take a step toward him, one that he mirrored in the opposing direction, furling his wings behind his back and clawing his shadows into submission, "Don't, Az. I can go."

The visible wince of pain that shot through you was enough for Azriel to suck in a breath and disappear from sight. The bond was dull, a golden thread soaring across the night sky to meet a shield of inked darkness. Azriel had closed you off. Shut you out.

Silence befell the kitchen, the chocolate chips you had gotten from the top shelf now scattered across the dark oak wood beneath your bare feet. Rhys had never seen you cry, he almost thought it impossible, but then he saw that single tear roll down your cheek, he could feel the pain radiating from you from finding your mate for him only to run from you.

"Hey, it's alright," he wrapped you into his arms, shushing you softly as he ran his fingers through your hair to soothe the quiet sobs rattling your shoulders, "It's going to be fine, y/n. Azriel's just confused, he'll be thrilled soon. Just you wait."

The snap had been gentle, like you had just come home after a long day, like you'd stepped through the door to see everyone you had ever loved all in one place and he was at the epicentre of it. Safe. Warm. Perfect.

Being a witch, you were never sure how life would look for you. Not even the cauldron understood your kind, you had always thought that perhaps the cauldron overlooked your species for the things most pure, like mating bonds and children. Witchlings were rare, you were the lone example of it, perhaps a part of you thought that you weren't allowed to have any love or joy, that you weren't good enough for it.

And there it was right in front of you, with the male a part of you had always yearned for, dancing in ash.

In the weeks that followed, Azriel did all he could to avoid you. No reason was good enough to make Azriel even glance in your direction let alone utter anything to you.

It had gotten to the point where you had asked Rhys for the keys to the cabin, you packed up your things and stepped through time to stand on that cold wooden floor with moonlight drifting through the small square windows.

You’d never thought that you could ever feel so alone, but as you stood there in a cabin so cold that you could see your own breath, the loneliness certainly began to set in.

There was little else to do other than light a fire to warm the little cabin on the outskirts of the city and run a bath; the tub was surrounded by candles, the ottoman at the foot of it was full of scented oils and salts which made your heart flutter. At least if you were to wallow in your own heartbreak you’d be able to do it smelling like the ocean surrounded by candlelight.

Bubbles crept up your neck as you sank into the wooden tub, it should have been a tranquil moment for you, but it was far from it in reality.

Az, please. Just talk to me. I'm still y/n, I'm still your friend. Things don't have to change.

Instead of enjoying the alone time like you should have considering that it was rare to have a minute of peace in a city full of needy children, you sat and let your mind wonder just how everything had gotten so messed up. You understood his confusion, really, you did, you understood how conflicting it must have been for him to separate with Elain, the female he was ready to spend the rest of his existence with, to then find out he was mated to you, not just you as his friend, but you as a witch.

Talk to me.

Too many tears had been spilled, you couldn't stop them from flowing from your eyes each time Azriel would fumble some excuse to get away from you. The bond was cold, it was like trying to break through a shield, an icy 10 foot deep floor that wouldn't even crack under whatever you would throw at it.

If you need me to leave then I will, Az. I'll leave for you, so you can have space, so you can think.

In the weeks that followed the revelation, you'd done all you could to try and get through to him, to let him know that you weren't expecting him to accept it, that he could take all the time he needed to process everything before speaking to you, all you needed was a sign that he was listening to you, that you mattered. It didn't surprise you that Azriel hadn't exactly thought about you in the predicament, of what it had done to you, and you couldn't even be angry at him over it because you'd be the same.

It didn't mean that it didn't hurt though.

Dark skies littered with blinking starlight was cast overhead, too beautiful to be real, too beautiful that you were sure that it was some kind of abstract painting on a black canvas. The cabin used to be one of your favourite places, Azriel and you used to escape there frequently, spending nights upon nights drinking Rhys' best wine and talking about everything and nothing.

A soft knock at the door pulled you from the memories, your eyes drifted to the clock softly ticking on the wall and you frowned, it was quite late. Lifting yourself from the tub, you wrapped a towel around your frame and padded over to the door, your wet footprints embedding themselves in the wood below. Slight disappointment sliced through you when you opened the door to see Mor, Nesta and Feyre on the deck shivering in the brisk breeze.

"We brought supplies," Nesta pushed past you, placing a wicker basket on the table and shrugging off her coat, "By supplies I mean wine, wine, and more wine."

Mor and Feyre entered, sniffing the air with soft smiles, they had always loved your scent, it was peaceful, like ocean waves lapping against the side of a mountain at dusk, airy, blissful, fresh.

The news had spread around the Inner Circle rather quickly thanks to Rhys, he had told Cassian, and well, Cassian wasn't exactly known for holding his tongue. The Lord of Bloodshed had apologised to you, feeling guilty for making things worse between you and Azriel, but you didn't mind. All you wanted was for the Shadowsinger to simply look at you. Anything else was a pointless worry. Not worth your time.

Tugging the towel tighter around your frame, you forced a smile, "This is really nice. Thank you."

Strangely, both Nesta and Feyre had been surprisingly supportive of the bond between you and Azriel. To them it made sense, you had been friends for over 500 years, you both struggled with fitting in, and you only felt truly comfortable to let your walls down around one another. To them, the bond had been there for a long time, waiting for the perfect moment. Too bad that the perfect moment had ended up making feel like the most worthless creature on the planet.

"Has he let you in yet?" Nesta rested her hand on your shoulder, her other hand was busy handing you a goblet of wine which you hugged closely to your chest and shook your head, "I'm sorry y/n. I really thought he would have by now."

"Give it time. He'll come around," Feyre draped her cloak over the arm of one of the dining chairs, smoothing out her skirt. It had always astounded you just how perfect they all were, the Archeron sisters that is, it was hard to understand how any male couldn't be attracted to them. They were quite heavenly.

"You've all been saying that for weeks," you shrugged off Nesta's hand, exasperated, "If anything he's become colder. Azriel doesn't acknowledge me, he looks right through me, he finds any reason possible to not be in the same room as me and when he sees me in the halls he turns on his heels and runs."

"I'm now living in this damned cabin hoping that some space will help him," your shoulders dropped, "I've waited my entire existence for this, I started to think that I wasn't worthy of it, and when it happened and the bond snaps with the one person I know that I could be truly happy with," your bottom lip wobbled slightly, but you choked it down and swallowed hard, "He ran."

Mor leaned forward in her seat, wide eyes under her perfectly sculpted furrowed brows, "It has nothing to do with you, y/n."

"How am I supposed to believe that when he won't even look at me?"

Something thick and fluffy draped over you, Nesta's robe that you always eyed was resting on your shoulders, "Go and get in your comfy clothes, then we can talk and bitch until all you feel is anger."

Amongst the chatter, you spied the three leather bags full to the brim of differing clothes and cosmetics, and then you realised that you weren't alone, not really, not when those three bags of clothes and trinkets belonged to the three females in the cabin with you, clearly ready to move in and stay with you until you were ready to face life again.

Who needed a man when you had three raging bitch queens?

Nesta was right, you just had to get back to work.

If anything was going to be able to distract you from that aching in your chest, then it would be work.

Luckily, Rhys, whilst he loved your abilities greatly, saw you as much more than just a celestial witch residing in his court, he likened you to a sister, blood family, which meant that he trusted no one more than you to act on his behalf when it came to court politics.

Holding such a position meant that you were rather close with the High Lords, they never saw you as Rhys' lackey at all, they saw you as a being that cared greatly about the continent who would stop at nothing to ensure harmony in all jurisdictions. Such a role meant that you were also required to entertain the High Lords whenever they visited Velaris, a place you had extended to them after the war to aid their research and better their own courts, with your help of course.

That particular evening, Rhys had asked you to entertain a certain High Lord of Autumn, Eris Vanserra; he was visiting Lucien and his new mate, Elain, and the entire visit was putting Azriel on edge. So, naturally, you couldn't say no.

"I always love our dinners, y/n," Eris' whisky amber gaze burned into you, searching the supernatural speckles in your own.

It was no secret that Eris had a flame for you, a being he found intriguing beyond belief, in the grasp of the Night Court when Eris knew how much you would thrive in Autumn by his side. The High Lord had offered Rhys pretty much everything he could to try and convince him to let him near you. All attempts had been swiftly denied.

Plates were littered with blotches of sauce and chicken bones, two empty bottles of red had been disposed of long ago, and you were just about to order that sticky toffee slice that made your toes curl when Eris asked, "When were you going to tell me about you and Azriel, hm?"

Candlelight drifted over the side of his face, illuminating his eyes against the darkening backdrop. "What are you talking about?"

Eris smirked, swirling the second glass of your third bottle that evening in perfect circles in his palm, "Come on, y/n. You reek of him, that cedar scent that even I have to admit is rather interesting."

In all of your self wallowing and sudden busyness you hadn't realised that the scent of the mating bond lingered on you, entwining with your scent of blissful oceans to create something new, something drowning. Something suffocating.

"I can admit that the news did hurt me, just a little bit," Eris, since the war, had allowed his hair to grow out. It sat just below his shoulders, layered and playful, he had it lazily pulled back low on his head. Something about that hair and those eyes made you question everything you knew, and you did know that you weren't the only one who felt like that when around the High Lord of Autumn.

Fluttering your lashes at Eris, you ran your fingers across the line of your bodice, "I apologise. It seems that fate wanted to lead me elsewhere."

Eris dismissed the waiter, eyes grinning at you through his lashes, "Let's go to Rita's. I need to drink some more, and you," he pointed to you, knowing that he was interrupting a rather important date with a rather important pudding, and said, "Need to loosen up, Witchling."

That fucking name.

You were sure that steam was emitting from your ears, but you couldn't deny that he was right, you couldn't really remember the last time you let loose and danced the night into oblivion. So you grabbed your purse from the table, a ornate gold cage that matched the intricate details of your skirt, and rose from your seat, "I hate how right you are, Vanserra. Let's go."

The High Lord towered over you, like all of them did really, stupid high fae and Illyrians and their stupid perfect genes making them so handsome and mysterious and utterly fuckable.

Stumbling from the restaurant at the edge of the Sidra, you looped your arm through Eris' and he practically had to pull you along the streets of the city or else you'd go and do a ritual in a field or something. Despite his crush, Eris found that part you a bit odd. In a way, you did too.

"When are you going to come to Autumn, Witchling? You know you'd love it there."

Eris propositioned you with the notion every time he saw you, he clearly thought that if he pestered you about it enough then you'd agree to it one day. Even just a fleeting visit would be enough to satisfy him. Just a day or two. You couldn't deny that Autumn piqued your interest, and with everything going on, perhaps a little break would do you some good.

"Maybe sooner than you think," despite the shameless flirting, you were glad that you could call Eris your friend, underneath that mask of loathing, you found the High Lord to be complex, and he appreciated your understanding. You were the only being that had ever approached him with kindness and treated him for who he truly was and not what he displayed. "All of this stuff with Azriel is spinning my mind. I feel like I'm going insane."

Eris hummed, tugging you a bit tighter into his side as he draped his arm over your shoulder, something completely platonic that you knew would send a certain someone spiralling, "That's what mating bonds do, y/n. I know that everyone keeps on telling you that he'll come around, I hope he does. Truly." It was the first time you had seen him say something and know that he was sincere of it "But, for tonight and tonight only, you are mine and we are going to drink and dance until we physically can't anymore, alright?"

Inhaling deeply, you met his gaze, "Alright."

Rita's was packed to the brim, you could feel the music thumping through the air so intensely that the ground beneath your feet was vibrating in time with the bass. Suddenly, you felt overdressed, but Eris commanded that you not think of it as he pulled you through the doors and past the guards who nodded at you with a curt smile as you clicked by.

In Velaris, you were quite known for being the wild one, the entire city was in awe of you and the powers you displayed so beautifully. More often than not, you would be found in the poorer parts of the city enchanting the children with your magic, curls of water would dance along their cheeks, and they would gasp when you would pluck a star from the sky and rest it in the palm of your hand. You knew what it felt like to feel alone and forgotten, being the last existing witch in your coven and all, and you didn't want anyone else to feel like that. So, if some water and a star would bring some form of happiness to those children, then you'd spend the rest of your life bringing them that wonder.

Eris tugged you through the grinding bodies, some of which parted as soon as they saw your eyes glistening in the lights, and stopped at the bar, shouting over the music to order drinks for you both before he turned, handing you a glass of what you could only assume was straight liquor, "To stealing you from the Night Court, Witchling," Eris raised his glass, rolling your eyes, you met it with a clink and wasted no time in downing the liquid, relishing in the burn that travelled down your throat and chest.

"Keep dreaming, Vanserra."

Hand on heart, Eris swayed into you, "Oh believe me, y/n, I do."

If you had known who was staring at you from across the room then you would have taken a step away from Eris, much like if you had seen the shadows followed you since you left the cabin that evening you wouldn't have agreed to go to Rita's. It was too late to do anything when your eyes connected with his, yours widened in surprise and solemn shock as his own narrowed, flickering between you and Eris before softening.

Of course, the first time Azriel actually looked at you was when you were stood beside Eris Vanserra, a High Lord, the brother of the one now laying with Elain.

Fuck.

It was like he didn't even see you really, he only saw Eris standing far too close to the one the cauldron had decided to be his mate. There was no way to be blind to the hatred between them, and with Azriel's temper and Eris' flare for the dramatics, you weren't surprised that Rhys had asked you to entertain the latter for the evening.

Noticing how your body froze, Eris frowned, he followed your line of sight to the Shadowsinger perched at a booth across the room ignoring both Cassian and Rhys who were trying to speak to him, to keep him calm.

Rhys. I didn't know.

I know, y/n. It'll be fine. We can handle Az if you can handle Eris.

Stiffly nodding, you turned to speak to Eris, to convince him to leave and find another place to drink, but he was gone. Then you saw his red hair moving through the crowd and you cursed, colourfully, and you scrambled through the crowd to try and reach him before he did something stupid.

Rushing up the steps to the usual booth reserved for the Inner Circle only, you stopped in your tracks as Eris' voice sliced through the chilled air, "When are you going to give our sweet y/n a break, Rhys? I keep on asking her to come to Autumn but she keeps on refusing."

Stop talking.

"It seems that she could use a break now more than ever."

Stop fucking talking.

"Especially since the bond is unrequited and she's sat in that little cabin day in day out wondering what her fate will be."

Wrapping your fingers around his wrist, you tugged on him, harshly, like you were reprimanding a dog on a leash, "Stop talking."

Little did you know, that one touch alone was enough to make Azriel visibly flinch and shudder with pain. That one act pierced his heart deadlier than Elain ever had or could, the way your fingers rested just over Eris' pulse, the way you looked at him with flame in your eyes, it was too much.

Eris wouldn't hurt you, you were the closest thing he had to a true friend, bit his loosened lips would be the end of you, "You both know that this isn't fair on her. Why is she the one who has to sit in misery and move to the outskirts of this city in order to make your poor Azriel more comfortable?"

Tension bubbled, Rhys was slowly rising from his seat whilst Cassian angled himself in front of Azriel, probably to stop the Shadowsinger from doing something he would come to regret, "Eris, you're making it worse," he finally gave you his attention, "Just wait outside for me, we can find somewhere else to drink, okay?"

It took him a moment, but your pleading eyes convinced him to listen, and Eris moved from your side, disappearing from you and leaving you stood before three Illyrians, all of which you were sure didn't wish to be around you in that moment. Fiddling with your fingers, you looked up from the ground at them, "I'm sorry. I didn't know that you were going to be here. You told me to keep him entertained, I'm sorry."

Rhys froze, his breath caught in his throat, and Azriel was glaring at him with such intensity that it made even you shrink, and you didn't shrink away from anything or anyone, "I'll go. I'm sorry," your chest ached when Azriel didn't even glance in your direction, instead keeping his gaze trained on his High Lord who simply nodded once at you.

Then you left, you grasped Eris by the lobe of his ear and dragged him away from Rita's before Azriel could make him pay for his words, or even worse, Rhys. It took only a few blocks for Eris to swat your hand away, "I'm not a child, y/n." Eris rubbed the red tinged patch of skin at his ear with a pout.

Velaris watched on as you bundled down a cobbled path toward the bank of the Sidra, a place you went to often to channel your magic, it was serene and beautiful, and had been the perfect place for you to find your calm in the midst of such brutality, "That is my mate, Eris. Do you understand that? Azriel is going through so much already, he lost Elain to Lucien," Eris cocked his brow in warning but you continued, "Elain was meant to be the one for him, and as long as Az was happy then I could choke down everything I had ever felt for him because he deserved all of the happiness possible after everything he's been through. I could live alone for the rest of my days as long as he was happy. Then it turns out that he's mine, that he was always meant to be mine, it should have been the best day of our lives," tears pooled on your bottom lids and you were sick of it, of crying, you had never cried, it wasn't in your nature but it was all you could do these days.

"Azriel can't even look at me, I had to move out of the River House and isolate myself from everyone I love just to give him a moment to think and process everything," you turned to Eris, "You just had to prod him, didn't you? You just had to get under his skin. Do you know how this looks? Elain chose Lucien and then he sees me drinking with you?"

Eris ran a hand over his face and sighed, "I didn't mean to make things difficult, y/n. I just want what's best for you, what you deserve."

"I know and I appreciate that, I really do. I just wanted things to get better, not worse."

It astounded Eris how Azriel wasn't over to moon to have you as his mate, you were elegant and graceful, a formidable opponent, tactical and sharp, and one of the most beautiful creatures to ever walk under the skies of Prythian. Perhaps he could have been a touch more sensitive to the situation at hand.

The moonlight waltzed over the rippling waters of the Sidra which acted as a mirror to the sky above, clear and bright, full of possibility.

The bond strained in your soul, empty and unrequited, a lone dying ember searching for its flame, and you knew then that Azriel was going to pull away from you more than ever.

"You should go back to the House of Wind," your voice was small and weak, "I'll see you before you leave tomorrow."

Eris took a step toward you, fumbling, knowing that he had messed up, "Please, y/n."

"Eris," he paused his movements, "Just go. I'll see you tomorrow."

Knowing that nothing was going to change your stubborn mind, Eris retreated up the embankment and down the cobbled path, leaving you completely and utterly alone.

Pebbles brushed together under your weight, moving flat to accommodate your position. You hugged your knees to your chest, unclasping your heels and tossing them aside, rubbing the skin on your ankles softly to alleviate the pinching that was once there.

How long could you go like this? How long would be able to deal with the rejection before it broke you? How long until you took Eris up on his offer and left Velaris forever?

You didn't have much time to think of an answer, not when a familiar cool pressure coiled at the small of your back, travelling up your spine and over your shoulders. The shadows drifted through your hair and you smiled sadly at them, at the sweet sign to tell you that you weren't alone.

"How did you find me?"

A shuffle sounded from behind you, shoes scraping along the pebbles, "This is our place. Where else would you go?"

You turned then, peering over your shoulder at him, examining him for a moment. Azriel certainly looked better, his eyes had lightened by a couple of hues and his skin was healthy an tanned to perfection, though, sadness and doubt still lingered in his eyes.

Silently cursing yourself, you turned back to the water. It was yours and Azriel's place, it always had been, until Elain came along that is and then it became your place. Whenever either of you had a bad day, the other would bring them there, to listen to the water rushing up on the rocks and watch the stars, and you'd talk, about anything that was bothering you and causing you any pain, and then suddenly you'd be alright again.

You rose from the ground, brushing little fragments of twigs and dirt from the golden swirls of your skirt, and Azriel gazed at you as you did, wondering how his best friend had become a stranger so quickly, "If I had known you were there tonight I wouldn't have taken him."

"I know," Azriel had his hands bundled into his pockets, afraid that if they lingered at his side then he would reach for you and risk a whole other world of pain, "I think we need to break the bond."

The world stopped moving.

"What?"

Azriel repeated, "I think we need to break the bond."

Break the bond.

It writhed in your chest, it writhed in pain and sorrow, striking you so deeply that you thought you may stop breathing, "I can't do it again. I can't be broken like this again, not with another Vanserra, not with anyone."

Thumping in your chest, your heart cried out, lurching around in its cage, and you struggled to form any words, "Az-"

"It's what's best for us, y/n."

No. No, no, no.

"How can you say that?" Azriel frowned, his hazel orbs softening, like he too was in pain, "I have done everything I can to give you space to process this, I moved out of our home, twice, to give you space to process whatever you need to process and feel whatever it is that you need to feel. I have gone 500 years being perfectly content of being your friend and that alone, because that was better than not having you at all. I stood by and watched you pine for Mor, and then her, the one who put such a wedge between us that I was reduced to polite hellos and nods. But I dealt with it, for you and your happiness. I dealt with all of the comparisons and pain, I dealt with the punishment of your feelings for her. I would deal with every ounce of hatred you throw at me if it meant that you would feel better, hoping that one day you'd realise that I have always been here for you, that I have always loved you in ways that no one else ever could."

You were pacing up and down the riverbank, pebbles knocking together as you walked, and Azriel stood before you unmoving, unknowing of what to say and only knowing that he needed it to end, "You never even gave it a chance," your choked whisper put him on edge.

Azriel had never seen you cry, had never heard of it happening, clearly Rhys had negated to tell him just how deeply the last few weeks had impacted you. To the point where you had actually cried. Tears gathered at your bottom lids and he noticed how you looked up at the sky to prevent them from falling.

"You never let me in."

Everything within Azriel was screaming at him to reach for you, the bond that he had frozen in place behind a wall of shadow was battering against the shield like a ram to break free and comfort you.

You were right, you had been his best friend, one of the few he could ever really depend on for everything. Elain had never liked you, she had always blamed it on her abilities not being able to harmonise with your own, but Azriel had always known it was deeper than that. Elain was a seer, and somehow it hadn't dawned on Azriel just how much she could have been hiding.

Elain hated it when he spent time with you, and being as in love as he was, he believed that it was down to some strange jealously that lingered on the surface. No one would have blamed Elain for her jealousy, you were truly a sweet creature, the other half to his marred coin that he had so carelessly tossed away. What if Elain had seen something and had chosen to lead Azriel away from you in order to preserve what she wanted them to share?

"I've given you everything I can," you sounded utterly defeated, "I don't know what else to do, Azriel."

His name was like a sonnet on your lips, one of heart-breaking sadness and longing, and he stepped to it, his shadows swirled around his body and drifted out to you. They had always adored you. They had always sought after you, a stark difference to their hiding from Elain.

"I would ruin you, y/n. You deserve so much more, so much better than me," his fingers twitched for you, he was so close yet so far from holding you, from inhaling the coconut scent of your shampoo and the scent of your soul, of soft salted breezes and jasmine, "I never meant to hurt you. I never wanted you to feel like you weren't worthy of love, and I'm so sorry for making you think that you were alone in the world," you had cocked your head to the side in question, "Rhys told me."

Azriel took another step forward, exhaling with relief when you didn't make a move to get away from him, "Love scares me. Elain had my heart in the palm of my hand and then crushed it, and then the bond snapped with you, with the one person I know would never hurt me, and I just couldn't risk it. I can't risk it. I can't risk being broken again, I can't risk hurting you."

All this time, when Azriel had been wallowing in the loss of Elain, of having to deal with her and Lucien's bond, he had completely neglected you, and your feelings. It was something you had never done to him, something you never could.

A gentle breeze flowed through the air, it carried your scent to him, and on inhaling it, he felt his entire body relax, he felt his aching disappear, and it was as though the world had gotten clearer. You turned away from him, hands folded over your chest and facing the river so that he couldn't see your tears, "I thought I was destined to be alone. The rules of your kind and the fae have never really applied to me, even the Cauldron doesn't understand me. I thought that it took the chance of love from me, but now I see that it was just some cruel joke."

Let her in. Feel her.

The shadows cooed to him, faintly, like a lullaby to a new-born babe.

"If it'll bring you peace," your voice broke, "Then break it. Break the bond. I'll find some other place to be."

Don't let her get away. Mate. She loves you. Love her. Let her in.

As though the world was tilting, Azriel let down that wall, he felt that bond slither over the seam of it to reach you, and then what he felt brought him to his knees.

Love. Wanting. Hope. Pain. Sorrow. Longing.

It consumed him with light, fighting off the demons that had been left to plague him, decimating them with the most pure substance in Prythian. Love.

When you heard his knees hit the ground you had turned and ran to where he knelt on the pebbles, meeting him as you slid onto your own, ignoring the stabbing into your skin, "Az? Are you alright? What's wrong?" You cupped his face in your hands and he felt each one of your fingertips flow life back into him.

The two tethers to the bond were dancing with one another, meeting in the middle and thrumming as two became one, turning dark skies into ones of bright sun and opulent warmth.

It was you. Sweet and fierce you. You who had always protected him, you who had always put him first even when he couldn't return it. You.

"Az? Talk to me, tell me what's happening. Do I need to call for Rhys? I'll get him right-"

Azriel stopped you before you could rise to your feet, the act of wrapping his fingers around your wrists enough to make your words vanish in your mouth, "You love me."

Settling into the space before him, knee to knee with him and his shadows itching to pull you closer, you didn't remove your hands from his, the feeling of it so powerful that it wiped all of your pain away, "I always have."

Walks along the Sidra. Visits to the bakery. The countless thoughtful gifts for Winter Solstice. The nights spent locked away in the cabin talking about dreams and fears.

Azriel's fingers drifted along your cheek before resting there, his thumb softly soothing the tightness in your jaw, "Why did you never say anything?"

"Because you deserve to be happy, even if it isn't with me," Azriel watched your bottom lip wobble, and that stream of love within him rippled with upset. His thumb moved to it, dragging across that plump flesh that he had always wondered of the taste.

Would you taste sweet or of lightly salted oceans? Of the air at dusk perhaps?

All he had ever chased was happiness, how foolish of him to be blind to the fact he had always had it within you.

"I think the only time I've ever truly been happy, at peace, has been with you. You've always felt like home," your eyes met and he offered you a small, genteel smile; his fingers moved to your hair, raking over your scalp and floating to rest on the small of your back, "I've missed you so much."

"You have?"

Azriel hummed in admittance, "The worst part of all of this was that I left the House of Wind to be near you, because I could be, nothing was in the way of us anymore, and I knew you'd be the only one patient enough to deal with me. It was selfish, but you've always been the rocks on which the ocean crashes, you've always been the one I can turn to without fear of judgement. You understand me."

"I can still be that person, Az. I can still be your friend."

Resting his forehead against yours, Azriel spoke lowly, like he had just awoken from slumber, "Do you know how hard it is for me to not take you back to that cabin right now and make you mine?" The carnal desire was dwelling within him, a rabid need that begged to be satisfied, "But you deserve better, y/n. Better than what I've done. So if you'll let me, I want to do this properly. I want to court you and make you feel like you're the only woman in the world, and when you're ready, not me, you, then you can accept it for the both of us. Because you deserve the magic of the bond more than me, you deserve this happiness."

"And if you don't want to, then that's fine. I can live with what I've done, and if you want to move to Autumn and find happiness there then I won't stand in your way. In no world would I ever stop you from finding love and passion and joy, because you deserve it y/n, you are everything that is beautiful in this world and then some. Every single part of you is destined for greatness, for a love so powerful that people drown in it."

"I hate what I've done to you, I hate that I've made you feel unworthy of a mating bond and I'll never forgive myself for it. But if you let me, I'd like to show you that I want this, that I want you, and you can decide for yourself if a life with me is something you want."

Silence fell between you but you didn't make a move to pull away, you knelt in place, peering up at him with your hands resting on his biceps, channelling the pulsing energy of the Sidra as it ebbed and flowed downstream, "A life with you is all I've ever wanted."

The bond glowed, golden and blinding, and Azriel was struggling to keep himself together as he basked in the ocean of your love and devotion, "Can I kiss you? Please?"

If he wasn't searching for it then he wouldn't have even noticed the tiniest hazed nod directed at him. Even the stars had stopped their flickering to focus on you, their most prized possession, the only one capable of harnessing their power and turning it into something blissful and good. It was why they chose you.

Closing the gap, Azriel tilted your head upward to give him better access to the lips that had often haunted his dreams; the scent of jasmine entwined with his own and he felt himself hold his breath as he closed that gap between you.

Your lips were as soft and warm as he had imagined them to be, they tasted of fresh saltwater and some kind of sweet fruit from the gloss you always wore that made them shimmer in any light. It stopped the world from turning for a moment, the universe watched on as Azriel sealed your fates. Moving his fingers from the small of your back to your neck and deepening the embrace of your lips, Azriel relished in the taste of you, in your warmth, in the way his soul sang and his shadows pulled you in closer to him. It was a feeling he had waited his entire existence for, one you had also yearned for.

Utterly magical. Soul consuming.

Everything made sense then. How everything you had both endured was meant to be, just so that you could end up entwined in that moment. All of the pain and sorrow, all of the false love and distance, all of the laughter and sweet memories, it was all worth it. It was worth every morsel of agony.

"Such a sweet creature. My sweet creature."

"Yours?" Azriel hummed, pressing dainty kisses to the tip of your nose and cheeks, and you closed your eyes to consume his touch and shuddered when his lips landed on your collarbone, caressing the skin there, "I think I could get used to that."

Authors Note

Hey besties!

I got very carried away with this - sorry if it's not great, these pain meds are really kicking my ass right now so I haven't even properly proof read this yet xo

Taglist

@crazylokonugget @fxckmiup @rogersbarnesxx @emryb

[suntoru]

❝ I'VE LOVED YOU BEFORE, I'M SURE OF IT!❞

— SYNOPSIS: eons ago, the king of curses lost his lover. you're gone, you have been for years, so why is it that you're standing right before him?

— WARNINGS: reincarnation, death of servant, your death mentioned, blood, swearing, angst, fluff, ooc sukuna?, he's downbad, 3k words

— AUTHOR’S NOTE: HELP MY FIRST TIME WRITING FOR SUKUNA IF U LIKE IT PLS LMK AND REBLOG!!

a face so familiar that in a sea of people, he'd recognize it instantly. he could paint a perfect picture from memory alone; how could he ever forget you? the only person he's ever grown accustomed to loving with every fiber of his being. the only person who's ever made the very king of curses feel weak. so then, why... why are you here once more?

impossible. it couldn't, shouldn't be you. he watched you slip away, felt your last breath against his skin, cradled you in his arms as your life ebbed away, the haunting reminder of the day he lost you. so why, against all reason, are you standing before him?

he can't deny the reality that it's truly you standing there, amidst the blossoms, with those delicate features that outshine even the brightest stars in the sky. the very essence of innocence radiates from your being, reflected in the purity of your gaze as you remain unaware of his presence, lost in the simple joy of picking dainty flowers from his meticulously tended garden. it's a scene so achingly familiar, yet impossibly surreal, as if plucked from a distant memory and brought vividly to life before his eyes.

his naive little lamb, blissfully unaware of the danger that lurks just beyond the edges of his meticulously guarded property. anyone could sneak up on you at this very moment, and you'd remain oblivious, lost in the gentle warmth of the sunlight as you hum a soft melody to yourself. do you not realize the trespass you commit with every step, the audacity of encroaching upon his domain?

for if you were anyone else, the ground beneath your feet would surely be stained crimson, a stark reminder of the consequences of such brazen intrusion. he scrutinizes your every movement, his gaze lingering on each delicate gesture as if committing them to memory. it's the first time in what feels like an eternity that he's experienced a semblance of peace.

sukuna, the embodiment of strength and power, finds himself perplexed by the profound comfort your presence brings him. he detests his own vulnerability, despises the notion of being beholden to anyone or anything. and yet, in the quiet moments spent observing you, he can't help but entertain the fleeting desire to hold you once more like the days he once treasured with you.

the fleeting moment of vulnerability dissipates in an instant as one of his ignorant servants, a mere fool in sukuna's eyes, rudely intrudes upon his garden sanctuary. with careless disregard, they trample over the delicate cecilias, the very flowers you were delicately picking.

"m-my lord, my humblest apologies," they stammer, their voice trembling with fear. "i don't know how an intruder got in, but i promise to dispose-" before they can finish their sentence, their head is swiftly separated from their body, the soft thud of impact echoing in the garden as it rolls to the ground. red oozes out, staining the grass crimson red as he stares at the body indifferently. tch. incompetence is met with swift and merciless retribution. how weak, how utterly weak. not only had that feeble intruder disrupted his tranquility, but they had also brought undue attention to his secluded sanctuary.

his gaze sharply turns towards you, contemplating whether you had noticed the disturbance, only to find your eyes innocently peering back at him. a surge of something unfamiliar courses through him as he meets your gaze. there you stand, so delicate and unassuming, clutching those flowers, studying him with a curiosity that unsettles and intrigues him in equal measure.

would you scream? run for the hills? yet, there's an underlying fearlessness about you, a quality he's always admired. part of him yearns for the recognition in your eyes, the acknowledgment of his presence, a desire for you to step closer, to nestle into his embrace and play with his hair, as if it were an annoyance he secretly craved, so long as it was from you.

"…would you like a flower?" you beam up at him, your smile radiant enough to rival the sun itself. holding it out to him, your eyes sparkle with genuine delight as you offer the delicate blossom. "it matches your hair. pretty." for a moment, he hesitates, towering over you with his imposing figure. yet, you show no fear, not of his unusual features nor his intimidating presence, not in this life and not in your past one either. with tentative movements, his rough, calloused hands brush against yours, accepting your gift.

he observes with a quiet fascination as your smile widens even further, a sight that warms a part of him he thought long dormant. almost instinctively, he restrains the urge to brush back a stray strand of your hair, watching instead as you take care of it yourself, a soft frown forming on your face as it catches in your lip gloss.

"it's funny," you begin, a playful lilt to your voice as you gently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. "everything here seems so familiar. tell me, have we ever met before? i feel like i know you from somewhere," you muse, studying his features with a curious intensity. there's a certainty in your tone, a sense of recognition that stirs something deep within him.

"no. that's stupid," he gruffly replies, brushing off your inquiry with a dismissive tone, though he can't ignore the flicker of amusement in your eyes. "ah, you're right. that would be impossible, wouldn't it? perhaps it was just déjà vu," you concede, your smile widening ever so slightly, there's a sincerity in your gaze that leaves him unsettled. he hates the way his heart stirs each time you do that, that... that thing with your face, he's seen it a thousand times before, that stupid smug smile. it's been a millennium since he's last seen it, and he finds himself silently admitting that he's missed it more than he cares to admit.

the one who shattered his harem, the one he believed he had lost forever. over the years of your absence, he had convinced himself that it was foolish to love a mortal. loving you was a mistake, he told himself. there was no void in his heart because of you; it was there to satiate his hunger for bloodlust.

yet, the mere sight of you right now, skin kissed by the sunlight shattered those self-imposed barriers, your voice carrying on about the flowers you held. peonies, daisies, lilies, roses—all growing in a small, vibrant garden. they were your favorites, adorning the white fence so beautifully. although he'd rather be caught dead then admit it out loud, it was dedicated to you, a silent tribute that reminded him of your presence.

in moments of turmoil, he found solace here, secretly seeking refuge amidst the blossoms, gazing up at the stars as if searching for your familiar constellations. what were they again? he had almost forgotten, and somehow, that notion was more unsettling than any sorcerer he had ever faced.

"oh, i almost forgot to ask, what was your name?" you giggle, looking up at him with an air of innocence. do you really talk to random strangers like that? you still are such an airhead. it seems you have no survival skills, but perhaps that's why he's always been so protective of you. "i am the king of curses, sukuna," he states, glaring down at you. it irks him, slightly, that even his name has been wiped from your memory. you really, don't remember, do you?

"sukuna... i'm calling you 'kuna from now on, 'kay?" you beam, and he lets out a weary sigh. how unoriginal. you used to call him that too, but anything else sounds quite strange coming from your lips.

"why are you here?" he grumbles, the question weighing heavy on his mind, not just in this moment, but echoing through the centuries. he wants to know why you've returned, why you've chosen now to reappear in his life after so many years have passed by. are you taunting his only weakness? how infuriating. you remember his old nickname, the flowers you once adorned his head with, but not him. is this some sort of game to you?

"i don't know," you answer simply, adjusting the crinkles in your dress. as the sun begins its slow descent, casting a warm, golden hue over the valley, you find yourself standing there, amidst the beauty of the landscape. "i just happened to stumble upon here," you murmur softly, your gaze fixed on the horizon, where the sky meets the earth in a breathtaking display of colors. the grass sways gently in the breeze, whispering secrets of days gone by, while memories of laughter and joy linger in the air like a bittersweet melody. his nose crinkles. what do you mean you don't know?

"what are you doing?" he hears your voice, sweet and soft like a distant echo from the past, a time when things were simpler, when you were by his side, filling his days with light and laughter. it's been hard without you, he realizes, a pang of longing tugging at his heart as he watches you standing there, bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun.

he wants to reach out to you, to tell you how much he's missed you, how much he's longed for your presence all these years. but instead, he remains silent, a silent observer of the moment, as the memories of days gone by wash over him like gentle waves, leaving behind an ache in his heart.

"you're trespassing," he grumbles, his voice carrying a weight that extends far beyond the boundaries of his garden. it's a warning, a silent one for you to stay away, to spare him the agony of reliving the memories that threaten to consume him. but even as he speaks the words, he knows deep down that it's not just his garden you're trespassing into— it's his heart, too.

sukuna does not wish to love you, loving you hurts, it makes him what he hates the most, it makes him weak. once, long ago, he was foolish to love you. he never uttered those words aloud, but the way his gaze softened in your presence spoke volumes. you were the only one who managed to carve a place for yourself in his heart, a place he thought was forever closed off to the world.

he doesn't want to care about you. to him, you should be nothing more than a passing nuisance, easily disposed of if it serves his purpose. yet, as he gazes upon your innocent face, memories long buried begin to resurface, tugging at the frayed edges of his carefully constructed facade.

sukuna despises what you evoke within him, a vulnerability he thought he'd long since buried beneath layers of ruthlessness. as the sun caresses your features with its gentle warmth, he can't help but feel a pang of longing deep within his chest. it's a sensation he's tried to suppress, to bury beneath the weight of his power and dominance. after all, he's the feared king of curses, not some lovesick fool. but even he can't deny the allure of your presence, the way you effortlessly weave your way into the recesses of his darkened heart.

in the depths of his being, sukuna knows he shouldn't miss you. he shouldn't yearn for the days when your laughter echoed through the corridors of his mind. yet, despite his best efforts to cast you aside, a part of him remains tethered to you, unable to sever the invisible threads that bind him to your memory.

your love, once radiant as the sun, pierced through the darkness shrouding his heart, illuminating corners he never knew existed. it was pure, untainted, a beacon of hope in his desolate existence. even in his darkest moments, he couldn't bear to extinguish your light, for fear of losing himself entirely. but then, like a flickering flame snuffed out by a sudden gust of wind, you were gone.

the memory of holding you close as you slipped away, your warmth fading into cold nothingness, still haunts him to this day. yet amidst the pain, there was a promise— a whispered vow that one day, you'd find each other again. and somehow, against all odds, you did. but fate had robbed you of the memories that once bound you together.

he watches you now, your smile as bright as ever, oblivious to the love you once shared. it's a bitter pill to swallow, knowing that you'll never remember the depth of your connection, the intensity of the love that once burned between you. forgotten memories of your presence flood his mind, stirring emotions he thought long buried.

he should be able to snuff out your existence without a second thought, should revel in the sight of your blood staining the verdant valley, your cries piercing the tranquil air. but as you stand before him, oblivious to the darkness lurking within him, he finds himself paralyzed by indecision.

his soul screams at him to act, to rid himself of this weakness once and for all. but his heart, that traitorous organ, refuses to comply. how can you, with your pure heart and untainted spirit, still evoke such conflicting emotions within him?

sukuna prides himself on his selfishness, on his willingness to betray and manipulate to achieve his desires. and yet, in your presence, he finds himself questioning whether his desire to hold you close once more is too selfish, whether his darkness would tarnish your purity.

and a part of him wonders if you'd fall in love with him again, wonders how you did the first time. would your hands feel the same, tracing the contours of his face with that delicate touch? would your lips still taste as sweet, brushing against his with that familiar tenderness?

"'kuna?" you murmur softly, looking up at him to see if he's paying attention. and for a fleeting moment, he's transported back to a memory he holds dear, etched into the deepest recesses of his heart.

"'kuna?" you had called out one day, perched elegantly on his lap, nestled against him as if you belonged there. his hand, protective yet tender, rested on the small of your back, ensuring you remained secure in his embrace. your legs were tucked into his, absentmindedly toying with some strands of his hair. "hm?" he responded, his gaze half-heartedly softening as he met your doe-like eyes, a hint of amusement dancing within their depths.

"do you think in every universe, we're together?" you inquire, your voice tinged with a hopeful innocence that tugs at his heartstrings. he let out a scoff, a familiar gesture masking the warmth that blooms within him, his fingers instinctively threading through your hair as you playfully swat them away. you're so naive and innocent, believing in such stupid things.

"that's absurd," he retorted, though the corner of his lips quirked upward in a ghost of a smile, unable to deny the affection that lingers between you. love, he once believed, was a fleeting illusion, a mirage in the desert of existence. he scoffed at the notion of eternal love, dismissing it as a fanciful delusion born of naive optimism. how could love endure when humanity was plagued by sin, disloyalty, and obstinance? it seemed absurd to place faith in something so fragile, so easily shattered by the harsh realities of life.

"hey..." you pouted, your bottom lip jutting out in a playful display of mock indignation, your eyes sparkling with mischief. "well, i believe we are," you declare, a stubborn determination coloring your words as you stick out your tongue in defiance.

"such a meanie," you'd muttered under your breath, though your protest is laced with affection as he pulled you closer, enveloping you in the warmth of his embrace. and he's snapped out of his thoughts once more when he hears your voice cut through his memories.

"ah, i'm sorry," the present you sheepishly mumbles, catching yourself mid-ramble and rubbing the back of your head with an embarrassed smile. "i'm boring you, aren't i? it's getting late; i should be going."

with a resigned sigh, you glance up at sukuna, feeling a flush of embarrassment color your cheeks. you hadn't meant to prattle on to a stranger, especially one who felt so oddly familiar and comforting, like a warm, fluffy blanket on a chilly evening. as you start to move away, ready to bid your unexpected companion farewell, one of sukuna's arms shoots out, gripping your wrist firmly and halting your departure.

despite everything, you're still here, standing before him, a familiar presence that refuses to fade into oblivion, and he finds himself unwilling to sever the crimson thread of fate that you once fervently believed bound you together. he's unsettled of the idea of allowing himself to love you again, yet, at this moment, his greatest fear is not in loving you, but rather in the prospect of forgetting you altogether.

confusion flickers across your features as you look up at him, but he refuses to meet your gaze, his expression unreadable. the soft hues of the pink sunset cast a gentle glow over you both, and in that moment, you could swear you see a faint flush tingeing sukuna's cheeks.

he still considers you foolish for believing in an everlasting love. and yet, as he looks into your eyes, he doesn't believe an eternity with you would be too bad. in fact, he wouldn't mind it at all. he mutters gruffly, though his voice betrays a hint of annoyance, and yet, inexplicably, your heart leaps at the invitation.

"speak."

and with that stupidly charming grin on your face, you do.

© SUNTORU 2024. do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works on any platform.

[weebslawyer]

Il Capitano x reader (!fem !wife)

ANGST (based on the last AQ more or less)

AN: please excuse any grammar mistakes, English isn't my first language and I worte all this at 3am with blurry vision 😭

Words count: 1716

For five centuries, you had traversed the shifting sands of time, a quiet sentinel to the rise and fall of nations, the birth and ruin of dreams. The world flowed around you like a ceaseless river, its current reshaping mountains and cities, but you remained a stone beneath the surface—weathered, unyielding. Your soul had become a vast archive of echoes: the laughter of lovers turned to dust, the roar of battles etched in crimson, the whisper of civilizations swallowed by the maw of eternity. To endure beyond the reach of decay was not a triumph; it was a symphony played too long, a dance that outlived its music.

Beneath the shifting constellations, you stood as a paradox—unchanged as the stars rearranged their myths above him, eternal yet burdened with the ache of transient beauty. Eternity was not the gift poets promised, it was a weight that bent the very core of his being, a mirror reflecting centuries of loss. He bore it all—the unbearable light, the endless air thick with memory—not as a choice, but as a truth. You were the keeper of an unbroken vigil, a shadow in the unending dawn, a solitary defiance against time’s relentless march.

That's what you were.

Five hundred years passed since the fall of Khaenri'ah. The land still whispered its lament. Blackened spires clawed at the heavens, their jagged silhouettes etched against a sky that had long since forgotten the stars that once guided your people. The cursed earth beneath your feet bore the scars of divine wrath, its once-thriving beauty now a wasteland of sorrow and silence.

Five hundred years since the world forgot the name of your husband, now known as Capitano. Five hundred years since you fought alongside him for a better world, for the sake of Khaenri'ah people, for the safety of the royal family. Five hundred years since you were round and glowing with his children, their essence long gone now, their bodies dust in wind, the only remains are the little stones you created out of what was left, hidden and stored away. Five hundred years since you last touched your husbands soft, yet scared skin, a symbol of all the fights he has been through, always a champion, and formidable warrior. Five hundred years since you saw the face of the man you love so dearly. A man hunted by his past, a man hunted by his mistakes, his regrets. He was a strong man, and you knew that. He knew that. But yet, all you could do was to wrap your arms around him from behind, a simple gesture to show him that you are there, no matter what, no matter where his choices lead him. His hands always finding yours. The wedding ring, still shining on his finger, matching yours, triumphing over the pass of time, the countless battles. You were always there when he was reminiscing of that kingdom, a fragment of its lost glory, cursed with eternal life but stripped of everything that made life worth living. In his eyes burned the memory of the golden halls of old Khaenri'ah, now reduced to ash, and the faces of those he had loved, now shadows haunting his immortal heart.

Yet somehow, after the passing of time, of challenges, of loss and grief, it was only you and him, him and you.

You were a storm wrapped in flesh, the fire to Capitano’s shadow, a presence as unyielding as the steel of his blade. Where others faltered in fear before his masked visage, you met him with unwavering resolve, your eyes a mirror of his endless determination. From the blood-stained fields of battle to the silent corridors of treachery, you had walked beside him—not as a fragile tether to humanity, but as an anchor that steadied him in the tumult of his unrelenting duty.

You had seen him rise, a towering force among mortals, his loyalty bound not by sentiment but by a fierce, unshakable will. When the world turned against him, branding him a monster, you stood defiant at his side, your voice sharp as any blade, declaring his truth to a world deaf to honor.

In the quiet moments between wars and commands, you were the calm that soothed the tempest within him. You traced the edges of his mask with your fingers as if memorizing the unseen face beneath, whispering truths only he would hear. "You are not alone," you would tell him, her words a shield against the abyss of his solitude.

Through victories and losses, betrayals and triumphs, you remained. Even as the Harbingers gathered their might and the skies darkened with the weight of impending fate, you presence was his unspoken strength. You were not merely his wife but his equal, a force as indomitable as the tides, as eternal as the stars.

In you, Capitano found not just a partner but a reflection of his own relentless spirit—a reminder that even in the cold, merciless march of duty, there could still be warmth, still be love. Together, you were an unstoppable force, your bond a defiance of the world’s cruelty, your story a testament to the power of loyalty, love, and unyielding resolve, but no one will be able to learn about it.

The battlefield was eerily silent when the news reached you—a silence that followed the storm, a silence that mocked your fury. Capitano was gone. The unyielding tower of strength, your shield, your partner through centuries of unrelenting trials, had fallen.

Your breath hitched, with sorrow, but also with a rage so fierce it burned away any tears before they could form. They dared to take him from you.They dared to strike down the one constant in your life, the man who had fought against gods and monsters, who had endured a world that sought to crush him, and who had always returned to you.

You stood on the precipice of the world’s madness, your grief transforming into an inferno that would consume anything in its path. The stars themselves seemed to tremble as your voice split the air, a cry of mourning and of war. A war so painful yet so devastating on your soul.

"Capitano," you whispered, your hands trembling as you looked at him, sitting on a throne that held no king, but a throne that held your lover, the man of men, the warrior of all warriors, the man that long ago was holding your children

"I swore I would stand with you through everything. And now, even in death, I will not abandon you." You said as you slowly approached his lifeless body.

You slowly crawled closer to him, pain eating your soul alive, seeing him like this destroying you. You made your way on his lap, a place where you always find comfort through storms and angry thunders, but this time his arms couldn't comfort you anymore, they couldn't wrap around you anymore, soothe you again. You could hear his weak breathes, a body who's soul long left. You looked at him while your tears where washing your face, not seeming to stop soon. Your trembling hands reached to pull his mask off, to see the man. To see your husband. To see the man that promised you eternity.

"You were my strength" you murmured into the night, your voice a steel-edged whisper. "Now I will be yours."

You spoke softly, even if the tears in your eyes made everything so hard to see. You put his mask on your lap, so now your hands can touch his face, feel the cold skin against your fingers. Your touch so gentle, not wanting to hurt him even in death. You took in every detail, like he will vanish the second you close your eyes.

"You promised me I won't lose you too. Not after everything, my love. Not like this." You whispered biting your lip, before speaking again "I don't know if you will ever hear me, if you are even around like a stray ghost, but I promise we will meet again soon. I will hold you again, kiss you, and love you all over again in the afterlife. Just don't forget me until then, my brave warrior. Oh my love, my peace, my place, my forever. This time be my light through the darkness" you said, kissing his cheeks, his forehead, and his lips one last time, cradling at his chest, being close to him like that, your mind slowly calming down, remembering all the comfortable moments like that, where being in his arms and presence where the only moments of peace in your life.

You spend days like this, not moving in the slightest from his lap. Moving away from him would feel like a divorce. But slowly, beside the immense pain that threatened to rip your heart out, anger started to settle in. Was his sacrifice necessary? Was there anyone to even pretent his heroic act? Why did death consider now that it's time for Capitano to join him and leave you here all alone? You had all those thoughts, crying and breaking down every time you remembered where you were. Pain consuming you hole, whispering to take your revenge, to destroy whoever did that, to hunt down everyone who let this happen.

Your fury was a thing of legend, a tempest that dwarfed even the wrath of gods. You would not rest until you knew the truth of his fall, until the blood of those responsible stained the earth beneath your feet. The Harbingers would hear your fury, the Archons would feel your wrath, and the heavens themselves would tremble beneath your rage. They took every from you, they took the melody that lingers in the chords of your soul, his name the refrain in your heart that keeps singing.

And unfortunately, your vengeance was not reckless, it was calculated, cold, and precise. Every step you took was deliberate, every strike a tribute to the man who had fought for a world unworthy of him. You would burn the skies and sunder the earth if it meant avenging him. For you, love was not a gentle thing, and your anger, born of loss, would not be silenced until the scales of justice were balanced—until those who had taken him paid in kind.

[animeyanderelover]

Hello can I request a yandere jjk x angel reader.

Geto, Gojo, Yuta, Sukuna. Thank you!!!

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional tendencies, cligniness, paranoia, sadism, abduction, isolation, violence

Tags: @lovley-valentine7

Angel s/o

Ryomen Sukuna

🗾​This is no forbidden lovestory. No tragic fairytale of two people who aren't meant to be together. No, the only emotions brooding between the two of you are those of repulsion, disgust and, on only Sukuna's side, an attraction that only fuels the hateful obsession. He is the King of Curses, you are a being of pureness and protection. The two of you are supposed to be enemies, intertwined in an eternal fight until one of you falls through the hands of the other. Those emotions though, they shouldn't be there. He should loathe you, he does loathe you. So why does he experience those sensations whenever the two of you clash? This thrill pumping through his veins goes beyond the bloodthirst and sadistic ecstasy when fighting someone, beyond the fantasies of slashing and devouring. Other feelings co-exist within those carnal desires Sukuna is so familiar with and if he would be someone lesser he would accuse you of bewitching him. Only someone weak would fall for a cheap trick that were to influence their perceptions in such unfamiliar ways, twist them into something so pathetic. You only add salt to the wound within his ego as he is the only one suffering from such a disease.

🗾​A primal part of him longs to slash you into bloody pieces so that your body and face may never tempt him again. Far too merciful would that be though, not enough for Sukuna's heart yearning for revenge. He has suffered a great humiliation because of you, feelings of love and attraction that have weakened him and his resolve. You deserve something far worse than death. He will drag you into a pit of hellfire even deeper than his, will break you and shape you until you are even more pathetic than he is. You will be punished for the seeds of feelings you have planted within him. You will be captured, kept and tamed by him until you are too tainted to return to the holy place where you originated from. He is going to enjoy ruining you and weakening your resolve, to shatter you until you have no option but to stay with him. As soon as you are in the position where he wants you to be, you will be kept as his obedient pet. Your abilities are going to be of great use for his plans after all. It's affection that keeps him still chained to you, a bond that even he will be unable to sever. You will be his. Because if you aren't, then he will burn you alongside the world you have sworn to guard over.

Gojo Satoru

🩵​His appearance and his powers have always put Gojo closer to a being closer to a deity, at least in the eyes of some people. The power that emits from you is something that even non-sorcerers can sense though they do not sense what you are. Gojo with his Six Eyes instantly discerns that you are an existence that no sorcerer has ever encountered. A messenger of an even higher being that has graced earth for purposes unknown. Gojo proceeds with a healthy mixture of caution though as he believes those in power to be rarely innocent. Being close to you is a dizzying experience, the energy you emit strong enough to evoke reverence within an average person. Even Satoru is not entirely immune to those feelings yet he isn't swayed as easily as he remains wary when around you. Every word, every gesture, every flutter of your eyelashes is something that he observes closely as he tries to figure out your purpose for your ascendence to earth and its people. He fails to inform people of highest position of your existence though as he would only dread what they would do with that information. Maybe, just maybe, there is also a part within him that wants to keep this extraordinary experience to himself.

🩵​The rapid fluttering within his chest, the warm adoration pulsing through every fiber of his being, the weightlessness he experiences whenever his gaze falls upon you. Around you Satoru feels a safety and a comfort that only someone like you could provide him with. It initially scares him, the sensation of a heaven on earth something that has never been granted to him. Soon he gives in to everything though and that is when the clinginess and paranoia start. Both of you are from different worlds entirely as his life is but a short spark in comparison to your life of eternity. It is this knowledge that he is a being chained to time that torments him greatly. He doesn't wish you to move on, to forget him as the centuries pass. It is a selfishness of the highest degree, perhaps even blasphemous in the face of a holy creature like you. Gojo is only human though, riddled with flaws and an imperfection that someone like you could never possess nor understand. It is you who triggered those feelings within, you who made him this way. If you truly are what history hails you to be then stay and save him from his solitude. Do that or watch him fall victim to his dark side where he will only accept salvation from you.

Geto Suguru

🗻​How utterly ironic of the monk to be met with an otherwordly being as yourself. Geto is not overly welcoming, at least not anymore the moment you voice your own doubts about his vision. A cast of judgement from someone like you cuts deep, so much deeper than Suguru would have ever imagined. In his mind he does what will be best for his own kind, his opinion of non-sorcerers tainted in nothing but hatred. What you try to protect is a creation that is beyond saving. Just take a look around you after all and see what the barbaric feelings of those monkey give birth to. They are the reason curses exist, they are the reasons why his kind dies in an attempt to save their ignorant lives. But for what reward? If they were to find out about the powers the sorcerers possess they would revert back to witch hunts and fear. He has seen it. There is nothing worth protecting within the non-sorcerers. But he could create a paradise like it is written down in so many ancient works across the globe, a place where the hatred and judgement wouldn't exist anymore. His own belief clashes with your own passive one yet to him never before has approval mattered as much as it did with you.

🗻​Suguru obsesses over the fact that he wants your approval for his plans. His mind is set and nothing can stop him, not even you. He will execute his plans with or without your blessing yet he cannot stop himself from obsessing over it anyways. It is an unbearable burn within his heart to know that a literal angel like you are do not agree with him. He constantly seeks you out, tries to convince you to understand his greater vision. He even takes you with him to show you the pettiness of humans, to make you see that they are beyond saving and that a future only lies within sorcerers like him and all those who have joined his cause. The silent look you always give him though always threatens to tear him apart as you gaze at him like he is a lost child who needs saving. He doesn't need that though. He has discovered the light already and yearns for you to join his cause. If he were in possession of your approval, of your love, there would be nothing in his way anymore. If you refuse though, if the threat arrives that you may disappear, Suguru will do his everything to keep you bound to his side. He is no sinner, not at all. He has seen a different salvation, one he will have you understand.

Okkotsu Yuta

💍​He should stay alerted, he should stay cautious when he approaches a being so out of this world. However, your mere presence is enough to eradicate any hostility that he could have possibly harbored for you. His whole body forcibly relaxes as if put under a spell, the grip on his katana easing. A heavy gulp that has his Adam's apple moving before he slowly steps closer to you, each step filling him more with sensations of elation and joy of the likes that he has never experienced before. Rika seems to be slightly uncomfortable within your presence though, baring her sharp teeth and hovering over Yuta as if warning you to not try anything on him. Rika's presence seems to be something that elicits a reaction out of you just as much. For one short moment he dreads that you will exorcise her, won't like her due to being a Curse. To his relief you deem her to be a creature that can do more help than damage though, sparing him the horrible scenario where he would have to defend her against someone as magnificent as you. You are beautiful, a fact that Yuta can't deny. Every time he does as much as think of you he feels those butterflies erupting within his chest.

💍​Your presence is addicting, every touch of yours electrifying bliss and your appearance radiant, transcending the beauty that he has been familiar with so far. Your figure visits him in his dreams, your voice a call he can only answer. Yuta wishes to worship you, to go down on his knees and praise you for the holy being that you are. Someone like you is too pure for this earth though, a place crawling with curses and humans. He feels this unexplainable urge to slash all those who commit evil, to rid your path of such unsightly beings so that you may only experience the good. It is a thought that grows louder each and every day, becomes hard to reign and only quietens when he is with you as if your presence cleanses him from such inpure desires. Still, the urge never disappears and manifests itself every time he catches sight of an ugly curse or a human who you should not have to witness with your magnificent eyes. His own spiral into insanity is not something he is oblivious to and it threatens to pull Yuta down with shame. How can he protect you after all when he himself has such unholy thoughts about you? You should need protection from him.

[crazerk]

When you find yourself among the few women chosen to become a concubine in the Imperial harem, you have a chance to carve your place in court.

The life of a concubine might seem luxurious and idyllic, but behind the silken curtains of the harem, dangerous games are played. Games where the wrong words will cost your life, betrayal, lies and secrets are commonplace and gaining the shah’s attention is paramount to your survival.

Start out as a princess, disgraced noble or captive.

Intrigue, intrigue and more intrigue.

Dramatic events on par with a soap opera

Revenge, backstabbing, forbidden love, plots and more.

Rise the ranks by outsmarting or eliminating your rivals.

Produce and raise heirs to secure your place.

Influence politics through the emperor or seize power for yourself.

Learn fire magic or join a cult of chaos.

Live a life of leisure and the pursuit of higher education or a life of hedonism.

Inspired by the Sassanid dynasty and Persian mythology.

Shah Khazunef

He is calm, perspective and far less ruthless than his father before him but they share the same cunning nature and intimidating aura. Khazunef has deep brown skin, dark hazel eyes and silky mid length black hair that frames his face perfectly.

Fang

A former slave whose fighting prowess earned him freedom. He has since become a close friend of Khazunef and they regard each other as brothers. He serves as an informal advisor and spy to the shah but shirks any formal duties. Fang is charismatic and extroverted with copper red hair, rose skin and blue eyes.

Persa

Her name means dove and fits her gentle demeanor. She was raised a princess in a land of mountains and snow that was conquered by Shah Arzad. Upon the fall of her city and murder of her family, she was brought to the capital to serve in the palace. She has honey blonde hair, dark brown eyes and alabaster skin.

Ignasia

Ignasia is a fire priestess and staunch follower of the faith. Although born a noble, she gave up all claims and titles to serve in the fire temples as a guardian of the eternal flame. Ignasia has dark hair, darker eyes and a regal, reserved bearing.

Valide Zarayan

She is the ruthless and ambitious mother of Khazunef, originally a distrusted foreigner who rose to great power in the court of Shah Arzad. She rules over the harem like her own little kingdom and holds influence over her son.

Shahbanu Yaris

The wife of Khazunef and shahbanu of the realm. Yaris wed the emperor when he was 17 and she 26 in an alliance that strengthened the empire and influences it to this day.

Vizier Rubien

The grand vizier and advisor to the Emperor who Khazunef considers a father figure. Rubien is fiercely intelligent, loyal and wise. He remains dedicated to his work and helping the Emperor rule justly.

Averus

Averus is a high priest and soothsayer of the court. His advice is sought by all and a bad word about you from his lips can sully your reputation and relationships beyond repair.

Consort Iltani

Former consort and favorite of Shah Arzad. Her name is whispered like a curse, and her influence spreads far wide even though the valide has her currently imprisoned within the palace.

This story is for mature audiences, please proceed with discretion! Story will contain violence, drugs, alcohol, death, suicide, infanticide, harm to animals, miscarriages, abuse and sexual themes.

Demo

[severinageto]

Eternals (Or one year since the airport)

Can the body feel without the soul?

Suguru trusted that something awaited him beyond. Some days he believed it more than others, but few can boast of having unshakable faith. So, when he felt his left arm, observed his youthful body, and examined the place awaiting him, he knew his belief hadn't been in vain. There he was, in the waiting area. For what? What else could happen when the finality of life had already taken place? A vast ocean on an empty beach would have made more sense. Even the darkness of Hades' hell. But no. Something had brought him to a plane that he sensed would not be just his own.

It didn't take long for him to realize what that ethereal place meant. He would need more than a pair of hands to count the times they'd been there, watching the screens, counting landings, and checking departures. "I hate flying, Suguru." "Why?" "Because it's so common." A playful shove, the luggage on the floor, the Ray-Ban store. Dozens of countries, hundreds of flights, and thousands of caresses. So, there he'd be, just like in his youth, sitting, reading, reflecting, until his eyes deigned to appear. He'd probably arrive late, just like always; late to their first date, late when he needed him, late to snatch away his life.

He wasn't wrong. A year, exactly. However, when he felt his presence, he couldn't help but ask himself: *Why did I keep waiting for him?*

"For the same reason he chose this day," he answered, looking sadly to the north.

“Sleep a little longer, Satoru”, he whispered to the soul starting to take form.

Gojo had thought about the possibility of dying before facing the cruel king of curses. He entertained the idea behind all the others but never materialized it into wills or declarations. Arrogant as always, he concluded it was no more than a slight probability, existing only because he had the misfortune of being mortal. "Nah, I'll win," he said, sure that the day would pass like any other.

Those who loved him had the bad luck of believing him.

Satoru, upon falling, felt nothing. There was no requiem, no eulogies. His heart simply stopped beating, and his soul crossed the plane dividing them. As he looked one last time at the vastness of the sky, a cold air, unlike any he had felt before, invaded his body. Yet he welcomed it gladly. He narrowed his eyes and breathed in the scent.

“Finally”, he murmured as the pressure in his veins disappeared.

Neither of them imagined that beyond life, the senses would be as sharp as when their lungs could still draw breath. Yet that first embrace, strong, intimate, almost suffocating, convinced them it was true. It wasn't until they inhaled each other's scent that they internalized the importance of something so basic, so corporeal, so earthly to both of them.

Satoru, in life, had never really thought about what the owner of his soul smelled like; "People don't smell like anything specific," he thought. However, when he rested his nose on that manly chest, the images that flooded his mind took him back to that lush, unique forest, to the clearing where he had often laid on his legs. "Move a little, Satoru." "Which way?" "Toward me." The spring flowers, the summer grass, the damp autumn soil, and the smoke from winter stoves—all had their own essence, one intertwined with that hint of incense that accompanied his caresses. It was the scent of camaraderie, of security, of intimacy.

"Sleep a little longer, Satoru," he'd say while combing his hair with his delicate fingers.

Over time, that same scent became painful for Satoru. Whenever he caught it, in some place or in something left behind, he felt a knot in his stomach—a mixture of nostalgia, sadness, and perhaps, just perhaps, a twinge of betrayal. His scent was something that lingered with him even after he was gone, something that still made Satoru feel that, in some way, his beloved curse manipulator remained the same person with whom he had shared so many moments. That he was still, after all, his partner, his lover, and his best friend.

"Sleep a little longer, Satoru," his deep voice from the window, the bare shoulder, the moonlight, and the glow of his cigarette outlining his delicate profile. A pitying look and a slammed door. His last earthly memory.

Suguru, on the other hand, was always sure of the notes generated by the strongest man's hormones. No wonder he watched him intently, as if there were nothing else to do on earth. The countless verses he dedicated to those sharp citruses in the intimacy of his notebooks. Satoru's scent reminded him of the mandarins they shared. Gojo would throw them at him, and he would peel them, while they talked, while they laughed, or while they were silent, always looking at each other as if they could see through each other's pupils. After all, it was a scent very fitting for the bearer of the Six Eyes. It evoked his electrifying personality, always standing out, for better or worse, from the rest of mere mortals.

From time to time, especially in the heat of summer, the albino's movements brought with them the freshness of his wild ocean. Free, expansive, as if he were one with the sky. For Suguru, that scent was the ultimate manifestation of his limitless technique; the ability to encompass everything belonged only to him and the untamable ocean.

"Can I sleep a little longer, Suguru?" he would ask between sighs when the first rays of sunlight illuminated his pale complexion. His fingers searching for his, an alarm clock against the wall, a warm embrace.

Once time did its work, Satoru's fragrance began to confuse him. The love he felt for those long hands, for the warmth of his breath, and the softness of his hair mingled with the painful reminder of what he left behind, with the resentment for what was broken, and the deep sadness for all that could have been but never was. The possibility of waking up to his snores, of caring for him during his colds, of scolding him for his careless attitude. Ultimately, the possibility of navigating youth while holding those long hands.

"Can I sleep a little longer, Suguru?" closed eyes, a raspy voice, bandages on the nightstand. The feeling that everything that had happened between them was the embodiment of the worst sin. A blink, a grunt, covering up again.

They would start again.

By the time death came for him, the scent of his beloved Six Eyes was a chemical manifestation of everything he had chosen to reject: the system, the structure he couldn't change, and, ultimately, him; with his magnificent strength, his figure, and the central axis of the world that, when he needed him most, gave him so much indifference. His scent, the embodiment of his greatest weakness. The slightest hint of his scent, of his purple scent, was a door to the past, to the memories he preferred to forget. To the moments when the love for his manic laughter, his strange occurrences, and his incredible intelligence knew no bounds. That fragrance was the last thing his body processed.

"Can I sleep a little longer, Suguru?" a flash of purple light, his world fading to black. The question that no longer had an answer.

If the soul is incapable of feeling without the body, then why, when they crossed paths again, did the power of chemistry act as if they had never separated? Why did hunger, burning passion, and desperate longing for the other's body take over them as if it were the first day? Why was something as simple and earthly as a scent able to anchor one person to another?

Because perhaps it was more than that. Perhaps the presence of a curse manipulator was bound to the birth of the Six Eyes heir. Perhaps where the existence of one began, the other's ended. Perhaps something as profane as this world would never be enough to contain a love as eternally sacred as the one they intoxicated themselves with.

Or maybe they were always two bodies and one soul.

Their soul.

Gojo's nose sank into Suguru's neck. The curse manipulator's left hand slid over the albino's waist. Satoru's right knee touched Suguru's left. Their fingers intertwined, their lips met, their scents mixed, and they became one entity again.

Perhaps the earth stopped for a moment, surprised; the love that moved it had finally resumed.

“Can I sleep a little longer, Suguru?”, he asked, resting on his legs, smiling flirtatiously.

“Sleep a little longer, Satoru”, he replied, as his delicate and soft hands welcomed him, eyes brimming with emotion.

Who would have thought an airport could feel like home?

The eternal home.

———————————✈️

©️ by https://x.com/yu7272s

[voidsylus]

sylus is my endgame

sometimes it shocks me how all it took was sylus leaks on my fyp in tiktok to land me in this rabbit hole of my devotion to sylus

sylus has my entire heart, no matter how many Li infold plans to make, he will always be my endgame, my beloved, my soulmate, my dragon

infold or really sylus production team really cooked when crafting him—his unyielding loyalty, deeply emotional, vulnerable side that he never hides from us.

you can feel the weight of his choices in our current timeline that connects to our dragon days past from beyond cloudfall (his myth). how he always makes efforts to make up for the lost time since it was us who cursed him to live forever and be tied to us [we are so real for that]

sylus worships the ground that we walk on. he’s always there to encourage us to think of ourselves, speak our mind without being in fear, be comfortable and confident in our own skin and never shames us. we don’t have to be the cute delicate flower (there’s nothing wrong with that) but it’s nice that we can be our flirty seductive self around him and honestly vice versa. we are each others safe haven

he’s is the kind of man who sacrifices without hesitation, loves without boundaries, and protect us without question even at the multiple cost of his life [as evident in all of his cards but particularly in searing touch and our dragon slaying arc event].

he’s not just a love interest, he’s the love interest, a man irreplaceable, unforgettable and lovable

sylus is the odyssey to my penelope, i’ll gladly wait an eternity if it means having him

[yourownutopia]

Shadowborn ( a jin woo x reader story)

When the Shadow Monarch adds you to his ranks, he has no idea what he's in for. Not only are you uncontrollable, but you also harbor a secret that even the System keeps hidden from him. As he searches for a way to bring you under control, it becomes clear that your existence exposes a flaw in the perfect structure of the shadows—one that no one could have foreseen. Why don’t you yield to his will, and more importantly, why doesn’t the System want you to remember? [Jin Woo x fem! shadow! reader]

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Chapter Index :

[Prologue], [1]

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Song: Shadowborn - Hiroyuki Sawano

Calm before the storm - It's me they all are coming for Be my shadowborn

We're back to take the pain - My soul is indestructible

I steal you from the grave - So cursed to be a slave

»»———-»--•--«———-««

Make sure to read the [Prologue] before diving into the Story! :)

Notes: I want to clarify that English is not my first language. I’m sorry if there are any mistakes or if I sometimes use incorrect words.

Chapter 1: Distortion

Aside from the echo of [Y/N]'s footsteps reverberating against the stone walls of the narrow corridor, there was an oppressive silence. Jin-Woo’s own steps were so light they were drowned out by hers.

The quiet was unsettling, pressing down on her like an invisible shroud of unease. Whenever the pitch darkness eased slightly, her gaze would wander, trying to take in her surroundings. Most of the time, though, her eyes fixated on the back of the Shadow Monarch’s head. He clearly noticed the piercing stare of his newest shadow—yet chose to ignore it in silence.

Jin-Woo appeared calm on the outside, but inside, a storm of questions and frustration raged.

Who was she? Why was she so different from every other shadow he'd summoned? Why could she speak?

How had she died? What had killed her? Why did she refuse to obey him? And why, of all things, did he even care?

Alongside his irritation, another emotion simmered just beneath the surface: anger. But it wasn’t directed at her—not in the slightest. This realization only fueled his frustration further. Was he angry because he hadn’t followed through on his own resolve? Because he hesitated? Or was it something else?

Perhaps his rage stemmed from having to confront his own helplessness. Or worse—from the faint glimmer of pity he felt for her. Did he pity her? Wasn’t he stronger than this, past such weaknesses?

Hadn’t he grown beyond such emotions?

Yet, here she was, standing as a constant reminder of his internal contradictions. Why had he brought her along despite her defiance? Was it really just because he sought a strong shadow? Or was it something deeper? Perhaps it was the lost, fractured look in her eyes—peculiar for someone who was supposed to be dead.

Even in her silence, he could hear it—the quiet lament of her restless soul, the faint whispers of unspoken pain. He hadn’t understood the words, but the meaning was crystal clear.

To be fair, Jin-Woo couldn’t imagine what being a shadow truly felt like. After all, every shadow he’d ever summoned had willingly joined his ranks—or so he thought.

Byung-Gu was the only one he knew of who hadn’t wanted to keep fighting but had done so purely to save Cha’s life. Jin-Woo had assumed he could only recruit shadows who were, in some way, willing to serve him. Yet she had made it unmistakably clear that she had no such intention.

They entered a wider chamber, and Jin-Woo abruptly came to a stop. [Y/N] halted as well, more out of instinct than choice.

Had he truly forced her to his side? Or did she have her own reason for being here?

The thought compelled him to glance back at her for the first time in what felt like an eternity.

[Y/N] flinched, almost imperceptibly, as Jin-Woo suddenly turned his head to meet her gaze. His piercing gray eyes cut through her, sending a chill down her spine. For a brief moment, she feared she’d angered him simply by existing.

Where had her courage gone?

She wanted to say something, anything, but her throat was so dry that the words refused to come. Jin-Woo’s lips twitched slightly—an almost-smile—before he opened his inventory.

“We’ll rest here,” he announced, scrolling through his items.

[Y/N] raised an eyebrow, surprised.

Rest? Why? Does he need it? He didn’t look remotely tired, but she wasn’t about to complain.

She took a moment to scan the room. It was small, dimly lit by a few flickering torches that cast long, dancing shadows on the cold stone walls. They hadn’t encountered any monsters yet—a bit unusual for a dungeon of this size. Still, Jin-Woo clearly wanted to get through this place quickly.

He’d already spent several days here, and his shadows had cleared out countless monsters. But at some point, even he wanted to go home.

Jin-Woo sat down on the floor, pulling out some of the food Jinha had prepared for him. The growling of his stomach was a reminder of how long he’d been in this dungeon. Time tended to blur here, but it had to have been over two days.

The rustling of plastic caught [Y/N]’s attention. She opened her eyes to see Jin-Woo unwrapping a neatly packed sandwich.

He looks almost innocent like that, she thought, watching him take a bite while scrolling through his translucent interface.

Her unrelenting gaze didn’t go unnoticed, even though Jin-Woo gave no outward reaction.

“Want some?” he asked suddenly, glancing up.

[Y/N] blinked, tilting her head as though she hadn’t understood the question.

“Huh?”

With an irritated grunt, Jin-Woo held up another sandwich, his expression impatient. It was clear he wasn’t used to his shadows needing food, but she wasn’t exactly like the others.

[Y/N] hesitated. She was dead, wasn’t she? There was no reason for her to eat. She didn’t even feel hungry. Yet, the gesture surprised her—it was unexpectedly kind. Maybe he wasn’t as bad as she thought.

Shaking her head, she waved the offer away. “I don’t think I need it,” she replied calmly.

Jin-Woo shrugged, returning to his interface. Meanwhile, [Y/N] stared at the faintly glowing panel before him. She couldn’t read it—everything was backward from her perspective—but something about it felt familiar. Slowly, fragments of memory surfaced.

A dark void. A golden window. Words forming before her eyes, their meaning sinking deep into her consciousness.

[The System congratulates the user on receiving a new title: “Shadow Warden.” User Sung Jin-Woo has recruited you as his shadow servant.]

Her lips moved before she realized it. “Jin-Woo.”

Hearing his name spoken by her, Jin-Woo froze. There was something about the way she said it, almost like she was testing the sound, trying it on her tongue.

Unlike his other shadows, she didn’t address him with reverence or titles. Just his name.

“What?” he asked, swallowing his last bite.

“Your name,” she murmured, as though it held some hidden meaning she was determined to uncover.

Something about her strange demeanor got under his skin. “My shadows usually address me by my title,” he said, his tone cool.

Her sharp eyes locked onto his, unflinching. “Don’t they feel ridiculous doing that?” she asked bluntly.

“…”

Jin Woo didn’t answer her question. No, damn it—why should they? They were his shadows, he was their ruler, and they were grateful to serve someone like him. So why her? What was her problem?

"Then why did you come along? Why didn’t you want me to me send you back?" Jin Woo finally asked, genuinely curious about the answer.

[Y/N] stayed silent for a moment before responding.

"I didn’t want to," she muttered.

"That’s nonsense," the black-haired man said, standing up again. His movement made the [H/C]-haired woman look up at him once more.

His voice was firm, almost cutting. He had seen the relief flicker across her face when he had let her go earlier.

"Maybe you’re different from the other shadows, but don’t think for a second that you can fool me," he added, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

"I cannot force shadows ranked higher than me. So, I’ll ask you again: why are you here?"

His question seemed to strike a chord within her. For once, there was no sharp or sarcastic comeback. Instead, she turned her head away, her silence prompting the Shadow Monarch to raise a brow. For the first time, her expression revealed something other than smugness.

Discomfort.

She didn’t want to answer. The question clearly made her uneasy, which only confirmed his suspicions. Her earlier words were a lie—she definitely had a reason.

"I..." she started after a few moments of silence, taking a deep breath.

"Honestly, I didn’t have much time to think about it," she finally said, looking up at the young Shadow Monarch.

His expression was incredulous, as if to say, “Are you serious right now?”

"H-Hey, I know how that sounds! You’d think I had all the time in the world—there’s not exactly much to do when you’re dead," she added defensively, her tone almost pleading as if trying to justify herself. This earned a faint smirk from the black-haired man.

"But that’s not how it is..." she murmured, her voice quieter now.

The contrast between her sarcasm and her current embarrassment was, frankly, quite entertaining to him. None of his shadows would ever behave this way.

This was something Jin Woo had noticed more and more during his time as the Shadow Monarch—the lack of true human interaction in his life. His shadows were loyal, but their emotional intelligence was limited.

Beru was the only one who could speak, yet even he stayed silent unless directly addressed. Their relationship was one-sided: Jin Woo commanded, and they obeyed. Whenever he sought advice, he never received an honest, thoughtful response—only the answers they believed he wanted to hear. Like the others, Beru’s sole concern was to keep him satisfied. Unpleasant truths? They were never spoken.

Shadows, after all, weren’t human. They lacked complex thoughts and true free will. It was only now, in moments like this, that Jin Woo fully realized just how far removed he’d become from social interaction.

Before his solo leveling journey, he had never been particularly outgoing. But back then, he’d at least been forced to engage with people. Now, it was just him and his shadows.

His gaze lingered on her, studying her features intently.

Her mere presence created a strange tension. He wasn’t used to not being alone—not like this. His shadows were always there, of course, but they didn’t cast judgmental glances. His actions didn’t need to make sense to them; they never questioned him. His rule was absolute, and that meant he never had to worry about missteps or what anyone thought of him.

But with her...

His eyes drifted over her slight, almost delicate form once more. With her, it was different. Her eyes were sharp, observant, filled with thoughts she had no problem voicing—unlike Beru.

But why on earth was she so reluctant now?

The resurrection had been both a rescue from eternal darkness and a curse of the shadows.

[Y/N] could not truly remember the time she had been dead—only the weight in her chest and the endless void surrounding her. That was until the moment a deep voice threatened to wake her from her slumber.

The first time it spoke, it was gentle, but [Y/N] hadn’t even been able to open her eyes. The second time, her eyes had fluttered open briefly as warmth slowly spread through her body, but it still hadn’t been enough to rouse her. It was... peaceful. Why should she leave this calm? There was no reason...

Then, silence—before the commanding voice asked if she truly wished for her end to come here.

The voice of the man seemed to shake something deep within her. A longing? No... it felt more like a desire buried within her soul, clawing its way to the surface.

Her spirit yearned for life, fighting against the crushing weight that tried to hold her down.

She struggled against the heaviness of her eyelids, her vision blurred as the silhouette of a young man materialized before her.

"Arise."

Her eyes snapped open—this time, the voice was not gentle but threatening. It did not sound like the previous two times. Instead, it was layered with a second voice, one that sent a shiver down her spine.

Her vision was still restricted, her body frozen in place, kneeling before Jin Woo. His form might have appeared human, but [Y/N] could clearly see the second heart beating in his chest, as well as the outline of the colossal ruler of the shadows looming behind him. That presence demanded reverence. His violet eyes burned like flames behind the black-haired man.

She wanted to rise, to flee—to get away from the dangerous, dark figure towering over her.

"Kneel," the loud voice of the Shadow Monarch—no, not the man in front of her—echoed in her ears. It was as though an invisible force pressed her down.

Her body trembled with fear, aching to obey, but her soul refused to yield. Words formed in her mouth, though it felt as if her throat were constricting.

"..."

"N-"

"No," she said.

The shadowed creature's eyes widened, and for the first time in an eternity, the Shadow Monarch was taken aback. No one had ever dared—or even managed—to defy his orders.

"You..." he hissed, his presence growing even more oppressive. Yet, because the human body was not entirely his to command, he could not touch her.

"How dare you," he growled.

This confrontation played out on a level Jin Woo could not yet perceive. A plane between space and time, one he could not enter.

One last time, with all his strength, he tried to bend her to his will, but [Y/N] resisted with equal intensity. Her eyes flickered briefly, and the Monarch's expression shifted slightly in shock.

"This can't be—" he began, but the voice of the shadow interrupted him.

"No!"

The resoluteness in her voice caused his absolute authority to falter. Her form began to manifest fully, and the invisible, crushing grip of the Shadow Monarch ceased immediately. His looming presence disappeared as quickly as it had come, and the oppressive force evaporated.

But it was clear she wasn’t entirely free. Instead, she was now bound to the black-haired man whose piercing gray eyes still bore into her.

Her mouth opened as if to say something, but no words came out. Her silence seemed to satisfy some base desire Jin Woo must have held—after all she had done so far.

But his moment of triumph was short-lived. She bit her lip, and he could sense her frustration building.

"Why do you even ask me that? You only care about yourself anyway," she snarled.

Slowly but surely, his patience was wearing thin. He had genuinely hoped they could go at least half an hour without wanting to throttle each other—but she made it impossible.

What the hell did she know about him? What did she know about the world he lived in, the sacrifices he had made just to save his family? She knew nothing at all.

"What do you know?" he retorted mockingly. To him, she was just another monster created by the System to torment humans. Why should he listen to anything she had to say?

"I know you think you have the right to use us," she said, her [E/C] eyes locking onto his with defiance as she threw the words at him. Us? She clearly meant the shadows.

"You think you can walk through the world, using us for your purposes. Have you ever thought that maybe we feel things too?" she asked, her voice growing louder.

What was she talking about? Feelings in monsters?

"Of course you didn’t," she continued with dripping sarcasm. "You’re special, so you get to do whatever you want, without thinking about the consequences right? Take whatever you want, however you want. Sure, I get it."

Her shadowed voice was sharp with cynicism.

This time, Jin Woo’s anger wasn’t rooted in his pride as the Shadow Monarch—her words struck him as a person.

She had no idea what he had endured, what he had suffered to get to this point. The times he had barely escaped death, and the sacrifices he had made—all for others, never for himself. And now, here she was, mocking him and calling him a selfish tyrant. Her audacity made his blood boil.

"You don’t know anything. I do this to protect the people I love. I’d go even further if I had to," he growled, his attempt to restrain his anger only partially successful.

"Ah, I see. And that’s why you force your will on others. Makes total sense. My bad," she shot back, her voice dripping with mock understanding.

"YOU want to lecture me about fairness? You’re a monster. You have no right to say anything, especially when your existence is only meant for destruction and chaos. Don’t talk to me about feelings," he snapped, his voice tinged with disdain.

Her breathing grew shallow, rage coursing through her veins.

"I do know something about feelings! I understand pain and fear, but that doesn’t give you the right to use my soul for your purposes! And stop calling me a monster. I was a Hunter, damn it—I know what that feels like!"

Jin Woo’s eyes widened in shock. His anger gave way to confusion.

"A... Hunter?" he echoed.

Her furious expression turned to one of disbelief and confusion. What had she just said? She was a Hunter? That was impossible... he had found her in a Solo Dungeon.

[Y/N] stared blankly at a distant point, her mind in turmoil. What had she said, and why was she so certain it was true?

Images flickered through her mind—brief, static-like distortions, too fleeting to grasp.

"I... was..." she began, her voice trembling.

"A Hunter?" she repeated, more to herself than to Jin Woo, who continued to stare at her, dumbfounded.

Before she could process the thought, searing pain shot through her temples, and she gasped.

Instinctively, she clutched her head as fragmented, flickering images filled her mind.

Flowers.

A hand holding hers.

The static distortions resembled a flickering television.

"What’s wrong?" Jin Woo asked, his irritation replaced by genuine concern.

"Something’s... wrong," [Y/N] managed to say through gritted teeth, digging her fingers into her hair.

Her pained, unfocused eyes darted briefly to Jin Woo, who had pushed himself off the wall. What was happening to her?

To the searing pain, a piercing, high-pitched tone in her ears added itself, drowning out everything else. Her hands pressed against her ears, desperate to block it out—but it was no use. The sound was inside her head.

Panicked, she shook her head. She just wanted it to stop.

Jin Woo felt helpless, unable to understand what was happening to her. But he could see the fear in her eyes. Was this like what happened with Esil? Was the System trying to prevent her from revealing something?

Before he could react, he saw her body falter—unable to withstand the pressure any longer.

Before she could hit the ground, he moved swiftly, catching her in his arms.

Her body had gone completely limp, and beads of sweat glistened on her forehead.

He had already noticed he could touch her, but the fact that her body resembled that of a human caught him off guard. Every living being, whether human or monster, had its own mana flow, but with her? There was nothing.

Carefully, he laid her on the ground, the shadows cast by the flickering torchlight dancing over her face. The gust of wind from Jin Woo’s swift movement had set them in motion.

The Shadow Monarch’s expression softened as he removed his mantle, rolled it up, and gently placed it under her head as a makeshift pillow.

Clearly, there were far more mysteries to her existence than he had initially realized.

Her face had relaxed, the pained grimace replaced by something softer.

"Beru," he said quietly. Before he could finish, the large ant emerged from his shadow.

"Yes, my king?" Beru asked, his antennae twitching as Jin Woo shot him a brief glance.

"What’s wrong with her?" he asked, hoping the shadow might understand one of his own better than he could.

"I can sense that she is one of us—but there is something else," Beru replied, his mandibles clicking as he spoke.

"What?"

"There is an unusual aura surrounding her. Her soul is far stronger than her body," Beru said, his gaze fixed on her still form. He could see it clearly: the aura enveloping her like a shield, glowing faintly and keeping the shadows at bay.

"What do you mean?"

"I fear... I am not authorized to share that information," Beru replied cautiously, sensing his master’s piercing glare.

Not authorized?

For Jin Woo, that could only mean one thing.

His gaze shifted from the nervous Beru, who was already anticipating consequences, to the unconscious [Y/N].

The System didn’t want him to find out.

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

Thanks for all reblogs, likes & comments.'*•.¸♡ I really appreciate it <3 ♡¸.•*'

~Utopia ༊*·˚

[stardustedknuckles]

Listening to the Matron talk about the previous god of death cements for me the idea that Vax was always meant to have more time before she made good on their deal. She didn't mean for him to know the same eternal separation and grief she had taken upon herself - that she had chosen with eyes wide open. He was supposed to have time and happiness with Keyleth. Maybe even time beyond a natural lifespan, though that's probably pushing it a little. To the max of said lifespan at the very least. She didn't want for him - or for keyleth - what she had been through, but her hand was forced, and the only way to give him back in any capacity was to take away what should have been. His fate was to become her champion, yes, but there was time to live first. That fate was changed as a gift. It was all she could allow as the keeper of her domain and arguably, her mortality is what led her to give it at all.

Yes. She hears the sounds of grief and loss unending, unceasing. Death is less than nothing to her and the sum of who she is. She is synonymous to death in many ways, though she refers to herself as its steward and rightfully so.

But I think what sets her apart is that she never grows numb to it. That mask is to hide the fact that all of it still affects her. It's to hide all of it - her loneliness, yes, but also that she feels every death. She hears every cry, every curse, every regret. She stands before every soul individually and does what she must, and she wears the mask so that she can do so without giving anything of her mortal feelings away. The dead do not need to know that she cares, that she understands. Death is not about her. It is about who is standing in front of her waiting to be ushered into the beyond. She is the great reuniter, forever separated from the one she loves.

So yes. I believe that Vax was always meant to have more time, right up until time was the only thing left to barter. His fate was to die after a long and happy life, to go peacefully and take up the mantle at her side when he was done on Exandria.

But that had to change to save the fate of the world, and nobody in this realm or any other knows better the loss and the grief that came about from cutting that time short. Vax wasn't meant to understand it either. She wanted better for him and, by extension, keyleth.

[twooftheluckyones]

Cult of the Lamb: Luck of the Lamb Part 4: Reap the Whirlwind

The physical body does not exist within the afterlife, instead the land is inhabited by the souls of the dead or departed. Resurrection repairs the mortal coil, but godly wounds ceaselessly weep. Thus, a god cannot survive death without the healing properties of a conduit crown. Despite this many have tried, though normally its not someone else's power keeping them clinging to the margins of life. A power now bonded through the sheer force of will to share a lonely throne. ~Previous/Next~ ~Start~ ~~~~ Story Segment Under Cut ~~~~

Rage. Betrayal. Vengeance.

Their fight filled the afterlife with destruction and violence. Two gods wrestling for the key to their power. Blade and blood met flame and fury.

Narinder was an old god, powerful beyond measure even in his imprisonment. He had commanded life and death, and weilded curses effortlessly. Una would not be the first god he'd killed.

Yet fate had other plans.

She crackled with divine energy, dancing around his attacks effortlessly.

Lucky.

It felt like ages, and yet before he knew it, it was over. Her blade, made of his crown, plunged into his chest, and his eldritch form crumbled. A god defeated, reduced to nothing.

And then...

Pain. Nothing but searing hot, agonizing pain. Narinder felt lost in a sea of torment, his body suddenly awash with screaming flesh. Through burning nerves he distantly noticed the world around him felt different, the brittle bone meal landscape of the gateway gone. Instead, he felt stone, grass, and chill air against his skin. His eyes felt like hot coals shoved in their sockets, and even trying to open them felt like a dagger to the skull. The sensations were nothing but a candle to the raging inferno of suffering. In another time, he wondered if this was what the mortals he damned in the afterlife felt like. Perhaps that was his fate now. Eternal pain. Fitting. Yet as he laid there, squirming weakly in the depths of agony, something approached. "Nrdnr?! Hly Shtt!" Muffled words reached his ears, soft hands scrambling over his skin. Some demonic tormentor, come to perpetuate or relish in his state? "Hld Stlll! Fgk Fgk!" It was impossible to think over the agony, and they pushed away his hands as he feebly tried to fend them off. The cold ground under him suddenly felt warm and sticky, the silken robes he wore suddenly wet with something. "Hre! Ths iz phor thg baain." His attacker grabbed his head, shoving some vial of something against his lips. The biter oily fluid hit the back of his throat, a spasm of coughs making his body jerk and flail, each one feeling like barbed wire was being flossed through his bones. This really was hell. Hands yanked his tattered robes off, exposing his skin to the cold air. Some kind of cloth wrapped around his arms, pulled tight against the angry nerves. More on his chest, pushed against the spaces in his ribs where an echo of betrayal now bled. Two betrayals. Twice now he'd trusted and lost for it. At least the last time he hadn't been alive to feel what dying was like. "Hold still! Where did all this blood come from?!" A sudden calmness entered his mind, and the fire of agony faded into a foggy, numb abyss. Narinder opened his eyes. Stars met him, the half moon's pale light shining down. He tilted his head up, the movement feeling like lifting a boulder. Some figure hunched over him, their hands covered in inky black liquid as they quickly unrolled another bandage and began wrapping it around his chest. Almost instantly the white fabric turned black. The fog around his head grew thicker, eyes fluttering heavily as consciousness became fleeting and fickle. The figure glanced at him, red meeting red. Despite his injuries, Narinder still possessed enough strength to recognize them.

"Narinder," Una's voice poured with grief. "I'm so sorry, please just hold on. Its going to be okay."

Another empty deceitful lie. "Una..." he muttered, voice a mere whisper through his scratchy and weak throat. "Narinder?" Her eyes wept a river of tears, the guilt in her words echoed across her face. The traitorous eye of his former crown gazed down from atop her head, watching with unending apathy. Rage bloomed in his oozing chest, a small surge of fury granting him some measure of energy. He summoned all of his remaining power, defiance filling his fading mind. "Fuck you." Darkness.

[moonlitdesertdreams]

Of Ghouls and Drugs

Request: "ok so I'm absolutely obsessed with that coop fic you did where reader helps him when he's injured and it's super domestic and fluffy....could you maybe do something where the roles are reversed and he helps the reader who's injured? maybe she's a little shaken up over it too and he calms her down and it's just very sweet and soft. thank you i adore your writing so much 💖" A/N: First of all, the reception of my Fallout content has been amazing. If you're one of the people who have liked/reblogged/replied/shared/saved/etc, I am eternally grateful to you. Second, thank you once again to the anon who sent this request! It's a bit of a switcharoo from Stuck Like Glue, so if you need some more Cooper content, check that out or take a peek at my Fallout Masterlist! Tags: Fallout, Cooper Howard, Cooper Howard x F!Reader, Cooper Howard x You, Ghoul x Reader WARNINGS: Canon-Typical language and violence Summary: Injured and scared, you can always count on your Cowboy to save the day.

Word Count: 1.7k+

(Gif Credit to @victoryrifle)

You don’t know why you’re hyperventilating. 

Sure, you’d been in countless fights and been scared more times than you can remember. In the Wasteland, if you’re not scared every now and again, you’re dead. But today, cornered in a decrepit open-air shopping mall store while a hoard of feral ghouls claw at the rusty security gate, you’re frozen with fear. 

It was an old clothing store, picked apart by scavengers and ravaged by time. Everything was covered in a thick blanket of dust, from the old checkout counter to the racks of high heels that sit untouched. Unfortunately for you, it hadn’t been a department store you ducked into where there could be some hope of escape. This one was a small boutique-type outlet with one way in and one impassable way out. Furthermore, the roll-down security door currently saving your life had been pure luck on your part. The lever for it was broken off and mounted on the side of the entrance; you’d only found it after the damn thing had torn your upper arm to shreds in your haste to get away. 

And now you’re ducked behind the checkout counter, old patterned men’s tie wrapped tightly around your bicep in a poor excuse of a tourniquet. You were out of ammo, banking on the security gate holding until the ghouls got bored or forgot about you. But there was something about today, about how they’d come charging from the darkness the second Cooper had left to turn in your latest bounty, that terrified you. Feral ghouls were shells of people with no logic or sense left in them, but the attack had felt calculated, planned. You argued with yourself, knowing they had basic instinct and probably just singled you out after another of their kind left.

Then again, maybe you’re conflating your fear of Cooper becoming one of them one day with the looming fear of death. 

Unable to do anything about it, you sit behind the counter and shake. Your breath comes in quick punches, inhales cutting off the exhales and vice versa. The iron smell of your own blood is overwhelming. Despite the tourniquet, warm liquid leaks down your arm and drips into a thick crimson puddle beneath you. Your backpack, full of stimpaks and every chem known to man, is abandoned just outside the gate. The damn thing had been torn away when you’d got caught on the jagged lever, beyond your reach and unable to be saved. 

The ghouls wail and groan while clawing at the gate, the sound of rattling metal echoing around the store’s walls. It’s deafening to the point where you cover your ears, accepting the fact that you’re screwed either way. Blood loss or ghoul attack, it doesn’t matter. Cooper’s long gone towards the last town, and you’re cursing the apparently lackluster job the two of you did making sure your camp was secure. 

“Take a look around.” He’d told you, “Getch’yu some new clothes if you need ‘em.”

Cooper’s voice and kiss goodbye lingers in your thoughts as you hold your hands over your ears. It’s a more pleasant thought than the ghouls outside. Your ghoul always keeps you safe. 

“Darlin’.” 

You almost smile to yourself, probably delusional from blood loss. 

“Hey!”

Your name slipping out of Cooper’s mouth dances across your foggy mind. 

“Goddamn it woman, open your eyes.” 

Something shakes your whole body, and your eyes snap open. 

At first it’s too dark for you to recognize any solid features, and you scramble away. The missing nose and scarred flesh blend together in your mind. You swing your injured arm in blind panic, which has the tourniquet breaking loose and bright arterial blood spattering the floor.

But you hear a voice calling through the haze. Soft and slow, like it’s calling to a wounded animal. “Ay, ay ay. Calm down now, sweetheart.”

You squint through the darkness, fighting dizziness. A familiar silhouette makes itself apparent. 

“Cooper?”

His face, weathered by radiation and pain, is usually twisted into a dramatic scowl. But right now it’s concerned, brow furrowed into worry that you’d never seen. The sounds of ghouls and impending doom have vanished. 

“It’s me, babydoll.” He almost coos at you, reaching out a hand. “C’mere.”

Your emotions rage, and tears burn at your eyes. You reach out a hand and brush the one he’s holding out, but your fingertips barely catch on the seam of his gloves.  You squeeze to make sure he’s real. He wraps strong fingers around your wrist and pulls you in. 

It’s easy to give in as his familiar scent and feel washes over you. Gunpowder and smoke are the main notes, but you catch the leather of his duster and the unavoidable grime provided by the Wasteland. The tears flow easily out the corner of your eyes and drip down your cheek.

“I-I don’t know where they came from.” You clutch at his coat, “Scared the hell out of me.”

Cooper is still moving despite you being all but wrapped around him where he’s knelt down. You feel his hands near your injured arm and instinctively cower. 

“Came from somewhere in that back parking lot, it looks like.” Cooper grits in his usual gruff tone, “Must’a got ‘em goin’ when they heard us. Waited ‘til you were alone.”

You sniffle pathetically into his coat, and it morphs into a strangled cry as he wraps the tie back around your arm. His other hand holds a broken piece of wood that he uses to knot into the fabric and twist. 

“Ah! Fucking hell, Coop!” Your protest is little more than a whine as your arm starts to go numb. 

“Sorry, sweetheart.” He murmurs, tipping his head back so he’s able to look in your eyes. “Don’t want ya to bleed out here.” 

You hold his gaze for a moment. “Why’d you come back?”

He helps you stand, giving you a moment to lean back against the counter and acclimate to the dizziness. Your eyes hold steady on him, watching lashless eyelids blink above gaunt cheeks.

“Vials.” He hooks an arm around your shoulders and the other behind your knees and lifts you up, “I wanted to have enough in case I got caught up.”

The slow cadence of Cooper’s walk almost lulls you into closing your eyes and he trudges silently to the shop’s entrance. You see gore splattered on the walls and floor, headless ghouls lying motionless at his feet. The top handle of your backpack is sticking out of the mess, and Cooper snatches it up. 

He walks for some distance, away from the pile of dispatched ghouls. He doesn’t stop until you come up on a store a ways away, advertising furniture and televisions. It seemed relatively untouched considering an atomic war and a two-hundred year wait. The Ghoul moves near the door, and you hear him clanking about with the lock. It takes a few tries and muttered curses, but Cooper jimmies it enough so he can get a toe nudged in the door. You attempt to help by grabbing the door, but he moves your hand back to his shoulder and pushes in on his own.

Cooper sets you gently on a shockingly clean and padded couch. The Ghoul is quiet, but gets to work cleaning the long gash in your arm. He gives you his inhaler, but there’s a strange canister clicked into the mechanism rather than his vial. You take a huff, and gag at the strong taste. 

“H-Holy Shit.” You cough, and it almost distracts you from the pain of a stimpak being stabbed into your wound. “What is that?”

Cooper unties the tourniquet when he’s satisfied, and sets the stimpak off to the side. “Med-X. Inhalin' it works faster.”

You nod and huff on his inhaler again. The Med-X is potent as all hell, and it feels like it’s shooting straight to your brain. You’re more willing, desperate for more as the effects set in. Cooper settles himself on the cushions beside you, watching carefully and taking away the inhaler before you overdose yourself. 

“I’m sorry for bein’ stupid.” You murmur. “I shoulda ran anywhere but there.”

Cooper leans in, ungloved hand cupping the side of your neck and tilting back. “Never apologize for survivin’, sugar.”

The drugs swirling about in your brain make it hard to form normal sentences. “I wouldn’t have without you… I hurt my arm and lost my cool.”

He tries to talk, but you  shush him.

“I couldn’t quit thinkin’ about those ghouls… about you.” 

Cooper sighs and wraps an arm around your shoulders. He pulls you in close and shushes the soft cries that creep up your throat, fueled by a drug-induced haze. 

“Y’know… There’s always somethin’ that’s gonna make us lose it.” Cooper drums his fingers on your forearms. “No matter how tough we might be.”

You feel his lips in your hair and lean into it. “Guess I gotta trust that, ‘cause you’re pretty tough.”

Unbeknownst to you, your words are already comically slurred. Cooper chuckles into the bird’s nest on your head. 

“Feelin’ that Med-X, honey?” 

You swear to god, it’s gotta be that drawl that’s honey, not the drugs.

“Jus-Just a little.” You slump further into his side, head dropping onto his chest. He uses the tip of his boot to drag a nearby footrest closer and prop his feet up. 

“Good. Time for a nap.” Cooper tilts his hat down over his eyes. 

You hum, unable to argue. A nap sounds rather splendid, especially with the amount of drugs circulating your body. You glance up just as the Ghouls huffs down the rest of the Med-X himself. 

“Coop!” You try to chastise him, but it comes out as more of a laugh. “That’s not safe. You don’t need that right now.”

The Ghoul grumbles something that sure sounds like ‘goody two-shoes’, but reigns in the hostility, 

“Sure I do.” His hand rubs up and down your arm before finding its way to your waist. “I’m an old fuckin’ man. Joint pain.”

“Joint pain, schmoint pain.” You mock, eyes falling shut and staying that way. “Fuckin’ old man.”

Cooper actually chuffs at your remark and ducks to press a kiss to your forehead. It’s unexpected and sweet to feel such affection from him, and combines with the euphoric feeling of opioids pulsing through your brain.

“Go to bed, darlin’. Before I knock you out myself.”

thanks for reading, much love ❤

Read More: Fallout Masterlist

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

How do you feel about aromantic idia

As a headcanon? I love (jokingly) bullying Idia for being a socially awkward and sexually repressed otaku, but personally I also like the idea of him being aromantic. He doesn't like attention focused on him and generally seems to prefer fictional characters (ie his waifus/j) to interacting with real people. However, I think it goes deeper than just that. There's many lines in his Suitor Suit card that hint at Idia being repulsed by romance (even if you remove the context of him being kidnapped and forced to wed a ghost):

"There's no reasoning with people who lose their minds over every little infatuation. Like, just keep your head down and focus on school!" (He prioritizes other things, such as school and dismisses things like crushes.)

"I could never swear my eternal love. There's no such thing, and I'm nothing if not honest." (Here, he denies the existence of "eternal love".)

"Love is just chemicals in your brain. And people call that fate? They're all nuts, if you ask me." (He describes the feeling of love in a cold, scientific manner when this isn't something most people would think that deeply about.)

"Don't leave me. Stay with me forever. ...Oof, these emo lines are killing me. I'm gonna steer clear of proposals for the rest of my life." (He makes fun of typical romantic lines and then outright states he doesn't ever want to propose to anyone.)

"Do whatever you want with me. Just get it over with!" (Idia conveys distress and wanting to quickly be done with the kiss/general romantic circumstances.)

"If you want to talk romance, I'm your guy. I'm familiar with all the popular fan ships in video games and manga. You might even call me an expert." (He diverts the topic of real-life romances to his hobbies; aromantics, contrary to popular belief, can still enjoy romantic media without being attracted to or having limited attraction to real people themselves.)

Beyond his Suitor Suit lines, Idia has expressed upset at romantic love being viewed differently than platonic love. In 6-76, during his post-OB flashback, Idia shows off Ortho to Styx researchers, who are appalled by what he has done. "Wait... You built your late brother?! But that's wrong, Mr. Shroud!" they tell him. To that, Idia says, "So it's romantic when a hero rescues his ladylove from the Underworld, but when I do the same for my brother it's wrong?" He's frustrated that the story about Hercules diving into the Underworld to save Megara is praised, but him going that same extreme distance to revive his loved one--an act of platonic love--is denounced.

Idia is also consistently a character that has been shown to enjoy optimization and efficiency. He doesn't like anything that overcomplicates what can easily be done or made easier by machines. For someone like him, who was raised in isolation and has to bear the guilt of potentially dooming a future partner to the Shroud family curse, I think he'd just say "fuck it" at some point and decide it's ultimately not worth that hassle. It could read like a justification for him if others ask why he never looked into finding a spouse, S/O, etc. Like he'd tell them it isn't worth his time or something to get them off his back.

Of course, this is just my personal headcanon and you're free to agree or disagree with me on it! (I support all you Idia yumes and shippers out there 😉) Let's remember that we're all here to have fun and to not take these things too seriously.

[justbelievinginmagic]

im(mortal) - part 1: blood moon.

pairing(s): vampire!enhypen ot7 x fem!reader, series summary: Seven souls struggle with the bitter dregs of eternal life. As they hide amongst human society, they try to discover a cure for their curse, decade after decade, century into century. In their investigations, they find more than they could imagine brewing including a strange magnetic pull towards a human woman. Will they be able to find their humanity once more or will their world crumble beneath the weight of immortality? glimpse: A century-old mansion stood in the middle of nowhere engulfed by an inferno of fire. Seven figures stand in front of it; each with sharpened bittersweet smiles on their mouths as they remember how it all started so so long ago. warnings/tags: Inspired by Enhypen's MVs lore & Enhypen's Dark Moon album (but not really its lore), Vampire AU, sort of Soulmate AU, College AU, heavy science fiction inspiration, ot7 x reader but not poly ot7 (but some are really close tbh), 3rd person POV, use of YN, mature topics, angst, human experimentation, medicine (pills/shots), death, injuries, biting, medical imagery, implied abuse, canonical violence & trauma, vampire lore, blood, Ni-ki as Riki, vomiting, illnesses, fire, arson, no mention of YN this chapter as a heads up! let me know if more tags need to be added! word count: 7.3k -> next chapter series masterlist

Seven different wooden chairs were the only furniture that remained in the large solarium. The wall paper had peeled over the years, revealing different variations of ugly, always baby-blue print. The most recent, which was faded beyond belief, was a lattice print; the one under it was a honeycomb pattern; beneath that was a plain baby blue wallpaper. Chipping. Fading.

There were more echoes of the past. Dark mold clung around ghostly shapes of posters, strangely shaped equipment, and long-gone furniture - the shape of a piano was in one corner and the outline of a fine-china cabinet was in another. The linoleum floor was cracked and warped revealing wooden panels beneath. The room smelt of mildew, and there was the faint sound of dripping water from somewhere.

Sunghoon sat down on his chair, the aged wood creaking under his weight. It was strange. Looking down the row of chairs, he could see ghosts of themselves. Jungwon with his wide dark brown eyes. Sunoo clinging to his stuffed bear that he loved so much. Riki’s feet dangling off his chair, too short for his feet to touch the floor yet. He could smell the disinfectant in the air. It always smelt like bleach and chemicals in the solarium despite the large windows lining the walls. They never were opened, white curtains drawn shut. Even now they remained, yellowed with age and soggy with mold.

He had spent so much time here. They all had but he could walk this room with his eyes shut and he wouldn’t have bumped into one piece of furniture or step on one creaking piece of plank of wood in the flooring.

He let out a sigh; his eyes shutting as he tried to calm his racing heart. This was the exact reason they had to return to the mansion. They needed to. Too many memories, too many connections, too many emotions. Sunghoon hoped Jay was alright.

“I found him,” a voice called out, the tone gentle and melodic as usual.

Sunghoon’s lips upturned as he turned away from the past to look at Sunoo. With his bleach blonde hair peeking out from beneath a beanie, his leathered jacket, and tattered jeans, it was easy to be reminded of reality. Sunoo was not a little boy with dark black hair clinging to a stuffed animal anymore. He hadn’t been for a long time.

The linoleum squeaked beneath Sunoo’s shoes as he walked into the large room.

“Wow,” he breathed softly. “I thought seeing the rooms were weird.”

He sighed out, the sound mimicking the breath Sunghoon had heaved moments earlier.

“It’s weird for sure,” Sunghoon said, rising to his feet after a long stretch with his head tilting back as far as it could before straightening and standing.

There was a rustling like a wind brushing through the room. And with it, the world melted away, glowing faintly, just enough to paint the room in a nostalgic light. The wallpaper was honeycombed pale blue; the ceiling fan overhead spun slowly; the room was casted with natural and gas light. A table sat in the center, circular and covered in a white sheet. 7 dining spots were set, a plate, a fork, and a papered cup, each. Each of their chairs were in their spot – polished wood gleaming in the light.

The sound of piano playing a familiar melody that they all had once help create.

Sunoo smiled at Sunghoon. His hair looked darker now in the allusion, his face rounder. His teeth were duller.

“Sunoo,” Sunghoon pleaded, shutting his eyes. “Please don’t.”

With that, the allusion washed away like a chalk painting on a rainy day, turning grey and muddied until the aged room was all that remained. The younger frowned.

“I hate this place,” Sunghoon murmured.

“Same,” Jay’s voice chimed in.

Their heads swung around to see the other man enter the doorway. He grimaced at the sight of the blue room. Jay leaned on the door frame, his hands resting on either side of the door.

“Jungwon’s all done. You guys ready?”

Sunoo took a deep breath in, and Jay winced.

“Sunoo,” he sighed out, taking a step forward almost instinctively.

“I’m fine,” Sunoo insisted, immediately.

His smile was sweet as a spoonful of sugar, wide eyes gentle as he shifted on his feet. Twisting restlessly, his arms spun a bit as he did so, childlike. Jay raised a singular brow before turning towards Heeseung’s call from down the hall.

He didn’t believe Sunoo for a moment. But all Sunoo did was avoid the elder’s gaze, glancing aside, his gaze gravitating to the chairs this time. His chair looked so tiny now. Was it always that small?

“C’mon,” Jay gestured towards them with his head. “They’re waiting.”

With one final look, Sunghoon left the solarium, passing Jay with a steady look in his eye. Jay returned it, sympathy echoing on his face. Sunoo stood there, his hands moving to play with the straps of his backpack.

“You think I’ll feel better?” Sunoo questioned, quietly.

“We all will once we’re done,” Jay commented, leaning on the door frame. It creaked with his weight tauntingly. Jay glanced down the chairs lined up beside him. His chair was missing an arm now.

“I think it’ll help.” He admitted, not looking at the younger. “You’ve been holding onto it for so long, Sunoo.”

There was a tiny hum in the back of Sunoo’s throat. Jay could feel the emotions radiating off of him, the twisted emotions of nostalgia, hurt, pain, sorrow, and strangely euphoria. Jay didn’t understand how Sunoo could feel any happy memories here.

Sunoo shouldered his backpack off and unzipped it. Inside was a stuffed bear. Greying with age, covered in stitches and makeshift patches of fabric to keep his stuffing from tumbling out. He was damaged but well-loved. Old but cared for. Sunoo plucked the thing up. The fur wasn’t soft anymore despite its age. No amount of cuddling made it more gentle, it was always harsh against his skin. He swallowed, looking over at the bear.

Jay glanced aside.

Sunoo breathed out, a thumb brushing over a glass eye, over the worn silk of the ribbon around its neck. With another shuddering breath in, Sunoo placed the bear on his chair. He sat so nicely as if meant for it.

“It’s time,” Sunoo whispered.

“It is,” Jay agreed, watching as Sunoo picked up his now empty backpack.

With quick footsteps, Sunoo exited the solarium without another look. Jay glanced around it once last time before shutting the door behind them with a clank. The two men walked through the mansion, down a dusty hallway. Their feet remembered each creaky floorboard as they continued onwards.

The foyer was all wood and white peeling paint. A singular electric light hung by a chain above the group of men standing in a semi-circle. Waiting for them.

Jungwon’s face was stoney and serious, but at the sight of the others he offered a tight-lipped smile.

“All good?” he asked.

Jay nodded in reply for the group. “Yeah, just checking out the solarium.”

Sunghoon’s hands trembled he noticed then; he hid them in his jeans’ pockets.

“I’m so ready for this place to be nothing but a memory – for good,” Niki commented from his side, his voice sounding harsh as he glared at the high ceilings. The stairwell nearby casted a shadow over his face.

Heeseung said nothing but there was a tickle in the back of their heads – his agreement palpable. Sunoo was quiet as he went to Jungwon’s side. He didn’t grab his arm, but he huddled close. Jay rubbed his forehead as he nodded.

He wanted all of this to be over.

“Let’s do it then.” Jake said. His fingers began to glow, ember hot red.

Dark red eyes took in the mansion for the last time before they glanced at each other. A solemn nod from Jungwon was all they needed before they crept outside of the mansion. Jake’s hands trailed over the wall; it would be described as reverently if there wasn’t such a deep scowl on his pretty features. His lip was curled back into a grimace as flames licked from his fingertips and onto the century old wood of the mansion. A complicated look flickered over his face as he watched the fire catch, a surge of flames erupting up the white paint and traveling higher and higher until they caught onto the ceiling.

“That should do,” he heard Heeseung’s voice in his head, encouraging Jake to join the group outside the burning mansion. As he did so, Jungwon closed the front door with a heavy slam.

-

With a slam, the door thudded shut, piquing the interest of the two boys peering down from in between the stairwell’s posts. Two small faces pressed against the wooden balusters as they watched a man enter the mansion. White coat, spectacles, and carrying two leather bags that were heavy in his grasp. Behind him stood a trio of nurses in their pastel-mint, perfectly pressed dresses and ivory aprons and caps.

“It’s a doctor,” the elder whispered to his friend. Their eyes widened as they focused back far below them.

The doctor glanced upwards, hearing their small voice. He smiled. His footsteps echoed on the floorboards as he went towards the manager’s office.

“Is someone sick?” the other boy hugging his toy bear whispered back.

“No,” the other shook his head. “I don’t think so. . . “

“Maybe they want to adopt one of us?” the younger offered, fiddling with the bow on the bear’s neck.

“Maybe.”

There was a loud thud as the doctor and his entourage entered the manager’s office. The door’s lock sliding into place was even louder. The youngest flinched, fiddling with the silk on the bow even more, soothingly.

“Let’s go tell the others.” The elder said encouragingly, standing from his spot to rush down the upstairs hall to the bedrooms.

-

Not long later, the orphans stood in a line by height, much to the despair of the eldest who was still shorter than the youngers. Each one was examined. An illuminator shined into their brown eyes, into their tiny mouth. A nurse took down notes that the doctor murmured behind his medical mask.

Tapetum lucidum, negative. Tapetum lucidum, negative. Tapetum lucidum, negative.

Number 6 and 11, primary. Number 6 and 11, permanent. Loose number 11, primary.

Their blood was drawn in multiple small vials later by the nurses. Some of the youngest struggled with the blood draw, afraid of needles and blood. A nurse said with a cool smile, “You’ll get used to it.”

This wouldn’t be the first time they’d line up like this. Sometimes, it was weekly; other times, it was daily. Medical notes needed to be updated frequently was all the doctor said.

Then came the pills. They took at least one with every meal; some of them took more than others. When Jay had asked a nurse why were they taking them (they hadn’t taken any ever before!), she had reassured him it was for his well-being. Good boys take their medicine. She chirped out.

The old white-haired manager welcomed the doctor to set up an office in an unused music room, pushing the piano out into the hallway where it sat, taller than most of the boys.

Rules around the mansion began to change soon after. There would be no more adoption visits, no more potential guardians for the time being. No more new additions to the household either. The orphanage’s manager, the old woman with ashy white hair, had smiled at them around the table at dinner time. Each in their chair donated by the nearby town, mismatched like themselves.

She said this was for the best. That this was a way for them to be good boys of society.

They took their pills that waited for them in a small paper cup.

There was another change. No more outside time. No visits into town. No visitors at all. Their solarium that they had once used for potential adoptive parents to meet them turned into a sort of common room, a living room and dining hall all in one. A table for meals had been set up with a white sheet covering its surface. A collection of their toys sat in a corner with a rocking chair that was nearly falling apart. The piano had been pushed inside by the older boys; two raggedy repatched sofas were there as well to lounge about on. As they grew, a bookshelf was shoved against the wall next to the manager’s fine china cabinet (that they were to never touch or else they’d be punished.) It was where they would live, play, assemble for meals, and assemble for treatment. That was their outside now. A tiny blue wall-papered solarium with humidity fogged windows, covered in white lacy curtains.

They complained at first. These changes were horrible. They loved playing outside on the apple tree’s swing and the nearby flower fields. They wouldn’t go into town but let them play outside, please. But, when any of them tried to sneak outside, their punishments grew.

First, it had been the addition of heavy-padlocked entrances and exits that only the doctor, manager, and head nurse held the keys for. When the youngest stole the head nurse’s key when she wasn’t looking (to go play on the swing on the yard’s apple tree), they were quickly limited to only the manager. When the most-sensitive of the group crept outside a window to go pet a stray cat on the back porch, the isolation room was introduced.

It was a bare dusty thing– an old dance room that was used when there were girl orphans. Once it had become an all-boy’s orphanage, it was left abandoned, cold, and grimy. It was dark; there was only candle-based lighting in that room. Gas lighting was slowly being introduced to the cities and towns of new, and, while some of the house had the trailing, twisting wires leading to easily burnt-out light bulbs, the isolation room didn’t. Two floor-to-ceiling walls of cracking mirrors decorated opposite walls of the room with a barre screwed into one of them. Another wall was old brick, harsh and unwelcoming. It felt like an endless room if you stared long enough into the mirrors. A room where you’d be locked away until you were more well-behaved. To think about your actions. (Which were what? Leaving the house they were trapped in? They didn’t understand why things had to change.) The youngest hated the room.

He became very familiar with the room throughout the following years.

-

It was a slow life. They grew taller; they lost baby teeth; they celebrated birthdays. Their medicine increased and decreased; their rooms grew more familiar. The isolation room became common-place especially as some of the boys edged into teenagerhood. Soon, the doctor moved into the office. Soon, there were even more tests. More pills, even injections. Their halls reeked of antiseptic and the metallic tang of medical equipment. The manager passed away on Jay’s twelfth birthday, but nothing much changed except for the fine-china cabinet being raided and left empty – by who the boys never knew for sure.

The pills continued. The examinations continued.

-

Jungwon was the first to be considered a success by the doctor.

He was no older than ten when he discovered his new talent – speed. Indoor races back and forth in the solarium became easy; in fact, he kept teasing the others that he was faster, faster, faster than them all. But it wasn’t just speed he discovered: it was hunger. A hunger that crawled in the pit of his stomach. A hunger that was a maw to all food.

Hungry. Hungry. Hungry.

Nothing satiated it. Nothing until he snapped at a nurse. Bit into her arm with the feral nature of a dog captured. A fit of anger, a tantrum, the doctor had noted at first until… until… there was a growl, inhuman. Deep in the young boy’s chest. The boy, the sweet friendly boy who hated the pills ever so much, glared up at the doctor. Red eyes, red mouth, white fangs.

Instead of being scolded that evening and tossed into isolation, he was given the sweetest treat he had ever tasted. A red jelly that jiggled like a belly while laughing. But smelt of iron-blood.

He was a success. He deserved to be celebrated.   

The others followed swiftly.

-

Heeseung hated the pills they were forced to ingest. Wake up; pills. Lunch; pills. Dinner; pills. Pills, pills, pills. He hated them. He hadn’t been there the longest – that title went to Jungwon, but he was the eldest of the boys. So, since day one of the doctor’s arrival, he had a higher dose of everything until it was proven unhealthy for the boy. What was unhealthy was difficult to determine apparently. He’d vomit; his stomach cramped. He’d be trembling with chills and hot with a fever within hours. He was bedridden; he was exhausted; he was jittery.

He had seven pills in his cup. Why? Why? Jay had two pills!

He asked why; they didn’t tell him. When his symptoms grew, Heeseung tried to figure out how to feel better. Take more pills, take less. Nothing worked. His body weening from the medicine was just as bad as taking the medicine he realized. His skin crawled. His head felt like it was going to explode. Sometimes he couldn’t bear the sunlight touching his skin. It burned his eyes, forcing him to stay in his room. Once he tried to hide his pills. He tucked them into his pillow, threw them out the window. When it was discovered by one of the trio of nurses, he wasn’t punished. He simply was force-fed the pills rather than allowing himself to drop each tablet on his tongue. That happened for a month. After that he didn’t challenge them again. Grimacing, he’d swallow down the pills pressed against his mouth. Always at the supervision of a too-calm nurse with a sick smile on her perfectly lipsticked lips.

He tried to talk to Jungwon, but Jungwon didn’t talk much anymore. He simply stared. Stared and stared as he sat at the head of the dinner table, plate empty. Eyes empty. When was the last time he saw his friend smile… eat… It scared him. Sometimes Heeseung swore he could hear his voice in his head.

Hungry. Hungry. Hungry.

Can’t. Can’t. Can’t.

Control. Control. Control.

Heeseung would itch and writhe and change until he too couldn’t stand the taste of food. Couldn’t swallow another bite of rice. Until he tried to attack his nurse as she fed him his pills. With aching teeth and a gnawing stomach, he bit his nurse’s hand as she forced the pills down his throat. Heeseung thought her blood tasted sweeter than any treat he’s ever tasted.

That night at the dinner table, there were now only five plates full of food and two bare. It was also the first time Jungwon heard another voice in his head, one that sounded like the eldest without him opening his mouth. Their dark rubied eyes locked.

Hungry. Hungry. Hungry. Heeseung chanted in Jungwon’s head. 

-

The youngest Riki, often called by the nickname ‘Niki’ after he stumbled over his own name in introductions at the orphanage, was exceptionally difficult. He spat out his pills; he’d get placed in isolation. He fought with the others; he’d get placed in isolation. He stole Sunoo’s bear; isolation. Far too often, he was in the locked room. Solidarity confinement to encourage him to play nice. It just made him feel invisible and hurt – especially when none of the boys visited him.

Except for Sunoo who loved to act as older brother to the younger (despite holding his stuffed animal close to his chest everywhere he went in the mansion). He’d sit outside the isolation room’s door, whispering ‘hello’s underneath the door’s gap or peering through the keyhole to see each other and wave his bear’s paw at him. Riki would tease him about his stupid bear, but then he’d cling to his own pillow as the nurses began to inject whatever was in the pills into his arm. It was then proven that he was no troublemaker, just a lost little boy clinging to a pillow as another shot was pressed into his arm. Tears trickled down his cheeks.

Riki hadn’t taken the pills in a while, not like his hyungs. He told his doctor that he liked the pills. Can’t he take the pills again? He wouldn’t spit them out, promise! The injections hurt. His arm would ache. Then, his stomach would ache. Then, his head would ache. He’d toss and turn on the examination table in agony.

It went on for so long. Sometimes the others would hear his cries at night, whimpering for a mother or father that wasn’t there. Eventually, Jungwon would sneak out at night, too fast to catch, and rest on the floor outside of the isolated room to whisper comfort to the youngest.

It’ll be okay. You’re okay.

I’m here, Riki. I’m here.

With the sadness, the loneliness, the pain, there was a violence brewing in Riki after each check-up. He was angry, no, beyond that, he was rageful. He wished the nurses, the doctor, the manager of the orphanage, could feel what he felt – like time had stopped. He found out one day that his birthday had passed with no celebration.

“It was a lesson,” a nurse warned as she drew his blood. “Good boys get to celebrate fun things.”

He watched as his blood filled the vial with disdain. It looked sludge-thick, dark red.

He craved something he didn’t understand right then. His stomach curdled and ached. But food tasted of ash, of dirt, of everything bad. Bad, bad, bad. He refused to eat, gnashing teeth at anything they offered. He wouldn’t even drink a sip of blood when it was finally presented to him. In an unassuming white Dixie Cup. He threw it at the doctor, growling.

“Ungrateful boy,” the doctor hissed out.

Hungry, he thought.

Hungry. Hungry. Hungry.

He needed food, not blood!

They had to restrain him, a shackle on his ankle to the nearby brick wall of the isolation room… until he tore it away from the wall it was mounted in. Until his hunger blinded him in blood-red. Until he was somehow out of his room, on the other side of the locked door. Until he was tearing his fangs into the first person he saw – into the neck of his friend who often came to sit outside his bolted-room door to talk. Sunoo.

-

Sunoo had been born by the bite rather than the pill. Riki had drained him near dry before the nurses had found them in a daze. He was half-dead, and the only way he was recovered was through Jungwon. His blood was siphoned into the dying veins of Sunoo. His venom; his blood; their venom; their blood.

Sunoo’s eyes flashed opened, and he saw only red for a moment. Vermillion haze. Until he saw his friends, his so-called brothers, peering over at him on the makeshift medical bed. His throat ached, but he simply smiled. Fangs and all.

He suffered the most after his transformation. Unlike the others whose symptoms came and went in waves, building gradually before they succumbed, he went through everything at the same time. He couldn’t go into daylight, couldn’t bear the touch of the sun or the glare of lights; he was hungry all the time and would attack for it. He’d try to bite his brothers; he’d eat scrapes he’d find from the night’s dinner; he’d vomit. Anger would overwhelm – he even tore the limbs off his beloved stuffed bear which left him crying inconsolably. He felt like he wasn’t even himself. Unsafe.

Hungry. Hungry. Hungry.

His feet moved so fast one day; some thought he was levitating… until they realized he was. If he was scared or hungry or anything, he’d fly away, hide away in a closet. He’d hug his stitched-up bear close to him, whispering words with sharpened teeth. All the while he hoped this was all a nightmare he’d wake up from.

Sunoo learned, if he tried hard enough, he could live in his mind. Making up a world he loved. Where he felt safe. Sometimes if someone was close to him, they could see his fantasy world too. So bright, so beautiful. Only for it to eventually fade away into this. A mansion of horrors.

-

At this point, the boys had been divided up. Half remained in the solarium, the other half in their bedrooms. The solarium had been converted into a horrible makeshift medical office. White bedsheets were draped about, over the bookshelf, the table, their chairs, the sofa. Everything. Medical equipment – syringes, needles, pills, IV drips. A machine that beeped with their heart beats. They were poked and prodded. Doses were increased.

Jake. Jay. Sunghoon. Grew. Hungry. Hungry. Hungry.

-

Jake had a strange case of side effects. Hot and cold. He was cold. Icy to the touch. He felt half-dead for days before breaking out into a fever. So hot and restless. He’d sink down in icy baths for hours. He felt more like he was half-fish than human sometimes.

He’d rest his forehead against the cool bathtub’s porcelain and breath in and out only for that once icy cold water to become boiling hot. His hands glowed, heat pulsing from them as the water bubbled about him. He’d throw himself out of the tub, scalding hot water sloshing onto the tiles below.

Nurses would run in. Fearful only for him to look at them, eyes strangely bloody, and his hands sparking with fire.

He was locked up like Riki once was. With the addition of flame-retardant gloves and chains tight on his hands. He was quiet when they did so. He grew quieter and quieter as the days passed. With hot flashes, cold flashes, hunger flashes, he felt like a live wire.

Sometimes, when he was bored, he’d stare at the lights, blinding white lights until they’d burst. Until he flooded the electric grid and the entire house suffered power outages. He didn’t know how he did it. All he knew was that he could. Something was wrong.  

One day, when he felt cold as ice with a stomach gasping with hunger, the smell of food disgusted him. The nurse sent to feed him his porridge made the wrong move. Unclasping his shackles, undoing his gloves. He pounced, more monster than man and bit her, drained her. There were no other nurses rushing in; there was no doctor to stop him. Jake didn’t stop drinking, drinking, drinking until it was just him and the corpse of a nurse he’d known for half of his life. He passed out in a fever soon after, still hungry he realized pathetically.

Hungry. Hungry. Hungry.

He was found by the doctor hours later. His mouth was cleaned, his clothes cleaned; he was laying in his bed and not the isolation room. The nurse was gone. Where had she gone? The young teen stared up with blood-red eyes. The doctor smiled and said everything was okay now. He was forgiven.

A cup of blood was handed to him in a paper cup.

Jake took it, knowing he was freed from his cage, his restraints gone, but somehow still a prisoner to a new shackle he didn’t want to bear.

-

From day one, Jay had always listened to the nurses, had listened to their manager, had listened to the doctor. For years, he listened and obeyed. He was a good patient, a good boy. Trusting their words as they fed him pill after pill, shot after shot. No matter how much he cried when his arm ached or his stomach churned. They’d say he was a good boy for taking his medicine. “Why couldn’t you be good like Jay?” He had heard that said hundreds of times.

So, it was funny how miserable he felt. How bad like a rotten apple sitting in the sun. Jay just felt awful. His friends one by one turned into someone unlike themself. Biting, blood, red eyes. Everyone felt angry… he didn’t know how he knew it but he did. Sometimes, if he stared at them long enough, he could just tell.

The nurse was upset today. She was sad and guilty… they tasted like the smell of rain, like salty soup.

Another nurse hadn’t come into care for them. Maybe she was with the others? He couldn’t tell.

Sunghoon was lonely; it tasted like woodchips, like dust in the corners of a room. Jay tried to play a game with him, but soon their different symptoms distracted them. A headache, nausea, exhaustion.   

The doctor was never angry. He wasn’t sad either. He was so joyful at their suffering. Jay could taste it like it was liquid sugar, melting on his tongue. Jay hated him. Sometimes he hoped the doctor could feel it when he glared at him. Sometimes Jay swore he did, when he’d flinch or take too sharp of breath in.

While Jay was one of the eldest, he was one of the last to change fully. He was stuck between food and blood for a long time. Unlike the others, his eyes didn’t turn red when he was given a cup of blood. He drank it down like a good boy, but it didn’t have the same effect as the others. So, they’d mix some blood into his soups, his porridge, his rice. Everything a pale pink. He’d throw it up. Food disagreeing with him; blood disagreeing with him. More tests had him hooked up to IVs, and his blood tested.

The nurses said it was his will not the treatment’s fault. The duo said they saw him hungry during their blood-draws; they said they saw how he’d lick his lips whenever the blood from his own veins dripped into the vial.

Blood called to him like a siren from a fairytale.

The first time he attacked the doctor for his blood was the last time he drank from a human who was awake. Their pain, their emotions flaring, he felt it then. Understood it then. It bittered everything. It hurt. He hated it. He hated it all.

He drank blood from an IV. From a cup. From the jelly the nurses made. Never from another being. Even if his stomach growled and the maw inside him whispered: Hungry. Hungry. Hungry.

Jay refused to be a monster.

-

Sunghoon was last to change. The loneliest. He was kept away from the boys after they turned one by one. Locked away in the solarium, he slept there, ate, read. Every now and then, Jungwon would visit him by the window. One warm hand pressed against the glass, larger than Jungwon’s cold palm.

He felt weak. Not only was he somehow not changing to whatever his friends were – but he was exhausted daily. Laying in the solarium, he began to sleep during the day, staying awake all night. As time pass alone, his tests grew worse. His muscles were deteriorating. Like his body was eating away at him. Pain became Sunghoon.

They whispered; he heard them. Should they use the others’ blood? Their venom? But Sunoo was so feral; he apparently had just begun to adjust. Could they handle another boy acting so erratic?

He couldn’t understand that he was dying. He was in a blur; sometimes it felt like the world would just blend into a watercolored haze, and he’d be outside his body. He knew where the nurses were, the doctor, the other boys. Their hearts, their breaths, their muscles flexed as his deteriorated. It was strange, scary.

It wasn’t until one day there was a horrible cracking sound from his body, unearthly. Inhumanly monstrous but also frighteningly fragile that the doctor simply force-fed him blood. Just regular blood. No venom, no medicine, no Jungwon or Riki or Jay or Heeseung.

It was vile. Blood wasn’t meant for humans. . . was he a human? He didn’t know anymore. The blood was poured down his throat. Head tilted back; nose plugged. Iron-sick, ruby-slick, he’d cough and cough as he sat up from his ‘feeding.’ Blood dripped down his chin, staining his sweater.

“You look better,” said the doctor with a disgustingly joyful smile. A bright light shined in his eyes made him blearily blink.

“Tapetum lucidum, positive.” The doctor said pleasantly, to the nearby nurse before clicking the illuminator off.

Red eyes, red mouth, baby fangs. It took time, but they grew and elongated after two weeks of forced blood drinking 3 times a day. Despite his hunger, Sunghoon hated blood. He didn’t want it; he didn’t want the hunger.

Hungry. Hungry. Hungry.

The next time, on day fifteen, he drank willingly. Not just one cup but seven.

-

The examinations didn’t stop. The medicine didn’t stop. Even after all of this, they were forced to drink this blood and their pills.

The only difference was that they finally weren’t separated. The day they were reunited was strange. Waves of emotions only led to the boys staring at one another like strangers. Some looked so different. Sunghoon hadn’t seen Jungwon in over a year. He almost didn’t recognize him. Riki was taller. Sunoo clung to Jungwon’s arm. Jake looked like a ghost.

“The family is back together,” the doctor cheered as they all sat in the solarium together for the first time in months.

Rubied eyes stared at the doctor, silent.

“Let’s take a photograph to commemorate this!” a nurse chimed out.

There was only one nurse left now – they didn’t know where the second one went. Sitting together on a white draped sofa, the seven didn’t smile. They simply stared as the large contraption was set up on spindly metal legs. With a crack of a light bulb, the photograph was taken.

Their eyes looked eerily pale in the monochrome photo, like a dog’s at night. The doctor was the only one grinning ear to ear. A flicker of a fang was visible in Riki’s grimace.

Photographs of their mouths and eyes were taken that day, too. Sometimes Heeseung wonders if it was all for that from the start.

-

“We should leave,” Jay whispered one night.

The boys - no, they weren’t boys; they hadn’t been boys in a long time – they were men, teenagers with the tempers of children and the hunger of a monster – they sat inside Jungwon’s bedroom, a common gathering place solely due to the bright moon outside of his window. None of them had windows – too much of a risk. But, Jungwon had been such a good boy. Such a success.

Jungwon just simply knew what the nurses and doctor wanted. A doll. A research subject. So he was that, a scientific silent thing. But here he’d stroke his Sunoo’s head as he curled into his lap, still clinging to his bear. Here, Jungwon’s rubied eyes that stared blankly at dinners and breakfasts were round and empathetic as he nodded along with Jay. Here he was himself – as much of himself as he could be with the constant growl of the Beast in his ear.

“We need to get out of here.” He agreed.

“But what if—what if we need them?” A tentative voice asked.

It was a strange thing to feel – a need towards those who had harmed them. A double-edged sword. The experiments hadn’t stopped. The medicine hadn’t stopped. They were still being tested on despite their changes. But… this was all they knew. They’ve never went past the town, never breached past the tree-line. What if it was worse… alone?

Despite their hunger. Sunoo’s voice was fragile.

“We don’t need them,” Riki bit out, arms crossed. As the youngest, he was still the most volatile; Heeseung summed it up to teenage hormones.

There was a beat as a wave of calm settled over them like a cool mist from a forest, like the minty way your mouth felt after brushing them with toothpaste.

“Jay,” Jake whispered, half-scolding.

He knew it was him; Jake never felt so at peace nowadays, only when Jay manipulated the emotions of the room to his will. Jay flashed a bashful smile, red cheeked.

“We don’t need them,” Jungwon redirected the conversation, firmly.

“What could be worse?” Sunghoon bit out, eyes staring up at the moon. His head leaned against the window pane.

“Dying,” it was not said but thought. Each of the vampires could hear the voice of Heeseung echoing in the back of their minds like it was their own thought.

Riki shivered. “I hate when you do that,” he mumbled.

“Sorry,” Heeseung muttered. He didn’t know how to quite control it yet. His thoughts were like a stream connected to a river and that river to a larger ocean. Sometimes they flowed into others.

“Okay,” Jungwon huffed. Sunoo nuzzled into his arm sleepily. “Dying isn’t an option. We can’t.”

“We’ve been through all of this just to die?” Riki added, crossing his arms as he shifted his weight against the wall. “No way.”

“What if we are hungry…?” Sunoo asked.

When weren’t they? Even Jungwon struggled with his hunger, he had bitten his fair share of the remaining nurses. It was silent. What would they do?

“We can stock up before we leave,” Jay said, hand going through his hair as he tried to block out the ranging emotions around him. Excitement, nervousness, fear, anxiousness. It was making him sick to his stomach.

“And after?” Another asked.

“We’ll figure it out.” Sunghoon said, quietly. Optimistically. He raised a brow as he looked over the others. As the fledgling among them, the youngest in terms of whatever this curse was, he was most prone to outbursts for blood. If he could try, they could.

Heeseung looked at the room, once over. “We figure it out,” he agreed.

“Together.”

-

Their break-out wasn’t a simple thing planned in one night under a full moon. It took a month of planning. Of preparing. Stealing IV bags of blood when the nurse was busied – some of them causing problems, so they could grab more. They were hiding them in the glass fine china cabinet in the solarium; it had rested empty and covered by a white sheet for years now. No one checked there. When the cabinet was full, they began tucking the blood bags into pillows and mattresses they had gutted with the strange claws they realized they were starting to have. If they focused, they’d grow, thicken into incredibly sharp nails.

One night, Jungwon even hid some of the pills they were forced to swallow down – just in case – in a place no one would ever look. He was quick, grabbing all he could. Inhumanly fast, he looked this way and that – just waiting for the nurses to return. In his hurry, he grabbed other bottles strewn about that had unknown names - ferrous sulfate, calciferol, allium sativum, melatonin.

It was a cold November night when they planned to leave – but they didn’t know it; after all, experiments didn’t need to know the date, or the time, or the year.

They went off the moon. Each day a sliver of the moon grew and grew larger. It was supposed to be a full moon that night. Yet when the moon peeked around the tall trees outside Jungwon’s window, it was strange. Reddish, bright, bloody.

“It’s fate,” Sunghoon had whispered as they waited in the shadows of Jungwon’s bedroom.

A blood moon for the vampires.

With the doctor drugged, forced to drink down the mixture of pill Jungwon had found (Riki had dropped in his nightly tea like they were forced to down blood), they crept down the stairs.

It was quiet. The snores of the doctor echoed down the hall. Their feet dodged the creaking parts of the wooden floor. The vampires clung to belongings – tied up into makeshift sacks made of bedding. Thick winter coats covered their layers of clothes. Sunoo held his bear.

Heeseung’s voice rang out in their head.

“Sunghoon’s going to get the key.” It was whispered in their minds, almost as if he was afraid that he’d be heard even there.

It was in the doctor’s office.

They froze in the entry-way, the foyer feeling colder by the second despite their inability to feel the chill (really, even their layered clothes were just out of habit – weren’t they supposed to feel cold in winter?) Their breaths were low, dark eyes flickering between each other as they waited. Sunghoon wasn’t the quickest like Jungwon. But he had a sense to him, that was unlike any of them. Like warning bells were built into his head.

It was almost too easy. Until it wasn’t.

“Hey – what are you--?” the doctor cried out, shaken awake.

Were the pills a fluke? Riki’s eyes went wide, frightened at the sound. Sunoo grabbed onto Jay. There was the sound of fighting, grunts. A thunk against a wall.

Jungwon leaned forward, wanting to run to help but Heeseung’s hand reached out to stop him.

“I got it,” Sunghoon yelled out, the sound like a scream in the quiet silence.

He rushed out of the room; the wooden door slamming against the wall. A clambering of footsteps followed him.

“Get back here, you brat,” the doctor yelled.

Sunghoon felt more alive than ever. He ran fast. Riki stared down the doctor, shaking against the doorway. He wanted him to just stop, stop, stop. They had to get out of here.

To his surprise, the doctor did. He froze. Mid step, floating in the air. His sleep-hat caught in the air. Glasses askew. Not only did the doctor stop but so did his friends… no, his family. He glanced around. Jungwon was to his left, hand on the door knob, ready to unlock the door. Heeseung had grabbed Jake’s hand. Sunoo was curling towards Jay. Riki’s breath burned in his throat as he held onto it with all his might. He took a small nervous step… nothing else shifted. He was the only one to be able to step forward.

And he did. He walked over to Sunghoon. His hair was flopping mid-air, teeth bared, fangs sharp. His hand held the key tightly. With ease, Riki slipped it out of his blood-brother’s hand. Bounding over to the door, he turned the lock. There was a chill climbing up his spine, his breath electric in his lungs. Opening the door, he let out his held breath in a single gasp. With it, the world to come rushing to action. But there was no contest, no obstacle now. A door was open with the darkness outside pouring into the mansion.

The boys simple ran out the door, bewildered to how it was opened and unlocked. Sunghoon glanced at his hand for only a moment before ignoring the impossibility of the world and sprinting harder. He’d take the miracle. Maybe it was really fate. Fate for them to escape.

They broke past the tree-line, hooting and hollering as they continued to run and run and run. Away from the mansion and into their new lives.

The doctor huffed and puffed glaring out into the darkness, only made darker under the blood moon. Today’s experiment yielded a result – vampires were faster than a middle-aged man. He would find them one day. He would. The door of the mansion was shut behind a livid doctor with a heavy thud.