#I hope wherever she is now she's happy and warm

[writingwithfolklore]

In case you need a reason to believe in humanity just for a little bit today, I was waiting for the bus in the pouring rain and a girl I didn't know silently held up her umbrella over both of our heads until the bus arrived.

It would be easy to say that I met an angel, but really she was just another human in this world that noticed I was standing in the rain and chose empathy and kindness. We are all capable of it.

[emmaofnormandy]

Imagine Aegon is the father of your children.

Warnings: fluff all the way; canon divergence; long post.

( @dracaryxzs for you! One hopes you might like seeing Aegon happy here)

***

• How it all began…

You are his twin, his other half… What one feels the other feels it too. Naturally, as a result, bond came. Courtiers like to say how “wherever the Lord Aegon goes, Lady Y/N is after him like a loyal puppet.”

What they don’t understand is that you and him are two sides of the same coin, blood of dragon, despite the prince calling you his sun, to which he himself gravitates.

“I cannot not believe you are never bored whenever we are together”, says Aegon.

You both are blossoming into youth. You are the only one he trusts, the one he is naturally charmed to. But something about his age doesn’t let him admit there are feelings too.

“I am unlike any other”, you tell him in turn, a smile on your rosy lips. “We came together to this world, Aegon.”

He gives you a shy smile, lowering his gaze—you tamed him, like, it is said, your grandmother had tamed her husband, your grandsire, when they were both the same age.

Lively and so full of life, not even Aegon can deny you anything.

“Let us ride, shall we?”

And not waiting for a response, he takes you by the hand and in between giggles and chuckles the two of you go after your respective dragons.

Sunfyre has been enamored by Dreamfyre and as a result the female dragon has put some eggs. As soon as you are told this, you tell the object of your affections that:

“See, Egg? Evident signs that we are bonded right here”, and you show him the different coloured eggs.

Aegon smiles at you. How can you make him forget the scars of his troubled soul? How can you even sweep away grey clouds, making it seem that it is possible to find happiness?

When looking at your serenity, at how beaming you are before the eggs you cling yourself to, the prince sees himself in you.

You are the light of my world, Y/N.

As if you feel the tenderness his thought emanates, you turn your head at him and give him an egg.

“We are grandparents now, I’m afraid.”

That makes him cackle. A sound so rejoicing, full of life. Few could tell to have ever heard Lord Aegon laugh merrily.

“Too young for that. Come, Y/N!” And then turning to Sunfyre, Aegon is the image of a boy who finds love and happiness where at home such were taken from him.

You smile warmly when seeing the golden dragon almost smiling itself the moment he welcomes his rider.

A bond as strong as the one I have with my beloved.

Then you are distracted by nearly losing balance when Dreamfyre comes at you, resting her head against your face.

“Calm down, girl. I am not as heavy as you are”, you giggle, gently laying your head over the scales of your dragon, whom you claimed when you were ten years old. “Ready to fly high? To some adventures, eh?”

A sound comes from your dragon’s throat. It’s almost as if she speaks excitedly: “Aye, let us go! I’m ready for it!”, which only increases your good mood.

Now here you two are, flying synchronized, one being the extension of the other. Skies may have some clouds, but sun shines high with some warm breeze that announces summer.

“I suggest we could fly atop Dragonstone”, you tell Aegon over your shoulder. “There’s a spot no one goes there.”

“Rhaenyra is settled there with her children”, says Aegon with an unread expression.

You shrug your shoulders.

“So what? I’ve been there frequently and not once she scoffed me off. I doubt she ever knew I flew to this spot.”

And you flash him a mischievous smirk.

Aegon laughs in turn, realizing he’s unable to deny you anything. Flying as high as he could, there’s little need to tell Sunfyre where to go. As if the creature captured the rider’s thoughts, he flies exactly to where he wants… as does Dreamfyre.

It is almost as if both dragons suspect something may come up… even if you and Aegon don’t know that yet.

*

There is a lake in the midst of vast forests, where silence reigns and there is no sign of any living being. A few hills here and there separate the spot of the rest of Dragonstone.

“How did you come here?”, Aegon inquires you, intrigued by this unusual place. Hardly a man acostumed to wild life, his eyes scan these new surroundings with a mix of suspect and curiosity.

You are untying your hair and loosening your gown—you often ride Dreamfyre in your feast gowns, much to the Queen’s dismay— when you say:

“I don’t think I fit very well at court. I tend to flee whenever I can.”

Aegon is somewhat distracted by your curves, and how poorly hidden your curves are beneath the fabric you dress. He swallows hard, then says:

“We are betrothed. One day you’ll be queen.”

You flash him another of your typical mischievous smirks.

“When have I never performed my duties, brother?”

Aegon shakes his head, but he’s chuckling when he comes next to you.

“Well?”, you tilt your head and the prince seems to notice how handsome you look, wild and free—the way you are born to be. “Aren’t you going to swim with me?”

“Is that a challenge?”, he asks you in a whisper.

You like how he looks at you. Maybe this makes your nipples hard. And maybe this makes him burning inside.

“Perhaps.”

And without waiting for a response, you jump in. Aegon smirks, soon following you.

***

• Summer Children.

His kiss is indescribable. No words can do justice to the warmth his breath gives you, to the bliss it inspires you, to the affection it craves in you. Oh, where are the words when we need most?

Whispers at court regard you and Aegon as the “Baelon and Alyssa” of your age, perhaps two souls reincarnated. Whatever the truth, all you can think about is the taste of his lips against yours.

Not only that, there is more to inspire. As you are riding Dreamfyre in the absence of your lover—he’s been summoned by your father to attend the council—, summer breeze cannot cool down the heat in your heart. And you still recall that night.

Where no living being is found amidst corridors, when, for a moment of weakness, no guard lies awake; when unprotecting is at stake… Here he comes, visiting you.

Boldly so, his steps are silent—right under his demeanor there is a haunted boy, famine for affection, filled with desire to please… but above all, a very insecure man who needs to play pretend before all.

Even though you are not like any other, being in fact the only one who’s witnessed his fragility, he remains blunt in his manners.

Yet when the door opens… and you stand there in your line nightgown with your hair loose, his confidence dies.

“I feared you’d not come”, but there is nothing blunt or arrogant in how you welcome him; but rather tenderness from the moment he’s engulfed in your arms. “I missed you, Aegon. Too much I long for you.”

“My dear Y/Nickname…”, he buries his head against your neck and from the moment he inhales your scent, no pride is strong enough to resist the obvious. “In vain have I struggled to repress my sentiments for you.”

Hearing these words give you the reassurance you’ve been longing.

“Oh you took long enough, didn’t you? I’ve been kept in waiting, but it was worth it.”

One kiss and you are doomed. Aegon waits no longer, not anymore. He takes hold of your face and presses his lips against yours, biting your bottom lip and slamming the door as he leads the way.

“You must promise, though”, you push him away gently, much to his frustration. But you need to be sure… just in case.

“Anything”, his voice comes out in a plea.

You raise your eyebrows and Aegon, though sensing what might be asked of, is willing to pay the price. He is not letting go of you.

“No more whoring. I am no woman of sharing”, you tell him seriously.

Aegon smiles warmly, but you spot relief behind his eyes. He grabs you by the waist and says:

“I am yours and yours alone, Y/N. We came out to this world together, didn’t we? So we are dying together as well.”

“That is some drama you put in there, love”, you smirk before clashing your lips against his.

That night you came to learn you loved riding your dragon and we are not talking about Dreamfyre.

*

Nine moons later, the results of you and Aegon’s indiscretion comes to the world with a very strong pair of lungs.

“Here comes a very strong prince”, so announces the midwife.

You are exhausted after almost 12 hours in labour, a puddle of sweat and blood, but from the moment you are told you delivered a boy, you beamed proudly:

“I performed my duty well.”

Aegon, in the meantime, is left waiting outside, pacing impatiently in the corridors.

“One wonders what witchcraft has Y/N used to keep you in this state”, muses Aemond in his unusual show of sense of humor.

The prince of Dragonstone doesn’t bother answering Aemond, rather limiting to shooting a glare. It’s when Princess Helaena comes with a smile on her lips.

“My brothers.”

“We salute you well, sister. But pray tell us the news soon: is Y/N well? How’s the child?”

“She is doing great, Aegon. She’s recovering and getting some rest. As for the child… congratulations! You have a healthy baby boy!”

Aegon is paled by the news and even Aemond gets somewhat concerned with his older brother, holding him by his elbows.

“Are you well?”

“A boy”, he mumbles. “Y/N gave us a boy.”

“Our line is safe”, Aemond agrees. Then turning at Helaena, he asks: “Has the name been chosen?”

“Well, Y/N wants a traditional name… so she decided to have the boy named after you, Aegon.”

No one had ever seen the prince Aegon this overjoyed. The way he smiles… who wouldn’t be captivated by this sight? Even Aemond smiles too at this sight. Of all the misadjusted family, at least two of them found happiness… though when Helaena looks at him, he’s not too far from it himself.

“I must see her!”

Ignoring Helaena’s advice that no man is allowed in these chambers, Aegon, tradition-breaker, storms inside, demanding to see you.

You have just left your privy quarters dressed in a line nightgown with your hair wet and recently brushed when he comes at you.

“Husband!”, you giggle quietly when you are engulfed by his strong arms. “You should wait for me. I am not churched yet and we must…”

“Fuck traditions. I wanted to see my wife”, says he, peppering your face with tender kisses before looking at you with the devotion of a lover. “Are you well?”

You cast him the most infatuated glance to him, locking your hands around his neck as if there were no witnesses in the room.

“I am, thank you. Nothing that I could not handle myself”, you assure him. “Aegon, I performed my duties. I gave you a son.”

“Even if it wasn’t, as long as the child is healthy and you are healthy too, nothing else matters”, he whispers in your ear.

The prince cannot state enough his relief in seeing you well and safe. By how he holds you close, it is as if he needs another reassurance that childbirth will not steal you of him.

Feeling his fears, you raise your chin and give him that blunt gaze that marks your lively personality which he’s familiar with.

“I have no intention in leaving you alone in this world, unless you choose another to be in my place.”

Aegon gives you a meaningful look before snorting and scoffing at the same time.

“For fuck’s sake, Y/N! How could you possibly consider I’d find a substitute for you? I thought you knew me better, woman.”

You both share a quiet laugh before kissing as if to seal an unspoken vow. Not too far from the scene is the Queen, with her father by her side.

“Who’d know this was coming?”, she sighs, content with the merry scene that rolls before her gaze. “I may have been deprived of happiness myself, but on the other hand… thankfully such a burden is not placed on the shoulders of mine own offspring.”

“Do not be so dramatic, Alicent. This match is as fruitful as yours was”, says Otto, nonchalantly like usual. “But at times even I admit that I can see Baelor and Alyssa once more.”

A struggle he keeps to himself, since Otto and Baelor never saw eye to eye. Leaving such personal haunting aside, eventually this summer prince also named Aegon is seen placed in the arms of his mother.

“He’s a lovely child”, murmurs Aegon, whose head is now resting over your shoulder. “I cannot stop looking away of his delicate features.”

“Perhaps you should hold him”, you suggest in a whisper since the regal baby is asleep in your arms.

“I do not wish to wake him up”, says your husband, though you may detect a degree of panic in his voice.

You find his concern adorable, respecting his time. This afternoon, you and him watch over your newly born soon in great delight of how your love produced a handsome baby.

“Our summer prince”, you beam at him.

Aegon shares a smile with you. He looks thrilled before kissing your forehead.

“I cannot believe I am his father.”

“A doting father as I’m sure you will be.”

At times he doubts it, but this is a shadow he is unwilling to cast in such a bright moment. All Aegon can say is:

“Thank you for believing in me.”

He does blush though when you kiss his cheek and tell him in turn:

“How could it be otherwise? As my other half, you shall burn as bright as any dragon, my sun and stars.”

***

Little Egg, as he is called, is getting every attention Aegon’s father never bother doting his son. Whilst you are breast feeding, just nine months later his birth, a baby girl whom you named Alysanne after your favourite ancestor, father and son are found together at the nunnery.

“Your mother told me she plans to take you and Dear Alys to fly our dragon. I am not discouraging her, but we should best wait for a litttle bit, uh?”, says the protective father whilst rocking his lively and often chuckling boy in his arms. “Oh so you think this is funny? Are you planning to take after your great-grandparents?”

Aegon is holding him still, playing with the boy when the moment is interrupted by a maid.

“Excuse me, sire. His lordship must be fed. And your lady wife has summoned you.”

“Very well”, he stands, with the prince in his arms. “Before I handle you my precious jewel, Lady H/N, I must be certain you have been fed well. After all, you are responsible for feeding my child.”

“Indeed, lord. I am healthy and robust from the day I started the service”, the woman says seriously.

“Good. I appreciate it”, he nods before kissing his son’s temple. When seeing he’s about to weep, Aegon softens: “Do not cry, my prince. This is not a farewell. I shall go back later, I assure you.”

Reluctantly, he parts, though he does wish to go back when hearing a cry. Aegon pauses at the door but when looking back, Lady H/N has taken little Egg inside the quarters.

*

“How is mine faire ladies?”, the soon to be king asks you the moment he steps inside.

“Looking better than you”, you giggle quietly. “What happened, love?”

“I had to leave him with those women”, Aegon grumbles.

“I know. I don’t like leaving him there either, but thanks to you I can only feed one child now”, you laugh quietly.

Alysanne, whose hair is as silver as her parents’s, makes noises and Aegon, now more confident in how handling babies, carefully holds her.

“If I remember well, you were climbing on me when I was trying to sleep just the day you were churched”, Aegon chuckles.

“You keep saying that to yourself”, you lean to kiss his cheek. “You have been blessed with a handsomeness that makes me difficult not to merrily engage in marital affairs.”

Again, your bluntness makes him blush, a deed only you could brag in succeed doing so. Aegon gives you a long, meaningful look.

“Watch your tongue, woman. You don’t know what you are saying.”

But his mischievous smirk tells you precisely otherwise. The connection you two share has never grown stronger…

***

• Midnight Sun.

Little Egg is barely three when Aegon takes him for a ride in Sunfyre and you take two year old Alysanne with you as you mount Dreamfyre. It’s late night and since this family is restless, there’s no obligation to stop them in doing so—as if any would do in other period of the day.

“Fly high, Dreamfyre”, you whisper the command in High Valyrian and the dragon doesn’t need much before taking impulse and… weeeee, you and your excited child finally get to the skies.

“Let us do this, S.”, Aegon tells his beautiful golden dragon, resting his face against the creature’s forehead. “Look, this is the son I told you about. He gets my name, and Gods hope that he takes after my best traits. Not that I have many, but…”

Sunfyre buffs as if saying: oh please, you may not be perfect, but you have great qualities! To which Aegon blushes and smiles.

“You are a great friend, Sunfyre.”

“Daddy”, says Little Egg. “Fly!”

“Calm down young man. Are you in a rush?”, Aegon chuckles at his demanding son.

“Mommy… flew.”

“Oh. She’s always in a rush that woman you call your mother. Let’s do it then.”

And soon Aegon’s smile would spread larger if possible as Sunfyre finally spreads his large wings and begins to fly, the reason why Little Egg is happy.

When they are finally getting higher, Aegon makes sure his son is enjoying it. He wants to create this memorable moment that shall reinforce the bond father and son has.

It’s working since little Egg turns his head to his father and says:

“Amazing!”

“Are you enjoying that, my boy?”

“Yes! More, more! Please!”

Aegon laughs happily and does as requested. They fly as high as possible before diving below to meet you and Alysanne. The scene makes the prince emotional. His wife is looking as beautiful as wild as the day he realized he loved you to an unbearable point.

Sensing his gaze, you turn your head to meet him. And feeling your feelings, Dreamfyre is instantly drawn to Sunfyre.

“How’s it going?”, you ask him, eyes sparkling with delight for making it possible an old dream where you and Aegon, together with children of your own, would fly with your respective dragons.

“Just the way you wanted”, so Aegon tells you as if he’s read your mind.

You and him exchanged loving gazes and sweet smiles, letting the dragons taking the reins of the situation.

Indeed, as your children beam, Dreamfyre and Sunfyre dance.

Such is the dance of the dragons.

**

The toddlers are snoring by the time you and Aegon land.

“They should sleep with us in bed this night”, he suggests you, as he passes an arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him, placing a kiss on top of your forehead.

“I agree”, and then you instantly pause before the door of the red keep. “Aegon… I would like to thank you.”

“What for?”, he asks you, intrigued.

“For giving me these lovely children, for being the partner I’ve always known you’d be. For being my other half.” You smile softly. “I’d die for you, I hope you know that. You deserve to be loved, to all that you are given.”

“Y/N…”, he’s surprised to hearing these words of you, even though Aegon never needed proof of how you felt for him.

You stroke his face, wiping away his tears. Both of you know that you only have each other, and yet it’s enough. Specially now you have children of your own.

Resting his forehead against yours, the prince closes his eyes and kisses you.

“Whatever our souls are made of…”

“…mine and yours are the same.”

***

• Epilogue.

Alysanne is fast asleep when she dreams of dragons. Dragons that fight, dragons that die, dragons that survive. In the midst of chaos, she runs after her father.

Where is he? She calls out his name only to find another who is not in his throne. She wakes up thus, unable to remember the usurper’s identity, a mere shadow. But it’s enough to scare the seven year old princess.

She leaves her privy chambers. It’s still dark, but she needs to be sure he’s there somehow. Alysanne runs barefoot to her parents’ chambers. She opens its door, holding her breath but praising the Gods there’s some fire in the fireplace.

She sees you’re sleeping next to your father, but when seeing he’s there…. what a relief. Yet, the princess is scared to go back to her chambers.

“Papa”, she pokes him. “Papa, wake up.”

Aegon groans lightly, but when seeing it’s his oldest daughter calling him, he only rubs his eyes and makes sure to sit properly, careful in not waking you up.

“Lys”, he calls her affectionately and is probably thankful for wearing some proper garments after early copulating with you. “What’s wrong?”

Alysanne quickly throws her arms around his neck.

“I am scared. I don’t want to lose you”, she sniffs.

Aegon rocks her in his arms, smiling quietly for doing so.

“You’re not losing me. Who told you this nonsense? Has Little Egg been teasing you again?”

“No. He’s been good, actually”, she tells him, holding tightly against his neck. “I had a nightmare.”

For some reason, this gives him shivers. But Aegon isn’t inclined to dig into this deeper.

“A nightmare is just a nightmare. Come. Do you want to sleep with mama and papa today?”

Alysanne smiles brightly. She then kisses his cheek just as you are waking up.

“What happened?”, you ask, worried. “Are you well, my dear Alys?”

“She had a nightmare”, Aegon tells you as if this doesn’t mean anything, but one exchange of glances tells you this isn’t anything. Yet neither should feed it. And you agree. “So I’m letting her sleep with us tonight.”

You nod discreetly before kissing your daughter’s forehead.

“Of course. Like the good old days uh?”

And you watch as Alysanne makes herself comfortable in between you and your husband. Aegon strokes her hair as you cover her.

“Do you think…?” Aegon leaves the question in the air.

“Let us leave to concern about it tomorrow. It’s late.”

Aegon agrees. But neither looks forward to go back to sleep. As he casts a fond gaze at the princess, you take his hand and give it a small squeeze.

“It’s going to be all right. Helaena is doing well with it.”

“I know. But…”

“And at the same time she’s not like Helaena”, you tell him. “Let us not confuse things. It’s going to be well.”

“I just worry. I do not wish…”

Aegon looks away, remembering the wounds of his neglect childhood. There’s little need to explain since you can feel what he feels.

“Aegon, my love. We are not like them”, you tell him firmly. As he looks at you, you stroke his hair and place a lock of his messy hair behind his ear. “We are not like our parents. We are better than them. I’d not say so if I believed otherwise. Just look at how Egg seeks to impress you, how Alysanne came after you tonight… or how our twins Jaehaerys and Jaehaera often run after you.”

Aegon smiles quietly.

“How can you convince me that easily?”

“It’s the truth I speak. Besides… I have to tell you something”, and here you whisper. “I conceived again.”

“Oh how fertile we are!”, Aegon chuckles merrily.

You both kiss, before settling to lay down, careful now with your daughter fast asleep in between you. Shadows for once are pushed and in late night midnight sun comes to shine bright.

Oh these delights…

[mercwithadilf]

Home

Sirius Black x Potter!reader

Summary: Sirius runs away from ‘home’ having finally suffered enough of his parents’ ideals and behaviours. The only place he can really call home is with his best friend, James Potter. Wherever James is, you are too.

This is my first fic after a really long time but I'm really excited to get back on my writing journey! Writing for Sirius Black is mainly because of my absolute love for Ben Barnes so I hope you enjoy!! <3

‘Mum! Godric- James if I catch you looking through my stuff again, it’s your head!’ You chase after James who somehow manages to not only sneak into your room, but also find and run away with the hoodie you forgot to give Sirius back after a night of Quidditch practice.

James pauses in front of you causing you to almost run straight into him and holds up the hoodie with a wide, shit-eating grin. 

‘And why, dear sister, do you have my best mate’s hoodie in your closet?’

You roll your eyes at his annoying, but also very usual antics. ‘Because, dear brother, your best mate gave it to me after I was freezing to death during the Quidditch practice you so thoughtfully stretched out until the dead of night. I simply forgot to give it back before Christmas break! Now give it back!’ 

You jump up to grab the hoodie back from James which he oh so kindly pulled out of your reach. Euphemia took the hoodie away from James’s hands and gave it to you. 

‘Let your sister fawn over the hoodie Sirius gave her in peace, James.’ James smirks at you as your mother chuckles at both of you. 

You stare at her in disbelief and scoff. ‘Seriously, mum! James is being a twat –’

‘Language!’ You hear Fleamont yell from downstairs.

‘– and I get humiliated! Unbelievable! Why don’t you tell mum about Lily, Jamesy?’ You flash your brother the same grin he shot you a mere few seconds ago.

You watch his eyes go wide as your mother pauses her movements and turns to him, ‘Are you still chasing that girl, James? I told you, girls don’t like stalkers.’

James playfully glares at you and turns to you mother, ‘She actually gave me a chance, mother dearest. And I said yes!’ He grins.

You look at him with the most unimpressed look you could fathom and both your mother and James catch up on it, which causes your mother to mirror that look. ‘Okay fine, she said yes, happy?’

‘Very actually.’ He sticks his tongue out at you and you reciprocate the gesture.

Your father’s footsteps emerge up the steps as he walks past you both, ruffling your heads. ‘Everyone to bed or else Santa won’t bring any presents down the chimney for tomorrow morning!’

‘He’s talking to you, Jamesy!’ You sing-song.

‘You wish, sister!’

Everyone heads to their rooms with a final goodnight, you settling in your bed with the comfort of the sounds of the rain and Sirius’s hoodie warming you and lulling you into sleep.

James jolts up from his sleep at the violent bangs of knocks coming from downstairs. In a rushed daze, he scrambles to put his glasses on and grabs his wand. He clutches it tightly, knuckles turning white as he sneaks downstairs, ready to attack whoever decided to disturb the peace at four in the morning. 

He looks through the peep-hole, adjusting his sight to the figure standing outside. As his vision adjusts, he begins to panic.

‘What the fuck?’ James opens the door. ‘Pads?’

Sirius spins to look at him, eyes wide, lips quivering from the cold as he engulfs his figure in his robe. A bag is slung against his shoulder, the boy looking too weak to even carry it properly.

James could tell the streaks on his best friend’s face were from tears that were being washed away by the constant, harsh droplets of rain.

They were both too stunned to even speak.

‘Prongs –’

‘Get in. Now.’ 

James grabs Sirius by his shoulders and leads him inside, taking his bag from him as if it was weighing him down a ton and a half. He helps Sirius take the robe off and replaces it with a warm, fuzzy Christmas blanket as he leads him to the couch.

You huff while sitting up, expecting James to have gone downstairs to get a very early head start on the presents. You walk out of your room and storm downstairs ready to tell him off until you’re stopped in your tracks by the site in front of you.

‘Sirius?’ Your voice wavers.

Both boys situated on the couch turn to look at you. ‘Y/n.’ You wouldn’t have been able to hear Sirius’s voice if it wasn’t for the complete dead silence in the house.

You rush down the rest of the stairs and sit on the floor right in front of Sirius, your hand on his knee to reassure him of your presence.

You glance at your brother for an explanation, but he only shakes his head at you with a frown. You take that as a hint that Sirius hasn’t said anything and to not rush him.

Sirius’s eyes trail over your figure as you sit in front of him. He notices the hoodie you’re wearing was the one he kept looking for, however finding it on you softened the edges of his heart.

James notices Sirius’s eyes on you and smiles softly, despite the situation they’re in right now. ‘I’ll get you a cup of hot choco, yeah?’ James offers Sirius which he responds to with a grateful nod and an attempt of a smile. James gets up and walks to the kitchen while you stay with Sirius.

You look up at him with a reassuring, gentle smile. ‘You can talk when you’re ready, Sirius. No rush, yeah?’ He nods.

James comes back with a cup of warm hot chocolate and places it on the table for Sirius, taking his spot back next to him on the couch.

‘I left them.’ Sirius breaks the silence, his eyes stuck on his hands fidgeting with each other on his lap. ‘It was about time I left my parents but… I can’t believe I just left Reggie there. He’s gonna hate me, he- Godric I-’ He breaks, his hands now rubbing his face as if wiping off all his emotions.

‘You don’t have to explain, Padfoot–’ James speaks up, but Sirius quickly shakes his head.

‘No. No you need to know why, I just- It’s so hard-’ 

You squeeze his knee. ‘You can explain tomorrow, Sirius. You need to rest now, alright? You know you’re always welcome here.’

You can see the look in his eyes. Fear, pain, hurt, regret, but also relief and a tinge of happiness. He can only nod as he looks at his two best friends.

James stands up, a cue for you and Sirius to follow him. ‘You can stay in our spare room, we’ve had it ready in case anyone wanted to stay for the holidays.’

‘Thanks, Prongs.’ Sirius manages a smile as you both lead him to the room which you assume will be his for a good while from now.

‘I’ll tell mum and dad in the morning, you should rest now.’ Sirius nods and thanks him again while he’s settling in. James gives him a pat on the back before he kisses your forehead and heads to his room for a well-needed rest.

You, on the other hand, linger on the doorway of Sirius’s room. He looks at you with a hint of desperation in his eyes which you take as a hint to walk in, shutting the door behind you and sitting on the edge of his bed.

‘Are you alright?’ He sits down next to you with a sigh. ‘I know it’s a stupid question but… I don’t know…’

He chuckles lightly, the tension in the air softened, giving way for a more light-hearted and calm tone.

‘I could be better, but I’m glad I have you.’ He pauses as he looks at you, a stare that made your heart flutter. ‘A-and James, of course.’

You look at him with a hint of a smile, your shoulders rubbing against each other. ‘You’ll always have me, Pads… Us.’ 

You suddenly stand up. ‘Hold on.’ You walk downstairs, grab a glass of water and painkillers and go back into Sirius’s room and place them on his bedside tables while he watches you with curiosity. 

‘What’s this for?’

‘You were absolutely drenched. Just in case you might fall ill, something for you to take in the morning.’ 

His heart skips a beat as he watches you show him the sort of care that not even his family has shown him in his whole lifetime. 

He grabs your wrist desperately but gently, his eyes looking up at you like a puppy anticipating its praise for a trick.

‘Pads? You okay?’

He gets up, hovering over you with a vulnerability that makes his tall frame appear small and fragile.

Wordlessly, he slumps his forehead on your shoulder and lets his shoulders sag. The weight of the night finally leaves him as he collapses onto you, letting himself break down into your shoulder. His heaving sobs echo around you.

‘Siri…’ You whisper into his ear. You’re not used to seeing such an emotional side of him. He’s usually so bright and loud, a proud, smug grin on his face as he prances through the halls of Hogwarts. Now, in the dim and little room, you hold the same boy that’s held your heart in his palm for years. The boy that’s now showing a side of him that he doesn’t even show to himself.

You wrap your arms around him tightly, pulling him impossibly closer to you as you comb your fingers through his long, still slightly damp hair.

Sirius shudders at the feeling.

‘Everything’ll fall into place. I promise, Sirius.’ You continue to whisper reassurances into his ear. You can’t tell if those reassurances are just for him or for the both of you, but now you just know that he needs them more.

He pulls away to look at you while you remain in each other’s hold, his eyes roaming yours as if to find a hidden message in them. Anything, anything to prove to himself that he’s where he’s ever needed to be, where he’ll ever need to be.

Your finger as it glided up his skin to wipe the tears off his face, the site of you in his hoodie, the domesticity of it all, the dense, moody atmosphere; all of it. It all clouded his brain, his mind, any sense of logic that he held onto. It was all fogged into a silhouette he couldn’t make sense of anymore as he crashed his lips onto yours.

The kiss was messy, unrestrained, as if pouring every ounce of your soul into that fleeting moment of closeness. Your lips moved together in a trembling dance, every touch drenched in vulnerability and an aching need to hold on. It was as though the world had shrunk to just the space between you.

You both pull away reluctantly in the search for air, panting exasperatedly as your eyes never break the foggy stares you give each other. In that moment, Sirius knew he wasn’t alone anymore. For the first time, the weight of his past felt lighter—not gone, but shared. And as your laughter filled the small room, he realized this was what home felt like.

‘Took you only four years, Pads.’

You both chuckle, his forehead leaning on yours while his hands trace the skin of your neck and waist.

‘That all you’ve got to say, darling?’

You smile up at him. ‘Trust me, there’s so much I’ve got to say.’

He pecks your lips. He couldn’t get enough of you and he’s only just started.

‘Good thing I’m stuck here with you then, huh?'

[mononijikayu]

triassic love song — gojo satoru.

“They were together until the very end.” you said softly, your voice carried by the gentle wind. “I hope they’re still together, wherever they are.” The tall man took a deep breath, turning his head to look at you. For a moment, his blue gaze seemed distant, as though he were seeing something—or someone—far beyond the present. But then his lips curled into a small, sad smile.  “They will be, you know?” he replied quietly, his voice deep and filled with a quiet conviction. “Some loves are strong enough to last forever. They…they transcend, even time.”

GENRE: alternate universe - reincarnation au!;

WARNING/S: edo japan era, nsfw, angst, fluff, romance, hurt/comfort, engagement, hurt, physical touch, implied character death(s), natural disaster(s), mourning, pain, grief, happy ending, depiction of natural disaster(s), depiction of suffering, depiction of character death(s), depiction of violent destruction, depiction of grief, depiction of suffering, mention of implied character death(s), mention of death(s), mention of suffering, mention of destruction, mention of earthquake-related destruction, fiance! gojo, fiance! reader, reincarnated! gojo, reincarnated! reader;

WORD COUNT: 8.6k words

NOTE: this song has ruined me beyond understanding. paris paloma, your album was just insane like im sorry. the fact that she wrote a song about the triassic cuddle inspired me to write something similar and i just??? i can't help myself. ive been so crazy about this song that i just decided, you know what. this is great. this is just something i would in fact like to bawl my eyes out writing. and i did. i did that. and i hope you cry with me and enjoy it. anyway, i love you all so much <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

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IT WAS ENJOYABLE TO BE TOGETHER. IIt was forbidden to be together at this time, with the curfew in place, but you couldn’t help yourself. Not when it came to him. The world outside was still, bound by rules meant to keep order, but within the quiet sanctuary of your family estate, the constraints of the outside world seemed distant and unimportant. Inside, warmth and anticipation filled the air, thick as the lingering scent of incense that wafted through the halls. The soft glow of lanterns bathed the room in a warm light, casting shadows across the delicate shoji screens, and reflecting off the polished wooden beams and traditional tatami mats beneath you.

Gojo Satoru sat beside you, his presence magnetic as always, but tonight, something was different. His signature smirk still played at the corners of his lips, and his bright, sparkling eyes glimmered with mischief. But beneath that playfulness was an undeniable depth, a new layer of emotion that wasn’t there before—an unspoken excitement, a shared understanding that you were no longer just childhood friends.

You were now betrothed.

Bound by the ties of engagement that your noble families had arranged, it felt as though a long-awaited dream had finally come true. And though you had known each other all your lives, this new bond between you carried a weight of its own, something that made your heart race in a way you hadn’t expected. The happiness you felt was undeniable, shared in the way Satoru’s hand occasionally brushed against yours, in the subtle glances that said everything words couldn’t.

“You’re quieter than usual, don't you think?" Satoru remarked with a teasing lilt, his voice soft but carrying an undercurrent of something more serious. He leaned in slightly, his gaze locking onto yours, as if daring you to speak first.

You smiled, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks under his intense scrutiny. “I could say the same about you, hm?” you replied, trying to match his teasing tone, though your voice betrayed the flurry of emotions swirling within you.

Satoru chuckled softly, leaning back on his hands, eyes never leaving yours. “Well, it’s not every day you get engaged to your best friend!” he said, his tone light, but his expression softened as his usual bravado gave way to sincerity.

That sincerity took your breath away, and for a moment, the reality of the moment hit you fully. You weren’t just sneaking out to spend time with him as you had countless times before. This was different. This was a promise, one sealed by the love you’d always shared but never fully acknowledged until now.

“I’ve been waiting for this, you know?” you admitted quietly, your eyes meeting his. “For us to be more than just... childhood friends.”

Satoru’s playful demeanor softened even more, a rare seriousness taking over his expression as he reached out to take your hand in his. His fingers were warm, and the simple gesture sent a shiver down your spine.

“Me too.” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “For a long time.”

For a few moments, neither of you spoke. The world outside was still and silent, but inside this room, the air seemed alive with the energy between you. The gravity of the situation settled in—this wasn’t just a fleeting moment. It was the beginning of something much bigger, something that both excited and terrified you.

“You always did like breaking the rules.” you teased lightly, trying to ease the tension, though your heart pounded in your chest. “Staying out past curfew, sneaking into my room like this...”

Satoru grinned, his usual confidence returning. “I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t, right?” he quipped, though the softness in his gaze lingered. “Besides, how could I stay away from you tonight? Our first night as an engaged couple... I had to be here.”

You laughed, but it was a soft, breathless sound, the kind that came when words failed to fully capture the emotions coursing through you. “I’m glad you’re here, Satoru.” you whispered.

He smiled, that warm, heart-melting smile that was reserved just for you, and for a moment, it felt like nothing else in the world mattered. Not the rules, not the expectations placed on you by your families, not even the looming responsibilities of your engagement. It was just you and him, sharing a quiet, intimate moment that you knew you would cherish forever.

“I brought something for you.” Satoru said after a brief pause, reaching into his sleeve and pulling out a small bundle of paper. “I wrote these for you.”

You blinked in surprise, watching as he carefully unfolded the papers. “Poems?”

He nodded, the tiniest hint of embarrassment coloring his cheeks, something you rarely saw from him. “Yeah, don’t laugh!” he added quickly, though the look in his eyes told you he trusted you completely. “I’ve been working on them for a while...”

You took the papers from him, your fingers brushing his as you did. The sheets were neatly folded, each one carefully written in his distinct handwriting. It touched you deeply to know that he had taken the time to craft these for you, that he had poured his heart into something so personal. Something for you, with all his love.

You looked up at him, your heart swelling with affection. “I could never laugh, my dearest.” you said softly, your voice sincere. “Thank you, Satoru.”

"I made these for you, my beloved." he whispered, pulling out one of the carefully folded parchment from your grasp and unfolded it. "Listen to me, alright?"

His slender fingers traced the delicate paper before he began to read softly, his voice like a gentle breeze:

"Beneath the cherry bloom, I wait  

for you, a light that never fades.  

In silence, your name takes root in my soul—  

a promise written long before time."

His tender words wove into your heart, each syllable filled with the love he had always held for you, now finally given shape. You leaned against him, feeling the warmth of his body seep into yours, comforted by the sound of his heartbeat that matched your own excitement. The future felt certain, and the night was perfect. You kept listening to his voice, letting it guide you into the tender slumber of the night.

Satoru leaned closer to you, watching your expression, his bright blue eyes filled with a mix of anticipation and affection. Your orbs gazed at the tender strokes of his writing.

His calligraphy had always been so beautiful, but to form such words in order to capture not just the feelings he had for you, it was even more beautiful. And to have him read it with such affection, such love — for you and only you…..what could be more beautiful? What could be more perfect, more delightful?

But then, the ground beneath you shifted, a low rumble reverberating through the tatami mats. At first, it was subtle, almost imperceptible, but within seconds, the shaking intensified. It was subtle at first, a low rumble that made the lanterns flicker.

Satoru paused, his brow furrowing. Before you could ask, the ground shook violently, and the delicate house groaned under the pressure. Screams erupted from other rooms, echoing through the halls as the tremor grew stronger.

"Satoru?" you whispered, your heart suddenly pounding in your chest, not from love, but from fear.

He was already moving, his hand gripping yours tightly. “Stay with me, my beloved.” he commanded, his voice steady, though his eyes flashed with a seriousness you had never seen before. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

The room shuddered violently as the earthquake hit full force, and you could hear the distant crashing of objects falling in other parts of the house. Screams erupted outside even louder—voices of your family, the servants, all caught in the chaos of the sudden disaster. And then all the sudden, it was eerily quiet. And that made your heart drop to your stomach 

For a moment, you thought that it would finally be over. But then, the earth beneath you trembled once more. You squealed as Satoru let his body encompass your own with the enveloping of his whole body on yours as the world crashed against you both. The walls were swaying left and right, the roof tiles were shattering one after another. It was chaos.

"Hold on to me. Don’t lift your eyes." he said, his voice calm but firm, even as the world quaked around you. “I’ll protect you.”

You clung to him, your heart pounding in fear as the floor shifted beneath your feet. His grip was unyielding, pulling you closer until there was no space between your bodies, shielding you from falling debris as the shaking intensified.

“I’ve got you, my beloved.” he murmured into your hair, his voice steady despite the chaos around you. “D–don’t worry.”

You feared when he stuttered, that he had gotten hurt. But he did not falter. His fingers gently stroked your back, trying to calm your trembling as the earthquake raged on. You could hear the distant crashing of porcelain and wood, your ears ringing from the harsh sounds of the destruction. But in his arms, you felt an odd sense of safety amidst the destruction. Because it was your Satoru holding you, protecting you. Because you’re together. 

As the tremors finally subsided, Satoru’s grip on you loosened slightly, but he didn’t let go. His breath was shaky, and when you looked up at him, you saw a rare flicker of fear in his usually carefree eyes. He swallowed hard before giving you a small, reassuring smile. You were still stunned, your head shaking as you tried to make sense of the world.

"Seems like the earth itself wanted to remind us of its power." he joked softly, though the tension in his voice betrayed him. He was just as afraid, perhaps even pained by some injury he would never show you. “We’re….we’re alright, my beloved. Don’t worry.”

You let out a breathless laugh, still clutching his robes as you pressed your forehead against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. The night was no longer perfect, but in that moment, with Satoru holding you close, it felt like nothing could tear the two of you apart—not even the earth itself.

The earth, which had momentarily stilled, seemed to shift again beneath you, this time more violently.More catastrophic, more angry and volatile. You screamed as you held tightly to him, his body wrapping itself against you once more. The walls of your room groaned, beams creaking as the tremors returned with a vengeance, fiercer than before. The floor shook so hard you could barely keep your balance, even in Satoru's arms.

He pulled you even tighter against him, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “Stay with me. Don’t let go.”

You could feel his muscles tensing beneath his robes, his usually easy going demeanor replaced by something more protective, almost desperate as his entire body forced itself to become a shield against anything against you. What remained standing of your ancestral home rattled more easily around you, dust falling from the ceiling in thick clouds. Outside, the screams grew louder, more frantic as the destruction worsened. Perhaps, it wasn’t even your family any longer. Perhaps it was the town, perhaps it was a neighboring village. You do not know anymore. And that’s what frightened you even more.

You could hear the unmistakable crash of something heavy—perhaps a roof beam—collapsing nearby. Suddenly, a deafening crack split the air. The wide, elaborate shoji doors rattled on their frames before they were blown open by the force of the quake. Your own room felt like it was being torn apart piece by piece. One of the wooden beams above groaned under the strain and, without warning, splintered and fell, hurtling toward the two of you.

Your beloved Gojo Satoru reacted in an instant, pushing you down and covering you with his body just as the beam crashed into the floor where you’d been trying to stand. The air was thick with dust, and the scent of earth and shattered wood filled your lungs, choking you. You shook as your eyes slowly opened to see your fiance pinning you down with his body shielding you.

“Satoru!” you gasped, your hands gripping the front of his robe, desperate to make sure he was unharmed.

“I’m fine, my beloved.” he muttered, though you could hear the strain in his voice. His arm was still braced above you, shielding you from any further debris. His other hand cupped the back of your head, pressing you into the crook of his neck. “We need to move. The house isn’t going to hold.”

You nodded against him, heart pounding in terror. Everything felt surreal, like a nightmare you couldn’t wake from. The childhood home that had always felt so safe, so untouchable, was crumbling around you, and the only solid thing left was Satoru. He was all you had, you think. Everything…Everything was gone. Your body was shaking. 

He pulled you to your feet, guiding you toward the door, but just as you reached it, another powerful tremor sent the ground pitching beneath you. You fell forward, and Satoru caught you, his arms wrapping around your waist, holding you close as the floor buckled and cracked beneath your feet. You could feel the splintering wood beneath your sandals, the whole structure of the house breaking apart beneath the relentless force of the earthquake.

“Satoru, we need to get out—” you started, but your voice was drowned out by the sound of another beam collapsing behind you, followed by a sickening crash from outside the room.

“I know, I know.” he said, his voice tight with focus as he scanned the surroundings. "We’ll find a way out. I promise."

He led you toward the door again, but just as you stepped forward, the entire room seemed to tilt. The floor caved in with a horrific crack, and suddenly, you were falling. Satoru’s grip tightened as you both plummeted into darkness, the floorboards and debris collapsing into the space below.

“Are you hurt?” Satoru’s voice cut through the chaos, his hand cupping your face gently as he pulled you close, checking for injuries in the dim light. His fingers trembled slightly, betraying the fear he usually kept hidden so well.

“I’m okay,” you gasped, though your body felt battered and sore.

He exhaled in relief, his forehead pressing against yours for a moment, his breath shaky. “We need to get out of here. Stay close to me.”

Even now, with the world collapsing around you, his determination didn’t waver. He pulled you to your feet once more, and together, you began to make your way through the rubble. The house was a maze of fallen beams, shattered walls, and debris, the once-beautiful estate reduced to ruins in a matter of minutes.

The aftershocks still rumbled beneath your feet, making every step treacherous, but Satoru kept you steady, his arm around your waist, guiding you through the wreckage. The air was thick with dust, and the distant screams of those outside continued, filling you with dread for what might await you once you escaped.

As you neared what used to be the outer courtyard, the quake hit again, this time more violent than any before. The very ground seemed to split open beneath you, and with a loud, earth-shattering roar, the outer wall of the estate gave way. You barely had time to scream before the floor cracked beneath your feet, and you fell into darkness once more.

This time, Satoru’s grip on you tightened, and you felt his body pull you against him, sheltering you as the ground gave way entirely. You hit the ground hard, the pain radiating through your body, but before you could react, you felt the warmth of Satoru’s arms around you, shielding you from the worst of it.

“Don’t leave me.” he whispered, his voice trembling as he held you tighter than ever. “I won’t let anything take you from me—not this, not anything.”

In that moment, as the world continued to crumble around you, his words were the only thing that kept you grounded. No matter what happened next, as long as you were with him, there was still hope. You clung to him, your fingers digging into the fabric of his robes, as the tremors finally began to subside, leaving the two of you alone in the wreckage, but together.

You landed hard, the wind knocked out of you as your back hit the ground. The tatami beneath you was torn, and debris scattered everywhere, yet Satoru still held onto you, his arms wrapped tightly around your body, as though his grip alone could shield you from the crumbling world. The force of his embrace had absorbed much of the fall, but the impact still left you breathless. For a moment, everything was a blur—dust and darkness clouded your vision, and the deafening roar of collapsing beams filled the air.

Your body throbbed with pain, and panic surged in your chest, but even through the chaos, the warmth of Satoru’s body against yours anchored you. His presence, solid and unyielding, kept you grounded in the midst of the chaos.

"Satoru..." you gasped, your voice barely audible, but he heard you.

“I’m here,” he whispered fiercely, his voice steady despite the tremors still shaking the earth beneath you. His breath was ragged, but his grip on you didn’t falter. His white hair, now disheveled and covered in dust, clung to his forehead, but his eyes—those impossibly blue eyes—remained focused on you. “Are you hurt?”

You tried to shake your head, but your mind was still reeling, struggling to catch up with what had just happened. The earthquake raged on, though the initial violence of it had passed. The ground trembled beneath you like a sleeping beast disturbed from its rest.

Satoru shifted, pulling you up as carefully as he could. The house around you was nearly unrecognizable—wooden beams had collapsed, shoji screens were shredded, and parts of the roof had caved in. The once peaceful and warm room where you had shared your engagement was now in ruins, littered with broken objects and torn memories.

The sound of screams echoed from outside, faint but piercing. Servants. Family. It was hard to tell who, but the urgency in their voices cut through the haze of shock that clouded your mind. Your breath caught in your throat, panic gripping you once more.

“My family... my parents.” you muttered, scrambling to get up, but Satoru stopped you, his hand on your shoulder, firm yet gentle. “Satoru—”

"Wait," he said softly, though his voice carried the weight of authority. "We need to get out of here first. It’s not safe."

He tried to keep you calm, his steady hands guiding you through the debris, but you could see the tension in his posture. He was on high alert, his senses sharp as he glanced at every unstable beam, every shifting pile of rubble. He was scanning for danger, but more than that, he was trying to protect you from seeing the worst of it—the destruction, the death.

But as you stumbled through the wreckage of what had once been your home, you couldn’t avoid the horrors that surrounded you. Bodies. Littered through the halls, some crushed beneath fallen beams, others lying still in the open. Your breath hitched, and for a moment, the world spun around you.

"Satoru..." you whispered, your voice trembling as you pulled away from his protective hold. "Where are they? My parents... my siblings?"

He didn’t answer immediately, his eyes darting around, trying to keep you moving forward, away from the bodies, away from the worst of it. But you knew. The silence was louder than any scream. You could feel tears fall from your face and that broke his heart to see.

"Satoru!" you cried, your voice breaking as your legs buckled beneath you. "Where are they?"

He knelt beside you, his hands cupping your face as he gently forced you to look at him. His bright blue eyes were filled with an overwhelming sadness, but he tried to hide it, to be strong for you. He had to be strong. He had to. He can’t be weak, not right now.

“I don’t know,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “But we have to go. We need to find shelter. I’ll take you to my family home. They’ll know what to do.”

You nodded, though the words didn’t fully sink in. Your body was moving on autopilot now, your mind numb to the world as Satoru pulled you back to your feet. With every step, the destruction around you became more apparent, more real. The walls were crumbling, the air thick with dust and smoke, and the scent of burning wood filled your nostrils.

Together, you navigated the ruins of your estate, stepping over debris and through the remains of lives that had been lost in the quake. GojoSatoru kept a firm grip on your hand, leading you with a determination that seemed almost impossible given the circumstances.

But even he couldn’t hide the way his shoulders tensed, the way his jaw clenched when another body appeared in your path, forcing him to shield you from the sight.

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IT WAS A CHALLENGE, TO GO AND LEAVE THE DESTRUCTION BEHIND. The sky deepened into a somber shade of dusk as you and Satoru finally reached the estate’s edge. The once proud gates, symbols of security and honor, now stood twisted and mangled, crumpled by the sheer force of nature’s wrath.

Beyond the gates, the town stretched out in a nightmare of ruin—buildings reduced to heaps of rubble, streets fractured and littered with debris, and the air thick with the lingering scent of smoke and dust. The cries of the wounded and the wails of those searching for lost loved ones echoed through the broken streets, a chorus of despair that filled the silence left in the wake of destruction.

“Keep your head high,” Satoru urged, his voice low but firm as he tightened his grip on your hand. “Don’t look. Just… don’t.”

But it was impossible not to look. How could you not see the devastation, shared by all? Every corner of the town had been touched by this catastrophe, and every person who remained alive carried the weight of loss. It was a destruction understood by all, but none more deeply than you at that moment.

The memory of your home—once filled with laughter, warmth, and the presence of family—now lay in ruins. Your parents, your siblings… their fates were unknown, swallowed by the chaos. You hadn’t seen them, and the hope of finding them alive was growing fainter with every passing moment. Satoru’s words rang hollow in your ears, even as you clung to his hand for strength.

He guided you through the crumbling streets with a fierce determination, always positioning himself between you and the worst of the wreckage. The buildings, once grand and vibrant, had become tombs of stone and wood, each step revealing more of the town’s shattered soul. Bodies lay strewn across the ground, some half-buried in rubble, others left untouched by the debris but claimed by the quake nonetheless. It was too much, too overwhelming.

Every time you stumbled, your legs trembling with fatigue and grief, Satoru was there, catching you before you could fall. His presence was like an anchor, keeping you steady amid the storm of devastation that swirled around you. His hand never left yours, his touch a silent promise that you weren’t alone in this. You didn’t have to face it all by yourself.

The survivors—those who had managed to escape the collapse of buildings or who had emerged from the wreckage—followed behind you, a somber procession of hollow eyes and ashen faces. Their steps were slow, heavy with the weight of shock. No words passed between them, no cries for help—only silence and the occasional sob as they moved like ghosts through the streets, trying to find some semblance of safety, of life, in this broken world.

Your heart ached for them, for their pain, but your own grief consumed you. The memory of your family’s voices, the warmth of your home, felt so distant now, like a dream you had just woken from. And yet, with each step you took beside Satoru, you realized that this nightmare was real, and there was no waking from it.

The earth beneath your feet still trembled occasionally, aftershocks reminding you that the worst might not yet be over. Each tremor sent a fresh wave of fear through your body, your grip tightening around Satoru’s hand. He responded in kind, his hand strong and reassuring, though you could sense the turmoil roiling beneath his calm exterior. His family, too, was somewhere in this mess. Their fate hung in the balance just as much as yours.

As you made your way through the gates, leaving behind the wreckage of your estate, you couldn’t help but glance back one final time. The place where you had grown up, where you had shared laughter, joy, and the news of your engagement just hours ago, was now unrecognizable. In the span of mere moments, everything you had known had been reduced to rubble, leaving behind only echoes of the life you had once cherished.

“Satoru…” your voice cracked as you spoke his name, the words barely audible over the distant cries. He stopped, turning to look at you, his eyes softening with concern.

“I know,” he whispered, his hand brushing against your cheek, wiping away the tears that had begun to fall unnoticed. “I know it’s hard. But we’ll make it through this. We have to.”

His resolve was unshakable, but you could see the grief hidden behind his determination. He was trying to be strong, not just for himself, but for you. His family’s estate lay ahead, yet you both feared what you would find when you arrived.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the land in shadow, you continued onward, the fire of Satoru’s presence the only thing keeping you from sinking into despair. The path was treacherous, littered with fallen beams and shattered stone, but Satoru led the way with careful, deliberate steps. He kept you close, his arm around your waist now, guiding you over the broken streets as you navigated what felt like the remains of the world.

Every glance revealed more heartache—broken homes, toppled lanterns, and the pale, lifeless faces of those who hadn’t made it. But Satoru never let you linger, gently urging you forward each time your gaze began to drift toward the horror around you.

Finally, you reached his family’s estate. Or what remained of it. The grand structure that had once stood proud and formidable was now a heap of collapsed roofs and shattered walls. The once beautiful garden, where you had shared many moments of happiness, was now a twisted, chaotic mess of uprooted trees and scorched earth.

Satoru stood still for a moment, his eyes scanning the destruction with a silent, composed fury. The pain was etched into his expression, though he quickly masked it as he turned to you, his voice low but firm.

"We’ll make it through tonight," he said. "We have to survive, no matter what."

In that moment, even as the world crumbled around you, there was no fear in his eyes—only determination. For now, all you could do was follow him. Follow him through the darkness, trusting that somewhere, beyond the destruction, hope still lingered. 

As you finally reached the outskirts of the Gojo estate, the enormity of the destruction hit you again. The town below had not been spared either. Smoke rose in the distance, and the ground was littered with rubble, buildings half-collapsed, and people wandering aimlessly, searching for loved ones.

Satoru didn’t hesitate. He pulled you forward, his grip never loosening as he led you through the streets toward his family’s home. But when you arrived, the sight that greeted you was even more devastating.

His family estate, much like your own, had been reduced to little more than a broken shell. The grand gates had collapsed, and the once beautiful gardens were torn apart, now little more than mounds of earth and stone. The house itself had fared no better, with parts of the roof caved in and walls shattered.

Satoru’s face paled as he took it all in, his hand tightening around yours in a desperate attempt to remain calm. But you could see it in his eyes—the grief, the disbelief. This was his home. His family. And now, it is gone.

For a long moment, he stood still, his gaze fixed on the destruction before him. His breathing was shallow, his grip on your hand tightening almost painfully. But then, with a sharp breath, he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you protectively.

As you both began your journey toward the Gojo family estate, the weight of the day settled heavily on your shoulders. But Satoru’s hand never let go of yours, a silent promise that even in the face of unimaginable loss, you would survive this—together.

When you and Satoru finally reached the outskirts of his family estate, the sinking feeling in your chest returned with full force. What should have been a place of refuge, a sanctuary from the horrors you had just fled, was nothing but devastation. The Gojo estate, once majestic and proud, had fallen to the same fate as your home.

The gates were twisted and mangled, barely hanging from their hinges, and the walls that had once stood tall now lay in heaps of rubble. Smoke rose from what remained of the manor, a bitter scent of burning wood and stone hanging in the air. The destruction was so complete, so absolute, that it felt like the very earth had swallowed everything whole. The silence was deafening.

Gojo Satoru froze at the sight, his grip on your hand tightening until it almost hurt. You looked up at him, but his expression was unreadable, his usual brightness dulled to a vacant stare. His family, his home....everything he had known, everything he had grown up with. All was gone. Nothing was left but the earth where it all once stood.

You tried to say something, to offer words of comfort, but the lump in your throat made it impossible to speak. More tears could only pour out of your eyes from then on. All you could do was squeeze his hand, hoping he would feel your silent support. He didn't need to hear your words right now; he just needed to know you were there.

For a moment, he stood motionless, his blue eyes scanning the destruction as if trying to comprehend it, trying to find any sign of life among the wreckage. But there was nothing. Just like at your estate, the earthquake had consumed everything.

Finally, Satoru exhaled a shaky breath, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. But even in his grief, he didn’t break. He couldn’t—not with you depending on him. He glanced down at you, his eyes softening with a kind of sadness you had never seen in him before. 

Satoru stopped for a moment, turning to you with a look of determination in his eyes. “We’ll make it through this,” he promised, his voice steady, though his eyes betrayed the fear he was trying so hard to hide. “We’ll get some place safe here, and I’ll make sure nothing ever hurts you again. You hear me?”

You nodded, though the world felt unsteady beneath you. The future that once seemed so bright, the engagement that had filled your heart with hope, now felt overshadowed by the tragedy that had befallen your lives. Still, with Satoru’s hand wrapped securely around yours, you knew one thing for certain—no matter what came next, you wouldn’t face it alone.

“We need to stay warm tonight.” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s not safe to wander around in the dark. We’ll make a fire here, and then tomorrow, we’ll figure out what to do.”

He led you to a relatively clear patch of ground, away from the worst of the rubble. The sky was darkening, and the air had grown cold, a biting wind cutting through your torn clothes. Satoru quickly set to work, gathering what dry wood he could find, his movements steady and focused despite the grief that must have been tearing him apart inside.

You watched him in silence, too exhausted to help, too numb from everything that had happened. When the fire finally sparked to life, its warmth was a welcome reprieve from the cold that had settled deep into your bones. You sat beside him, huddled close to the flickering flames, the only source of light in the endless night.

Your Satoru didn’t speak for a long time. He simply stared into the fire, his expression distant, lost in thoughts you couldn’t fathom. His hands, usually so relaxed and playful, were tense, gripping his knees as if he were holding himself together by sheer force of will.

But then he turned to you, his gaze softening when he saw the exhaustion written on your face. Without a word, he pulled his outer robe from his shoulders and wrapped it around you, tucking it gently against your chin. He tried to do it, smiling like nothing happened. As though to comfort you even in all this suffering. And yet, you could see it all in his eyes. He was exhausted, he was in pain. And he didn’t know what to do.

“Sleep, my beloved.” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “I’ll keep watch.”

You wanted to protest, to tell him that he needed rest just as much as you did, but your body betrayed you. The exhaustion, the grief, the sheer weight of everything you had been through—it was too much. You nodded weakly, laying your head against his shoulder as you curled into the warmth of the robe.

Satoru shifted slightly, easing you into a more comfortable position so you could lie down near the fire. His hand rested on your arm, a protective gesture that reminded you of his earlier promise. Even as the world fell apart around you, Satoru Gojo was still there, watching over you.

As you drifted off to sleep, lulled by the crackling of the fire and the steady rise and fall of his breathing, Satoru leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. His lips lingered there for a moment, as if he were afraid to pull away, afraid that something might take you from him if he let go.

“I’ll keep you safe, my beloved.” he whispered against your hair, his voice trembling with the weight of his vow. “No matter what happens. I won’t let anything hurt you.”

The fire flickered, casting shadows across his face, but his resolve was unshakable. He couldn’t save everything—his home, his family—but he would save you. That much, he was certain of.

As you slept, Gojo Satoru remained awake, his eyes scanning the horizon, alert for any sign of danger. The devastation around him was complete, but his focus never wavered from you. You were his world now, the one thing he had left in the midst of the ruin.

The night stretched on, cold and unforgiving, but Satoru didn’t move from his spot by your side. Even as the grief gnawed at him, even as the weight of everything he had lost threatened to crush him, he stayed strong. For you. Because no matter what came next, no matter how uncertain the future had become, Gojo Satoru had made a promise—and he would keep it.

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THE YEAR 2018 WAS AN INTERESTING YEAR FOR DISCOVERIES. You remember reading about it in the newspaper on your way to university—the discovery of two lovers found in an eternal embrace, huddled together in a shoreline cave, their bodies preserved for three hundred years by the elements that had claimed their lives. 

The volcanic eruption, the earthquake, and the tsunami that had ravaged Japan centuries ago were some of the worst disasters the country had ever known, obliterating entire villages and swallowing countless lives in an instant. And yet, even in the face of such unimaginable destruction, these two had remained together, their bond undisturbed by the passage of time.

Standing quietly in front of the memorial, you felt the weight of their story settle around you. The air was still and somber, carrying with it the distant hum of waves crashing along the shore. The stone monument before you was simple yet profound—a silent marker of the love these two souls had shared, a love that had endured in the most unimaginable of circumstances. Their bodies had been found in the ruins of a household long buried by the mud and debris, a household much like the ones surrounding this coastline, now reduced to scattered memories.

You had followed the story from the beginning—the day the archaeologists uncovered them from the earth, the painstaking care they took in revealing the remains. The headlines had drawn attention, not because of the tragedy alone, but because of the story those two bodies told.

There were no names. No clues as to who they had been, what their lives had looked like before the disaster struck, or even how they had ended up in each other’s arms when the end came. But it didn’t matter. Their identities weren’t needed to understand the significance of what had been found. What mattered was that they had faced their final moments without fear. They had faced the end together, with love.

It was that thought—the resilience of love in the face of overwhelming disaster—that had touched you most deeply. In a world where so much is fragile and fleeting, the strength of their connection had remained, even after centuries had passed. It was as if their love had transcended the destruction, as if they had chosen to defy the disaster by holding on to one another in their last breath.

You stepped forward, placing your hands together in silent prayer. You wished them peace, a kind of peace that transcended the tragedy of their death, that honored the love they had shared.

You prayed that their spirits had found rest, and that wherever they were now, they were still together, watching over the place where they had once stood. The offering you placed at the memorial was simple, a bouquet of white chrysanthemums, symbolizing purity and remembrance.

"I pray that you'll always be together, the two of you." you murmured, your voice soft, barely louder than the breeze that rustled through the trees around the monument. "Wherever you are, I hope you’ve found peace, and that your love is still as strong as it was in those last moments."

You stayed there for a while, the silence of the memorial surrounding you, offering its quiet comfort. The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm glow over the scene, a contrast to the deep sense of loss the place carried. But you didn’t feel sadness. Instead, there was something almost beautiful about it—knowing that even in the face of disaster, these two had been together, and their love had transcended time. As you prepared to leave, footsteps approached from behind. You turned slightly, curious to see who else had come to visit this quiet, forgotten place.

A man with striking white hair and bright blue eyes under the rim of his glasses stood at the edge of the memorial, his head bowed in silent prayer. He was tall, his presence commanding even though he moved with a quiet grace. His features were sharp, but softened by a kind of deep, unspoken sorrow. He knelt down beside the monument, laying a single white flower on the stone, his fingers brushing the surface with reverence.

You watched him for a moment, feeling an inexplicable sense of familiarity, though you couldn’t quite place it. The way he stood there—tall and composed, with an air of quiet reverence that just seemed to draw you in.

There was something almost ethereal about him, as if he was intrinsically linked to the story of the lovers you had come to honor. The connection felt deeper than mere coincidence, as though his presence was a significant part of the narrative that had touched you so profoundly.

His white hair glowed softly in the fading light, and his posture was relaxed yet dignified, embodying a calmness that contrasted sharply with the turmoil you had felt as you reflected on the lovers’ fate.

His eyes were closed in prayer, his face serene, as if he was offering a deeply personal tribute to the souls who had been found together in their final moments. The sense of connection was so strong that you could almost feel it emanating from him, a silent bridge spanning the centuries between his presence and the lovers' tragic end.

You hesitated, not wanting to intrude on his moment of solitude. Yet, there was something compelling about the situation—an unspoken invitation to acknowledge the shared significance of this place and the story that bound them all together. Your curiosity and empathy drove you to speak, despite the quietude that hung between you.

“Excuse me.” you began softly, breaking the stillness of the memorial. Your voice was gentle, barely a whisper against the backdrop of the crashing waves. “I couldn’t help but notice… There's something about you that feels so familiar, so connected to this place. I… I’ve been deeply moved by the story of the lovers found here, and I can’t shake the feeling that you share a connection with them.”

The man turned toward you, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of surprise and understanding. He seemed to consider your words for a moment, his expression thoughtful and measured. There was a softness in his gaze, as if he had been waiting for this moment, this conversation, even if he didn’t quite know why.

“Oh.” Gojo Satoru whispered back, his cheeks tinged with a flush of surprise, as if your words had caught him off guard. He seemed momentarily at a loss, his usual confidence replaced with a bashful vulnerability. “Yeah, I… I saw the news, and I thought, I just had to come. It felt… it just felt right, you know? To come here and see them off, to wish them well.”

There was a sincerity in his voice, a raw honesty that struck a chord. You could see that this wasn’t just a casual visit for him; it was something deeply personal, a moment of reflection and respect that went beyond mere curiosity.

“I see…” you mumbled, your gaze softening as you looked at him. A smile slowly spread across your face, touched by his heartfelt gesture. “That’s kind of you to do.”

Gojo Satoru shook his head slightly, a rueful smile on his lips. “Ah, not… not really,” he said with a sigh, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. “If anything, I think you were more kind. You brought them white chrysanthemums and everything. You probably had more of a proper prayer for them than I did.”

You waved off his comment with a small laugh, the sound light and airy in the quiet of the memorial. “Oh, not at all. I think… I think your intention was purer than mine. You came here just on a feeling, an instinct that something was right about being here. I was… I was interested historically before I was here emotionally, you know?”

His eyes met yours, a flicker of understanding passing between you. “I guess we both had our reasons,” he said softly. “But in the end, it’s the connection that matters. Whether we came here out of personal feelings or historical interest, it’s our respect and acknowledgement that count.”

You nodded, feeling a shared sense of purpose in your conversation. There was something profoundly meaningful about how your paths had crossed at this place, driven by a mutual respect for the story of the lovers and a desire to honor their memory. The distinction between your reasons for being here seemed to dissolve in the face of a greater truth—that both of you were here because of a deep-seated respect and a wish to pay tribute to the enduring power of love.

“So……” Gojo continued, a slight smile returning to his lips, “I’m glad we met here. It feels like the right place for this kind of encounter, don’t you think?”

You agreed, feeling a warmth in his words. “Yes, it does. It’s like the universe brought us together in this moment to remind us of something important.”

He nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Yeah, something like that. It’s nice to know that even after so much time, and despite all the changes and challenges we face, there are still moments that can bring people together in such a profound way.”

You stood together in silence for a moment, the weight of your shared understanding settling around you. The memorial continued to stand as homage to the lovers’ eternal bond, and in that quiet, sacred space, you felt a connection that transcended all the limits given by the bountiful universe.

“They were together until the very end.” you said softly, your voice carried by the gentle wind. “I hope they’re still together, wherever they are.”

The tall man took a deep breath, turning his head to look at you. For a moment, his blue gaze seemed distant, as though he were seeing something—or someone—far beyond the present. But then his lips curled into a small, sad smile. 

“They will be, you know?” he replied quietly, his voice deep and filled with a quiet conviction. “Some loves are strong enough to last forever. They…they transcend, even time.”

There was something in his tone, a weight to his words, that made you wonder if he was speaking from experience. You gave him a respectful nod, choosing not to pry into the emotions that seemed to flicker beneath his calm exterior.

The two of you stood there in silence for a while longer, both paying your respects to the nameless lovers who had defied death with their love. The sun continued to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the memorial. Finally, the man rose to his feet, brushing the dust from his clothes before turning to you.

“Take care, stranger.” he said softly, his voice carrying a warmth that contrasted with the sorrow that had lingered moments before. Then, with one last look at the monument, he began to walk away, his white hair catching the fading light like a beacon.

As you watched him go, something tugged at your heart. You didn’t know who he was, but in that moment, you felt as though you had shared something important with him—an unspoken understanding of love and loss, of holding on to someone even when the world falls apart around you. 

Somehow, there was something stirring within you—a feeling that you couldn’t let him just walk away, not without knowing more. There was something about him, an invisible thread connecting you, as if fate had brought you both to this quiet place for a reason.

"Wait! Hey, mister!" you called out softly, taking a few steps toward him. The man paused, turning back to face you, his expression curious but calm.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to say. But then, with a gentle smile, you extended your hand. "I didn’t get the chance to introduce myself. My name is……"

He looked at you for a moment, as if weighing whether to reciprocate. Then, with a small, almost teasing smile, he took your hand in his. His grip was warm, steady, and comforting in a way that felt strangely familiar.

"I'm Gojo Satoru." he said, his voice smooth, yet laced with something deeper, as if his name carried a history he didn’t fully reveal.

The name hung in the air between you, and for a brief moment, you felt a flicker of recognition. But it was fleeting, gone as quickly as it had come. You smiled politely, though something about the way he said it, the way his gaze softened as he looked at you, made you feel like there was more to his introduction than simple formality.

"It's nice to meet you, Satoru." you replied, feeling a strange sense of ease as you spoke his name. There was something about the way it rolled off your tongue, as if you'd said it a thousand times before.

He tilted his head slightly, his sharp, crystal-blue eyes studying you with an intensity that was both disarming and oddly reassuring. It was as if he could see beneath the surface, understanding more than what was immediately apparent. Yet, instead of feeling exposed, you felt a sense of comfort, a silent acknowledgment that he grasped the depths of your emotions and thoughts.

With a gentle, almost shy smile, Gojo Satoru reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, extending it toward you. “Put your number in,” he said, his voice tender and inviting. “I think… I think you know more about this story than I do. I’d like to know more, if you’re willing to share.”

You blinked, momentarily taken aback by the request, but the sincerity in his voice and the warmth of his smile compelled you to act. With a nod, you took his phone from him and began to enter your contact information, a small flutter of excitement rising in your chest. There was something intriguing about the prospect of continuing this conversation, of sharing more about the story that had brought you both here.

When you handed his phone back to him, a playful grin appeared on your face. “It’s your turn,” you said, taking out your own phone and extending it toward him.

Gojo Satoru chuckled softly, his eyes lighting up with amusement as he looked at your phone. “Well, alright.” he said, taking it with a mock sigh of resignation. “If you insist.”

As he entered his number into your phone, the atmosphere between you shifted from one of solemn reflection to one of friendly connection. The small act of exchanging numbers felt like a bridge, linking your shared experience at the memorial with the potential for future conversations and deeper understanding. Maybe, just maybe — you’ll understand life the way these two in front of you did. Just maybe.

When he handed your phone back to you, he looked at you with a genuine smile. “Thanks for sharing this moment with me. It’s been… meaningful. I’m glad we crossed paths today.”

You smiled back, feeling a warmth in your chest that came from more than just the shared experience. “I’m glad too. It’s not every day you meet someone who understands the significance of something like this so deeply.”

Finally, Satoru spoke again, his tone lightening slightly. "Well, I should be going. The train is leaving soon. But... It was nice meeting you." He paused, his eyes lingering on yours for a moment longer than necessary. "Maybe we’ll see each other again."

You smiled, feeling the same unspoken connection. "I’d like that."

With one last look at the memorial, Satoru turned and began to walk away, his white hair catching the fading light of the day. You watched him go, a strange sense of calm settling over you.

As you stood there, the weight of the lovers' story still fresh in your heart, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t the last time you would see Gojo Satoru. Something told you that your paths would cross again, in ways you couldn’t yet predict.

And as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the memorial, you whispered one final prayer—not just for the nameless lovers, but for yourself, and perhaps for Satoru too.

"May we all find each other, in every lifetime."

[llonelygoddess]

Yandere House Stark Headcanons

A/N: I ended up not doing Bran and Rickon only because I wanted to get this out sooner rather than later and they were a little difficult to write for. If you'd like to see headcanons for them I can definitely make another post for them, just let me know.

Let's say you are a low born person looking for refuge in Winterfell after your village was sacked by Wildlings. You had hoped to find some tavern to hold up in or even a brothel, but unbeknownst to you the Stark family kept an eye on newcomers. When they received news of your arrival, they requested your presence. It was only to talk about the possibility of nearby Wildlings, but when YOU showed up beaten and scared for your life- how could they not offer their Stark hospitality?

This is where the yandere tendencies begin.

Ned Stark, as a yandere, is protective and definitely has a savior complex. He's an honorable and just man that can't help but bring home strays, so when he sees you it's like finding Jon all over again. A deep sense of responsibility comes over him and he knows in that moment that you are just as much his as any of his kids. From that day forward he assigns a room for you in the castle and a handmaiden to keep you company, not that you'll be needing it. The family of course is shocked at his sudden interest, but they all love to see him happy and nothing makes him more happy than seeing you taken care of.

Now Catelyn is initially worried that Ned has taken a romantic interest in you, but when she sees the way you both interact she understands the fatherly bond he is trying to create very similar to his own kids. It didn't take long for her to fall into her own yandere tendencies; checking in on you in the mornings, making prayer wheels even when you're not sick, helping in the kitchen to make sure your food was perfect ( and not poisoned). She takes her role as your surrogate mother very seriously,sometimes to the extent of watching you sleep or ordering guards to discreetly watch over you and report back. Her biggest worry is that you'll be taken away from them so she takes extra precautions to keep you safe.

Robb is head over heels for you instantly. Man is down bad. Much like his father, Robb has a savior complex and finds himself wanting to be YOUR savior always. He does this by training extra hard with Jon, keeping an eye on you at all times, and giving threatening looks to any man or woman who gets too close to you. He doesn’t mean to scare away any potential friends but he does mean to scare away potential lovers. He couldn’t bear to see you with anyone outside the family, and even then he has a sword up his butt about it. 

On the other hand, Jon takes a while to warm up to you. He loves his family and is vicious to outsiders who could harm them. Eventually, seeing how you interact with everyone makes him a tad jealous. Not of you, but of his family and how easily they can approach you. I definitely see Jon as an overprotective/stalker yandere with strong jealous tendencies that make him beg for your approval. He finds himself wherever you are, lurking in the background, waiting for the right moment to catch you alone. Jon feels like himself around you and the more time you spend together the more addicted to your presence he becomes. 

Theon is hands down THE worshiper of the group. It's a hot take for sure but as a yandere, I see Theon's insecurities and fears taking over, slightly similar to reek!Theon. He sees you as a deity, above the Lords and Ladies, even above the King/Queen themself. If it were up to him he'd be the one giving you your meals, running your baths, standing by your side as guard. He cherishes your very presence and hopes one day you'll see his never ending loyalty to you and only you. 

Sansa is very quiet about her obsession, you almost couldn't tell. She's the perfect friend, always sitting next to you at meals, gossiping about the Lords and Lady's of court, and helping you stock your wardrobe. Whatever hobby you choose to pick up, she's always there to praise you in your efforts and guide you in whatever way she can. She especially loves teaching you how to embroider as it's her specialty. It was all but normal until you came upon her private journal filled with both your names in beautiful cursive surrounded by hearts. You begin to notice the closeness she silently demands, eyeing everyone else to stay away. You see the way she longingly watches you from afar when you choose to spend time with anyone else. And your dresses, that you both so carefully picked out, seem to have a little embroidered "SS" on the nape of your neck.

Arya sees you as her golden older sibling, the one who can do no wrong. She is constantly dragging you around Winterfell - riding horses and trying to shoot arrows (and failing lol). She finds comfort within you, the only person who doesn't expect anything of her except to be herself. And for that she will never leave your side. Most nights you'll find her trying to sneak into your room to share a bed, but whether she can get past the guards Ned and Catelyn have posted outside your door is another story.

[seunmong-in]

🌅Sunsets in Sydney🌅

Genre: Fluff, childhood best friend to lovers, Idol! Felix x Reader, Humor, slight cursing, she fell first but he fell harder. 

Words: 2.1k 

Summary: After being on tour for a whole year, Felix is finally back in Sydney for a well-deserved break. While he is ecstatic to be with his family again, there’s one person who he wants to see most. His childhood best friend and crush, Y/N. 

A/n: Okay, can I start this off by saying, Holy crap… Thank you to all who like or reblogged my first fanfic with Han!! ( click his name if you wanna read it ! ) I honestly thought it wasn’t that good since I wrote it in a very sleep-deprived state, lol. But y’all proved me wrong🥹❤️‍🩹 That said, I hope you guys also like this story with Felix! Like always, if you have any feedback or want to make a special request just DM me!! Here’s also my latest one with Seungmin as well 🫶🏼

P.S Does anyone else have “that’s not very nice” stuck in their head too?

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365 days. 

That's how long Felix has been away from the place he calls home. And no, he doesn't mean his actual home back in Sydney. He means being away from his childhood best friend, Y/n. 

Felix and Y/n have been best friends since grade school. They have always been there for each other, from performing in talent shows to caring for each other when one falls ill. They are like two peas in a pod; wherever one goes, the other is sure to follow.

On the day Felix had to tell Y/n that he was leaving Sydney to become an idol in Korea, he broke down crying. He was worried that being thousands of miles away from his closest friend would strain their relationship. As he was about to board the plane, he turned around to see Y/n waving goodbye to him with tears streaming down her face, and he couldn't help but cry, too.

Surprisingly, Felix and Y/n's friendship didn't end after that day. Instead, their bond grew even stronger. Y/N would constantly update Felix through text or calls, sharing the details of her day and making sure he didn't miss out on anything important. While Felix enjoyed receiving these updates, what he loved most was the pictures his mom would send him of Y/n with his family on small family trips. Seeing her smile and taking selfies with his sisters always warmed his heart.

He had already surpassed the stage of simply developing feelings for Y/n. Felix adored her. He loved her. Whenever he watched a video of a couple on TikTok or Instagram, he imagined how to recreate the same videos with Y/n by his side. His heart skipped when Y/n surprised him at one of his earlier concerts with Olivia and Hannah, Chan's sister. The memory of her dancing his part of God's Menu while Hannah danced Chan's part on the big screen was something he would never forget. Since that night, Felix had been planning to confess his love to Y/n, and he decided to do it under the sunset in Sydney.

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Under the hot summer sun, Felix's freckled face is lit up with a big smile as his family rushes to greet him. Olivia is the first to embrace him, screaming, "Oh my God, do you even know how I miss you, Lix?!"

Felix laughed, embracing his youngest sister and repeating, "I miss you more." He noticed that Olivia had grown a bit since the last time he saw her and that her hair was now dyed at the ends. Noticing her brother staring at her hair, Olivia mentioned that Y/N did it a few days ago at one of their usual girls' nights. His mom and dad were the next two to hug him tightly, with his mom shedding a few happy tears.

"I say this every time, but I am so happy to have my baby back home."

Felix wraps his arms around his mom, hugging her as he says, "I am happy to be back home to Mom."

Felix was sitting in the back of a car, his mind preoccupied with thoughts of Y/n. He was waiting for her message, asking if he had reached home safely, but he had yet to receive any message from her. Although this was unusual, he assumed she might be busy.

Suddenly, Olivia abruptly interrupts Felix's train of thought, "So, are you finally going to ask Y/n to be your girlfriend while you're here, or are we still sticking to the whole 'she's just my best friend' excuse?" The unexpected question catches Felix off guard. His face turns red with embarrassment as his mother turns her head around from the passenger seat, waiting for a response.

Avoiding eye contact with his mother and sister, Felix clears his throat, allowing himself to find the right words.

"Um.. what makes you think I even have feelings for her?"

Olivia stares at her older brother, scolding him with his earlier response, "Felix be so fucking for real right now. It's obvious you have feelings for Y/n. You look at her as if she is your whole world, your face lights up with a smile whenever she texts you, and you always seem to find a way to talk about her when we talk on the phone. If that doesn't scream, "I am in love with my best friend," then I don't know what does. Oh, and before you go and argue with me about this, even the boys agree that you are completely strung up on her. So do us all a favor and tell her how you feel, will you?"

Felix sighs as he looks up to see his sister's gaze. He knew he had to come clean now before his plans got ruined. 

"Have I mentioned how much I dislike you sometimes, Liv?"

"Yeah, but I'm your favorite sister, so start spilling before I call Hyunjin and have him tell Y/n to you." 

During the last five minutes of their car ride, Felix confided in his family about his plan to ask Y/n out when they reached the house. He made them promise not to say anything to Y/n about his plan since he wanted to create a memorable and private moment between them.

As Felix's father pulled into the driveway, Felix noticed Y/n's car parked across the street. His heart raced as he jumped out of the car, ignoring his mother's yelling about not going inside yet. 

Felix barges through the main door and stops when he sees the handmade "Welcome Home Lixie" banner that Y/n was struggling to put up. He chuckles softly and leans by the living room doorway, watching as she gets on her tiptoes to hook the string onto the nail.

"You know, I could've helped you put up the banner, sunshine if you would've waited a little longer."

Y/n turns around to find Felix smirking. Blushing, she runs to him and hugs him. He hugs her back, lifting her up and spinning her around.

Trying not to cry on his shoulders, Y/n ever so softly whispers, "You have no idea how much I missed your hugs, Lix."

"Me too, sunshine, it's been way too long."

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⋅•⋅⊰∙∘

After returning home and having dinner early, Felix went upstairs to his room. There, he discovered a welcome-home basket in the center of his bed. The basket contained his favorite candies, face masks, a small chicken plushie, and gift cards to his preferred places. Felix smiled, realizing that it was a gift from Y/n. She was always the type to spoil others with gifts, even if it was a small occasion. Looking through the gifts in the basket, he heard a soft knock on the door, and Y/n walked in. When Felix looked up at her, they locked eyes for the second time that day. Time seemed to come to a standstill, and after a while, Y/n was the first to break the silence.

"I hope you like it; I saw it on Tiktok late last night and thought I should make you one."

"I love it a lot; thank you, sunshine." 

He gives her a soft smile and motions for her to sit with him on the bed. She walks over and sits beside him, watching him unwrap more gifts. Y/n can't help but laugh as Felix brings the chicken plushie up to his face, jokingly asking, "Do you think it looks like me?"

"As much as I want to say yes, I feel like I am going betray BbokAri, so I must lie and say no."

Felix and Y/n laugh as Felix places the plushie back on the shelf behind him. The room lights up in a golden hue, indicating the sun is about to set. Without wasting more time, Felix takes Y/n's hand and leads her out of his room and towards his car.

"Lix, what are you doing? Where are we going?"

"I was hoping we could watch the sunset together again, just like we did as kids. It's been quite some time since the last time we did, and let's face it, we're not getting any younger. Before we know it, we'll be as old as old man Chan."

""I'm going to tell him you said that," she says, laughing as she follows him to his car. They both jump in and drive to the nearby beach.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⋅•⋅⊰∙∘

As the car pulled onto the sandy shore, Felix practically flew out of his side to open the door for Y/n. She beamed with delight as she stepped out, feeling the warm sand under her toes. Felix swiftly closed the car door and took her hand, leading her towards the beach. The sky was ablaze with a breathtaking display of pink and orange hues as the sun descended below the horizon.

"I forgot how pretty the sunset could be when you can see the reflection on the water."

"I know, but it's even prettier with you beside me," Felix responds. 

Y/n stands before Felix, unsure if he is joking or serious. He chuckles as she becomes flustered.

"You know that's not very nice."

"What isn't sunshine?"

"You saying that to me and not explaining what you mean," Y/n states as she turns away from him. 

Felix grabs Y/n by her waist and spins her, holding her close. Y/n's face flushes a deep shade of pink as she catches her breath. They've been close for years, but something feels different about this moment. There's a palpable tension in the air, a feeling of unspoken love that's hard to ignore. Felix looks deep into Y/n's eyes, examining how the sun's warm glow illuminates them. The sound of waves crashing against the shore adds to the moment's magic. Fighting the urge to kiss her immediately, Felix takes a deep breath as he stares into her eyes. 

"Do you remember why I decided to return home for a break instead of staying in the dorms with the boys?" Puzzled by his random question, Y/n nods her head, looking back into his dark brown eyes. 

"Of course I do. It was because you wanted to be with your family since you were homesick, Lix."

"You're right. But there's something important that I need to tell you, something that should've been said from the very beginning. Y/n, I like you. I'm in love with you. I love you so much that it hurts not to have you by my side most days or even to call you mine. The night before I left Sydney, I intended to confess my feelings to you, but I knew it was bad timing since I was leaving, and I didn't want to end our friendship. So, I kept it to myself for years. However, seeing you with Liv and Hannah at our concert earlier this year, dancing and singing to our songs, made me realize that what I felt for you was more than just a simple grade school crush. Y/n, I'd be lying if I said you weren't the person I want to spend the rest of my life with because I do. I want you to be mine, my only sunshine. And if you don't feel the same way, I understand..."

Felix was toward the end of his sentence when Y/n suddenly cut him off by pressing her lips against his. It was a bold move, but she had been crushing on Felix for what felt like an eternity and couldn't hold back any longer. When they finally pulled away, Felix looked at Y/n with a knowing smile, pressing his forehead on hers. In a very soft voice, Felix finally finishes his sentence. 

"I cannot imagine spending a single day without you by my side anymore. Will you do me the greatest honor of all and be mine forever?

""Until forever stops existing, my love."

[randomdragonfires]

Moon Song | One Shot

Text Divider by @saradika-graphics

SUMMARY | He killed Lucerys, but Aemond sees the ghost of his nephew wherever he goes - especially in his sweet wife's eyes.

WARNINGS | 18+; Smut; ANGST; Delusions; Incest; Dark Themes; Kinslaying; DD;DNE!

WORD COUNT | 6.6k

A/N | Originally written as a birthday gift for @humanpurposes. Nothing says happy birthday like a dark fic about madness and murder I guess? :)

RAIN-SOAKED AND WEARY, AEMOND TRUDGES THROUGH the murky streets of King's Landing, his cold and damp riding leathers offering no respite. Each step echoes with the haunting images of Vhagar's reckless attack on Luke, the small, agonizing details etched into his mind like a deep carving. The city, shrouded in an eerie mist, seems to mourn his nephew in silent empathy.

A scared face. The cracking of jaws. The sight of Arrax’s wing flapping aimlessly down into the sea. Luke, falling free through the skies…

The Red Keep looms ahead, its imposing towers piercing the darkened sky. Aemond ascends the ancient stone steps in silence, his solitude a curtain shrouding the tempest raging within him. The guards watch him cautiously, sensing the palpable storm that accompanies the one-eyed Prince’s return. As he passes, the torches on the wall flicker, casting grotesque shadows that dance along the corridor walls.

Entering the shared chambers, Aemond's presence goes unnoticed at first. His wife awaits him, her gaze filled with a mixture of concern and anticipation as she sits at the edge of the bed, finding his gaze and immediately making note of his distress. He can feel her scrutiny, her eyes seeking answers he isn't ready to give. With how disappointed she may be, he is not sure that he’ll ever want her to know. But he knows she must, and that he’d rather it come from him than anyone else.

Words remain unspoken as Aemond, drenched and disheveled, closes the distance between them. She hasn’t moved, holding onto him by the waist as he encloses his cold hands onto the back of her head, finding some semblance of comfort in the warmth of her hair. His wife's face softened, ready to welcome him, oblivious to his guilt and agony. In the silence that hung thick in the air, he braced himself for the storm about to engulf their world.

“You’re cold, Aemond. Let me find you something warm to wear,” she says. He doesn’t let her leave him; he will not let her leave him, ever. In heavy times like these, he’s always quite liked having her to hold - and right now, it seems like she understands it just as well as she always does. She is a part of him, made to be by his side.

She’s my twin. She is mine. Her place is by my side, and nobody else’s!

He remembers the words. It was the night he had come to, after his eye had been slashed out. The marriage pact had been brokered in the aftermath, a compensation for the losses suffered. His nephew's tantrum and those venomous words had sown the seeds of a bitter possession, one that manifested in the subtle manipulative gestures that followed.

He had reveled in taunting Luke, relishing in the knowledge that he had triumphed over his nephew in more ways than one. Aemond had married his niece, a Princess of Targaryen blood, a strategic move with which he had alleviated the stain of bastardy off of her. He’d spend years taunting Luke over his wins, and he’d finally taken his life too. And now, his wife was about to cast him aside for it. 

As he confessed to his wife, his eye, haunted by the accident, bore into hers, seeking understanding, pleading for empathy. The air grew dense, the chasm between them widening like an insurmountable abyss, a reflection of the irreversible consequences that now consumed them. 

I need you to believe me.

In the flicker of candlelight, hope clung to Aemond like a shadow, a desperate desire for his wife to see beyond the tragedy. Yet, her features twisted in disbelief, mirroring the horror within him. He had not expected any less, but to see it happen is like a dagger twisting in his heart.

He’s losing her. He cannot lose her. As she tries to draw away, he lets desperation take over him. He would be damned if he let her slip away over something that he did not mean to happen. 

His grip on her tightens to the point of choking, her eyes widening as she realizes that she is trapped. Not just in his hold, but in this marriage with a man that would stop at nothing, and is not even above killing family to survive. How long before he kills me too, she probably thinks. 

He longs to assure her that he wouldn’t hurt a hair on her head, but she is angry. She does not want to hear from him, so he will settle for her forced presence for now. Surely she’ll see. He cannot bear for her to look scared and fearful - she looks too much like her twin when she does. The last thing Aemond needs is to be reminded of him. 

Her sobs soak through his already damp clothes. She tries to push him away, but he is like a never-ending nightmare - the more she tries, the tighter his hold becomes, refusing to give her the solitude she craves. He wants to, he is simply scared - what if she never chooses to welcome him again?

Why?

His touch, once a source of comfort, now repulses her, but he remains oblivious to her inner turmoil. In the midst of her agony, he lowers her gently onto the bed, attempting to offer solace through caresses and kisses, unaware that his touch has become a reminder, a brand of her brother's murderer. She refuses to believe that it was an accident, and he is further pained at the dark realization that he may not be above killing her if she tries to betray and leave him over this. After all, if he cannot have her, no one else will.

"Stay with me, wife. Stay with me, and you will be kept alive and safe.” Try to leave me, and you will not live to see the next sunrise. 

The unspoken threat hangs in the air, a chilling promise that holds its own through his silence and her sobs. She closes her eyes, her unease palpable, a fear of the man she shares her bed and heart with. Aemond, too, watches her drift away, inch by agonizing inch, knowing he will have to learn to endure. He’ll have to, if her place is by Aemond’s side - and the day he married her, he’d solidified that.

What he won’t quite get used to is realizing how much like Luke she looks in fear, and how her eyes make it seem as though he is boring into his nephew’s instead. The resemblance unnerves him as he is taken back to the skies of Storm’s End in his mind once again - Luke had looked just as fearful for his life in his last moments. She is a reminder of what he’s done, of the half of her who is now lost.

How could he have expected that his own living, breathing wife would haunt him so?

THE LIBRARY IS CLOAKED IN A HUSHED DARKNESS as Aemond buries himself in his book, the words flying over his head as he tries to comprehend them. The oppressive silence of the night presses upon him, mirroring the strain in his heart. His worry for his wife weighs heavily on his mind, a persistent ache that refuses to be ignored. She has withdrawn from him, choosing silence over conversation, and the void between them grows deeper with each passing day.

In dreams, Luke sits atop his fledgling dragon, looking at him with a somber expression that makes him appear at peace. They are in the skies of Storm’s End again, only this time, neither of them is involved in a chase. They face each other, and each time, Luke talks, and Aemond seems to have no choice but to listen.

This did not have to happen, uncle, he would say. You could have let me live.

Every time, he wakes and resists the urge to slam his fists and pull his spun silver hair out as he wills the fragments of Lucerys to leave him be. He had initially blamed the shock, but even as he gains his bearings, the visions, dreams, and voices only seem to become louder, stronger, and sharper. It would seem that the more desensitized and ready to face war he becomes, the more his nephew insists on haunting him - reminding him that he is no war god, but simply a boy forced to grow into a man too soon.

This did not have to happen, uncle. You made a terrible mistake.

“Leave me in peace bastard, be gone!” He would scream as he slams his fist into the table and sends parchment flying. 

Aemond's torment continues unabated, the ghost of Luke lingering in every corner of his life, a silent spirit that refuses to be exorcized. Late at night, as Aemond lies in bed, he catches glimpses of Luke's face in the shadows that dance on the walls, his eyes hauntingly fixed upon him. The weight of his gaze bears down on Aemond's soul, making sleep an elusive and tormenting escape.

In the courtyard, where the echoes of laughter resound, Aemond finds himself frozen in place, the air heavy with Luke's presence. The wind carries whispers that seem to be the soft murmur of Luke's voice, leaving Aemond questioning his sanity. He can almost feel Luke's hand on his shoulder, a touch that sends shivers down his spine and leaves him grasping at the emptiness.

During war strategy sessions, Aemond's mind plays cruel tricks on him. As he pores over maps of wargrounds and fortified keeps, Luke's reflection materializes beside him, scrutinizing terrains with an otherworldly knowledge. Aemond's fingers tremble as he traces the borders, half-expecting Luke to offer his uninvited and foolish insights, but the silence remains.

In the Great Hall, where feasts were once lively celebrations, Aemond finds himself unable to escape the ghostly presence. The sound of revelry - that Aegon insists upon as they celebrate Luke’s death - becomes a haunting cacophony, and he can almost hear Luke's laughter intermingling with the echoes of those who celebrate his demise. Aemond often finds himself raising his goblet in a futile toast, the wine swirling like a macabre dance, mirroring the torment within him.

Even in the solace of nature, where one would hope to find peace, Aemond can't escape the ghostly reminders. Trees cast shadows that resemble Luke's silhouette as Aemond and Vhagar fly overhead, and the chilly air seems to whisper secrets that he strains to understand.

As he closes the book, a phantom chill creeps into the room. A sense of unease claws at him as he tries to erase the recollections from mind, as though doing so would remove the occurrences altogether. The chilly night air outside intensifies, causing the candle flame to dance wildly before it sputters and extinguishes with a subtle hiss. Aemond dismisses the notion, attributing it to a mere draft, and turns away from the now darkened candle.

As he turns, his reflection in the ornate mirror catches his eye, but instead of his own weary countenance, the mirror unveils the ghostly image of Luke. Aemond's breath catches in his throat as he stares into the haunted eyes of his nephew. The dim light casts an eerie glow on his ethereal almost-figure, and the air in the library seems charged with an otherworldly energy. The weight of guilt and the eerie manifestations converged, leaving Aemond paralyzed in the haunting stillness of the library, caught between the realms of the living and the departed.

"This did not have to happen, uncle," Luke's voice carries a weight of unspoken sorrow, each word etched with the regret of an untimely departure. The ghostly echoes linger in the air, weaving through the ancient shelves of books that stand as silent witnesses to this mad exchange.

Aemond - his breath catching in his throat - struggles to find the right response. The weight of guilt presses upon him as he gazes into Luke, dazed. The regret, palpable and suffocating, threatens to consume him. Luke lingers, a reminder of all his irreversible choices. Caught in the grip of the moment, Aemond feels a lump forming in his throat. "I never wanted it to end this way," he whispers, his voice tinged with regret that he would never have admitted to feeling if he hadn't had to voice it out loud. 

"You made a terrible mistake," Luke's voice echoes, the accusatory tone cutting through the oppressive silence of the library. 

Aemond's eye meets the hollow gaze of his nephew. "I am aware, and I am burdened by it… by you." He confesses, the weight of guilt hanging heavily upon him. Memories of happier days in his marriage pass his mind, and he is once again left with the gnawing pain of not knowing if she will ever seek him out again. Is he going to be made to live with this chasm between them forever? How could she live without him?

And immediately, as thoughts of his sweet wife cross his mind, the image of Luke transforms into when he was much younger, his curls a lot more prominent and his face a bit more round. He says the words again, the same words that Aemond had heard him say about his marriage - and it is all he can do to not fall apart. "She's my twin. She is mine. Her place is by my side, and nobody else's!" Luke's words resonated in the stillness, each repetition intensifying the haunting atmosphere.

The air crackles with unresolved tension as the words loop, a haunting refrain that refuses to fade. Each spoken phrase intertwines with the musty scent of ancient books, filling the room with a lingering sense of melancholy. As the words pass through the room, the library stands witness to the unfolding chaos. Dust motes, disturbed by the weight of the conversation, hang suspended in the air like transient memories. The ambient firelight, filtered through the stained glass windows, casts a surreal glow on the troubled face of a man who desperately tries to escape the consequences of his actions. The words create ripples in the stillness of the library, a transient disturbance.

His fists clench, and with a roar of frustration, he lashes out at the mirror. The impact shatters the haunting reflection, the fractured pieces falling like a cascade of broken memories. Aemond, panting and wild-eyed, stares at the shattered remnants of the mirror as drops of his blood stain them all an angry, bloody red.

ON A DARK, EERIE MORNING, Aemond decides he will seek refuge in combat training with Cole. The rhythmic clash of steel on steel promises a momentary escape from the haunting of his tormented mind. In these fleeting moments, he clings to the hope that the precision demanded by the dance of death will anchor his thoughts, keeping them disciplined and resolute.

But the training ground transforms, and the air shimmers with the echoes of unsheathed swords. In the midst of training, Luke materializes. The world blurs as Aemond's gaze locks onto his nephew's phantom form, the arrogance etched upon his face mirroring the smirk that haunts him. A tempest of confusion descends, and in the blink of an eye, he lunges forward, sword clashing against an illusion.

Reality slips away, and he finds himself ensnared in a mirage - a realm where the dead dance with the living, taunting them with all they have left. In the throbbing aftermath, the truth bears down on him like a relentless storm.

He killed him. The admission echoes in the hollow chambers of his conscience, overtaking him completely. The clash of blades morphs into a funeral dirge, and as he stands amidst the lingering consequences of his actions, the training ground transforms into a graveyard of memories. The air hangs heavy with the scent of remorse, and the phantom of Luke lingers, a silent witness to the torment that now possesses Aemond.

How he wills for his nephew to leave him alone. How he wishes he could turn back time, to a day when his wife was happy with him, when he was not the object of repulsion in her eyes. How he wishes she would welcome him with open arms again...

But why would she, uncle? Why would she, when you have slain her twin and taken me away from her? Her true other half?

He swings his sword once more, the blade cutting through the air with a desperate force. Each slash is a fervent plea, hoping that the slashes would tear up the ghost of his bastard nephew to ribbons that fly away with the wind. Even in death, his nephew is a stain on his life that refuses to let him live in peace. First his eye, now his wife.

Her place is by my side, uncle. And by killing me, you only reminded her of that.

The echoes of Luke's haunting words reverberate through the empty training ground, as Aemond battles not only the illusions before him but also the relentless demons within. The weight of his actions, the echoes of his nephew's voice, and the damning truth merge into a haunting symphony that accompanies each swing of his sword, forming an enemy much more dangerous than the Blacks that he’d sworn to kill.

The air is thick with the acrid scent of remorse. Aemond's movements become more desperate, as if trying to carve out a safe haven from the phantoms that encircle him. The blade slices through him, yet Luke's voice persists, an unyielding reminder of the havoc wrought upon not just his life but everyone’s around him.

Amidst his violent dance with illusions, Aemond longs for the solace that has eluded him since that fateful day at Storm's End. His sword becomes an extension of his anguish, a vessel through which he hopes to banish the nightmares that torment his every waking moment. The words resonate, mocking his attempts to escape the repercussions of his actions.

Aemond's grip tightens on the hilt of the sword, the struggle etched across his face as he battles the intangible. The illusion persists, refusing to be vanquished, a testament to the indomitable force of guilt and regret.

He lowers his sword and the ghostly echoes of Luke's voice linger. The training ground falls silent, a wave of unresolved grief as Aemond grapples with the realization that, even in death, his nephew remains an inescapable presence in the twisted tapestry of his existence.

Luke smiles once more, and Aemond slams the tip of his sword into the gravel, watching it fall to the side as he screams. Luke’s reflection is a sharp image on his blade, but when he looks up, the ground is empty, save for a worried mentor that watches him from the side. What must he do to gain solitude again?

The air in the training ground seems to thicken further as Aemond walks away to put his sword aside. The haunting memories of his past misdeeds cling to him like a shroud, and the distant echoes of Luke's words continue to reverberate in his mind. The once-familiar grounds feel like a journey through a desolate and forsaken landscape as he somehow registers the distant sounds of Cole calling out his name in worry.

As Aemond picks up the sheath, he senses an eerie silence enveloping the surroundings. The wind carries whispers of his regrets, and the atmosphere is charged with an unsettling energy. He looks up to see his wife standing at one of the windows, her gaze fixed on a seemingly endless point beyond the horizon. The pain of a fractured marriage weighs heavily on his shoulders, and his arrogance, once a shield, now crumbles under the weight of remorse.

Their eyes meet, and for a moment, time seems to stand still. He reads the emptiness in her eyes, an emptiness that reflects the void he has created between them. Aemond's heart sinks, realizing that his mistakes have irreparably damaged the bond he once took for granted. The echo of Luke's haunting voice intertwines with the desolation that surrounds him.

She is his, but he does not want to have her like this; unwilling. Unable to withstand the haunting gaze, Aemond turns away. The clang of metal against metal resonates in the air as he sheathed his sword. The once-sharp blade now feels heavy, burdened with the weight of his own sins.

Before he leaves, compelled by an unseen force, Aemond looks up at the tower once more. But this time, it is not his wife who meets his gaze. Instead, the window frames the ghostly figure of Luke, staring back with fear etched on his face. Before he can further contemplate the vision, she is right there again, looking away. With the many sightings of Luke that he is subjected to, Aemond is not fazed anymore. But he is once more reminded of how similar his nephew and wife look in fear. He does not like seeing her this way.

A shiver courses down Aemond's spine as his gaze meets the ghostly visage of his nephew. Before he can avert his eyes, the apparition transforms into his wife, each manifestation carrying an accusing, sorrowful, and frightened expression. The visions alternate with unsettling speed, a haunting dance where Luke and his wife exchange places in the blink of an eye. 

Aemond is unnerved by the rapidity with which the pair appears almost indistinguishable, their features blending into an eerie resemblance that sends chills through his soul. The accusatory eyes of Luke and the sorrowful gaze of his wife interchange with a disorienting fluidity, leaving Aemond trapped in a whirlwind of regret, fear, and a gnawing sense of the uncanny.

He walks away, steps definitive and terror-struck as he steps into the tower. The silence is deafening, broken only by the echoes of regrets and the distant wind. Aemond, haunted by the consequences of his actions, contemplates the surreal encounter. The armor-laden grounds, once a place of training, now serve as the stage for the haunting manifestations of his past. The ghost of Luke remains and so does his remembrance of a happier wife - who, for reasons he cannot fathom, reminds him of his biggest mistake. A constant reminder that redemption may be forever out of reach.

THE WORD HOLDS TOO MUCH EMOTION than he can bear to pour into his voice, but he says it all the same.

“Wife.”

As Aemond approaches her, he takes in the sight of her, a weak vision of House Strong's distinct features marked by dark hair and blue eyes. The vibrant happiness that once defined her has been replaced by weariness, one that seems to have settled into the very core of her being.

Her brown hair, once a shiny cascade, now hangs in loose tendrils, lacking the luster it once possessed. The dim light highlights her fatigue, revealing the toll that the sorrow of losing her brother has taken on her. The lines etched upon her face speak of countless nights spent wrestling nightmares and the strain of unanswered questions. Her eyes, once bright and expressive, now carry a perpetual sadness and seem to bear the weight of all her losses.

Does she grieve for them too? For their marriage? For him and all the time they’ve lost?

As Aemond gathers the courage to approach, he can't help but feel a pang of regret for the role he played in casting this shadow over the woman he once knew and still loves. The air around her seems heavy with declarations unmade, the room echoing with the quiet desperation of a fractured connection that he is grasping at to mend. Aemond, yearning for reconciliation, steels himself to bridge the gap that has grown between them, hoping to heal not just their relationship, but her as well. 

She turns to look at him, the faint moonlight from the window hitting her face as she assesses the man that stands before her. Not her husband, no - Aemond knows how she looked at him when she loved him. Now she simply stares through him, understanding that it’s her brother’s killer that she is facing. He doesn’t know what hurts him more - her grief, or her cluelessness. 

She doesn’t respond, but she doesn’t walk away either, empowering him to take a few steps further. He reaches out to her and takes her hand, and smiles by the corner of his lips when she doesn’t grab her hand back. 

“Are you… well?”

The idiocy of the question while he sees how tired she is does not escape him, but in all honesty, she has him tongue-tied. Aemond has missed her touch, and simply getting to hold her hand again has set a fire ablaze in him that he cannot seem to quell.

“As well as one can be, considering the circumstances.”

Time stands still as he takes in the sound of her voice, hoarse from not having said much in a long while. His mother tries with her, but even the Queen can’t make his grief-stricken wife budge - she would stay until she couldn’t, leaving his wife to her thoughts. What could she say to make things better anyhow?  I’m sorry my son killed your brother? I’m sorry you’re caught in a war that is not of your making? I’m sorry you cannot look at your husband with anything but disdain?

He is rendered well and truly silent as he tries to measure her feelings, but she beats him to it as she speaks again - addressing the elephant in the room as quickly as she is able. “Are you here to apologize for murdering my brother?”

“It was an accident.”

He knows he shouldn’t be arguing, but what was he to do? He’d let the world speak cruelly of him and brand him a kinslayer, but he cannot have his own wife hate him so. His defense of his actions only seem to spur her further as she pushes her free hand into his chest, and he holds onto her hand tighter, unwilling to let her go like she wants to.

“Don’t demean yourself by justifying your venom, Aemond. You have hated Luke your entire life, and I’d rather you not make years of hatred seem like nothing in your pursuit to make a better name for yourself with me now. You’re well past that, valzȳrys.” She spits out the last word, making him feel hurt and horrendously out of place. husband

“You don’t believe me.”

“You killed him!”

She sobs, her tears making it very clear that he is a lot less in her eyes now than he used to be. He fights the urge to scream, to hold her by the shoulders and shake sense into her. He wants to remind her that he is not what she thinks him to be, and that he genuinely would never do anything to hurt her. But he has. And he is now facing the consequences of weighing the choices and choosing wrong. How he wishes he’d simply let Luke leave - Aemond had won, why didn’t he?

Her sobs echo in the strained silence, the air thick with the weight of unspoken grievances. In a moment of raw vulnerability, she hits him square on his chest - each strike of her closed fists carrying the weight of accumulated sorrow, an outward manifestation of the tumultuous emotions that have festered within. Aemond, initially taken aback, winces. 

Yet, even as the blows intensify, Aemond doesn't recoil. Instead, he envelops her in a desperate embrace, a gesture born not out of defiance but of a shared longing for understanding. The chamber becomes a battleground of emotions, the struggle to make sense of their fractured marriage playing out in light of all that has taken place.

“I want to hate you so much.” She says, the words choked out as her voice comes out muffled. Her lips are branded onto his chest as she mouths the words over the leathers he wears. “I want to. You’re a monster, that's all I see. I hate you so much.”

He pretends to not hear any of the damning words, for fear of hurting her in the anger that they rouse in him. She looks up at him, and all he wants is to crush her in his hold as he feels the anger creep up on him. But what she says next knocks the wind out of him, reminding him of why he has taken the trouble to come here to try and repair their marriage. 

“But I love you all the same, and I don’t know if I hate you or the love I hold more.”

It is all the confirmation he needs. She is not out of reach just yet. Aemond, grappling with the weight of her words, feels a heavy tension in the air as her lips remain pressed against his chest, the muffled admissions still hanging in the space between them.

As she lifts her head, her eyes, red and swollen, meet his. Aemond sees the internal conflict etched into the lines of her face, torn between the desire to loathe him and the persistent, undeniable love that refuses to be extinguished. He remains silent, understanding the gravity of her admission, aware that any response from him could tip the fragile balance they are trying to restore.

In a moment suspended between resentment and longing, she tentatively reaches up to touch his face, her fingertips tracing the contours of his jaw. Aemond, still holding back the urge to speak, feels the warmth of her touch, a gesture that speaks volumes. Then, as if guided by an invisible force, their lips meet in a hesitant, exploratory kiss. It is not a fiery embrace born out of passion; rather, it is a delicate connection, an attempt to bridge the emotional distance that has grown between them. 

And then Luke surfaces, yet again.

He holds her tighter and kisses her deep, his tongue begging for entrance as he fights the ghost of Luke, staring right at him as he tries to make his wife forgive him. With every movement of their joined lips, he refutes his dead nephew’s words. He is hers, and she is his. From this day, till the end of their days. 

Not Luke’s. His.

“Mine,” he mumbles in between kisses. Over and over until the blasted bastard’s spirit hears and lets him live. But why should he, when Aemond did not offer him the same courtesy? “You’re mine. No one else’s.”

“What?” He doesn’t answer her murmured question, not quite ready to make her privy to the haunting of his mind by her twin. He does not want to let him ruin this moment for them, not any more than he already has. His hands involuntarily find her skirts, pushing them up as he lowers his lips to kiss her neck.

The skin of her thighs are as soft as he’d remembered, his hands relishing in the touch as it disappears under her dress. She clings to him, a slight whine escaping her lips as his fingertips graze her skin, holding onto her backside as he lifts her up effortlessly, feet carrying them both and pushing her into the nearest wall. The kiss is never ending, and he’d not have it any other way.He presses into her, his hands holding her by the hip so tight that he’s probably bruising her, but he is too far gone to care. He needs to prove his nephew wrong, and with each moment he believes he is closer to vanquishing the ghost of the Strong pup from his consciousness.

“Take me,” she says. He hears her, but he is not quite sure he is listening. However, he does as she says. He has wanted this for long, having missed her touch for long, having missed her wanting him for long. He has wanted this for too long to do anything otherwise, and so he does. He growls as he bites her neck, while she unlaces his breeches and lets his cock spring free. The weeping tip is erect and stands proud, and he hopes she can see what she could have had in the time that she pushed him away. No matter, she’s here now.

He is taken aback by how tight she is, how warm and inviting she is despite it all. Her wetness engulfs him as he thrusts into her, making up for wasted time. With each thrust and with each moan that she lets out, he hopes and prays that their marriage will endure - but the phantom of his nephew is never ending as he refuses to fade. Aemond claims her as is his right, but as he does, he realizes his true goal is to simply remind the ghost in his head that she is his, and no one else’s.

“Mine.”

She leans into him, meeting his forehead with hers as her hair falls around them. Her panting breaths and heaving chest has him in a tight chokehold, and it almost keeps him from being haunted by her twin. Almost.

She peaks with a shuddering moan, and as she falls into him - limp and willing - he chases his pleasure. He brings her down to stand and mindlessly thrusts into her as he chants mine, mine, mine over and over again and when he does spill in her, he wants to be able to only experience pleasure, and nothing else. 

Surely his mind is playing tricks on him, or Luke has simply taken over Aemond in a capacity far beyond his control - for he is certain he sees him in her eyes for just a moment, taunting him and reveling in his misery.  

The memory hits him like whiplash, and it is all he can think of.

Aemond’s hands encircle her delicate throat, pressing her frail form against the unforgiving stone wall, as though he intends to merge her essence with its cold surface. The echoes of her labored panting reverberate in the air, a desperate struggle for breath, while he, consumed by an unrelenting force, cannot cease his actions. 

Her blue eyes roll back in agony, and the veins on her neck stand out more prominently than usual, appearing blue in certain lights and green in others - details he might have discerned if not blinded by rage and madness.

He sees clearly, he always does. But in this moment, the intensity of his anger clouds his judgment, rendering him as blind as he is perceptive in moments of calm. Her pallor intensifies, and her hands futilely attempt to pry his fingers from her skin, seeking reprieve - he wants to let go, but he cannot. How could he?

His nephew has haunted him for years, much like the famed phantom of Harrenhal. Luke may have only been nine years of age when he took Aemond’s eye, but it has wielded a malevolent influence throughout his journey from boyhood to manhood. It has been the root cause for a lot of what he’s done - right from marrying her, to now killing her so she can join her brother wherever he is.

He needs to banish the haunting memory of his nephew from his tormented consciousness. He wants so badly for the words to stop playing in his head, weaving a harsh thread of thoughts that he cannot seem to find his way out of. Her life hangs by a thread, one that he stretches taut until she snaps.

As much as he resents acknowledging it, perhaps Lucerys was right. He isn't killing her; he is merely guiding her to where she belongs, by his side. “Aemond…” Her plea is feeble, choked, and nearly devoid of a voice. “Husband, please…” He hears his sweet wife’s last words, but he refuses to listen.

As the light in her eyes slowly dims, he watches as she struggles to keep her eyes open. Her hold on his choking hand loosens and loses its fight, and she gives in. It is almost as though they are back to how they were, in the days when they were happier, and his hands had been around her neck in much more sensual moments - always just enough, never as tight and deadly as this.

She looks almost peaceful in this state, in the last moments where she’s accepted that she has outrun her course. He cannot have her this way, does not want her this way -  where she fears him and what he has truly become; where every moment that she looks at him with mixed emotions, he is reminded of his nephew and the day he died.

Cursed bastard.

Her once kind smiles, the very essence that once distinguished her from her twin, have undergone a haunting transformation. Her face has since been etched with an unspoken terror, a fear that clings to her like a shroud of impending doom. Every glance she casts seems laden with an eerie anticipation, as if she is poised to deliver a fatal blow.

In those harrowing moments, the resemblance between them becomes a grotesque mirror, reflecting a likeness he cannot bear to acknowledge. The weight of her presence - his presence - is suffocating, an unsettling reminder of his own recklessness. He cannot afford the luxury of a wavering mind, not in the midst of a relentless war that demands his unwavering focus.

This connection has become an unbearable burden, stoking a fury within him that knows no bounds. All he craves is the dissolution of his nephew's haunting memory, an obliteration that refuses to comply with the confines of his subconscious. Instead, it lingers, an ominous specter that shadows his every waking moment, intensifying the horrors that plague him day and night.

And then, her breathing ceases.

The chilling realization of what he’s done crashes over him like a wave, dragging him into the abyss of his own making. The haunting echoes of his nephew's voice, the relentless specter that had tormented his every waking moment ever since the fateful day at Storm’s End, had finally ceased. However, the newfound silence is shattered by the ghastly thud of her lifeless form crumpling to the floor, unleashing an eerie force that wraps its tendrils around his soul.

She seems liberated from the oppressive shackles of fear and her lifeless face descends into an eerie calm that chills the marrow of his bones. In death, she appears more tranquil than any moment he witnessed in life since her twin’s passing. The grotesque disparity between her and Lucerys’ final moments sends a shiver down his spine, the air thick with the stench of regret and the palpable weight of his transgressions.

With a trembling hand, he reaches out to touch her slowly chilling forehead, pressing a sorrowful kiss upon it. The chamber becomes suffocating, the air thickening with an oppressive calm that clings to the shadows. In that macabre stillness, a chilling certainty takes hold — Lucerys will no longer haunt him, but the cost is etched in the lines of his lovely wife’s lifeless face.

As the reality of his irreversible choice seeps into his bones, a haunting question claws at the edges of his conscience: Was the liberation from the phantom of his nephew's influence worth the mad ending of his wife's life? The Seven bear witness to another one of his kinslaying crimes and the heavy silence that follows - a testament to the darkness that now envelopes his soul, as the shadows of the hearth themselves seem to recoil from the stench of blood that stains the very fabric of the air.

Now the twins are together in death, by each other’s side. 

Aemond is free.

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MASTERLIST

[odyssean-flower]

The Winding Path of Fate Chapter 16 - Summer: A Homecoming

Masterpost

Pairing: Neuvillette x Female Reader Summary: You go home to attend your sister's birthday party.

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Have a pic of Neuvillette standing in wherever this is

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“The guesthouse has already been prepared for you, Monsieur Neuvillette. I hope it is to your standards. If you find anything lacking, please inform me or Mrs. Bernard immediately.”

“Thank you, madame, but considering the warm hospitality and consideration I have received from you and your family since I arrived here, I doubt that will be needed,” Neuvillette assured your mother, who seemed to blush at his words. 

“Oh...oh my, such kind words,” your mother stammered out, ignoring your pleading look. “W-well then, I shall take my leave now. Breakfast shall be served to you first thing in the morning. I wish you a very good night.”

With that, your mother left the room, closing the door behind her, which, in turn, locked you in with Neuvillette.

The two of you looked at each other in silence for a moment, neither of you knowing what to say in this unthinkable situation you somehow found yourself in.

“It appears that we are to share a bed for the night, Madame. I hope that doesn’t cause you any discomfort,” he said at last, though the furrow in his brow indicated that the question should have been asked to him instead.

“Yes. It appears so,” you nodded, trying to quell your flipping stomach. “It���s only for a night, though, so I, um, hope you can put up with me until then.”

“No, Madame, I should be the one requesting that of you,” he insisted. “I should apologize for the uncomfortable position I have put you in.”

You decided not to say anything more, lest you fall into a never-ending loop of apologies...again.

Neither of you moved from your spots. His gaze was uncharacteristically unfocused, looking at anywhere but you. Though you didn’t have the ability to read emotions like him, you knew exactly what he was thinking then. It was as though you were looking into a mirror.

How did things turn out this way?

Let us return to the beginning of the day...

While you didn’t expect fanfare or anything when you returned home, you didn’t expect the house to be completely empty.

Your father being away wasn’t a surprise. His favorite pastime was wandering the countryside and climbing the jagged mountains near the village with a zither or notebook under his arm. You just hoped he didn’t stumble into a hilichurl camp or something like last time. 

As for your mother and your sister Justine’s absence, it was soon explained with a letter given to you by your taciturn housekeeper, Mrs. Bernard.

Dear Sister,

I’m so sorry that I couldn’t welcome you back home! Dominic (do you remember him? He’s the viscount’s son I danced with) has invited me to a tour around Fontaine on those new flying machines for my birthday! He says he knows someone at the Institute and that they can lend it to him for the day. Mother is chaperoning us. 

Oh, by the way, I’ve decided not to have the usual garden party this year. We’re going to hold an evening ball at the assembly-hall! Since you so insist on us not celebrating or even mentioning your marriage in any way, this ball will serve as a stealth celebration for you as well (don’t worry, we didn’t tell anyone. But just to warn you, Mother isn’t happy about it). I know how you feel about balls, but I do hope you can enjoy yourself as well. It’s a shame that Monsieur Neuvillette can’t come, but I suppose it can’t be helped. Everyone in the village is invited, and they’re all really excited. It’s been so long since we’ve had a large party like this, after all. Dominic says that he’ll invite some of his friends too. Anne, unfortunately, can’t attend as she’s busy with her babies.

I’ll be back around late afternoon, and I expect to hear all about Monsieur Neuvillette from you (I still can’t believe he’s part of our family now!!!!)

Love, Justine

“A flying tour...and a ball?” you said incredulously as you finished reading the letter. “I don’t think I had that much energy when I was her age.”

Still, you were happy that she was having a grand birthday celebration. Even if you had mixed feelings about a ball. Well, I suppose it’s fine if it’s just a village ball, you told yourself. If worst comes to worst, I can volunteer to play the role of musician all night. 

Indeed, you shouldn’t let your personal feelings cloud such a happy event. Even you enjoyed listening to the music, watching others dance, and eating the refreshments. Though, it was a shame that Anne, your best friend, couldn’t be there, as you hadn’t seen each other in ages. 

Neuvillette’s dodged a bullet by having to be in court today, you wryly mused to yourself. He frequently received invitations to balls and dinners, but almost always declined them. 

“The guest list is here, Madame Neuvillette,” Mrs. Bernard said, handing you a list of names. As your sister had written, all the families in the village were invited, and almost all of them accepted. The unfamiliar names, you assumed, were Dominic’s friends. 

“That’s a lot of guests. Did Mother hire any help for you?” you inquired as you followed Mrs. Bernard into the kitchen. Your family only had one housekeeper, but sometimes temporary help was hired from the village when it was needed. “Oh, and you don’t have to call me Madame Neuvillette, you know.”

“I am merely calling you by your proper title, Madame,” Mrs. Bernard said, unsmiling. You could count the number of times you saw her show emotion on one hand. “And no, several of your mother’s friends have offered to help prepare the refreshments. I am only baking the birthday cake and Conch Madeleines.”

“How far have you gotten with the cake?” you asked, rolling your sleeves up and putting on an apron. You usually helped with the measurements and the mixing, as Mrs. Bernard’s eyesight had worsened slightly over the years. 

The housekeeper stopped and gave you a look. “What?” you frowned.

“The wife of the Chief Justice has no place in a kitchen, especially after a long trip. I would advise you to rest in your room until the night’s entertainments.”

“Oh, come on, Mrs. Bernard, I’m not too good for kitchen work now just because I’m married to someone important. And you know how things are with our family. We need all the help we can get.” 

It wasn’t uncommon for members of the rural nobility to do work that their urban compatriots wouldn’t even deign to do, particularly if they lived on a meager income like yours did. You had grown up accustomed to mending your own clothes and helping with meal preparation.

“It is because I know our circumstances that I cannot approve of you helping me,” Mrs. Bernard replied curtly. Suddenly, her expression turned stormy. “Are you running into any issues with the staff at Monsieur Neuvillette’s household?”

“No, no, not at all,” you said, waving your hands in denial. Mrs. Bernard had been working for your family since your grandfather’s time, when there was still wealth and a fully staffed household, so she remembered a time when young ladies of the family didn’t need to lift a finger for anything except to ring the bell to summon a servant. “I’ve never run into any trouble there. Everything’s being done for me.”

It was the truth. In the beginning, you had tried to help out with the cooking and cleaning, but was firmly turned down every time. “You are here as Monsieur Neuvillette’s wife, not a tenant,” Marie had said. “He would be greatly aggrieved to hear that you feel obliged to do chores in his household.” Personally, you didn’t really understand the problem. You weren’t actually his wife and it wasn’t an obligation to help out in the house that you lived in. To go even further, you thought he ought to hire more staff if he were to live in a house of that size, even if he didn’t dwell there all that often. 

Come to think of it, there wasn’t much difference between the two households, particularly in the number of staff. But you decided that it was wiser to keep that to yourself.

“I’m glad to hear that. You must remember that you are of an old, noble bloodline and entitled to all the dignity and respect that entails,” Mrs. Bernard said, fixing you with a steely look. “Do not shrink yourself, even if your husband is the Iudex.”

“I know, I know,” you said, biting back your comments about all the good that a noble bloodline had done you. You knew Mrs. Bernard meant well, though a part of you shuddered at how she would react if she knew the truth behind your marriage. “I’ll be in my room, then.”

Mrs. Bernard nodded and turned back to the kitchen counter, which was fully taken up by mixing bowls and baking ingredients. You studied her stooped back and gray hair tied neatly in a bun. Had she gained more white hair since the last time you saw her?

You went upstairs with those uneasy thoughts in your mind. Mrs. Bernard had stayed loyal to your family even as family heirlooms and parts of the estate were sold to pay off debts, and servants quit in succession. In a wealthier family, she would probably be retired by now and settled comfortably in a cottage, receiving an annual income. 

If I were to truly comport myself with the dignity of a noble, then I would be giving money to my family to hire more servants, you thought as you gazed at a faded patch of wallpaper. An oil painting had once hung there, though you had no idea what the subject was or where it was now. The wall there had been bare ever since you could remember. At least one or two people to help in the kitchen and with the laundry, particularly now that Justine is out in society. Ah, come to think of it, she also needs a lady’s maid. And a footman... And... 

You did have money from Neuvillette, but it wasn’t enough to pay the yearly wages of a few servants.  You would have to ask Neuvillette for more. 

Wasn’t this the point of marrying rich? To help one’s family? If only this were a normal marriage, if only you weren’t married to the one person in Fontaine who you didn’t want to ask anything more of...

You shook your head, clearing the thoughts away like cobwebs. You had gotten into this marriage of your own accord and knew exactly what it was. It was pointless to have regrets about it now. 

Pushing open your bedroom door with more force than you intended, you breathed in the sweet-smelling air of your room. It was kept dusted and polished even after you moved out. Even the plants on your windowsill were watered. Seeing your familiar wooden writing desk and floral bedspread filled your heart with overpowering gladness, as though you were a weary traveler who had finally come home. 

Your bedroom was about half the size of Neuvillette’s guest room and didn’t have a window seat or its own bathroom, but it had always served as your sanctuary. If a room could be the embodiment of one’s soul, then this one would be yours. 

You went over to the window. The morning glory vines hanging from the eaves hadn’t been trimmed, so the visibility wasn’t good, but you always liked the way the vines framed the window. When you were younger, you pretended that it was the overgrown window in a crumbling castle. The house was practically covered in ivy and morning glory vines. It lent a wild and rustic appearance that you found charming, but your mother always complained about the “overgrown weeds.” 

I think Neuvillette’s house would also look lovely with a bit of greenery on the outside. Not excessively, of course, But a window box of flowers never hurt anyone, or perhaps a wisteria tree near the front door...

You turned to the tall bookcase that housed your carefully cultivated collection of books. Living in a small town far from the city meant that your means of buying new books was limited, but you made do. Your eyes drifted to the leather-bound spines occupying the middle shelf. Those were the albums and journals of your late teacher which she had bequeathed to you. She had more books, but they were donated to the school and local library. While you had brought your favorites with you to the city, you didn’t bring any of these with you out of fear of losing them. And because it still hurt too much to look at them.

But now... You ran a finger across their smooth, cracked spines. You hadn’t visited your teacher’s grave in a long time. You should find time to do it today. There are a lot of things I want to tell her about. 

Before that, you decided to take a little nap. The trip here had been rather taxing. You changed into a shift and closed the curtains on the blue sky beyond. It won’t be blue for long though. I hope it doesn’t rain during Justine’s tour.

The thought of rain reminded you of Neuvillette. He was probably still in the middle of a trial, as it hadn’t rained yet. You felt a little guilty, knowing that you promised to attend one of his trials. I’ll go to the next one for sure, you told yourself. I hope he doesn’t stand in the rain for too long. You had grown accustomed to the sight of him standing in the garden as rain fell upon him and readied towels for him whenever he came back indoors. He never talked about it, but you gathered that standing in the rain was soothing for him somehow. 

You climbed into bed and slipped under the covers, then stared up at the ceiling. Sleep wasn’t coming easily. 

Birdsong sounded outside the window. Faint shadows played on the wall opposite your bed. You could hear Mrs. Bernard moving around in the kitchen downstairs. Everything was so familiar and unchanged that you could almost fool yourself into believing that you had never left your village at all. The woman who had married the Iudex, petted a vishap’s snout, got attacked by a drunk at night (O Archons, how were you going to bring that up to your parents?), and spoke to the Hydro Archon, seemed to be someone else entirely. 

I feel like everything that happened in the past few months was a dream, and now I’m back to reality...

You could even sense the difference between your two lives in the bedding. The sheets in my room in the city are silkier and smell like detergent, while these sheets are more worn and stiffer, and smell like wildflowers...

You blinked at the intrusive thought. It would not do to compare. Or to grow accustomed to this, because it would all be over in the blink of an eye. The life that awaited you would be difficult, so it was better to prepare for it beforehand.

You tried to think about things that were more relevant to your future, like how you would advertise yourself or do some networking (perhaps you could ask Neuvillette to do some inquiring for you), but for some reason, your thoughts kept straying to other things. Like saving two slices of cake for Neuvillette and Marie. Marie would love the cake, and even though Neuvillette rarely ate sweets, you were sure he would enjoy it as well. It should be moist enough for him. The only question was, how were you going to keep the cakes fresh on the way home tomorrow? That reminds me, didn’t Neuvillette promise to take me to a restaurant? I hope he hasn’t forgotten about it. Well, he’s so busy these days that I wouldn’t be surprised if he had. Still, I was really looking forward to it...

A little voice in your head asked you if you were perhaps thinking about Neuvillette a little too much, but it was soon pulled under by a wave of drowsiness. 

“I hope you’re not going to hide away in the corner with the piano all night.”

You glanced up from the sheet music for a high-spirited country dance as Justine strode into the parlor. Her hair was up in curlers, and she was wearing her bathrobe and a facial mask. 

“Who else is going to play the music for all the dancing you and your friends are going to do? There’s no one as skilled on the piano as me in town, and no one else willing to take on the role of the musician all night.” 

You weren’t bragging. You had plenty of practice playing reels and jigs for Justine and her friends, who lived for dancing. Though, you had been a little rusty as of late, which was why you were warming up right now.

“Mr. Guillaume will be playing the violin, and Mrs. Allen has agreed to lend her harp. And Mother can take your place on the piano. You have to take a break at some point,” Justine leaned against the piano. “Just do one or two dances, please?”

“Oh, all right.” You supposed you could dance a cotillion or a longways set.

“You can practice with me, if you want. ...I doubt Monsieur Neuvillette danced much with you.”

“How do you know that?”

“It would have made the headlines of all the newspapers if he attended a ball with an unknown woman on his arm,” Justine said, as if it was obvious. Then, her face brightened. “Unless those secret evening balls the tabloids talk about are true...?”

“I wouldn’t know about that.” Though the thought of Neuvillette sneaking off at night to go dancing was rather amusing.

“Why wouldn’t you know? You’re his wife!”

“Well...just because two people are married, it doesn’t mean they have to know everything about each other,” you said. It occurred to you then that this was the perfect opportunity to “foreshadow” your eventual divorce. “To be honest, we don’t see each other all that often. His job keeps him very busy, you know, and he comes home very late. We live separate lives, and neither of us has much interest in each other. It’s not exactly the fairytale marriage you’re hoping for, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, I know that,” Justine waved her hand. “There’s some kind of circumstance behind it, right?” Your expression must have been comical because she let out a snort of laughter. “Come on, my serious and level-headed sister suddenly getting married to the Iudex in a secret wedding within a week? You have to be an idiot not to see something’s up. I think Mother suspects it as well, but she’s choosing to ignore it.”

“I see...” Now you felt foolish. “Um...you must want to know--”

“I won’t pry. As long as he’s good to you and supports you in every way, then it doesn’t matter,” Justine peered at you closely. You were surprised. She had always been a romantic and, like your mother, devoured romance novels. “He is good to you, right? He’s not cold or neglectful? Everyone says he doesn’t like humans and is only kind to the Melusines. If he's cruel to you, then--”

“No!” you said, a little too quickly. Justine raised her eyebrow. You cleared your throat. “I mean, he’s been nothing but gentlemanly and considerate. He’s very kind and gentle--nothing at all like how he presents in court. I don’t think he hates humans at all. It’s just that he...keeps a distance from most people due to the nature of his work.”

You thought back to all the conversations you had with Neuvillette, and what you had observed of him. He simply didn’t give off the air of someone who hated humans. Would someone like that sit in the seat of the Chief Justice for centuries? 

But you couldn’t say he wholeheartedly loved them either. There was a deliberate distance there, but the reason for it was unknown to you.

“Mm-hmm,” Justine made a sound. She was grinning. You then realized that you had fallen into deep thought. “So, tell me more about my brother-in-law.”

“B-Brother-in-law?” you spluttered.

“Isn’t that what he is?”

“Well...yes, but...” It had only occurred to you then that Neuvillette was technically related to your family now. You had never gave it much thought before, so focused on other aspects of the marriage. You cleared your throat again. “What do you want to know? Just so you know, I don’t know his true identity or anything.”

“I don’t care about that! I want to know what living with him is like. He’s so mysterious, after all! Ooh, I don’t know how you can bear seeing that handsome face every single day!” Now she was sounding more like her old self.

You had a feeling that she would keep pestering you if you didn’t throw her a bone. What’s the harm in telling her a few things, you thought. Plus, you did kind of wanted to talk to someone about him. 

“You get used to it after a few months,” you started, and Justine leaned forward in rapt attention.

“So...he’s an old man, basically?” Justine said after you finished talking. You were currently in the kitchen, watching Mrs. Bernard icing the cake. The three-tiered butterscotch cake was decorated with pink and blue roses (“Didn’t I tell you? It’s to celebrate your wedding!” Justine answered when you asked about the blue roses) and looked every bit as delicious as something you’d see in the window displays of the fancy cake shops in the Court. 

“What...? How did you get to that conclusion?” you whirled around to her. Mrs. Bernard let out a quiet snort.

“According to you, he enjoys long, solitary walks by the water, has a preference for moist foods, and loves talking to his daughters and asking about their day. That sounds just like Old Man Julien,” Justine replied matter-of-factly. Old Man Julien was an elderly neighbor of yours who had no teeth. And he did enjoy long walks and chewable foods. 

“...No, it doesn’t,” you said, even as you inwardly thought that you might have inadvertently ruined Neuvillette’s image. Although, he is old...and a man...so she’s technically correct...wait, why am I thinking about this!? “So what? Is that a crime? Nothing wrong with having distinctive tastes, is there?”

“Never said there was,” Justine was still grinning. You turned away from her with a huff, and she hopped around to face you. “And Sister, you’re a terrible liar!”

“What do you mean?”

“You are interested in Monsieur Neuvillette! I’ve never seen you talk so much about someone who isn’t some musty old historical figure!” Justine clapped her hands together.

“And smiling at that,” Mrs. Bernard added. You didn’t recall smiling. 

“That’s because he’s an interesting person. Like you said, he’s mysterious. No one knows what he is or where he came from. And he’s hundreds of years old, and...” Realizing that you sounded far too defensive, you clamped your lips shut. 

“Oh, Sister, you should just be honest with yourself,” Justine shook her head.

“I do not know what you are talking about. I did not lie about a single thing. And you should watch how you speak about your brother-in-law.”

“I know, I know... Ooh, I have an idea. Let me do your makeup! And then I’ll take pictures and send them to my brother-in-law, and then he’ll be so awestruck by your beauty that he’ll be eager to take you to balls every night!”

“Please don’t do that. It’s a secret marriage, remember?” you reminded her as she dragged you upstairs.

But she wasn’t listening to you as she chattered to herself. “...And then I’ll tie blue ribbons into your hair, to match those blue things in his hair.”

“Actually, those are horns,” you couldn’t help but correct her.

“They are!? ...I bet he let you touch them, didn’t he?” 

You suppressed a groan. You were beginning to regret telling her anything at all.

I hope Neuvillette’s having a more relaxing time than me, you thought.

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[tinyidle]

Soyeon x reader 👀 the catch is defloration to Soyeon 😏 with reader taking her virginity and not holding back (with consent ofc)

practice before the Real Thing - JSY

WARNING: smut, slight angst (internal), bestfriends/housemmates au, talks about virginity loss (very light), consent checks, breast + nipple play, light body appreciation, cunnilingus, slight size kink, fingering, defloration with a strapon, missionary + doggystyle, multiple orgasms (only soyeon tho), dom!reader, experienced!reader, fem!reader, sub!soyeon, virgin!soyeon, all fiction ofcofc

wc: 4k words (14 mins of reading thank me)

you and soyeon have been friends long before you two went to school. now college graduates of masters, you both are starting to look for work and live in an apartment together. your relationship has stayed friendly and platonic, but there's something about her that makes your heart beat faster and your face feel warm.

soyeon hasn't dated anyone since high school, and you have been single since forever. you don't want to ruin your friendship, but you also want to confess your feelings and ask her out. how would you go about this?

while job searching, out of nowhere, soyeon looked at you and sighed, calling for your attention.

"yeah?" you acknowledged her, wondering what problem or inquiry she may have.

pushing her reading glasses up her nose bridge, she asked rather nonchalantly, "have you ever had sex before?"

you choked at her question, wondering why she would ask that. "wha-- what?!" you could only blurt out.

"i mean… it's natural to have sex, right?" she said, looking straight at your nose to avoid your eyes. "i'm just curious if you've had any experience before."

your heart was beating hard and fast, trying to think of a way to respond. "um… i-i guess… why are you asking all of a sudden?"

"well…" the orange sherbet-haired woman started to become nervous, wondering if she's speaking too soon. "i'm not really good with the whole romance thing… and i figured you could be my guide."

you're not sure what she's getting at. "uh- like a dating coach?"

"something like that," soyeon answered.

"are you asking me out?" you had to make sure, but deep down, you really hope the answer was yes.

she shook her head, still trying to keep a straight face. "not quite," she replied.

your previously hopeful cadence drops to a mellow one-worded 'okay', although you try not to show it. of course she didn't like you that way; why would you think otherwise?

"but," soyeon continued. "maybe if i could practice with you, that'd be helpful."

"practice?" you raised an eyebrow, intrigued by what she meant. "what exactly do you mean by practice?"

the older woman bit her lip, not knowing how else to say it. "i'm just trying to say i want you to be my first," she carefully let out. "i- i've been thinking about it for a while and i don't trust anyone else. only you. so, can you.. help me?"

oh! a spark goes off in your mind. she doesn't mean it like that, but she definitely wants you. she just doesn't want you the same way you want her, but you could care less. you love soyeon, so you'd do anything for her happiness, even if that meant having an intimate moment that will practically mean nothing in the future.

"yes!" you answered almost too quickly. "i can help you- let's do it."you can tell soyeon was nervous from the way her body trembled. the older girl is not as confident in herself as much as you thought she was. you can't blame her, though.

"okay, we'll go to my room then," she suggested and turned around, aiming towards her bedroom.

you followed behind her as your heart started to race, trying not to get too excited. soyeon was so beautiful, the most beautiful woman you've ever known. she was so elegant, and she seemed to always glow wherever she went. she was kind and had a sense of humor. soyeon was literally perfect-- and she chose you of all people to help her. you felt eternally grateful to the heavens above.

once you were in the bedroom, she locked the door and made sure the window curtains were closed. "i'm sorry for being so awkward," the orange sherbet-haired girl said sheepishly.

you shook your head. "it's okay. there's no reason to be sorry."

she took a deep breath and nodded. "so… how should we start?"

"well, um…" you bit your lip, realizing you hit the first brick wall in the sort of awkward session. you decided 'to hell with it' and started taking your clothes off, wanting to make the shorter feel more comfortable than you by not letting her strip yet.

soyeon widened her eyes at your sudden action, but nevertheless stayed calm as you set your garments to the side of the room before going up to her. "let's just start with kissing first," you initiated, holding her hand and letting you both sit on the comfy bed. "it's okay, i'll go slow for you."

"o-okay." she looked into your eyes, her dark pupils full of curiosity and nervousness.

you leaned forward, softly pressing your lips against hers. she was stiff at first, not expecting your lips to be so soft. she slowly began to relax as she felt you caress her cheek, leaning in as well and allowing the kiss to deepen. the sensation was so new, so exciting. she couldn't describe how good it felt, her mind was in a haze. all she knew was that she wanted to kiss you more, and maybe even feel more of your skin.

as if reading her thoughts, you moved back, breaking the kiss. "you can touch me anywhere you like," you permitted, "im all yours, unnie."

soyeon blushed at the word, but nevertheless proceeded. she touched your shoulders, gently moving her fingertips along your arms and down your torso. the woman was enamored by your figure, by you.

her fingers went to your chest, deciding to pick up one of your breasts and give it a gentle-yet-experimental squeeze, causing you to gasp and moan. she then started to caress the rest of your body, her touches becoming bolder and more curious. she's learning so quickly.

the woman gulped before deciding to go ahead and ask. "i- i think i want to suck your breasts," soyeon stated as if she was reciting theater lines for the first time.

your eyes were now slanted, so ready for her to do anything. "do whatever you like," you said, wanting her to have fun with you. "um, okay." the older woman leaned down and started to kiss and lick at your chest before her mouth went to your nipple, carefully sucking on it as not to startle you. her glasses pressed to your chest, but she didn't bother to take them off, which resulted in them fogging up in the process as they made contact with your cleavage.

you in fact startled her a bit as your vocal response was a little to loud, with you quietly apologizing while enjoying the treatment you were getting. and although you were enjoying having your breasts used, you knew that this was supposed to be soyeon's first sexual experience, not yours.

hesitantly, you slightly pushed the shorter 's head away from your love-marked chest. her pout made you want to put her back, you had to please her too.

you did your best to sound assertive. "i'll use my mouth on you now."

soyeon looked at you through her slowly-clearing-up-from-the-mist glasses. "o-okay," she shyly agreed. "take off your clothes first, though."

looking rather nervous but excited, she nodded, "um, alright."

she was quick to follow your command, removing her clothes and setting them aside in the same way you did. when she was fully naked on the bed, you admired her body. you couldn't stop staring. soyeon had a beautiful frame and cute, small breasts. the orange sherbet-haired woman could feel her body getting warm from the way you stared at her. "please look away," she pleaded, trying to cover herself.

shaking your head, you gently grabbed her wrists and put them back down at her sides. "don't be embarrassed, you're beautiful." soyeon was not able to find words and just nodded, her face flustered.

you smiled before getting off the bed and kneeling in front of her. "just relax, unnie," you advised, "you're going to like it, i promise." "i know, but… please go slow," the woman said, trying to calm herself.

you smiled before leaning forward to kiss her exposed hip. "i will," you assured.

she gasped when she felt your lips on her, and moaned a bit louder when she felt your tongue glide across her stomach. her eyes never left you, watching your every move and trying to anticipate what was next.

your lips slowly traveled lower, making her gasp. "baby," soyeon gasped.

smirking, you questioned, "what is it, unnie?" while looking up at her.

"i- i want to feel you too," the shorter responded.

you smirked at her opening up to you. "feel me? you mean touch me?"

soyeon nodded, her voice becoming shaky, "yeah. c-can i?"

you didn't hesitate to answer. "of course. go ahead."

your permission granted, she reached over and placed her hand on your shoulder. her eyes closed and she moaned as she felt your tongue press against her sensitive bud.

"oh!" she gasped, her hand moving from your shoulder to your hair, softly grabbing it.

soyeon could feel her body trembling, her breathing increasing. it was a strange, unfamiliar feeling, but a very good one.

"you like this, unnie?" you asked between licks and small sucks.

"i do~," the older woman moaned. "please don't stop."

you couldn't help but smile, happy that you could make her feel this good. she's already so sensitive, and you haven't even penetrated her yet.

"are you gonna cum, baby?" you inquired, wanting to know if she was close.

she shook her head. "i'm not sure."

you licked her clit a little faster, using more pressure with your tongue. the shorter gripped the bedsheets, arching her back as her breath caught in her throat. her entire body was on fire, and she could feel something building within her.

"oh, f-fuck!" she moaned loudly, her hips bucking and her legs trembling. her body shook, her grip tightening on the bedsheets. when you pulled away, her hand fell from your hair and onto the bed. she laid there, trying to catch her breath.

making sure to lick the last remnant of her pleasure-filled essence, you asked soyeon just for assurance. "did you cum, unnie?"

nodding, her glasses fogging up again, she replied. "i did. that was- i liked that. can we do it again?"

realizing it's nearly time for the main event, you negotiated. "yeah, but this time," you suggested, "ill be inside you."

"inside me?" the older girl repeated.

you simply nodded. "yeah. just lay down."

soyeon laid flat on the bed, her legs still a little shaky.

of course this didn't go unnoticed by you. "aww," you cooed, softly kissing up and down soyeon's inner thighs. "baby's all shaky. let me make you a bit more comfortable before you take what i fully have to offer, okay?"

trusting you with everything, soyeon smiled in confirmation before giving you further access to her body. her first genuine smile throughout this whole session-- something you wish you can imprint in your memory forever.

wanting to further make things easy for her, you sucked on your fingers until they were soak with your saliva. pressing them on your roommate's core, soyeon shivered but held her legs open, ready to be filled with your fingers for the first time.

the orange sherbet-haired woman hissed once two digits were inside her. "you're so fucking wet, unnie," you complimented.

soyeon mewled at the statement, trying her best to sound grateful despite the fact that she was getting stretched by her best friend. "th- thank you," she said.

"does it hurt?" you asked as you were slowly pumping the digits in and out of her tight hole.

"not really," she replied, her breathing becoming heavier. "just a little uncomfortable, but it feels good. besides, ive fingered myself before. you just have bigger fingers than me, is all."

that one assuring remark went straight to your cunt. you couldn't wait to fully use her. "i want to make you feel really good," you admitted, "will you let me do that for you?"

"y-yeah," the older woman replied.

"good." after making sure she was nice and wet, you removed your fingers, causing her to whimper. "you're such a needy girl," you teased.

she shook her head. "no, i'm not. i'm just horny."

you smirked. "then how come when i leave you for a little bit you get sulky?"

she bit her lip, not sure if she should answer honestly. "i don't like being away from you."

you grinned at her response, not expecting her to be so sweet. "don't worry, ill be inside you soon," you promised. you got up and went to your closet next door, searching for a good bit until you found what you needed.

you went to the bathroom, came back, pulled out a harness from near your drawer, and and attached it before going back to the shorter woman's room. despite soyeon's glasses now almost falling off her nose by now, she could clearly see the realistic dildo you held around your waist. she couldn't believe her eyes, the fact that the sex toy was so realistic scared her, yet the fact that it was attached to you was a turn on.

getting on the bed, you rubbed your friend's leg to calm her visible nerves. "we can stop if you're not comfortable," you told her.

"i'm fine," she replied, shaking her head. "just nervous, but i can handle it."

"okay," you nearly whispered before positioning yourself to soyeon's core. you got extra lube to put on both you and her to make things easier. as you rubbed the top of the dildo to her, you gave one more consent check, "tell me if it gets too much, okay?"

she nodded, taking a deep breath. "okay."

"just breathe, unnie. it'll be okay."

the older girl smiled, loving your affirmations towards her. "i know, thank you."

you slowly pushed into her, giving her time to adjust with each inch that sunk into her.

she bit her lip, her brows furrowing in pain.

you immediately stopped, almost wanting to pull out despite barely having the tip in."soyeon! are you alright, baby?" you worried, concerned for her wellbeing.

soyeon quickly nodded while bringing her hands up to clutch your shoulders, as to try to keep you still and not move away from her. "y-yes, i'm fine," she affirmed you. "it just hurts a little, but don't stop."

you sighed with relief, feeling a little better that she was okay. you kept going, making sure not to rush. when soyeon finally got used to the stretch, you could tell by the way she began to moan. "unnie," you called out for her. her eyes glazed over you, and you swear you could cum from the look she gave you alone, no need for any penetration for you. "it's all the way in." she smiled.

"how does it feel, unnie?" you teased, knowing the question was a bit silly, yet not caring.

"so good," she responded.

smiling, you continued to tease, "and i haven't even started moving yet," causing her to pout.

"baby," soyeon pleaded, "i'm really sensitive."

"i know, unnie," you smirked.

the woman whined. "then why are you teasing me?"

"because," you began, leaning down until you were directly on top of her, your faces so close together. "you're cute when you're all shy like this."

soyeon looked away, her cheeks flushing. "don't say stuff like that."

"but it's true," you argued, placing your finger under her chin and forcing her to look at you. "do you want me to move?" the woman nodded.

"alright." you sat up, pulling her into your lap. "ride me," you commanded.

her eyes widened. "what?"

"i said ride me," you repeated. "only if you want to, of course."

soyeon looked hesitant, but nevertheless did what she was told. she placed her hands on your shoulders and slowly moved her hips up and down, the action making her moan.

you helped guide her, holding her by her hips.

the older girl's cries were so sharp as she did her best to lift herself up and down the length. "feels good," she gasped.

you smirked, "it does, doesn't it? but can you do better, unnie. right?" your went up to pinch her nipple, causing her to help and whine.

"ill try," she responded.

the woman started to move her hips faster, her grip on your shoulders tightening.

"unnie," you purred, "you look so pretty when you ride me. such a good girl for me."

she bit her lip. "th- thank you."

the sight of soyeon was too much for you: her breasts bouncing and her glasses slipping off the bridge of her nose, her mouth was open, her moans escaping her lips. as for her, her legs were starting to shake, the way the toy filled her was like nothing she's ever experienced.

you wanted to feel her, to taste her.

"unnie," you said, slowing her movements.

doing her best to slow down, soyeon answered, "y-yes?"

"lay on your stomach for me."

she raised an eyebrow brow. "why?"

you smirked. "cause i'm gonna eat you out, unnie."

the orange sherbet-haired woman gulped. "okay."

you carefully pulled out, watching as her pre-orgasmic slick dripped out of her.

she rolled onto her stomach, her breathing heavy and her heart racing. she wanted more, and she wanted it now.

you lightly smacked soyeon's plump ass. "hands and knees," you commanded.

soyeon did what she was told. her arms and legs shook, but she managed to hold herself up.

you saw her arousal covering her inner thighs, making you lick your parched lips. "you're so wet," you said.

"shut up," she groaned into the pillows as her cunt clenched around nothing. her blushing was too much to handle; she was now getting a bit frustrated with your incessant teasing.

tantalizing her further, you joke, "what's the magic word?"

she sighed before obliging. "please."

"there you go," you praised, gently rubbing her ass. "good girl."

the older woman felt a rush of heat go through her, and she let out a quiet moan.

"you like being called a good girl?" you noticed.

she bit her lip and nodded.

"use your words, baby."

feeling extremely embarrassed (over honestly nothing), she nodded "yes, i do," she replied.

humming in approval, you leaned forward, and slowly dragged your tongue along her slit, tasting her.

she tasted better than expected despite having her prior, and you couldn't help but moan. the shorter woman did her best not to collapse at the new sensation. "fuck~," she gasped, gripping the pillow.

"you taste amazing," you praised before using your fingers to spread her pretty lips apart. "i want to make sure to get every bit." "you're so weird," she joked.

you laughed, and without warning, plunged your tongue into her wet heat.

"shit!" she yelped.

you moaned into her cunt, your hand going to your strap and rubbing it as if you really had a dick down there. sometimes in moments like these, you really wish you did.

soyeon began grinding herself against your face, her breath hitching and her chest heaving. she was getting close; she couldn't take it anymore.

"i need to cum," she begged. "please, let me cum."

you grunted against her folds, the vibrations making her gasp. "cum for me, unnie. i want to taste you."

she didn't have to be told twice. she cried out as her body trembled, her orgasm washing over her.

"oh my god," she breathed, her body collapsing as she tried to catch her breath.

you pulled away and admired the view of her ass up in the air and her slick running down her thighs. you gave her ass a light smack, causing her to jolt. lightly laying over her, you kissed her tattooed shoulder before gently asking, "do you want more, or are you to exhausted?" you ground your strapped-hips on soyeon's ass, the dildo slotting perfectly in between the two globes.

"i want more," she quickly answered. "i can take more."

you kissed her neck, "good. baby."

sitting up, you took ahold of the woman's hips and pulled her towards you, lining yourself up. she looked over her shoulder at you. "ready?" you asked.

she nodded. "go ahead."

you slowly pushed in, her walls clenching around the toy. the older woman let out a fluttery moan. "oh~~ so deep."

you smiled. "yeah? feels good on that spot?"

soyeon nodded, her hips elevating on its own. "yeah," she confirmed.

"well," you started, "if you think that's deep, just wait 'til im fucking you." you started moving, thrusting into her at a steady pace. soyeon gripped the pillow, biting her lip as she tried to keep her moans in. "unnie," you breathed, "let me hear you. i want to hear you."

"baby, fuck," the shorter girl moaned, her eyes squeezing shut. "it's so good."

your hands tightened around her hips, leaving small indents. "such a good girl," you praised. "taking me so well. your pussy feels so good around this cock."

the woman moaned, her eyes rolling to the back of her head. she couldn't believe how good it felt. "more," she whined.

you couldn't believe your ears. "more?" she nodded. "you want more? you're already taking all of me, but you still want more?"

"yes, please," she whimpered. "please, baby. give me more. fuck me, please."

you groaned at her words. "you're gonna be the death of me, unnie," you warned her before picking up your pace. she let out a strangled moan, her grip tightening on the bed sheets.

"look at my good girl making such pretty noises for ne," you cooed, your thumb rubbing soft circles into her hip. soyeon felt her heart racing, her legs trembling.

"im- im gonna cum," she managed to say between moans.

"do it," you commanded, not slowing down.

"i'm cumming" she cried, her hips jerking. "fuck, im cumming."

you groaned. "cum, baby. i wanna hear you cum. i wanna hear you scream."

and she did, screaming your name as she came. her legs shook, and she fell forward, panting heavily. you slowly pulled out, watching her now gape hole clench around emptiness. she whimpered, her eyes squeezed shut.

you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her shoulder. "are you alright, unnie?" you checked, wanting to make sure she was okay.

"mm-hmm," she hummed, nodding her head.

you kissed her back again. "i'm glad. thank you for letting me be your first practice shot."

the older woman let out a light laugh, the action making her feel a little lighter. "it was good," she assured. "very good."

you smiled, glad to know you satisfied her. "you were great, unnie. but i'm sorry i couldn't cum like how a man could. it's the strap-on."

"it's fine," she shrugged.

wondering if the woman was too spent or not, you inquired, "do you still want to shower, or-"

"yes, i do," she interrupted, not wanting to hear any excuses. "now take this thing off and let's shower."

"as you wish," you replied, kissing her cheek before carefully removing the harness from your hips.

once the two of you showered, you got dressed and laid in bed. soyeon wrapped her arms around you and cuddled close, resting her head on your chest.

"are you feeling alright?" you asked.

"i'm sore, but otherwise fine," she answered.

you were shocked. did you really go that hard? "did i overdo it?"

"no, you didn't," the older woman answered, shaking her head.

you smiled "i'm glad," you said.

soyeon nuzzled your neck, inhaling the scent of your soap and shampoo.

"i had a nice time with you," you whispered, afraid to break the atmosphere.

she giggled. "i had a nice time with you."

you sighed in relief." can we cuddle a little longer?"

the woman's heart clenched at the question. "of course," she replied.

the two of you laid there in silence, neither wanting to say anything. even if you two never became an item, you were so glad to be her first.

i know you missed me (you didn't)

[bonny-kookoo]

Hi Bonny, still Unstable.

What about a moment where JK's memory gets triggered and its a bittersweet recollection, like a first time where someone properly takes care of him, but MC does something similar and he feels ten times more the effects because she does it so much better...? Or something like that...?

Thanksss

-> Masterlist

Jungkook is curious.

You've been doing something he early isn't supposed to see- you've always got your back turned towards him, and you always take whatever you're making back to your room whenever you go for a full on rest. Which is something he's been wanting to ask you for a few days now.

He wants you to.. rest with him. Not just short naps, or company while you're awake.

He really enjoyed that one time you slept on his chest- the weight of your body, the scent of you, the feeling of your chest rising and falling with every breath- it all had an odd sense of comfort to it for him he can't explain. Maybe it was the clear display of trust in him. Maybe it was just.. the fact that you were willing to be so vulnerable so close to him. He's not sure.

Whatever you're making, you're protective of it. You never leave it out of sight, you spend hours of work on it every day, and you take it wherever you go so he doesn't ever get even just a glimpse of it. It makes him wonder.

It makes him.. hope? Maybe it's something for him? Is it a gift maybe?

It could also just be something for Jin, or yourself. He shouldn't think too greedy- just because you're both on a friendly basis now, and share a nest here and there, doesn't mean you're mates or anything. You see him as a provider and protector maybe at max- he shouldn't try and want more. He should be happy with what he has.

He sighs, as he rubs his eyes, and moves towards the nest he made in a cooler corner of the ship, near the other corner of the windows. It's a bit further away from you, but it'll be fine- you probably wouldn't want to sleep there with him anyways, since it's cold here and not as brightly lit as the other nesting spots. That's fine.

Just as he settled in the blankets and fabrics, he can sense you approaching, before something is placed over his body. It smells like.. you- its clear that whatever it is, it's soaked up your scent over time. His hand grabs onto it, pulling it a little so he can look at it, and he notices how soft it feels.

It's a blanket.

You made a blanket for him?

"It's a bit short.." you giggle, noticing how much you underestimated his body size but he almost protectively holds onto it when you try and take it back.

"Its-" perfect. It could've been just a tiny baby blanket and he would've felt as if he didn't deserve it.

You early put a lot of effort into it, and as he sits up and looks at it, he notices that he's never seen you use this type of yarn before. "I sold some of the.. little animals. When we re-fueled." You admit, sitting down in front of the nest he's sitting in. "I saw the soft yarn and thought.. you know, since you said you only like certain stuff?" You shrug, and he just watches you with eyes unreadable.

That's because he doesn't know what to think.

You clearly don't know how much a gesture like that means to him. He's been given a blanket before, but never one that's.. self-made. He always had to work for it, pay for it- but you clearly want nothing in return.

You just made one because in your opinion, he deserves it.

You yawn, hand covering your mouth, and he can't help himself. He can't hold himself back from pulling your wrist closer, helping you into the nest before he covers you up with sweaters and shirts and blankets and even bedsheets. You gotta stay warm. He knows it's cold in this corner but he needs you close now.

"Kook- I'm gonna need to actually sleep though-" You laugh, finding his concentrated face cute more than intimidating now. He's really lost his rough edge to you now that you got to know him- he's no longer intimidating, even when he's upset or angry or whenever he's too rough or clumsy in doing things or handling you. He's not evil. He doesn't have any ill intent.

"Then rest here." He growls. "Sleep here. You're warm, and it's not that bright." He argues. "You need darkness for your circadian rhythm right?" He mumbles mostly to himself, before he gets up and rushes towards the control console, tapping away until the lights turn off, except for a few blinking one's and some of the screens, dipping the entire center in nothing but the light of the stars outside, and the blue-ish hue of the small control screens here and there.

Only now do you notice that in the dark, his eyes are kind of reflective. But what's probably meant to instill fear of a predator in you, simply doesnt.

"There. Now sleep." He huffs, quietly adjusting the nest around you as he's back at your side, the blanket you made back over his shoulders, when you smile. "What?" He asks, a bit annoyed and clearly a bit unfamiliar to giving out any form of affection.

"I like you." You say again, and he cringes at you.

"You said that before." He tells you back, and you nod.

"And I'll say it until you finally get it." You giggle, making him look at you rather frustrated.

"Until I get what?" He asks, but you just shrug, closing your eyes, settling to sleep now-

And he's left with himself for a moment or two, simply watching you fall asleep, before he settles down next to you as well-

Darkness and silence hugging you close, as you drift through the galaxy together.

[jinkiezzsstuff]

TYSM FOR THE LADY GAGA FIC!!!!

I have another song fic request...

Alastor (or anyone else really lmao) has to find reader in order to patch up like a deal or smth idk and he finds them in this jazz club thing performing on the stage to 'Noel's lament' from 'ride the cyclone'? Like she's draped across a piano singing abt when she was living she was nobody but in her dreams she was this absolute femme fatale and alastor just watches her from the back of the crowd??

So niche but I was thinking abt it all night

Lots of love 🤍

i actually loveeee this song eeeee i’m so happy to do this, and i am so glad you liked the last one it means so much to me teehee sorry this took awhile i’ve been busier lately but i hope you enjoyed this, maybe i’ll do a part two but if i do it may be real delayed until i clear my plate lol!

song referenced; noel’s lament

warnings: implied to be succubus reader but their not really to standards of succubus, i don’t believe there are feminine pronouns here but there are certain feminine things (dress wearing, feminine terms like suductresd etc), no psychical descriptions of reader as per usual, minor gore and death, reader is sneaky and slipper, alastor is weird about love as he should king, but he still feels emotion, possible cringe parts idk it’s a songfic and sometimes they can be 50/50. LMK if i missed any!

word count: 2.7K

You had a debt to pay, you had to have known this. Alastors mind reeled as he toyed with the pen in his hand, occasionally scribbling nonsense down as he thought. You were always quite the slippery sinner, never being tied down to one place in the pentagram, but this was just ridiculous. Since he’d been back, and warmed up to the hotel, he’d been searching for you, but no sign. No demon has said a word about you either had he still been in touch with Vox he may have had you found by now.

You weren’t dead, and that’s as much as he knew; he would’ve felt your souls absence if you’d died, the fickle fun of making such contracts. There was little he knew about you personally, he new superficial things but nothing that would give him a clue on where you’d hide, a silly mistake on his part. He knew Mimzy would be were the cash or party was, Husk wherever there was a gamble and Nifty, well, normally she never strayed far anyways. As for other souls they were about the same in simplicity, whether they were murderous or cannibals they always had something keen to them that would lead him to where they were.

Alastor failed that with you, unfortunately he’d found himself a little at loss with you, in more ways than one you boggled his mind. He was used to women and men alike hitting on him or being incredibly provocative, but there was some way you did it that made him speechless. Not like when Angel would hit on him, where Alastor felt that sensation of being caught off guard with disgust and shock. No, on the night you made the deal, you were stalking around the back of his sofa inside his radio tower, your hands caressing his shoulders as you passed, sweetly and mischievously offering a pleasurable favour in return for his help. That was something else, that was unique to you.

He still recalls the memory as if he was still right there on the couch, engulfed in your scent, entranced by your siren-like voice, it made him hot under the collar and tight around the waist. Thankfully Alastor was a gentleman and a businessman and there was no way you were getting out of a soul contract through some silly sexual favours. It was definitely trying to keep his composure as your lidded eyes watched his lips move, but he managed as he always does. The deal was fairly boring on your part- you wanted to be his friend.

Red flags appeared in Alastors mind about the validity of that but shook on it nonetheless, however that was all before he disappeared. He’d not held up his end of the bargain but then again neither did you; you didn’t show when he called on you to the hotel and try as he may, couldn’t seem to summon you the way he could with Husk.

Dropping the pen, Alastor stood from his seat and shadowed into the floor, stalking out the window like a snake. Alastor decided a little stroll couldn’t hurt, after all his mind couldn’t rest and perhaps he could happen upon you out in sin city. Alastor enjoyed his time walking, humming and basking in all the horrors that happened around, however he grew bored fairly quickly, and decided to take a detour into Mimzy’s favourite joint.

Alastor walked in like he owned the place and seated himself at the bar waiting for his dear friend. “Mimzy dear, how’ve you been?” Alastor spoke out excitedly and loudly, catching the attention of his fellow demon who had appeared from the back of the bar. Mimzy squeaked and ran up to Alastor on the other side of the bar, shooing off the other demons trying to pull at her, the trim of her dress flying in all directions as she hopped and scuttled. “Alastor! What brings ya here, big man? Coming for a dance?” His smile was indifferent as she spoke but he was quite pleased to see the doll, someone of routine. He watched the demon plop herself down on the seat beside him, his hand fiddling with the whisky in his cup that he magicked up. “Yes dear, afraid I have quite the slippery soul in my hands.”

With both elbows on the table Mimzy leaned in, an excited smile on her face. Alastors head fell to the side, sighing at her desire for gossip, Alastor pushed up his monocle and explained the situation with you briefly. He probably went into too many details about how you looked, or smelt, or perhaps how he thought of you in his absence because the whole time Mimzy was coy and giggles. “Wow Al, sounds like you’re carryin’ a torch for this gal’,” Mimzy teased, walking her fingers across the table in his direction. Alastor stiffened at that watching her do her silly tease wide eyed. What a juvenile thing to assume, that he had feelings for some sinner. “Mimzy, don't be ridiculous!” Alastor scoffed grin still present as he threw his limp hand her way, head tossed back. “There’s no such thing! Besides she’s nothing more than some sensuous succubus, it’s what those types of demons do. Seduce.”

Crossing her arms Mimzy let out a flat ‘mhm’ clearly not convinced by what was being said. “Well Al, tell ya what! You have my back next time some nasty loan sharks come, and i’ll tell ya where your pretty seductress is.” Alastors nails tapped against the table rhythmically as he silently pondered, it’s not like he’d say no to her, just as she wouldn’t say no to him. Fixing his posture from his more lesuride position, he agreed with a nod, gulping back the last of his liquor.

-

This club Alastor stepped into was very reminiscent of a wealthy man’s speakeasy, something that was nestled safely in the depth of the pentagram in an unassuming alley, as if it were hiding from something or someone. It was nostalgic for him, in a sickening way, Alastor didn’t enjoy remembering mortal life as it seemed so detached from him and who he is now. His red eyes danced across the room manically, his static following in suit with every glance he gave. Searching for his little succubus. Low amber lighting, that stuffy smell of smoke in the air, the velvet chairs, surrounding chatter and the piano playing smooth jazz; Alastors body subconsciously relaxed into the familiar environment, as much as he hated his mortal life there were such aspects like this he missed.

He dragged himself inside and sat in a red velvet chair, immediately he slumped onto the table, his elbows on the table, his chin rested on his hand while the other toyed with the fire from the candle, bringing it up, around, and high and low. His eyes dragged over to the stage as the piano rifted into a new tune, the lights in the room dimming and brightening toward the stage. Inwardly, Alastors frustrations imploded making his skin hot and his antlers grow in size; all the light to see you with now focused on the stage for a performance he couldn’t care less about.

Standing to his feet, Alastor gripped his microphone like it was his life line. With a strained smile he began towards the door as the music began, and a voice started introducing themselves and talking about their dreams, however he was too busy being frustrated, and scanning the room for you to fully pay attention to the voice. That was until- “A hooker with a heart of black charcoal.” A breathy voice finally sang out, grabbing the attention of Alastor as he neared the exit. Freezing the static sounds of radio station channels sounded out from him, his eyes widening at the sound of you.

Turning abruptly on his heel, he looked over the crowd of seated heads and at the stage where you were walking on. There was a light focused down on you as you slunk out from behind a curtain furthest from the piano. Straightening his back, Alastor slipped into the shadows and behind a pillar near the bar, just to wait for you of course, to come off. “I write poems to burn by fire light, drink champagne and guzzle gin, good girls call me ‘The Town Bicycle’- don't knock it til you’ve tried my life of sin,” Alastor watched enchanted as you dragged your heels across the stage as you sung, making your way over the piano with seductive grace, something Alastor wasn’t used to being so hooked by.

“Oh, Claude, my pimp knows neva mess with me,” Your voice, once serene and beautiful now, was demonic and harsh, capturing the audience's attention. “Last prick did that faded quick to black,” Like a switch your voice returned to its sweetness, your arms outstretched just slightly, fingers twinkling to emphasise the ‘fade’ you sang of. Alastor couldn’t look away from how you manuerved your body, how your voice carried through the room, and how the lights sparkled against your jewellery. You were a sight for sore eyes as you teasingly brought yourself closer to the piano, that regular soft bedroom look in your eyes. “I have no idea where to find him officers,”

Alastors brow quirked at that, as your hands came up to cup your face with false naïveté. “But if you do, please mention that I’d like to have returned that pretty knife, that I stuck, ten. times. in his, back!” You grit out, sweet façade falling once more making Alastors tail wag, unbeknownst to him. There was something about the way you pulled and pushed the narrative in the song that made him antsy, excited even, and the fact that this was something you stated you dreamed to be, meaning whilst alive you dreamt of killing, of being bad, oh that made Alastors blood rush.. You waltzed around as you continued to sing the lyrics to the chores, Alastors eyes watched closely as you slithered your body effortlessly up onto the piano.

It was like you were made for performing, singing, and he had the brief fantasy of you in his studio singing on air, sat on his lap as you sung through his microphone for the folks of hell to hear, but he pulled himself out of it quickly, scolding himself for indulging in silliness. Now your body was draped across the obsidian piano that shone the reflections of the light, you sat on your hips, legs folded behind you, hands over your heart. “He said ‘I think I am in love with you’- I’ve heard that lie a million times before,” Your posture fell slightly as did your tone, it seemed that there was some truth and sombre in the lyrics you sang, and in a way Alastor felt like he could relate to that; after all what even was love?

It made him feel weak to pity you, to attempt to empathise with your pain, but there was barely any time to think about his thoughts because just as he did, you’d recapture his attention entirely. “Oh, tonight I give into the fantasy,” Your head fell back, sorrow in your tone as your hand caressed your shoulder, pulling down the strap of your dress. “Take love when you can, when you’re a whore.” After a silent moment the chorus picked up, as did you, sliding yourself off the piano and dancing around with a smile. Unfortunately Alastors mind lagged behind, something was just too vulnerable in the way you sang about love, and considering it wasn’t something he often thought about, it peaked his curiosity just slightly.

It wasn’t until the end of the performance when you sung about your death that Alastors attention zeroed back in on you, his eyes catching yours as the song fell out, your head turned in his direction. He watched as your eyes widened and mouth fell slightly ajar before you sang out one last word: a ‘hey’ coincidentally directed toward Alastor. After that the lights on stage shut off instantly, and the crowd applause began.

Alastor watched you be dragged off stage by two larger demons through the darkness, your legs flailing as your arms were restrained, at the sight the purpose of him being here returned. Pushing himself off the pillar he was leant against, he brushed himself off and straightened the crimps in his pants, before picking up his microphone and making his way towards where you’d been dragged. It was a cruddy little backstage area, he’s under the assumption the performers here weren’t treated as kindly as the guests. Throwing the door open he was greeted by the sight of you, the two demons who dragged you off, and some other third one.

You sat on an ottoman in the middle of the room, your entire essence changed as you curled into yourself, your head hung low. Humming, Alastor adjusted his monocle. “Am I interrupting something?” Oh how Alastor loved to play dumb, he watched the third demon, seemingly imp, stand straight anger evident and radiating off of him. “Yeah you really fuckin are red, get outta here now.” The imp barked throwing his hands up in a shooing motion. Your eyes met Alastors, begging silently to stay. “I’m afraid i can’t do that you silly lug,” Alastor tutted joyfully stepping into the room throwing his microphone around like it was a toy. His shadows crawled out from beneath his feet, sneaking up the walls and across the ceilings making the three men anxious. “This little canary happens to me mine, soul and all.” His voice shifted to a more demonic one as the hues in the room shifted.

You sat speechless, watching the mysterious deer defend you after seven long years of being on hold with him. You were surprised he came at such a time, convenient for you. The two muscle demons were quick to puff their chests and step toward Alastor, but before they could properly swing, tentacles emerged from the shadows gripping the torso and hips of the men and pulling them in two. The screams were horrific, and the sounds of squelch and ripping nearly made you yourself sick, however it did the job for the littler imp as he immediately caved. “Oh okay okay, alright buddy, take the siren, no problem take em! Go!” The imp stressed while pulling you from your seat and toward Alastor hurriedly.

You stumbled against his pushing and found yourself falling accidentally into Alastors arms, tripping over your own heel. Alastor caught you without even looking down, arms wrapping instinctively around you as he glared at the imp with a smile. “Oh good, I would have hated to have caused a scene! Ha ha.” Alastor laughed humorously, although he was the only one finding any joy from this as the imp cowered away from the two of you. Pulling you closer to his body, Alastor fell into the ground with you, your body feeling freezing and damp for a moment before normalcy returned.

You didn’t realise you had your hands over your eyes until you felt Alastors hands grip your wrists, and pull your hands away. You blinked up at him before glancing around the room, it was indeed a room, one you’d never seen. “We're at the Hazbin Hotel dear, time for you to see to your deal.” Alastor said calmly, his tone even and his voice soft, his even his static was at a minimum. “Of course,” You say clearing your throat and backing up from his grasp. He didn’t fight against your distance, letting his arms fall and wrap behind his back as they normally would. “Why did you help me back there? I mean you could’ve just poofed us away?” You ask, rubbing the places on your arms where the demons dragged you.

“Why, thats what friends are for my dear! That was our deal, no? To scare off the threats and protect each other?” Alastor coyly hummed, bending slightly at the waist. Looking down slightly you nodded, hands coming up to sit on your waist. Sighing you shook your head, you should’ve known that this would come back to bite you in the ass eventually. “Alright slick, what is it that i’m doing for you?”

[imprintmoonstone]

Dear Liam,

Na bangaaram (transl. 'My Beloved' in Telugu, my native language), where do I begin?

I first became a fan of 1D in 2015, just a few months after Zayn left. My friend (she was a big fangirl!) suggested that I listen to your songs. But frankly, I was disinterested. I was like, "meh! okay.." But a week or so later, the Drag Me Down music video was in my YouTube recommendations, and I was kinda curious, so I finally watched the music video and thought to myself, "Damn! these guys are fantastic and so talented!!" And the rest is history. In no time, I had become a big fan of 1D.

Even though I liked all the boys, I always had a soft spot for you and Zayn. You were both my favorites. In 2017, I remember another friend spamming my phone with texts when the 'Strip That Down' music video was released. He and I went bonkers that day, haha (He was a big fan of you and Zayn, too! He loved 'Get Low' and 'Bedroom Floor' a lot.) I also remember waking up early to listen to LP1 while staying in bed, watching your LP shows until 3 AM during 2020, all your cute Insta lives, etc. I have so many fun memories like these that I'm eternally grateful for 💝

Liam, I have always admired your kindness, passion, strength, patience, and bravery. Even with all the noise outside from many people, you stood firm. You loved everyone loudly and were always there for them. Your music made me so happy, and your voice always had a soothing effect on me. Your musical talent (especially your live performances and acoustic versions) and artistic skills always amazed me! Your interviews and weekly round-up videos during quarantine time helped me stay sane (I still watch all these videos and instantly feel relaxed.)

You've become my comfort person, honestly. There was a time when I wanted to give up, but you gave me the strength to move forward. You inspired me to be kind and gentle with myself. I can't thank you enough for being the warmth I needed during my coldest nights. I'll love you forever, my hero ❤️

I'm sorry that the world was never nice to you. It was so painful to see all the unwarranted hate towards you. You deserved all the love and kindness you always spread. It's devastating that you didn't get to do the things you were so passionate about. I'll miss your kind eyes, voice, your warm smiles and sweet giggles, your goofiness. I'll miss you so much, Liam, and I'll forever cherish all these memories.

Rest gently, angel. I hope that wherever you are now, you find peace 🕊️❤️‍🩹

Love,

Ri

[whalesforhands]

purge your turmoil pt.8 (satosugu x reader)

previous masterlist next

warnings: yandere behaviors and tendencies, my experimental tone shifts, not really creepy unless u find obsessive behaviors and patterns horrifying, gore mentions

Surrounded by debris of the dilapidated, abandoned hospital, you hold onto a raggedy stuffed doll left behind.

 It’s soft and colourful. Or, it once was. Her dress stained and riddled with blood and dirt, her cotton body having been slashed through the middle, soft cotton falling out as you hold her.

 A child’s final comfort in their last moments. It’s hard to breathe thinking about it. 

Your thumb gently caresses the doll’s smiling face, clearing off dust and remnants of dirt as best you could. 

“Will this,” Your words tremble. “Ever end?” 

Suguru stands beside you,  hands clenching when he catches the look of quiet despair on your face.

“I think… It’s not something to hope for.” He wishes he could offer more than just this.

“It’s,” You suck in a harsh breath, not realizing you’ve been holding your breath. “Been hard.” Your eyes flutter close as you try to ignore the haunting memories of blood on your hands, of cries for help, of massacred bodies of unfortunate victims. Over and over and over and over-

“And here you are, despite how hard it’s been.” He’s beside you now, kneeling down on one knee next to you as he tenderly grips a dirtied, matching ribbon found within the rubble back around the doll’s neck, tenderly patting its head when he finishes. 

It’s whole once again. You gently prop it against the crumbled pillar.

You hope that in another life, that doll and her owner are reunited.

——

The ticking of a clock sounds out somewhere around you, quiet and constant, each tock giving your eyelids the strength to finally lift, only to be met with the endless darkness ahead of you.

You don’t know if you’re still alive.

You’ve been floating around in here for… God knows how long. It’s lonely. Everyone. What’s happening? Where are they? You miss Shoko. You miss Satoru. You miss Suguru. You miss Yaga. You miss that little boy.

“You look like someone I know.”

You gently smile at him, eyes closed in amused bliss as you continue to stroke his hair, his head in your lap as he stares up at you with a furrowed brow of scrutinization.

“That so? I don’t think my features are very distinguishable from others, I suppose.” You giggle out, happy to have the young boy so comforted in your embrace as you softly pat his head.

(He’s so soft and squishy. You want to pull and stretch those mochi-like cheeks of his. You refrain, afraid of another barking remark that ultimately held no bite.)

“That’s not what I meant.” He pulls a sulky, irritated expression, brows still downturned into one of dissatisfaction, as if he can’t put his finger on where the sense of familiarity was coming from.

“You look like the pictures in the-“

You miss everyone. When was the last time you talked to them? You think and think, churning your brain, eyes squeezing close as you’re hit by a wave of bitter pain, your spine straightening out as you clutch your head.

“I think…” You begin to trail off, eyes stuck to the glowing blue glass of the aquarium as you watch a whale shark swim past your vicinity within the enclosure.

It’s tranquil. You squeeze the warm hands you held as you watched the sight before you with a smile.

“If I could choose… I’d like a life where I could grow old with all of you.”

You’re smiling as you think about it. Maybe you could rent a little apartment near wherever the 3 of them are staying, a quaint, quiet neighbourhood…

(…marriage? Maybe. That promise still makes you blush.)

Riko would give up on her little Star Plasma spiel. Live the way she truly wanted to, a way where she can finally find happiness, experience the joys she’s yet to feel.

Everyone… Would just be happy. Just like they deserve, just like they should.

But… You can’t possibly witness that if you’re dead, right? Your fingers claw at your face as you feel the bewildering pain of your thoughts. Are you really dead? No— Please, there’s still so much left to do. Your pitiful life should’ve had a reason for your living, and yet—

You can’t hear them. Can’t hear anything. You’re dead. Dead. What’s happening out there? Move. Move. Move.

The silence is deafening as your body squirms and you block out your ears.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tickticktickticktick-

Nobody is answering you. You’re missing the physical connection you once had to your body. How long has it been? How long have you been stuck like this? Time doesn’t even feel like it exists while you’re here.

The incessant ticking comes to a stop.

——

You learned to recognize this place in your time here. Your cursed void. One where no one but you could enter, and no one but you could leave.

The problem was… You couldn’t leave. You’ve tried. Walked and walked for endless miles, clawed at the abyssal darkness that never had an end, screamed into the void for hours just to never have an answer.

You… Can’t really be in here forever, can you?

It’s lonely in here.

“Gojo-sama, who is (last name)-san…?”

The tall man grins micheviously, looking down at the tiny hand he held within his palms as he squeezes lightly, before bending down to be eye level with his child.

“A special someone you’ll meet soon enough.”

——

“Nanako… We shouldn’t be in here…”

“It’s fine, Mimi! Papa and Daddy didn’t say we can’t visit! We just want to put the fresh flowers in for her! Plus…” She pauses, turning her head left and right, scouring the area.

“Megumi and Tsumiki aren’t here to stop us!”

The last sentence was dropped to a whisper, as if the blonde just realized her voice could attract attention.

Suguru kisses your hair, hands trailing to interlock your fingers with his own as he breathes in the very feel of you.

“Look, kids.” Geto pulls away, touch still lingering on your skin that had long gone cold years ago. He flashes a smile towards his awaiting children, showing you off for them to see.

“Isn’t she beautiful?”

You startle from your curled up position, hearing two faint sets of feet patter into the room. Slow, trying their best to tiptoe before a certain pair gives up, breaking into a sprint towards you.

A tiny crack forms within your domain as your ears keen to listen.

“See! It’s perfectly fine!”

You hear tapping, the fumbling of paper and plastic.

“Papa said it’s okay to give her flowers. I wanna be first cause today’s her…” She furrows her brows as she tries to mouth out the word. “Anniv- Ersaury?”

Mimiko frowns at her twin. “We should wait till everyone gets here…” She’s unsure, hugging her plush to her chest as she nervously looks around, more afraid of getting in trouble with her beloved parents more than anything.

The crack grows larger, making its way towards you.

“But last time we only got to spend like 10 seconds with her before Papa and Daddy chased us out!” Nanako huffed, a hand on her hip as she gripped a large bouquet of white lilies and osmanthus flowers, Mimiko holding onto the incense sticks.

“Anyway!” Nanako turns back to face you, settling the flowers down as she moves to kneel before you, hurrying Mimiko to start placing the incense.

“Let’s just start!”

You swiftly move towards it, ignoring the shards of glass digging into the soles of your feet, eyes burning from the shimmers of light shining through the holes as you chase it down, wanting, yearning for this escape.

The anxious twin lets out a deep sigh, lighting the incense sticks with a nearby candle as she hands a few to her awaiting sister, who settles down comfortably on her knees atop the prayer pillow.

“I wish for you to get better soon!” She holds the incense sticks up with her hands as she prays, eyes closed in deep concentration.

“Mhm…” Her twin follows suit, surrounding the room in a deep silence as they are joined by the flickers of the flame, the slow dripping of dewdrops from their fresh flowers chorusing with their heartfelt pleas.

Your surroundings begin to shatter, glass like formations raining down upon you as a shining bright light envelops your sight, a bubble immediately blowing up and swallowing you in its embrace as you begin to glow, the twins jumping off and Nanako standing protectively before her sister as she gets pushed back by your cursed technique.

“I- I think we broke it…” Mimiko’s voice is starting to crack as her tears begin to well up in her eyes, her hand dragging Nanako further back from you.

“Shh! What if Daddy hears us?”

“But he’s gone to pick up Gumi and big sister Tsumiki…”

Your eyelashes flutter as you slowly blink open your eyes, sensations of touch and your feel of the atmosphere slowly return to you. Your dried up flesh slowly plumping up, blood beginning to flow throughout your body, face instantaneously flushing with colour once more as you gasp out, taking lungfuls of air, irises rolling back to the front to view the space before you.

“Nanako… Is that…?”

You’re met with the darkness of what seems to be a bedroom. You slowly move to get up, bones creaking and your fingers slowly twitching to really get the feel of your body back, brushing against the various lilies and osmanthus flowers surrounding you, seemingly fresh in nature as dewdrops slowly dripped off the petals and onto your fingertips.

You look around you, disoriented and feeling fatigued, slowly sitting up against the plush area you were lying upon. It felt like you had just awoken from the dead.

“H…ello?” Your eyes flicker over to the 2 little girls standing before you, voice hoarse, broken. Vocal cords tangled together from years of underuse as you feel your organs literally start to pump to life, eyesight slowly coming back as your vision gets restored by the bubble.

It pops.

They scream, rushing towards you as they lunge towards your form.

“We did it Mimi! We cured Mama!”

Mama…? Did you- Oh my god. You’re blushing up a storm at the thought of it.

“Wha-What…?” Their smiles grow ever bigger, hugs growing startlingly tight for their small forms.

“Mhm! Along with Gumi and our big sister Tsumiki! But they’re at school now and Daddy is gonna pick them up and buy us lunch, then, then! We’re gonna eat dinner together cause Papa’s coming back today, then we’re gonna tell them we woke you up!”

“B-but we have to apologise to Papa and Daddy first for going inside the room, Nanako…”

You hear Nanako audibly gulp. “O-okay, but what if-“

Your eyes are starting to gloss over. You didn’t think that you’d be having 4 kids after being in that void for so long…

“W-wait—“ You’re trying to get used to your voicebox, trying to get used to the feeling of being alive once more. “Y-Your par—“

“Ahh, I’m so hungry!” The blonde one is curling herself into your chest as she whimpers from her hunger, a loud growl coming from her supposed sister next to her as she hugs your arm to her chest alongside her plushie.

You look down at the girls who are still upon your lap, staring up at you in expectant want. Oh— You suppose your question can wait for later.

…everything happens for a reason, right?

(Where is everyone?)

——

“Is the fridge always this empty?” You’re standing shakily on your feet, almost akin to a newborn whilst trying your best to not lose balance.

“No, Papa is just out of town on his job right now!” Nanako puts her hands on her hips as Mimiko signals you to come down with a frantic come hither motion of her hand, you kneel to her level, nearly falling over had it not been for the second twin flanking onto your other side and pushing you up with all her body’s strength, whilst Mimiko cups a hand around her mouth, whispering into your right ear.

“Daddy can’t cook, so he always buys takeout when Papa isn’t around…”

Nanako tugs at your sleeve on your left, signalling for you to come towards her.

“Don’t tell Papa but,” Her voice gains an excited tremor. “Sometimes Daddy lets us eat ice cream and cake for dinner!” She pauses once again.

“And he forgets to remind us to brush our teeth!” The girls giggle together in unison.

“Then sometimes, when Daddy is called on for a sudden mission…”

“He brings us all along and lets us watch him beat up the bad guys right in front of us! Gumi likes it the most!” The girls start zooming around you, throwing punches into the air and pretending to hit each other as Nanako feigns hurt when she takes a ‘direct’ hit from Mimiko’s plush.

“Ahhh! I’ve been hit by Red! KABOOSH!!” She falls dramatically to the ground, imitating a explosion with waves of her little arms before splaying herself by your feet and clutching your calf.

“Like that!”

…

…

You’re sweating with stress as you listen, patting their heads as they smile angelically at you. You need to talk to their parents about this before you get a heart attack.

(Missions… Red… Are their parents jujutsu sorcerers?)

“Girls.” You stand back up, your hands placed on both of their heads as you began to pat them gently as they nuzzle up into your warm touch. Nanako holds your hand in place when she feels you try to pull away, whilst Mimiko begins to intertwine her fingers with your own, trying to trap you.

“Why don’t we go buy something?”

——

You’re silently panicking as the two girls drag you towards the old crepe shop, tugging you by the hand as you’re slightly hunched over to allow them easier access to you.

You forgot the most crucial thing.

Money.

“Papa and Daddy always lets us follow them to the school! Then, then-!”

“Then we buy chocolate milk because Papa and Daddy really like it!”

“But Daddy never finishes his, so we get extra cause he gives it to us!”

“Then we play with Uncle Yaga who gives us new dolls every month! Then Uncle Yu, he’s super, super fun! Auntie Shoko gives us sweets when Papa isn’t looking!”

(Yaga, Yu— Shoko…!)

Mimiko pipes in. “Uncle Kento sometimes plays with us when he’s not busy eating his big sandwiches… Then Megumi and Miki comes back from school and then-!”

(Kento… Megumi? Miki? Does this mean— Could it be?)

“We eat dinner together!”

“You’re gonna lovvvveeee them!”

Your hands pat their hands, feeling them nuzzle into your warm touch.

“I’m sure I will.” You’re suddenly before the crepe stand as the two girls drool over their options. “But first, um… Do you girls happen to have any allowance?”

(“Oh! Yea!” Mimiko unzips the back of her plushie, pulling out a singular 10000 yen bill as your eyes nearly bulge out of your head.

“Daddy gave it to us before he left so that we could use it if we wanted!”

Your jaw is still hanging low in shock to process her words.)

——

“Uncle Yaga!” The girls pounce into his arms, causing him to stumble before he firmly plants his feet onto the ground.

“Children…! What are you doing here?” His voice had lost their usual rough tone, turning softer as he smiles down at the familiar kids. Still… They shouldn’t be here. Is Gojo nearby—

He senses it.

He feels the pulse of a familiar energy, hurriedly pushing the kids behind him as his sunglasses scan the area, spotting your tired form slumped over against a tree, trying to catch your breath.

“Kids…” You’re huffing as you try to get your bearings back. “Please don’t run…!”

No. It couldn’t be— There’s absolutely no way—! His hands ready themselves, calling for his cursed corpses to the scene before you-!

“Ahh! Yaga-sensei…!” You’re still panting as you reach him, sweat on your brow and your legs jellylike as the twins continue to cling onto him, wondering what’s going on.

“I’m so glad you weren’t so far away!” You’re sweating, smiling through your tiredness as you try to regain your bearings.

“I have so much to ask you!”

…

“Let’s talk in my office.”

——

There’s a hurried stampede of feet before the door is quite literally ripped off its hinges.

Her unlit cigarette collapses to the floor from her grip as she stares at the sight before her, felt the surrounding cursed energy as her body freezes in place.

She takes a step back, legs trembling when she places a hand over her mouth in shock, her eyes widened in horror and distress as she met your form.

Suguru’s distraught as he looks into your eyes. Eyes that never should’ve opened ever again. Eyes that he thought he would never see again. Eyes that he missed seeing with every fiber of his being, every speck of his soul.

You.

How are you here? Why were you out of that room specifically made to contain you?

Why are you alive?

“Yaga.” His eyes have narrowed into dangerous slits, fingernails digging painfully into the calloused flesh of his palms as the snarl he has on his face grows turbulent and murderous.

His curses are immediately summoned, one delegated to swallowing Shoko and tucking her away in its belly as it brings her devastated form to safety.

It’s tense. The words are stuck in your throat as you try to make yourself heard.

The mere presence of his cursed energy is causing you to freeze up from the overwhelming fear.

His cursed spirits were on their haunches, ready to pounce and stab and claw through the flesh of anyone who dares to stir the rage, the trembling anger of their master.

Your eyes widen as you witness the familiar worm spirit appear by his shoulder, hurling out a long set of nunchucks from its disgusting mouth. Your hands tremble as your spine straightens, his gaze deadset on you as you see the flashes of a million emotions running through him.

You’re breathless in his presence.

“You have 5 seconds,” Yaga feels the dreadfully cold voice of the special grade shaman, the aura emanating sending chills down his very spine as the lightbulb bursts, darkness swallowing the room as the air suddenly fills with putrid, thick smoke that crept into his lungs, skin prickling with goosebumps.

The suffocating presence of Geto Suguru.

“To tell me why my wife’s corpse is in front of us.”

previous masterlist next

Notes:

Through abuse of his power as the revered Six Eyes and Limitless technique inheritor of the renowned Gojo clan, Gojo was able to get possession over your body.

Geto and Ieiri were the ones who made a special coffin in efforts to preserve your body utilizing cursed energy.

Yaga was about to attack you after sensing your cursed energy. But the sight before him— Made him realise you can’t exactly be a threat.

Geto thinks you’re a curse. How devastating, to think that a mere curse dares to imitate your presence, dares to imitate you on your death anniversary. He wants to hurl, to vomit. The feeling in his mouth more disgusting, more vile than any curse he’s ever swallowed.

And yet, his heart yearns to feel you in his arms once more.

nvy’s aftertalk:

who wants to guess wtf is happening hahahahah

that praying scene is inspired partially by the way i do it when i go to the temple to pray haha

[akiranzee]

Hi! Could you please do a Muzan x female!Reader..

She was dating one of the hashiras (you choose, preferably male) when she was sent on a mission to get close to Muzan and relay information. She ends up falling in love with Muzan and him her, but one night he follows her and finds out where she’s been going and sees the other dude kiss her, he’s obviously furious and starts a whole ass fight. He ends up giving her an ultimatum, she can either come live with him and be a demon or she can stay and die with the other guy, she chooses Muzan (he’s super smug, he knew she’d chose him), the other guy is begging her not to do this and that he’s brain washed her etc…

I don’t know how to end it but I really hope that makes sense, but do whatever you want with it!

Thank you so much if you do write it! If not no hard feelings 🩷

🎗️ • ° ` — \\ “WRONG TIME, WRONG PERSON?”

╰┈➤ PAIRINGS: muzan x hashira!y/n ╰┈➤ W/C: 4.5k+ ╰┈➤ CONTAINS: ONE cuss word., violence, choking, hints of killing, & muzan is 1,000 while reader is 21. (but both r 1,000+ yro in the bonus.) ╰┈➤ A/N: HELPP WTF THIS WAS SO LONG FOR A REQUESTTTT.

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------------Complete!------------

november 29, xxxx.

“sanemi! happy birthday to you!” enthusiastically, you peeked your head in the wind hashira’s estate, “look! i brought some ohagis over!” as the wind hashira’s gaze could only soften and welcome you into his warm home.

in this world, it was not so often that births are celebrated. not only because of the ordinary populace’s decline in poverty, but also because of the demons who make those of “heroes” forget.

that’s why, in this smallest gesture you could ever do, sanemi loved you, even when it was hard for him to express it.

and that’s also why, three days later, sanemi disapproved of the news, and wished to instead take on your mission in your place, saying that it was too dangerous, but of course, he could do nothing as it was per oyakata-sama’s orders.

due to the help of the kamado kid last week, the hashiras and possibly the whole demon slayers have already known muzan — the demon king’s face by now.

and so, there you see him, strolling around at the red light district, with his supposedly “wife and daughter” as you have already started your mission just about two hours ago.

his red, crimson eyes say everything, and his evil aura could be felt from miles away.

sneakily, you blend in to the crowd, hoping to not lose sight of him, and thank god, you did not. you took a newspaper from a random old man’s hand, sneaking in a little “sorry” as he looked at you with a flabbergasted expression.

discreetly, you started to “read” the newspaper as you keep switching places to another, as muzan and his “family” kept sauntering away to wherever location they were going.

honestly, you didn’t know why you were the hashira chosen for this mission. both shinobu and mitsuri are far more capable, but they did say your beauty is outmatched, one that could mesmerize even the coldest of hearts. i mean — just look at sanemi, that man is as hard as rock, as cold as ice, and as angry as fire. and yet, here you were, making him go all putty in your hands, as if he was never the man he was before he met you.

after a few stops, muzan and his “wife” arrived at a readied, secluded carriage, in which he sent his wife and daughter away, leaving him still in the area.

as you slowly, discreetly, go back to the bench you were once sitting at, you continued to pretend reading the still newspaper in your hand, as he made his way to a certain building — for prostitutes.

expectedly, that’s what evil men do anyway, cheat on their wives, hurt them, without any ounce of care as muzan just held his head up high as he walked towards the building’s entrance. but surprisingly, this demon king had a lot of time in his hands as if demon slayers never existed.

and so, you waited, and waited, until he came out of the building. it was for ten minutes, which was so long for you, but so short if he ever participated in any sexual orientation.

for the past few days, you followed, and followed him around like a lost puppy, still avoiding his eerie, deadly gaze.

until, one day, that spying from afar ended, when he found out and cornered you on an empty alley.

“how pathetic. you like me, you say?” you nod your head vigorously, as you lied through your pink, plump lips, with the claim that you followed him around because you liked him, as his deep, gruff voice asked you.

“hah. do you not know that I am a married man?” he said, with pure mockery in his voice, but you could only resist rolling your eyes in response, as you know full well that he does not even love his wife, and he dares to say that with such fake pride.

“i-i’m sorry...” you could only mutter a pitiful apology, after all, this man wrapping his whole hand around your neck can just kill you before you can even blink your eye.

“why apologize-” as muzan was about to retort something, he could sense that one of his demons was nearby, and he couldn’t risk having his identity revealed to you, yet.

he let out a disappointed “tsk” as he then, disappeared out of the alley.

and from that encounter on, you learned that this mission was just as hellish as hell.

you took a short break for three to four days, currently eating at a ramen shop, when,

“we’ve met again.” again, a deep, gruff voice was behind you, its familiarity was so hard to forget, that you shivered without even seeing the source of that voice.

eagerly, a child’s voice could be heard right after the man’s voice, “daddy, i’d like my usual ramen!” curious, you finally looked behind you to see the demon king himself, standing tall and proud along with a little girl standing beside him.

“hm,” muzan hummed in agreement, “go on then, doll, order up. i’d like to catch up with my dear old friend here.” almost immediately, he was sitting in front of you, leaving no choice but to humor him and act all clueless again.

“it seems we have some unfinished business, hm?” he leaned back against the couch, with an underlying smirk threatening to appear.

he heard you gulp, “...haha.. do we..? I don’t remember, unfortunately-” and almost immediately, he ‘accidentally’ knocked out the glass full of water on the floor, making you shiver and jolt in surprise; “oh please.. I don’t like to play pretend.”

you gulped again, but this time, you had to build up pounds of courage to finally stop him from whatever imaginations and delusions he might come up with.

“yes, I do like you! b-but what of it?? ‘ts not like you’re gonna like me back or somethin’-” you immediately shut up after that, afraid to slip your ‘true’ words, trying to continue the act of a lovesick-pathetic girl.

“hmm... indeed, but there’s really something about you that I can’t quite get out of my mind.. hmm.. your beautiful features? or.. your blood, perhaps?” that last question sent chills down your spine as he tilted his head mockingly.

did he find out? did your act fail? is he gonna kill you here and now?

“daddy!” suddenly, a loud, cheery voice could be heard as the little girl from back then — who you now remember as his daughter, carrying a bowl of ramen and proceeded to sit beside her ‘dad’.

muzan simply looked at her, and back at you, still with a sinister smirk threatening to appear.

but, you wondered, even though he was a cruel, evil man, a child seems to have taken a liking to him.

maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as bad as they’ve all said, or maybe he was just manipulating the little girl-

“so? your answer to my question, please.” sarcastic. you thought, as if a demon would ever say ‘please’ out of sincerity.

wait- what question?

oh.

“i-i’m afraid there’s no answer to that question, muz- mister!” your eyes widened in horror as you accidentally slipped out a word that may have broken your stuttering-pitiful-scared facade.

“oh? is that so?” his grin widened. it was at this moment that you knew he knew everything.

“muz what?” of course, he’ll ask.

“oh, no! nothing! i was simply having a speech error haha-”

“speech error? never heard of that.” muzan immediately cut you off, despite the grin still in his face, you know you’re playing a dangerous game with the changed look in his eyes.

“daddy, why does she look scared?” again, the little girl interrupted, she’s probably saved your life two times this hour already.

“hmm... what do you think, darling? does daddy look scary?” he asked his daughter with a sweet tone, leaning in on his daughter with a hush whisper.

“no, daddy doesn’t look scary at all!” from her father, she turned her head towards you, “he’s the best daddy in the whoooooleee wide world!!” she said, emphasizing the word ‘whole’ with her hands expanding on an invisible space.

it makes you rethink. again. was this all a manipulative act, or a sincere admiration of the little one?

“hm.” muzan hums in agreement, a smug, distinct proud smile on his lips.

“lady, what’s your name? daddy barely has any friends, so i want to know you!” the innocent voice of the child despite insulting words makes you look at muzan, who was not very happy with his child’s words, side-eyeing her even, his smile completely fading.

it makes you chuckle.

~~~~~

you didn’t know what happened, but.. why are you and the demon king himself babysitting his daughter in the park?

“hehe! come, y/n! let’s play some more!” oh goodness, hearing the child’s cheery voice makes you shudder in dread, she was innocently evil for making you catch pigeons for her.

yet, unbeknownst, you had fun. it made you forget your problems, your mission, and... the fact that you were with the demon king himself. that day, he was only muzan to you, a sophisticated man. nothing more, nothing less.

sometimes, you also forget you once hated children. they were the epitome of the devil, you say; yet here you are — laughing with a child that you knew for only a few hours.

and so, the day has come to an end. as you slowly walk away, you can hear sniffles coming from little anna, muzan’s daughter’s name.

muzan didn’t try to soothe nor comfort his little girl, despite her messy attempts at wiping her tears and snot.

meters apart, you felt relief in your chest that you weren’t the only one who got attached. softly, did you smile, and slowly, did you turn and completely walk away.

yet, not even four steps ahead, the little girl ran and clung on your leg, “y/n!! don’t leave, don’t leave, i want you to stay!!” her snot only grew longer, and her face only became wetter.

you knelt down, using a piece of cloth you always bring around to wipe her snot and tears. unbeknownst, muzan watched the sight with dear. it was the first time that his daughter had easily grown attached to a grown up. after all, the little girl was taught never to talk to strangers.

“tomorrow.” suddenly, muzan spoke. “she will come back.” he continued. then, with eyes full of hope, the little girl looked up to you, “promise?” as she slowly stopped crying.

quietly, you sighed, and discreetly, you glared at muzan, having to be forced to see his face again.

but yet, how could you say no? anna stopped crying, whilst her eyes glimmered in such hope. you’d be evil to crush that light out of her eyes when you say no. so, instead, “i promise.” reluctantly, you agreed, and smiled.

~~~~~

hours, days, weeks, had passed. and the tomorrows’ seem to never end.

little anna chuckled as you both spent your time on the ground, relaxing for a moment after an exhausting race with her.

“hehe, you’re so fun to be with, y/n.” little anna’s head swayed side by side, as if lulling herself to sleep with the cold, comforting breeze of the wind.

then, her head fell forward, as you caught her and positioned her in a more comfortable position, her head against your shoulder. yet, you never fail to hear the words that escaped her mouth before she had been lulled to sleep, “i wish you were my mama..”

your eyes widened, looking down at the now asleep anna against your shoulder. muzan only chuckled, who — by the way, scared you to death as he bought some ohagis, and never announced his return.

“seems like she likes you.” he said, as he plopped down and handed you your fair share of ohagis.

“thanks for pointing out the obvious.” you chewed on a ohagi, one with the sesame and soy bean flavor, its taste somewhere along with ‘strong’ or ‘rough’, something not really your type, but sanemi’s type.

right- how is sanemi? it’s been long, way too long, actually. you never went back to the demon slayer base, nor went home to your estate.

you missed him, dearly. you’ve been way too distracted with this man in front of you, eating the same flavor of ohagi that your beloved liked.

you hated the beat of your heart that would grow faster each and every time your skin brushes against his, when he’d look at you differently than he would look at everyone else, or even when right now — when he’d hand-feed you the same ohagi he had given to you, and the same one that he had chewed on.

it made your heart flutter, and you hated every single bit of it.

the guilt of falling in love with an enemy is unbearable — it makes you want to kill yourself.

you stared at his deep, red, crimson eyes. it was the same eyes that looked at every living thing disgustingly, yet also the same eyes that looked at you with affection.

right, how did it start? it was merely little anna that you thought who grew to enjoy your company, and like you. you never noticed anything, but a few weeks before, muzan had started to place himself nearer to you, started laughing at your lame jokes, and you guys eventually started to get along in most things.

it had given you an advantage, yet the only problem was he still had his guard up high.

hell, you didn’t even know what to do, the only instruction given to you was to gather information, but even up until now, oyakata-sama never sent you a single letter.

so, you decided, it was best to see for yourself how your fellow demon slayers were doing, also your companion crow that was forced to stay behind otherwise your cover might be blown.

~~~~~

“aaackk!! y/n-san you’ve arrived!!” mitsuri says, with her voice full of joy and excitement, as she also greeted you with her very warm hug.

“o-okay m-mitsuri- hah- san-” you said breathlessly, after the many times you were shaken and jumped on by your arrival, not to mention; mitsuri’s hug could kill.

“mitsuri-san, please allow her to breathe in some air.” shinobu, with her ever so smiling face, calmly told mitsuri.

“oh! oops! sorry, i’m just soo excited!!” instead of hugging you again, mitsuri rejoiced in clapping her hands.

you felt relieved, everyone seemed to be okay here, and you felt happy, everyone seemed to be still the same, celebrating your arrival in one piece.

after catching up your breath, you looked around, and noticed something was off.

“where’s sanemi?” you asked mitsuri, but before mitsuri could even answer, “he’s on his estate, my child.” oyakata-sama answered right behind you, giving you a jolt of shock, but also relief that he also stayed the same.

“oyakata-sama.” you bowed your head, out of respect, whilst, oyakata-sama merely chuckled and patted your head; “go forth, shinazugawa has been down too lately, you see — your absence had made him more aggressive, even I cannot control such temperament.” even if you heard the disappointment in oyakata-sama’s voice, he still remained calm, and reserved with a smile on his face.

“yeah! he even punched tanjiro-kun on the face when tanjiro-kun only asked where you were!!” mitsuri said, feigning sadness in her voice.

“he has visited the butterfly estate quite too often, with multiple injuries.” shinobu sighed and shook her head, but her smile was still remaining on her face.

you seriously have to go visit him now, until tengen added; “yeah! i don’t know if he’s become a brute old man, or a snarly beast at this point — he’s gone waaaay too far when he shoulder-bumped me! so not flamboyant!” tengen said exasperatedly, and you could only respond in a chuckle as you walked out.

oh, you wonder, how will he look like as a brute old man?

but more importantly — how will he look at you? will he still look at you with eyes that say “i love you”, or will it be brute aggression, just like the others described?

you hated how you hesitantly knocked on the door. you hated why you were so nervous, when you’ve spent most of your time with him.

weeks apart can’t possibly make you awkward with each other, right?

maybe. as you knocked softly, you can hear a grunting, deep voice within; “go away!”

you flinched. you have yet to be on sanemi’s bad side, this was the first.

you swallowed down the enveloping fear, though. this was not the time, you missed him. too much.

you knocked again, but this time, followed by your soft voice; “sanemi, it’s me.” a soft whisper, alluring to an ear, quick steps and thuds could be heard from within the estate, and the next thing you know; the door burst wide open — revealing a groggy, haggard sanemi.

his eye bags were as deep as the ocean, as black as the void, his lips were cracked as glass, his bed hair messy as a wolf’s uncared coat.

his eyes were wide open, as wide as the door he just burst open.

you never know. weeks apart, why do you still look the same, maybe even better than before, but why he — look worse than before?

immediately, his arms clasped around your body, but somehow, you didn’t feel the same way as you did before.

you felt nothing. the expectation of your heart rising, and the excitement of feeling his heat against yours, turned to disappointment.

instead, you hesitated. you didn’t know why, but you reluctantly hugged him back, seeming as to not share the same enthusiasm with him.

sanemi couldn’t wonder enough though, he was more than happy with your arrival. he could care less about such trivial things.

he pulled away, and patted his palm on all parts of your body, trying to comprehend if this is real, that you are real.

he looked in your eyes then. he had a spark, but you couldn’t share it. no, you didn’t feel the same way as you did before, it felt as if... you couldn’t get yourself to love him anymore.

weeks apart, and things already turned out this way.

weeks apart, and you are already ruined.

his eyes held the shiniest reflection of the moonlight, yet you couldn’t admire it better than you admired a certain crimson-eyed that reflected the sun a mere while ago.

it felt weird, honestly. you thought sanemi could be the one, yet you were wrong. very wrong.

suddenly, his lips latched on to yours. you felt disgusted, as if this wasn’t the same man you shared your meals with, spent most of your time with, and battled against all the problems life had presented you with. yet, it was still not right. you didn’t hold the same affection as he did, not anymore.

suddenly, the bush that had been quiet, had grown loud, followed with a snarl that immediately lunged at sanemi.

once his lips were unlatched from yours, you felt a wave of... relief? no, you didn’t know. but you were sure it felt comfortable once his lips left yours.

but, enough of that. the shadow that leaped from the darkness of the bush tackled sanemi to the ground, a groan released from the white-haired man as his back had hit the ground.

your eyes widened — seeing the very crimson-eyed one that you had admired just a while ago under the heat of the sun.

it didn’t look at you with affection, not anymore. and somehow, it saddens you.

his eyes were full of fierce and rage, and... yet a hint of... betrayal? hah. you wonder why.

upon eye contact with him, sanemi immediately took this chance and pushed muzan off with such strength, immediately grabbing his katana from his waist.

it didn’t matter if he was the third strongest hashira though. he was still up against the demon king himself, that he doesn’t even know of.

you looked at muzan with pleading eyes, but his back was turned against you. yet, muzan could feel that you wanted to spare sanemi, and that angers him more.

once again, muzan leaped towards sanemi, and even if sanemi did manage to slice his arm off, it still regenerated in less than a millisecond, causing him to be pounced towards the wall, with a blow to his neck.

muzan had now wrapped his fingers around sanemi’s neck, holding the white-haired man three inches from the ground, against the almost broken cemented wall.

a gasp escaped your lips, it happened so fast, out of reality. this is what the demon king is, a hundred times more powerful than his companions, than his creations.

you could only look at sanemi’s face turning almost purple, and trying to save him would only mean you wished for death.

“y/n... i’ll give you a choice. come, and be a demon, or stay... with this weakling and rot together?” the last two words did he emphasize, along with sending you a glare.

it scared you, sending shivers down to your spine, even.

quiver left your lips as you chose reluctantly, “please.. l-let him go..” yet, it was not the choice of a heart, but the choice of a pity.

unbeknowstly, muzan let go of sanemi, causing him to drop to the ground, a thud following right after.

muzan sauntered towards you, and that was then, when you realized you were chained to him from all eternity, the moment he had laid his eyes on you, and the moment that his hand clasped yours.

“let us go.” even if you did not say anything, muzan knew you chose him, when you asked to let sanemi go. after all, you only asked for the benefit and pity of the other, but not for the everlasting paradise of his. which meant, to muzan and you, you chose him.

but, before muzan could even take you away,

“y/n! stop!” sanemi tried to push the fight still within him, but as soon as he tried to stand, it all fell back down, including himself.

“fuck!- y/n! he’s brainwashing you!” yeah, maybe, he is. but does that even matter anymore? all the days you’ve spent together with this man had proved you enough that you were not brainwashed, that this was all by your will.

muzan smirked. you showed no signs of hesitation, and so, he continued dragging you away, away from that miserable excuse of a man.

as you were dragged away, each of your memories with sanemi taunted you. he was the very man you swore to be with your whole life, and to protect using your whole life, was now crawling in urgency to save you from the devil, but yet, you let yourself get dragged away by the devil himself.

even if you no longer had feelings for him, a pang could you feel in your heart, that you had stooped so low and betrayed the so-called love of your life just weeks passed.

the dragging continued, until you could no longer see sanemi, and could only hope for the best.

~~~~~

the next morning, you woke up in an unfamiliar bed. it was of a soft, bouncy mattress, that even if you wanted to wake up, you’ll be lulled to sleep again.

then, the first thing you saw was the wall — an eerie color of red, one that reminded you of that crimson-eyed man so much. red roses decorated on the table, and on your right was a lamp, and on your left was a glass of water.

you chugged it down, the lump and dry of your throat was now satiated.

next, you stood up, and saw a mirror across the room. you walked over to it, and found yourself in a pretty, white nightgown.

next, the door slowly creaked open, revealing the very man you chose — muzan.

“ah, if it isn’t a beauty lingering in my room i see.” muzan teased and leaned against the doorframe, all the while little anna appeared right behind him, with swollen, puffy eyes.

she rushed up to you with open arms, all the while you accepted her whole-heartedly, asking her what had happened, whilst patting and rubbing her back.

“mom- mommy’s gone!!” sniffles, then come the loudest sobbing, as you suspiciously looked at muzan who had no look of little care nor sympathy.

“and that’s exactly why y/n here will treat you out.” his smirk widened, causing you to glare at him — knowing full well that he’s the main reason of this child’s despair.

but yet, you have no choice. “wait for me outside, okay? i’ll change first.” you wiped little anna’s tears away, and stood up.

you have no choice, because this will be how you’ll live from now on. and you don’t even hate it. not even a single bit.

★ • ° ` — BONUS:

“kyahahaha! mama can’t catch me, mama can’t catch me!” the little child giggled, as you sighed and took off your blindfold, wondering how she makes up these cruel games, and wondering how she makes you play these games.

“oh, no, i’ve fallen. i’m resting now.” you said exasperatedly, and so fake, that the child didn’t believe you and decided to sit on the couch with you too.

it’s tiresome, being a mother of two girls, but, they have become your only source of living, same goes with your husband.

ever since muzan took you under his shelter, he treated you like you were truly his wife, and turned you into a demon, same went for little anna, who successfully turned into one despite the very low chances.

and now, you look around the living room of your home, as you sit comfortably on the couch.

the walls of your home were fairly white, some parts in beige, but you didn’t miss the detail of the lighting of the chandelier, one so bright and grand simply hanging on top of you.

you wonder, if you truly deserved this luxury, for over a thousand years of living, that you’ve reached this modernized world, that most of your friends probably died of old age.

you couldn’t stop thinking about it, when the door bell rang, and as soon as the very people entered, your heart beat in joy, and your eyes sparkled under the same chandelier.

you walked up and greeted anna, who was now fairly an inch taller than you.

then next, came muzan walking in, with who knows what his smirk was about now.

even the little child you were playing with earlier simply stated; “daddy, why do you look like that?”

as if offended, muzan just stared down at the little one as all of you laughed happily.

you and your girls love teasing the only man in the family, after all.

───────────── ☆ ─────────────

© akiranzee || do not steal, plagiarize, or repost my works without my permission.

[ktsumu]

RESOLUTIONS (this year is different) tw: alcohol consumption

This year, you wait for January in an apartment that is packed full.

You’re familiar with everyone, for the most part, all people who have played with Ushijima over the years, all people you’ve watched in one jersey or another. Everyone is laughing, happy — even Wakatoshi himself who, normally quite reserved, laughs with one of his teammates, a glass half-full in hand.

This year is different, you tell yourself. 

You know that, whenever you're all drunk enough to call it a night, you’ll call a cab and go home, probably kiss on the way there. He’ll lean on the bathroom counter and giggle while you smear your makeup away with a wipe, then take it from you and do it himself. He’ll be so much worse at it, but he’ll be gentle, and you’ll let him.

This year, you’re going to let yourself be loved. You’re excited to let him.

You watch Wakatoshi from your place on the couch, a small smile on your face. Happy looks good on him; he’s handsome when he’s free. His smile gives him lines around his mouth, his eyes crinkle. His laugh is saccharine. 

He doesn’t notice you’re watching, either, it’s not often he does. It’s not hard to be subtle — your eyes typically find him, anyway, golden boy wherever he goes.

This year, I’m going to let myself be loved.

You met him years ago, sort of in a situation like this. You were both in a bar in Tokyo, you think, and he stuck out like a sore thumb; freshly twenty and new to this, surrounded by teammates who made it obvious he’s never been to a bar before.

They also made it obvious he was new to a lot of things, likely why they made it so obvious in how they were jabbing his side with their elbows, nodding to you sat a few seats down. Go talk to her, she’s totally into you, she’s pretty!

(He didn’t even talk when he first sat down — you offered him a shot he probably needed and he took it.)

The rest is history.

It feels weird to think about going home. Home. You live with him, the bills get paid. He has smile lines and stretch marks on his shoulders. He’s going to take your makeup off for you because he’s seen you in every way you come. You have a house and you have a home — your friend said she thinks he might propose this year.

Growing pains are scarier when they’re not in your knees.

You only notice he’s moved when the couch sinks beside you. Wakatoshi sits next to you, a close-lipped smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, and he rests a hand on your thigh.

“Are you okay?” he asks, and it’s just the two of you.

You look over his face, his flushed cheeks. You smile, too. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

Wakatoshi is gentle when he guides you towards him, his hand on your nape, kissing you like you’ve never done it before. He tastes like Tennessee, and like a resolution. 

This year, I’m going to kiss him more.

“I love you,” he murmurs. “I’m glad I’m here with you.”

Whatever dread you carried before, it’s going away now.

“You are?” you tease, pulling back to really look at him. An anonymous hand walks by and ruffles his hair, like he’s scoring his first girl, and carries on. He doesn’t look up. 

“Very.”

“Mm,” you hum, leaning your head on his shoulder. “I guess I’m glad I’m here with you, too.”

“I mean, I would hope so.”

“Hah,” you snort, “I’m excited to go home, too.”

He scoffs, as if he isn’t typically the reserved one; as if he wasn’t the one you had to convince to make a show here. “You want to get out so soon?”

“What, you’re not excited to deal with me at home?” you giggle, craning your head to look up at him. “Not excited to spend, like, a fat hour getting ready for bed?”

He snickers again, taking a sip of his drink. He squints like he drank it too quickly. 

“Like last year?”

“Yup. Except, I don’t know about the last part. I’m gonna pass out the second I hit the mattress, ‘Toshi.”

“That’s okay, I’ll tuck you in.”

Your chest warms, and you both laugh. One of you starts it, but you don’t remember who.

“You’re gonna tuck me in and take my makeup off, huh?”

“Like last year,” he confirms. “And get you water — get us both water,”

“Mm, you’ll need it, big guy.”

“I am fine.”

“Yeah, I know. As long as you can see where my face is, that’s good enough for me.”

“I can find it blind,” he says simply, smoothing your hair back and out of your face. “But yes, I can see it fine.”

You smile all crooked — he tilts his head like he wants to see it upright. 

“We’re gettin' older, huh ‘Toshi?”

“That is how years work, yes.”

“Going home,” you say; your thoughts are all out loud. “Going to bed.”

He smiles — he loves it. “Unless you want to stay out?”

“No, no, I want to. I’m just,” you take a deep breath, “thinking. This’ll be how many years?”

“Not enough,” he says simply. “I wanna do this forever.”

“Hah, well, I have no doubt your body could sustain years of New Years Eve parties—”

“I meant going home,” he interrupts. “Taking off your makeup, getting you water, and kissing you goodnight.”

Your heart swells to the point of being uncomfortable, the lump in your throat impossibly there. His hand hasn’t left your thigh, it hasn’t risen higher, it just sits there. His touch is warm like a swaddle, unmoving. It’s so familiar that you lean into it like you're being carried to bed.

Wakatoshi grins; it’s crooked and you tilt your head to see it upright. “Every year, I think I love you a little more.”

(The dread you had is gone now — why you ever had it, you don’t know for sure.)

This year is different, you tell yourself. This year, you’re gonna grow.

There’s a cheer throughout the room, all this laughter becoming a dull muffle when the room seems to reach the sound capacity the little space has. There’s kazoos, glass clinking, goofy hats falling to the floor — people are singing:

“Happy new year, love,” he murmurs, and he captures your lips again.

This year, I’m gonna grow.

I’m gonna let him love it, and maybe I’ll love it, too. 

[comfortzonequeen]

!HOPE!

Summary: Y/N and Austin get cozy and lovey at the beach.

Pairing: Austin Butler x Famous!reader

Warning: None, just fluff.

A/N: Heyy ya'll. Been getting some love for my most recent post so I wanted to grace y'all with a lil some some to keep y'all happy. Feel free to comment, like and reblog. I can take request as well. So don't be shy! 😘

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It was a quiet evening at a secluded beach resort, far away from the bustling city. Y/N and Austin had decided to take a much-needed vacation together, away from the flashing cameras and public attention that seemed to follow them everywhere.

The sun had just set, casting a warm orange glow over the horizon as the waves lapped softly against the shore. Y/N, dressed in a light sundress, stood by the water, watching the fading colors of the sky reflect on the calm ocean. Austin, still in his relaxed beach attire but now slightly more put together, approached her with a soft smile playing on his lips.

He stood behind her, watching her for a moment before gently placing his hand on her shoulder. When Y/N turned around, she caught him staring at her with that familiar look—the one that had always made her heart skip a beat. It was the way he looked at her as if she was the only person who mattered, as if there was nothing else in the world but them in that moment. His fingers lightly brushed his chin, that pensive expression on his face, one that Y/N had grown to recognize as him trying to figure out what to say, how to express whatever thoughts were swirling in his mind.

"What's going on in that head of yours?" Y/N teased softly, her eyes locking with his.

Austin chuckled, the sound deep and warm. "I was just thinking... how lucky I am." He took a step closer, his hand moving from his chin to gently touch her cheek. "How lucky I am to have you here, like this. No distractions, no noise, just... us."

Y/N felt her breath catch. They had shared many moments together, but something about this evening felt different. More intimate. More raw. She reached up to hold his hand against her cheek, leaning into his touch.

"You make it sound like this is a dream," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the sound of the waves.

Austin tilted his head slightly, that signature expression of his deepening as he gazed at her, his eyes intense yet soft. "It kind of feels like one," he admitted. "Being with you... everything just feels right."

Y/N laughed lightly, shaking her head. "You're so dramatic, Austin."

He smirked, but there was a tenderness in his eyes as he leaned in closer. "Maybe. Or maybe you're just that special."

The moment hung between them, the soft breeze carrying the sound of the ocean and the warmth of their unspoken connection. Austin slowly wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. Y/N's hands found their way to his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under her fingertips.

"Y/N..." Austin murmured, his voice low and filled with something that made her heart flutter. "I don't know where this is going, or what the future holds, but I know that I want to be here. With you. Wherever that leads."

Y/N looked up at him, her breath hitching slightly as she processed his words. She had never imagined that someone like Austin, with all his charm and charisma, could be so vulnerable with her. But here he was, laying it all out, just as the night fell around them.

"I feel the same way," she finally whispered, her voice filled with sincerity.

Austin's hand slid from her waist to cradle the back of her neck, his thumb brushing against her skin. His gaze softened as he leaned in, his lips hovering just inches from hers. "Good," he breathed, before finally closing the distance between them, pressing his lips to hers in a gentle but fervent kiss.

For that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the world they had left behind, not the pressures of their lives—just the two of them, wrapped in each other, lost in the warmth of the evening and the connection they had spent months building.

As they pulled apart, Austin rested his forehead against hers, his eyes still closed, as if savoring the closeness.

"This," he whispered, "feels like the start of something amazing."

Y/N smiled, her heart full, and for the first time in a long time, she felt truly at peace.

Y/N let her fingers linger on Austin’s chest, feeling the heat between them intensify, the electricity in the air undeniable. The gentle kiss had felt like the beginning of something bigger—something that couldn’t be easily explained but was deeply felt between them. She looked up at him, his face still inches from hers, and saw the same longing reflected in his eyes that she had been feeling for some time now.

"You're always so full of surprises," she murmured, her lips curling into a soft smile. Her fingers traced the outline of his collarbone, as if memorizing the feel of him.

Austin chuckled lightly, his breath warm against her skin. "You keep me on my toes, L/N." His use of her last name was playful, teasing, yet there was a depth to his tone that made her heart skip again. He brushed a stray curl behind her ear, his hand lingering at the nape of her neck. "I mean it, though. I’ve never met anyone like you."

Y/N felt her cheeks warm, though she tried to play it off with a smirk. "Good to know I’m keeping things interesting." She took a step back, though her fingers remained loosely linked with his, not quite ready to break the connection fully. "So what now, Mr. Butler? What do we do with… this?" She gestured between them, her eyes searching his.

Austin looked out toward the horizon for a moment, his expression thoughtful. The moonlight shimmered on the ocean, casting a silver glow over the beach. When he looked back at her, his gaze was steady, certain.

"We take it one day at a time," he said softly. "I don’t have all the answers, Y/N. But I know that I don’t want to waste this. Whatever this is." He squeezed her hand, his thumb gently stroking the back of her palm. "I want to see where it goes."

Y/N felt her chest tighten with a mixture of excitement and nerves. It wasn’t often that she let herself be this vulnerable, especially with someone who lived in the same public spotlight. But something about Austin made her feel safe—like this was a risk worth taking.

"One day at a time," she echoed, nodding slightly. "I can work with that."

They shared a quiet moment, the sound of the waves providing a rhythmic backdrop to their conversation. Y/N couldn’t help but feel the weight of the moment—like they were standing at the edge of something that could change everything, if they let it.

Austin’s hand slid from hers, only to gently cup her chin, tilting her face toward him. His eyes held hers with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. "You know, you don’t have to have it all figured out right now," he murmured, his voice low and soothing. "We’ll figure it out together."

His words, simple yet sincere, had a calming effect on Y/N. She had spent so long carrying the weight of expectations—her career, her personal life, everything—on her shoulders. But in this moment, with Austin, it felt like she could breathe.

"I don’t have all the answers either," she admitted quietly. "But I do know that I feel... different when I’m with you. Like I don’t have to be 'Y/N L/N' all the time. I can just be... me."

Austin’s expression softened even more, his hand sliding to the side of her face, his thumb gently tracing her cheek. "That’s all I’ve ever wanted," he whispered. "Just you."

The sincerity in his voice made her chest tighten again, but this time it was a good kind of tightness—the kind that made her feel seen, understood. Without thinking, she closed the distance between them, her lips finding his once more. The kiss was deeper this time, more urgent, as if the words they couldn’t speak were being communicated through touch.

When they finally pulled apart, both slightly breathless, Austin rested his forehead against hers again, a small smile playing on his lips. "I have to say," he murmured, "I could get used to this."

Y/N laughed softly, her hands resting on his chest. "I’m pretty sure you already have."

He grinned, pulling her even closer, their bodies pressed together. "Can you blame me?"

They stood like that for a while, wrapped in each other, the world around them fading into the background. For once, it didn’t matter who they were outside of this moment. It didn’t matter what the world expected from them. All that mattered was this—this connection, this feeling, this beginning.

As the night grew darker and the stars began to twinkle in the sky, they slowly made their way back to the resort. Hand in hand, their hearts light, they walked in comfortable silence, both of them knowing that whatever came next, they would face it together.

And for the first time in a long time, Y/N felt something she hadn’t in a while.

Hope.

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BTW this pic was found on Pinterest 📌 😉.