#Love and Fury alternate ending

[foggyfanfic]

Villain!Leandra AU

What level of fandom is it when you start making AU’s of your AU’s? I mentioned that if the kids didn’t come along in Love and Fury-verse, the pressure of being Bruno’s sole lifeline while half the village sings songs about how evil he is would have eventually led to Leandra becoming very bitter and possibly a villain. So! Encanto if Bruno was married to a villainess (sort of, tried to keep the conflict as grounded and complex as it is in canon).

The AU's branch off from at Leandra's Labrynth, or whatever I called that fic. To sum up that story, Leandra is head over heels for Bruno and happy to take on half his burdens if it means being with him. He worries his burdens are too burdensome and will eventually strain their marriage. He starts waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It does not drop. Leandra loves him, and although being married to him isn’t always easy, she feels lucky to be the person that faces his challenges with him. Of course she does, he’s witty and handsome and treats her well.

So his anxiety keeps spiraling, he starts trying to earn love he already has. He keeps trying to take over her chores, he keeps buying her nice gifts she doesn’t need, it affects their sex life, it's very overwhelming to be on the receiving end. Leandra is the sort of person who goes a bit stir crazy without a project so the whole No Chores thing is not good for her. In the main version the kids come along and not only does this help anchor Bruno to the family, having the common goal of Raise Children puts Leandra back in the partner category for him. Without the kids, Leandra stays firmly planted in the inexplicably-loving-wife-who-I-can’t-lose-or-I’ll-be-completely-alone category no matter how many times her and Bruno try to talk it out.

Leandra, for her part, starts feeling sort of useless. She doesn’t know what’s wrong, she doesn’t know why she can’t make Bruno happy. He says the fact that she does make him happy is the problem, but that implies that his baseline is not happy and that’s worse (“You get how that’s worse, right Bruno?”). She slowly gives up fighting the gifts, and the pampering, because the fights themselves only serve to make Bruno more anxious. She tells herself these are temporary concessions, when she figures out how to reassure Bruno once and for all that she'll never leave him, she can then remind him she's his partner. Now she's looking for the source of his unhappiness, and because she doesn’t know what mental illness is, she concludes Bruno’s two problems are the village and his gift. She throws herself even harder into trying to get people to see how wonderful Bruno is, even though she’s sometimes in tears at night because “Why are they so stupid?! What is wrong with those people?!”

So, for a couple of years, Bruno and Leandra are caught in a vicious cycle. He’s aware that without her he’d be completely isolated, and her helping him maintain relationships with others just reaffirms that. He’s overly-protective/affectionate, she understands it’s coming from a place of fear so she tries to assuage his fear, this confirms to him he needs her and he continues to be overly protective/affectionate.

On the outside, the family doesn’t fully register the fact that Leandra is drowning. They see her volunteer to watch the kids so Bruno can have some time with his sisters, they see her arrange for weekly story time with the rest of the village so that only half the village is afraid of Bruno, they see her staunchly defend Bruno's reputation, and they see Bruno treat her like a queen. From the outside the marriage looks very healthy. It’s a little awkward, sure, that Bruno won’t let Leandra do any chores and that he freaks out if she gets a cold, but he’s always been a weird guy so as long as this works for them, no judgement. (This is not working for them).

The breaking point comes when Mirabel doesn’t get her gift and Bruno has that vision.

Like in canon, Bruno smashes the vision and tries to go into hiding. Like in the main AU, Leandra lies to protect Mirabel.

But now Bruno is in this weird in between that he isn’t in either canon or my original AU. He’s still connected to the family/miracle because he still has a loving wife who knows he’s in the walls and keeps bringing him food, but he’s not doing any visions anymore because “my gift wasn’t helping the family”. The visions start piling up, the future trying to break through and he is stubbornly trying to hold it back.

Outside the walls, Leandra has told Alma the truth, “Bruno is convinced his gift is hurting the family and now he’s hiding and trying to refuse his visions so he doesn’t hurt anyone any more and they're making him sick and I'm scared and I love him and I don't know what to do.”

To which Alma doesn’t know how to react. She also low key believes Bruno’s gift was hurting the family, but she didn’t realize Bruno felt that way too. And she had forgotten that he loved the family enough to do something as self destructive as this. She has Leandra bring Bruno messages, trying to convince him that it’s ok, he can come out of hiding, he does not have to give visions anymore. She and Bruno become weird sort of pen pals because they’re arguing back and forth on whether he can live in society without hurting his family. This strengthens their relationship, which strengthens Bruno’s connection to the miracle, which strengthens the visions.

A year after Mirabel’s gift ceremony, the visions break through, they start flowing through him and they don’t stop.

Leandra finds him, incoherent on his hammock, eyes glowing. She drags him out of the walls, into his bed, and gets Julieta to look at him. She can’t stop the visions. Nothing stops the visions. Bruno is stuck like this.

This breaks both Alma and Leandra.

From this point on they’re foils and low key in conflict. Alma blames herself for what’s happened to Bruno, and thinks the miracle can save him, she takes a step back from her role as family matriarch to start studying the miracle.

Leandra’s bitterness at the village means she continues to blame them for Bruno’s problems, them, and the miracle. She thinks if she can put out the candle she can save Bruno, and if the rest of the village hates her for it, well fuck ‘em. So whenever Alma is by Bruno’s side, Leandra studies the miracle as well, only she's trying to figure out how to kill the miracle once and for all.

Bruno is, thankfully, not in a lot of pain. The visions flow through him almost easily, and as long as he doesn't fight it, he spends the nine whole years this is happening not having any migraines. He is effectively blind, sometimes deaf if the visions have sound, and sometimes he doesn't even register the present at all. He gets exhausted seemingly randomly, some visions take more out of him than others and there's no way to predict (pun unintended) which ones. Leandra helps him train his rats and her dog to effectively be service animals for what is essentially a magic chronic illness. On good days he can wander around his room without any help other than his seeing eye posse of animals, when he does he leaves a trail of vision tablets in the sand. Leandra will find them, record them in a secret journal, then smash them so nobody benefits from her husband's illness. On medium days he'll sit in his old story telling tent and tell Mirabel and Antonio about any interesting visions that pass by his sight. On bad days he stays in bed, Leandra, Alma, or one of his sisters holding his hand, even though he has no idea they're there.

Ironically, he's closer to his family than he has been in years, which unfortunately keeps the visions flowing. Bright side, he’s finally convinced that nothing will scare his wife away.

The status quo for the rest of the family is that they're a little more fragmented than in canon. Bruno didn't disappear, his gift is making him sick, sometimes they can go talk to him, but sometimes they'll visit him and he'll be completely out of it. This shakes everybody up a bit. The miracle isn't supposed to hurt them. They know Alma is trying to figure out how to fix it so the unspoken rule is not to disturb her and if she asks you to help her with some sort of experiment, drop everything to do it. Pepa's gift is more volatile because instead of telling herself she's angry at her brother for the wedding thing and sweeping all other emotions under the rug, she's stuck watching him suffer, so the family gets used to not bringing her any of their problems. Julieta is now splitting her time between being the village healer and helping Leandra care for Bruno, so everybody agrees she's too busy to be bothered with your thoughts or problems. Isabela and Camilo end up the faces of the familia Madrigal, so they're also probably too busy keeping the villagers calm to bother. Luisa is always busy with chores, Dolores is always trying to block out the sounds of her mother, aunts, or grandmother crying over Bruno, so on and so forth, until the only people who consistently sit through the entire "family dinner" everyday are Félix, Antonio, Agustín, and Mirabel.

Casita seems to shrink over the years, and lose most of its color, while all of the doors other than the nursery recede back the way Bruno's did in canon. There are no communal sitting areas, the dining room is smaller, and Mirabel's quinceñeara is the first time in over a year the whole family (even Tio Bruno) come together.

And that's where the movie would start. But this is already pretty long so Imma stop here.

[blacktabbygames]

We're thrilled to announce that Slay the Princess — The Pristine Cut is releasing on PC, Mac, Linux, and consoles on October 24th! Please enjoy this animated trailer ^^

For those of you who aren't aware, The Pristine Cut is a free upgrade to the base game, that among other things:

Expands the game by roughly 35%. This means thousands of new voice lines, over a thousand new illustrations, and 17 tracks of brand new music.

Adds significant glow-ups for The Fury, The Den, and the Apotheosis, each of which has over three times as much stuff to see as they had in the base game.

Introduces three brand new Princesses that branch off of The Damsel, the Prisoner, and the Spectre.

Adds an entirely new ending to the game.

Adds a deep, interactive gallery to help you chart your progress across over 420 unlocks and that brings back your best (and worst) memories with the Princess.

Provides subtitle support for: Simplified Chinese, Traditional Chinese, European Spanish, Latin American Spanish, Brazilian Portuguese, Korean, Japanese, German, Polish, French, Russian, and Italian.

Brings the game to consoles — PS4 + 5, Nintendo Switch, and Xbox! And if you're the sort who collects things, both the PS5 and Nintendo Switch versions are getting a physical release, including a collector's edition!

And for those of you who have been waiting for an EU-friendly version version of the collector's edition that doesn't get hit by a ton of import fees, we're thrilled to finally reveal that we have one! Its contents are a little different from the US version of the CE — it swaps out the statue for a poster — but it should be a much more affordable alternative!

But wait, there's more!

You know how The Pristine Cut is coming out the day after Slay the Princess' one year anniversary? Well... we've also got something for you on 

the one year anniversary itself! Join us, Jonny, Nichole and Brandon for a big ol' livestream on our Twitch channel. Abby will be drawing EACH Princess live (new Pristine Cut princesses excluded), we'll be chatting about what it was like to work on the game, and we'll even be playing through one of the many paths through an expanded Pristine Cut route to give you a little taste of what's to come!

AND THAT'S NOT ALL!

We've also got you covered on the merch front! T-shirts and optical illusion Spectre keychains are now available on Serenity Forge's website, and for all of you Pin-Heads, we even have some extra Pinny Arcade Princess pins from this year's PAX West. Get 'em while they're hot!

And finally, a teaser for what's to come. I think you'll all really like what we've got cooking here >:3

Thank you all so much for your love and support — it's because of all of you that we're able to take big, ambitious swings with our work. If you haven't had the chance yet and you liked Slay the Princess, consider picking up our other Equally Good visual novel, Scarlet Hollow, which will be getting an enormous fifth episode next year!

All the best, Tony and Abby

[s3thwrit3sstuff]

❝ WHY AM I IN LOVE ALONE? (WHY AM I HURTING ALONE?) ❞

Gojo Satoru x male!reader | angst with comfort | unrequited love, ex-cheater!Gojo, arranged marriage | wc: 8.5 k | not proofread

warnings: character death (Geto Suguru), mentions of infidelity, r! has self-esteem issues, r! has some dark thoughts about su!c!de, mentions of parent death, abuse from parents (r! is from an influential sorcerer clan, his family kinda sucks), talks of virginity

masterlist; part 1; part 2; part 3; alternate ending; playlist; au's and what if's

authors note: there are some time skips here and there, hopefully, it isn’t too confusing! I really appreciate all the comments on the first part of this and I hope this satisfies you guys!

The flame of the candle casts the room in an evershifting blue. Pulsing and moving, pushing and pulling as the shadows undulated. It resembles the way sunlight dances on the waves of the ocean, piercing through the waters to reach as far down as it could.

It reminded you of —

Of summer.

The candle flickers, sparks of orange briefly flying, just as your father walks through the door of cement. It takes five men to push but they do so without complaint. Your eyes squint to protect themselves from the fluorescent lighting of the hallway and the flame burns upwards in the offence.

The men hastily pull the door closed. Your ears itch from the grinding noise of stone and your skin warms from the candle but you say nothing.

Your father kneels across from you. Unbothered by the still-furious flame.

The candle is the only barrier between you. It sits on top of cylindrical stone; the melted wax nearly covers the top, some dripping down the sides but you’ve never seen this candle shrinking or the flame dimming.

The room you’re in is one of great importance to your family. It was taller than it was wide. Dark as sin without this cursed flame. The (L/N) family nearly fell into ruins some century ago, a member of your clan decided to turn this room into a place where no secrets would be safe, so you’d have no enemies.

After he had done this, your clan flourished.

It served its purpose. No lies could be told in this room.

“Is Gojo Satoru in love with you?”

The flame calms from its fury. As if listening.

“Yes.”

Sparks of orange fly, shooting from the wick and pathetically fizzing out. His eyes darken, swallowing that gorgeous blue like a black hole.

“So your mother speaks truthfully.”

He had hoped it was just mindless gossip — misplaced anger from his own infidelity. Your father was never one to admit your mother was right.

“Geto Suguru.”

His name makes you turn your eyes down to your lap. Your father’s frown deepens. Further settling into permanent lines of displeasure on his ageing face.

“My son, born of the (L/N) clan, promised to marry Gojo Satoru. A six-eye user, soon-to-be head of the Gojo clan. My son who had centuries of ancestors fought to put him in this position of power with a strong family name, riches and opportunities beyond belief.”

“Bested by a boy whose parents aren’t even curse users.”

That haunting blue burns steadily.

“This is your duty, as son of the (L/N) clan.”

“Father, how could I compete with Geto Suguru — “

Your father reaches through the flames and grabs your face. The skin of his arm reddens as the flame roars at the disrespect. It licks at your eyebrow, your eyes, your cheeks. It burns. Though not like a regular flame would. It doesn't eat away at your flesh and render the fat past that — the flame hisses, digs under your flesh, and sets your nerves ablaze.

The pain is white hot and you swear you burst a vein in an attempt to grit your teeth together. It's like you're burning from the inside out, your skull heating up and glowing from where your skin is stretched thinnest.

You've been through this time and time again but the pain never dulls. It pries your lips open and a strangled wail is ripped from your throat.

Your face is held so tightly your cheekbones feel as though one more gram of pressure would shatter it. His face splits through the fire as he scowls down at you.

“I will not let the decision of a 15-year-old boy destroy what I’ve tried so hard to build. This is bigger than you ever will be. Your marriage to Gojo Satoru will make our clan more powerful than ever.”

You weep as you nod your head while nails dig into the flesh of your thighs. He lets you go, pushing your face away from his hand as if he was tossing trash away. You back away, hands shakily hovering above where your skin feels as though it's sizzling. Like you always do, you lean on the wall and the cool wall is like heaven.

The flame calms just as your heart does, at times it is as though it pulses with the beating in your chest.

In those minutes, your father stays stoic.

“Love is worthless in matters of power. The things I ask you to do will strengthen our clan, and strengthen our abilities. Put your selfishness aside, boy. This is a debt you owe to your flesh and blood.”

“...Yes, father.”

“Why do people stay with someone like that?” Megumi scoffs from behind the couch. He’s dressed in his pajamas, hair still damp from the shower he took. Meanwhile, you were sitting watching the television, dressed for bed yourself.

“I think it's sweet,” you say. The series was truly ridiculous and overly dramatized. Some cheesy and soapy drama that plays at night when lonely adults need someone else’s problems to obsess over.

“He stays with her even with all her flaws.” Megumi’s face says more than he ever could. You laugh, beckoning him over to settle next to you.

This is the usual. Gojo is always busy with missions here and there. Sometimes even needing to get onto a plane - he could be gone for days at a time. Leaving you, Tsumiki and Megumi.

Well, just you and Megumi now.

He doesn’t react as you squeeze him a little closer, just tucking his legs comfortably to lean on you.

“Okay, but that doesn’t negate the fact that she’s hurt him. I mean, it’s honorable but — isn’t he tired? I mean, she slept with his dad. Twice!”

You chuckle, grabbing the towel he had slung over his shoulders to help him dry his hair.

“You were paying attention! I thought you hated this show,” Megumi rolls his eyes. “How can I not pay attention? It’s so stupid I can’t look away.”

“Please. Just admit you like watching shitty tv shows,” you tease.

“I really don’t,” he denies. Megumi shrinks a bit despite his words and you chuckle. The dialogue from the TV continues and Megumi relishes the ambience.

The way you gently dry his hair. The dumb characters talk about who slept with whom and what impossible surgeries they wanna do. The lingering scent of the takeout dinner you indulged in with him today. Your shampoo and body soap and the smell of the detergent you use help him sleep easier at night.

“Is it the same for you?”

He feels your fingers pause. Not frightfully, more confused. He continues as your movement does.

“You’re like this doctor. You stay even if he hurts you.”

“What are you talking about? Gojo’s never hurt me,” your tone was perplexed.

“I’m not blind," Megumi mumbles. You pull your hands away from Megumi, his towel now on your lap as you wait for him to turn around. He does.

Then a commercial plays, something about a new aquarium that’s just opened; it casts the living room in blue and your heart gets caught in your throat.

‘ It’s not the same, ‘ you tell yourself, ‘ I’m not my father. ‘

“Whatever gave you that impression?”

“You rarely call him by his name. You stay up when he’s here but turn in early when he’s not. You go to clan meetings alone but he brings you around everywhere when he’s here. Dates, gifts, compliments.”

Megumi shrinks under your gaze but meets your eyes unwaveringly.

“Every time you look like you’re about to smile at his jokes you just...pause and remind yourself about something...is it Geto?”

Megumi inhales sharply at the expression on your face. The commercial had come and gone and the next that plays is a stream of constant colour; chaotic and disarrayed. The red-orange and yellow make you look like a curse.

But then your eyes soften and his grip on his knees loosens.

“I — I saw a picture.“

There are pictures of Geto in the house. Gojo said he would be fine without it but you found it ridiculous how much hurt he thinks he’s saving you from. You were already brought to your knees and metaphorically beaten down by the man you love and the man he loved; your best friends.

A picture of the four of you in high school wasn’t going to make you less or more pained.

Megumi’s asked about Geto before. But not like this; not like he knows something he shouldn’t. Geto wasn’t a forbidden topic.

But.

Your children deserved better than that. They should believe that love is important and that their fathers are there for them through whatever it is. That Satoru and (Y/N) were not going to just disappear and leave them to fend for themselves.

“On his flipphone.”

Of course.

Of course he kept that useless piece of crap.

Of fucking course.

“The wallpaper was of them. They seemed closer than friends. Did Gojo hurt you because of Geto?”

“Despite his flaws, he’s still my husband, Megumi.”

That doesn’t satisfy your son. His brows twitch and he gets that defiant look in his eyes that makes your stomach twist into knots. The ghost of that man, Megumi’s biological father, always sweeps through your brain every time he gets so stubborn.

You don’t hate Megumi because of it. Gods know how much you wish you weren’t a (L/N) — you wouldn’t have chosen your parents. Your mother, absolutely. Your father could go rot in hell with his new wife.

“But you’re unhappy.”

“I’m not — ”

The trailer of a movie plays; it casts the room in orange for a brief few seconds.

“You are. You’re lying. I’m not a little kid anymore, I’d be fine if you...if you divorced Gojo, I don’t mind if you move out. If you’d let me, I’d stay over. A kid from my school has divorced parents, he seems fine. He said it made his parents happier.”

“Megumi — “

“I can take it. You don’t have to stay together for Tsumiki and me anymore. You’ve raised us well.”

Not well enough if he’s pleading for you to leave Gojo.

“You’re just a boy. You don’t know what you’re saying. I think the TV show is really starting to get to you,” you jest. Megumi’s never been one for jokes though. Especially not ones as dumb as yours. Your awkward grin falls and you sigh.

“It wasn’t because of Geto. Suguru and Satoru...”

Megumi’s ears prick. He could count on his hands the number of times you’ve uttered Gojo’s name. Each time, it’s said with such bitter longing. The rotten essence of first love and cruel summers dripped from every syllable. This time, however, there’s a softness to it, an emotion Megumi would later know as yearning.

“They were the strongest and they were inseparable. With Suguru, Satoru could just be. With Satoru, Suguru felt worthy.”

“I was,” you sucked in a breath. “I was...there. Yes, it hurt me but I love Satoru, Megumi.”

How could you not?

Those heavenly eyes and boyish grin. His lips seem painted by the angels and his hair spun from those impossible-to-reach clouds and the purest of light. Satoru was beyond beautiful.

He was funny, brash, and annoyingly persistent. His very existence was irritating to some; he was good at everything. His hands were like Midas, everything he touched turned into gold.

Nonetheless, he was human. You would know better than most. When Suguru left Satoru looked like a facade of a young god. That’s what Suguru did to him that you never could. Suguru made him human.

So you didn’t blame Satoru for falling in love. You couldn’t even blame Suguru for falling in love.

You were an obligation chosen out of his own comfort. (Y/N), his precious friend whom he’d marry once the two of you were 17 years old.

You were duty and honor. You were a reminder of his godhood. He was untouchable and ethereal; even so, he wanted nothing more than to fall into the arms of the one person who could make him unravel his soul. He held Suguru more preciously as you aged until he couldn’t anymore.

“I love him.”

“But you’re sad. He makes you...sad.”

It pained you to see Megumi try to understand. He was your son. This talk of a loveless marriage and divorce, him saying he would be fine with the aftermath as if he would have to carry responsibility for it.

He was just a boy. He was your boy and he’s trying to protect you when it should be the other way around.

So you shake your head and reach forward to cup his cheek in your palm.

“I still love him, Megumi. Sometimes, that’s enough.”

Megumi wants to tell you it isn’t.

If love was enough, his mother would be alive and his shitty father would have stayed to be a father to Tsumiki and him.

If love was enough, Tsumiki wouldn’t be in a coma.

But he says nothing and just shrugs. He murmurs a half-assed agreement and then stands from the couch. He goes to bed that night, wishing nothing more than to see the world from your eyes. You were his father. More than his own was.

Gojo was a busy guy so he warmed up to you first. Despite how tough it was for you to navigate being a teenager yourself as you raised him and his sister.

He just wanted to make you happy. Because clearly, you were incapable of doing it.

Megumi found it hard to sleep that night.

“Awh, asleep already?” Gojo frowned as he peeked into Megumi’s room. He was supposed to arrive the next morning but he missed his family. So he took an earlier flight.

A creak made him look your way and his eyes widened.

“Don’t bother him, Gojo.”

“(Y/N)…” his footsteps sound tentative as he walks towards you.

“Don’t look at me like that, I was just watching a sad movie is all. Megumi stayed up late, so don’t wake him. He’s got school tomorrow.”

Gojo doesn’t believe you. The way he’s gazing at you is as if you were the most pathetic curse to have ever graced the earth. Had he ever looked at Suguru that way before his betrayal?

Gods, even the thought of him has your brain pulsing. Those lost summers and cozy winters were yours too but of course, for Satoru, it must’ve been different.

To you, they were everything because your friends were there. More importantly, Gojo was there.

To him, his Suguru, they were all they needed.

You wipe away some of the tears, sniffling and turning away from Gojo. “You came home early. I didn’t cook dinner tonight, but I can heat-up some leftovers,” Gojo follows you to the dining area. He wants to ask if you are okay, even if he already knows the answer.

‘ Is it Suguru? ‘

It’s on the tip of his tongue. It’s been 9 years since his betrayal, your mother's funeral, your father's wedding. Between Tsumiki and Megumi, and the missions there was never a chance to have that conversation.

But what if it wasn’t? You were more than that. You existed beyond the shadow that Suguru cast — in Gojo’s eyes anyway.

The microwave dings and it casts the kitchen in a warm yellow glow. “How was the mission?” He watches you make a plate, standing near the kitchen island with his arms by his side. “It went great. The uh, the plane ride there was sorta bumpy though.”

“Yeah? You got scared or sumthin’?” He takes his bandages off, eyes twinkling with something you can’t quite place.

‘ He’s making jokes, talking casually, ‘ Satoru thinks. His palms feel a bit clammy. “Hah, as if. Even if the plane was fallin’ I’d definitely get out of there,” he boasts with that careless smile.

You offer a chuckle, turning just as your smile fades into a polite purse of your lips. The plate is placed in front of him and he’s not hungry but he sits anyway.

Huh.

So this is what having an intimate dinner is supposed to feel like? It creeps in that you’ve never been on a date outside of this marriage. He had never wooed you before Geto. It was all casual and friendly. Even if it was just the two of you, your guardians would keep watch to ensure that nothing got too passionate.

Where were they when Gojo snuck into Geto’s room? Night after night, week after week...

He had never touched you like that. Every time he tried, you found yourself pushing him away. Not out of bashfulness or lack of attraction. You just can’t help but wonder if he’ll replace you with Geto in his mind and your heart breaks every time.

9 years of marriage and still, your bed was cold as ice.

At times you would feel panic, wondering if Gojo is with another body to fill that void that you can’t fill but then it ebbs away.

Because they weren’t Geto either. So they were just as meaningless as you.

You grimace.

To think you’d blush and swoon at the idea of your marriage. Enamoured at the fact Gojo chose you. Now here you are. A resentful friend, a horrid husband, and a failing father.

If it weren’t for Tsumiki and Megumi you would’ve been hanging from the ceiling or perhaps you’d “let your guard down” during a mission. Maybe even in front of your husband. Your train of thought is cut short as your mother’s face appears. Stiffening your lip, you turn your gaze to the table to collect yourself.

Gojo watches you shifting around and reaches a foot forward to bump into yours. He smiles at the way you get wide-eyed, frozen for a second.

“How was your day, my beloved?”

“I went to Jujutsu High to oversee Megumi’s transfer,” his brows lift.

“Already?”

“Just to make things easier, Gojo. So it isn’t so last minute. He practised summoning his Divine Dogs today too.”

You’re wringing your hands together, folding and unfolding your fingers all while glancing at the table. It reminds him of the day he found out you had feelings for him.

You were sat across from him just like you are now. The both of you were 15 and hungry, so you offered to pay for lunch. Suguru and Shoko had gone off to grab condiments and he saw it; that look of adoration in your eyes.

You were handsome and kind. A true friend to him, Suguru and Shoko. Then an idea popped into his head, an idea he’d never proceeded with if he had known the repercussions.

If he wed you, he’d still be able to be close to Suguru.

He was selfish. Suguru told him that it was cruel, you were their friend and this would hurt you.

“Satoru that’s cool-blooded. He’s had a crush on you for a year now, you shouldn’t,” Suguru murmurs.

“It’s just a crush, he’ll probably divorce me or something. Then, I’ll marry you, Suguru.” He interlaced his fingers with Suguru. Naked shoulder pressed to naked shoulder. His 16th had just passed, he’d have to marry you after his 17th birthday but it’s alright. He told himself you would get the message and he’d have Suguru. Duties fulfilled and promises honored.

“What?” Suguru’s eyes were so wide it was almost hilarious. Satoru turned on his side, outlining the traces his lips left on Suguru’s skin.

“Will you marry me, Suguru?”

Satoru’s guilt wraps around his heart with its sorrowful roots. He wonders if you think you’re ugly, or unworthy. His fondness for you wants nothing more than to hold you. You were his friend after all, before all of this; the missions the four of you would go on together were the highlights of his life.

He didn’t mean to hurt you.

The food tastes like ash in his mouth but he swallows it down.

“We should go out tomorrow.”

You blink at him, contemplating. He can see the tearstains on your skin, the wetness on your philtrum that you’ve tried to wipe away and the way your lashes are clumped together.

“Anywhere you wanna go, after we drop ‘Gumi off we’ll be off to the races. We could go shopping or —”

“I want to go on a mission with you.”

That catches him completely off guard. You offer a grin, and the slightest flash of teeth has Satoru nodding before you even get to say another word.

He owes you this. You deserve happiness.

“Of course, anything you want.”

Gojo should’ve stopped there. Said nothing else.

“I love you, (Y/N).”

All at once, he sees your eyes turn hollow and your smile tightens.

You don’t believe him.

“...Thank you, Gojo.”

Ever since, that’s the only way you responded to his “I love you’s”.

Thanking him for trying to convince you and himself that it was true.

Megumi’s never seen your father before. He looks so out of place at home. His hulking form and intimidating face were so rough like unpolished stone. He should be elsewhere, not eavesdropping like he is now but he can’t help himself.

Gojo had to tend to business and you couldn’t turn away your father. You knew what he was here to talk about anyway and after last night's screaming match with your husband, you were as tightly wound as a coiled snake.

“How is your wife, father?”

“She is healthy.”

A vein bulges from the side of your head, rage pumping through it as your jaw clenches. His gaze scrutinizes you in such an obvious way it makes you want nothing more than to exorcise him.

“Gojo Satoru killed Geto Suguru. Is this true?”

How could it not be true? You thought bitterly. My guilt, Gojo’s crying, my outburst — all proof of his death.

He scoffs, a pleased quirk on the corner of his lips.

“I suppose you’ve done well then, my son. You didn’t even have to do any bloody work.”

“You know nothing, father. Geto Suguru’s death was a tragedy, don’t you dare turn it into a victory,” you seethe.

“He was a troublemaker. A waste of breath — a weakling. He deserved all that he got, don’t tell me you’re sympathizing with a murderer?”

“He was my friend!” Megumi flinched as you yelled.

“If you hadn’t pushed me and Satoru to marry, all this pain would have been avoided. We would still be friends, I could grieve for him without bitterness in my heart!”

You have no more tears to give. Instead, your anger burned like an inferno, burning you from the inside as you glared at your father.

“You’ve ruined me just like you ruined my mother. Where is duty? Honour? All of that is just trampled by your greed! You are dishonorable! Disgusting! Selfish!”

“You dare speak to me that way?” He lifts his hand and Megumi's palms hover close to stop him. The doors slide open. Satoru stands there. Even with his blindfold on, his gaze is heavy.

He calls your father's name. He doesn’t hide his disrespect. No titles were shared. No acknowledgment of his relation to you. He was beyond mad.

“It’s best if you leave, old man.”

Your father lowers his hand and you realize your nails are digging into your palm as blood seeps through your fingers.

“This younger generation truly knows no respect. Does it pain both of you to be together? Is my son so ugly, Satoru?” He laughs derisively. “Put a pillow over his face as you take him then! Gods knows I did the same with his mother.”

You open your mouth and yell, an ugly yell that's so full of anguish and anger; no words or vulgarity. A scream that makes Gojo’s throat hurt hearing it. Your father looks at you in disgust, shaking his head as he turns his back to you.

“Pathetic.”

You lunge at him and Gojo stops you, gathering you into his arms as you try to reach for your father.

“I’ll kill you!”

“Beloved, that’s enough —”

“You monster! I’ll burn you alive!”

“(Y/N)! He’s gone! That’s enough!”

Gojo doesn’t know why but he lets his infinity down. He lets you dig your fingers in his shoulder, and scratch the back of his hands as he tries to gather your wrist and grunts as your head bumps into his.

“I’ll kill him! Let me kill him!”

He grabs your wrists and pushes them against your chest. You’re pinned to the wall and the more you struggle the more he presses on your chest. It forces you to take deep breaths, and for your brain to catch up with your body.

“He should be the one that’s dead! Not my mother! Not Suguru! Him! Why isn’t he fucking dead!?”

Satoru can’t help but think of those final moments with Suguru.

How ragged his breathing was as he leaned against the wall.

“At least curse me a little at the very end.”

Suguru’s smile makes Satoru feel like a teenager again. He reaches forward and Suguru noses into his palm. Satoru’s breath comes out in a shudder. There he is, the man he loves more than anything, dying.

Suguru hums as Satoru leans over to hug him. Using the bit of strength he has left his head slots where it belong; in the junction of Satoru’s neck and shoulder. He remembers how ticklish he was there and manages a chuckle as Satoru flinches as his hair did just that.

He has so many things to say.

But he feels that wedding band and he’s glad that Satoru won’t be alone.

“You went on a date with (Y/N) at the crepe restaurant, I could sense your curse energy.” His daughters had wanted to go there after and Suguru remembered how bittersweet it was to sit where the two of you had sat. He had imagined himself as you and he’s struck with the want to see you and Ieiri and —

“I should have married you.”

Suguru’s eyes water. “Satoru —”

“All I do is hurt him. You were right, Suguru. I was cruel. If I married you, we would all be happy. Your daughters and my children, they’d be siblings. (Y/N) would have found someone who would never be as cruel as I am. We would still be friends. I should’ve married you. I should’ve married you.”

Suguru was selfish too. He resented you for having Gojo. It pained him to think about how lucky you were ��� he wished you misfortune.

What kind of friend does that?

You’d met his parents. Spent birthdays together, and went through lessons and missions together. How could he resent you and love Satoru and Shoko so dearly?

“I chose my path, Satoru. But in another life...in another life, we’re all happy.”

Satoru feels Suguru’s lips press to his jaw.

“You can make it right, Satoru. You love him, you’ll know what to do. Just don’t be so crass, yeah?”

Your yelling doesn’t cease. He’s half a mind to yell along with you because there’s truth in your words.

Why is it that everyone that mattered wasn’t here? Because they’d hold you and tell you were alright. Your mother would’ve done everything she could to ease your pain. Suguru would be here to do the same for both of you. What would they say if they were here?

What could they do to help you?

Help him?

Satoru lets you push him away. Megumi wonders if he should walk in now. He’d never seen you like this. He takes one step forward and Satoru speaks.

“I want a divorce.”

A pin could drop and Megumi was sure it would sound like an explosion. Your chest heaving slows as Satoru watches you straighten your posture.

“Do you live to embarrass me, Satoru?” You can feel his infinity go back up.

“Or is it me that embarrassed you? Should I allow my father to mock Suguru’s death? What am I meant to have done? What could I do to satisfy you, husband?”

“This marriage is hurting us.”

Your bark of laughter makes Satoru’s heart clench.

“A marriage YOU could’ve prevented. Did you forget that? You’ve had all the time to stop it. In those 3 years, you fucked Suguru and confessed your love to him. What exactly did you intend for my life?” You cross your arms, trying so hard to keep everything contained but your mouth can’t stop itself.

“Because I could have been fine. Maybe my father would have cast me aside but at least I would have moved on. Instead, you wormed yourself into my heart and infected me from the inside out.”

“Your mother just passed. I didn’t want to cause you more pain by canceling our wedding —”

Your palm doesn’t strike him but that isn’t with lack of trying. He can see the way your hands shake as you attempt to nullify his infinity. The trails of blood that drip down from your nails piercing through your palm from earlier. Your eyes were as dark as night as you stared at him with a blank expression.

“You are dishonorable, Gojo Satoru. You are selfish, and you deserve nothing you have. Not me, not Megumi, not Tsumiki, not Ieiri and you sure as hell didn’t deserve Suguru.”

He snaps at you. Slapping your hand away as he points a finger in your face.

“You don’t get to scream at me when I tried to make this marriage work! For 10 years all I’ve ever done was love you!”

“All you’ve ever done is bury Suguru by using me, Satoru!”

“Oh, that’s bullshit!” Megumi is frozen in place. He had never seen you fight before. Had never ever seen Gojo yell or lose his cool. He feels his heart hammering against his chest and clasps his hands together.

“Every time I touch you, you pull away! Every time I kiss you, you flinch — Fuck! Do I repulse you?”

“You don’t get to be pissed about not being able to fuck me, Satoru.”

He takes off his blindfold and those cerulean eyes shine with fury.

“Of course I fucking do! You want to be the martyr so fucking badly and you did it, (Y/N)! You’re the martyr!”

You don’t let him poke his finger into your chest but despite your smacks, he touches you anyway. He grasps your wrist and his grip is so tight you can tell it’ll bruise.

That horrifying blue sears your skin.

“I may be selfish but you’re fucking vindictive, (Y/N). You tell yourself that you’re nothing and somehow it comes true. Living, stewing, in a dead man’s shadow just so you can feel good about not returning my efforts!”

Just a few nights ago he was sweet. Telling you that he loves you and he wanted you. You never believed him and here was your proof, the labor of your hurt and pain stands before you with righteous ire.

“So I’m done! I’m done.” You shake your head. He scoffs, letting you go as if he was tossing trash away.

“(Y/N) — ”

“We’ll divorce next year. Next year on this day, I’ll allow you to divorce me. But not now. Not today. Call me a vindictive, vengeful, stubborn asshole. But what I’ll not allow you to do is humiliate me all over again.”

Satoru wants to say something, but the whine of an animal stops him.

When you find Megumi clutching the neck of his Divine Dog your anger disappears in an instant. He isn’t crying though it’s obvious he’s simply holding it back. The dog's part as you reach to cup his face, whispering his name as he attempts to steel his expression.

“...I’m so sorry, Megumi. I’m so sorry you had to hear that.”

“It’s whatever,” he shrugs. Satoru sighs, combing his fingers through his hair as he crouches next to you.

“No, it’s not. You shouldn’t have to listen to that," Satoru sighs. “I’m old enough — “

You stop him by pulling him into a hug. He’s stunned, his face would have been comical in any other situation so Satoru smiles.

“You’re just a boy. Don’t act so tough so soon,” Satoru reminds him.

The few things Satoru and you could relate to was how your children would never have to face the theft of their youth as long as you were alive. You squeeze him tighter and he returns it, burying his face into your shoulder.

Despite being pissed at Satoru, he says nothing as he feels him stroke his head.

The dogs whine again and nuzzle Satoru and you, licking Megumi’s ears and cheek to dissipate this acrid scent of fear and anxiety.

“Can I stay over with you sometimes?” You know what he actually wants to ask you.

‘ When you leave am I still allowed to need you? ‘

His shoulders sag in relief as you nod.

“You don’t even have to ask, Megumi. You know I love you, right? I’ll always love you, my beautiful son.”

“Couldn’t have gotten a place with better Wi-Fi?”

Shoko glares minutely as you pluck her cigarette out of her mouth. You put it in yours and she gags at the indirect kiss which makes you roll your eyes.

“Just because you’re single doesn’t mean I’m interested, (Y/N),” you scoff and shove her shoulder. She stiffens on purpose but sways a bit. It makes you laugh.

The house you bought was a cute duplex penthouse. Something small for yourself and for Megumi when he slept over. Shoko was the only person to have seen it so far — other than Megumi of course.

Your divorce was months away but it was far too awkward to sleep on the same bed as Satoru after that fight. This was for the best; baby steps until you’re officially separated.

“Hm, even if I was interested in women you’re not exactly my type.” She lights up another cigarette and leans on the railings of your balcony. Man, hate Satoru all you want but he sure was generous with his money. The view was stunning. It must have cost a fortune.

“So. You’re single now.”

You cringe and shrink down, limply holding the cigarette as you brace your chin on your arm.

“For the first time in 13 years...”

“27 is a perfectly good age to fuck around. Not too old to scare anyone of a respectable age off but not too young to make people feel like a creep.”

“You’ve such a way with words, Shoko,” you mutter dryly.

“I’m just saying, sex is a great way to get your mind off of things.”

“Says who?” She laughs, turning to you with a cocked brow.

“Satoru may be the golden child of the sorcerer world but he’s not a sex god. His dick isn’t that good, alright? There’s someone out there that’ll make you feel like a virgin again,” her laughter dies out as she takes note of your bashful eyes.

“...No.”

“What?”

Shoko's brows furrow. It’s the most expressive she’s ever been.

“10 years and not once?”

You hide your face further into your arms.

“(Y/N)!”

“Okay! We never had sex, alright? I — I don’t know if he ever went to get his dick wet from somewhere or someone else. But me and him never fucked. I’m an adult virgin! Sue me!”

“Not even a handjob?”

You groan, smushing the cigarette into the ashtray before going back inside. She follows, belatedly smushing her cigarette when you remind her with a look.

“Ok — Okay, but do you want to be a virgin? It’s perfectly reasonable if you do. I’ll respect your choices. But, why didn’t you...?”

“Shoko, every time he touched me...I felt like the ugliest person on this goddamn planet. We tried,” you sighed. “He tried a few times. Never pushy, never forcing but no matter what fucking angle he approached it from. I just couldn’t.”

Shoko slides her arm over your shoulder and you pliantly turn to return the hug. Her shirt, unsurprisingly, reeks of cigarettes but it brings a semblance of comfort. For a moment you’re washed over with nostalgia though for once, it comes with no pain.

“Well, you’re good-looking and you should definitely take half of Satoru’s money in the divorce. You’re good with kids too, a definite catch,” she presses a kiss on your forehead and you accept it with a loose grin.

“You deserve someone and if you don’t want anyone that’s fine too. Just promise to invite me out sometimes,” her eyebags suddenly seemed darker and so you give her another hug.

“I love you, Shoko.”

“I know. Unfortunately, I do too.”

“You love me,” you tease as your fingers wiggle and she pushes your face away ruthlessly.

“Heavy emphasis on the unfortunately — tickle me and I won’t heal you.”

She lets you escape her grasps, flabbergasted at her statement.

Satoru twists the ring, the light that it catches shimmering bashfully at his attentiveness. His husband had moved out, Megumi decided to sleep over after a whole day of helping him settle in and Satoru didn’t know how to feel about it. His hand feels naked and uncomfortable. The air that breezes lightly on the bare skin make gooseflesh ripple. The ring is enclosed by his fingers and he props his face on the fist, peering at the papers of this mission and that. The writing all look like giberrish, floating aimlessly in his brain as he thinks of (Y/N).

Had he truly never felt Satoru’s affections? It might have not been the love he deserved but to call it nothing was egregious. Or was he being selfish again?

Satoru pinches his nose bridge. His throat longs for the burn of alcohol which surprises him. He wasn’t much of a drinker — he wasn’t a happy drunk.

The ring grew warm in his hold and Satoru squeezed it. It always had the funniest way of doing that. It was as if it was alive, like a cursed object made to punish Satoru. Whenever his eyes wander or his mind reminisces of passionate nights, it burns and he resents himself for it. 10 years of involuntary celibacy was not something he thought of when he was younger. He liked sex. He doesn’t know if it was because it was good or because it was with Suguru. Regardless, Satoru enjoyed it.

He thought that if you got over that hurdle in your relationship, the two of you could fall into sync. He knows he cares about you and he knows you love him.

The house was so quiet. Satoru wants nothing more than to hear your soft breathing, Megumi’s sleepy mumbles and Tsumiki’s shifting around in bed.

He was supposed to be the strongest so why couldn’t he keep his family together?

Suguru told him that in another life they were all happy. But Satoru can’t help but ask himself why not in this life?

His hand unfurls and he slips the ring back in place.

(Y/N) Gojo is a Grade 1 sorcerer with extraordinary skill and wit in battle. His face was crafted by angels with feather-light touches, ones that thumbed the furrows of his brow with a sense of melancholy and kissed his eyelids with love; Satoru did not deserve you. He didn’t deserve to wake up with you by his side, caught by how beautiful you were when your guard was down.

Satoru suddenly wonders what made him unable to fall. It wasn’t your personality, nor your voice. You were funny, intelligent, headstrong, resilient, and everything most men fantasized about. Was it him? Even with all his attempts, his sweet gestures and words, did you see through it?

Did you see him?

What was it that you saw?

A tall child craving for his favorite person to come back?

…Was it a pathetic sight, (Y/N)?

Did you heart bleed for him?

Satoru stands, slipping the mission papers back into their files.

His guilt is a willow tree you had planted within him, tended by his own hands and watered with your tears. It’s beautiful and lonely, surrounded by flowers that climb and choke its branches as it hopes for someone to understand it.

You had. You understood the isolation he felt being on top and you supported him and got stronger to reach him. You saw right through him and he remained blind to you.

Shoko's name flashed across the screen of his phone. Satoru picks it up mindlessly, sitting on the end of your — his bed.

“You better give him half of your belongings in the divorce,” she says. He hears the burn of the cigarette as she inhales.

“Suguru was my friend. Just as much as he was (Y/N)’s.”

Satoru’s brow twitched. “Excuse me?”

“Suguru. I was there, believe it or not, and so was (Y/N). Suguru was our friend, our brother, our Suguru. We grieve him every day. Even before he was dead, we grieved him. I don’t fault you for being a shitty husband because of your grief, (Y/N) wasn’t the best husband either.”

“Don’t pretend to understand — “

“Get out of your head and stop mourning alone. All those years. When have you ever come to see me, Satoru? I was hurting too. ”

She exhales, flicking the ashes away as Satoru covers his wet eyes.

"I fucked up, Shoko." That was an understatement of the decade. She glances at the night sky, watching the buildings breeze past.

"I fucked up."

“Itadori Yuuji?” You squint your eyes at the papers, ignoring the warmth that Satoru emits from your side. You were at a clan meeting. One that Satoru decided to join so, you had no choice but to listen to him.

“Sukuna’s vessel,” he tilts his head, scratching the back of his neck from the uncomfortable button-up you forced him into. If he wanted to annoy you, you’d gladly return the favor. It was a few sizes too tight and the tie you put around his neck choked him but, he acted as cool as a cucumber.

“The boy Megumi found?” He nods and you read his papers with more fervor.

“You fought Sukuna?” He smiles cheerfully, grinning from ear to ear as he spins in place.

“I won,” he cheers. It takes all your self-restraint not to throttle him. “That was reckless,” you hissed out, ignoring the servants eyeing the both of you as they set down the trays of tea and finger foods.

“I’m the strongest. I would’ve won anyways,” he peers over your shoulder to read through the report again.

“Why are you showing me this? The higher-ups already called for his execution.” He places his chin on your shoulder. Your breath hitched yet, neither of you commented on it.

“I told them I’d kill them if they executed Itadori Yuuji,” he faces you as you turn to glare at him. Your lips were centimeters apart. Satoru takes note of your racing heart.

“Are you insane?”

“He’s just a boy doing what he could to save our son. Itadori shouldn’t have to be killed for doing the right thing.”

He lets you push his head away, slipping the papers back into the document sleeve and sliding it over to him.

“He will be executed once he eats all his fingers, he is a lamb sent to slaughter.”

At times like this, you think of Suguru and wonder if he was telling some truth about the world you lived in. Kids dying in droves because of curses that would never exist if non-sorcerers didn’t exist. But really, this was no one's fault but Sukuna. The old bastard couldn’t just die instead, he prolongs his existence like a roach.

"Megumi blames himself for that,” your heart squeezes at the thought. “They get along great, such rambunctious students. You would love them, you could spend more time with ‘Gumi.”

“Satoru, I’m not going to be a teacher. I’ve no patience for it,” he looks befuddled at your words. “You’ve been my husband for 10 years, so that’s a lie.”

The reminder of your marriage earns him a stink eye that he just giggles at. The official papers were to be served in a few more months. Until then, you were still together in the public eye.

“Just...think about it, (Y/N). I know you’ve been busy with missions and these boring meetings but I also know you miss Megumi and he missed you too.”

Gods, he’s playing that card. Why does he always need to play that card? He knows you give in every time.

“How have those missions been? You’ve been traveling a lot,” he puts Itadori’s file away and gives you his full attention. “Exhausting but it is fun to sightsee and make new friends,” you reach for the cup of tea.

“...Ya popped your cherry yet?”

The tea sprays onto the table and you cough violently as you save yourself from the near-death experience. A servant gasps and rushes to clean the mess, another asking if you’re alright and if the tea was too bitter or hot.

“You’re — You are — “ he grins as you cough and pats your back. “You are so gross, Satoru!”

He cackles at your flustered expression.

The servants leave eventually and you stew as you sit across from Satoru, back turned to him to stare out at the courtyard. Your silhouette makes his smile widen. He props his chin in his palm, taking in the sight of you.

“I wouldn’t mind if you had. I was just asking, as a friend.” He’s glad your shoulders don’t stiffen. The only reply he earns is your middle finger.

“Whaaat? I just wanted to know if it was good.”

“Is this how you’re going to convince me to be a teacher? By asking vulgar questions?”

“Not my intention but if I can kill two birds with one stone then why not?” You groan as you hang your head, hoping the ground will swallow you whole. Satoru hums a tune as he awaits your answers.

“Fine! Fine. I’ll be a teacher.”

“You’ve earned one mark! For a full mark, answer the other question!”

You’re tempted to throw the whole tea set to his face but can’t help the smile that crawls on your face at his animated movements. So you turn to face him, shaking your head as you sigh.

“No, I haven’t. Does that satisfy you?” Satoru’s slack jaw makes you want to punch him.

“Nearly four months of traveling and missions and meeting other people. Not one got into your pants?” You huff and cross your arms.

“So you’ve let someone into your pants, husband?” Satoru gasps. “How dare you? I’ve been a dutiful teacher and my students will attest to this!”

He then placed his elbows on the table, looking like a schoolgirl about to gossip.

“You should tell me all about your type, I’ll be more than happy to help you,” he draws hearts in the air with his finger.

Your type? You wanted to scold him and maybe even degrade him for acting like a perverted cuckold but this question catches you off guard.

You found Satoru attractive. Then again, who didn’t? But what was your type? You place your chin between your thumb and finger. Satoru waits patiently.

“I don’t know, I mean, I know I like men but...huh...”

You scratch the back of your neck.

“I guess I never really thought about it.”

Satoru exhales, endeared by the worry on your face. He was a shitty husband but Satoru was a good friend. You had put your life on pause for his. It was only fair that he helped you. He may not be able to fully piece together your heart but he’ll do what he can until you can smile again.

Those months away helped, there’s no doubt about it, but he knows you miss home and you needed to put down new roots in soil that wasn’t infested and toxic.

He knows you’ll probably take years to forgive him. He’s willing to wait, so he can have his friend back.

“We can start simple. Which one of our friends would you sleep with?” Your shrug makes him list some names. Then the sight of your eyes widening as he says Nanami Kento makes him gasp.

“Nanami!? Our underclassmen!?”

As Satoru guffaws and goes on about how boring Nanami was your mind ponders on this tightening of your chest.

Were you too lenient with Satoru? After all he has done?

You weren't without sin or fault. You understand that much but this feels so different. Familiar, actually, there's no expectation in Satoru's affections.

It was casual and it made you feel lighter than you have in a long time.

Should you be angrier? As a boy, his friendly attitude felt like a slap across the face. Now, it just feels right. Has your heart finally stopped beating for Satoru? All it took was 10 years of a shitty marriage?

It was rare for sorcerers to live as long as you have. A sense of panic grips you. For a moment, the thought of time wasted flashes. Then, those sweet memories of Tsumiki and Megumi seep in. Memories of Shoko, Satoru, Suguru and you laughing boisterously at something stupid while eating at the school field.

Your eye creases as your cheeks lift. Satoru is still rambling about Nanami and the only thing that makes him stop is a sound from his fondest memory.

You're laughing. Clutching at your stomach and tear-pricked eyes kinda laugh. His huff of disbelief transitions into a chuckle.

Oh, you forgot how good it felt to laugh this hard. It felt so nice to have him as a friend again. So fucking nice.

"His cheekbones are something to behold, I know, but did you forget his old hairdo?"

Satoru can see the warmth seep back into your skin, your eyes are glowing again as you cover your face; those heavenly shades of (E/C) peek through your fingers. The ring glimmers, and for a moment Satoru's chest doesn't feel heavy.

"You can do better, husband," he says. Your teeth are in full view. No longer hidden by a grimace or frown or a tight-lipped grin. There was still a long way to go but Satoru was willing to go the distance. For his beloved friend who deserves it all.

He can't wait to tell Megumi you are back for good this time. He can't wait to see you interact with his students. He knew you'd get along with them, they'd love you. Gods know they need a break from him at times.

"You're so fuckin' dumb, 'Toru," you exclaim. He agrees with a hum and for the first time in a long time, you feel like yourself again.

"Made you laugh though," he dodges the pillow you'd been kneeling on with glee.

[zegrasdrysdale]

I LOVE HOW YOU WRITE!! if you have time vould you maybe do a jack hughes smut where reader wears the rival teams jersey to piss him off and its like rough??

its been rotting in my brain for forever 😭

[ bitter rivals ] j. hughes

paring : Jack Hughes x fem!reader

summary : just to make her boyfriend mad after a fight, (Y/N) wears a Flyers jersey to the Devils’ game against Philly in Newark … and she feels the consequences afterwards

warning(s) : smut ! rough sex, unprotected p in v sex, slight choking, hair pulling, possessiveness, pet names during sex. light angst

author’s note : hear me out … i was having a moment so i decided to tackle this request. not to mention i have been wanting to write something like this for a hot second so here we are. that’s how we got here so i hope y’all enjoy. i always have time to write some jack hughes smut too

༺═──────────────═༻

It's been nearly a week since their fight and (Y/N) hasn't heard from her boyfriend. Normally she wouldn't do something drastic since it's only been a week, but she feels like doing something drastic.

Instead of walking into the Prudential Center wearing a red 86 on her back, she wears an orange 11. She gets looks from a few Devils fans who know of her relationship with Jack, but she truly doesn't care. She knows will always be loyal to the boys in red and black despite trying to be petty.

After grabbing something to eat and drink, she heads down to her front row seats that she purposely bought just to make this point. She'll be right on the glass for Devils warmups in a few minutes.

Until then, she enjoys her chicken tenders and High Noon while fans begin to gather at the glass to get a close up look at their favorite players.

The Flyers come out first for warmups in their white away jerseys, then the Devils come out in their black alternate jerseys.

(Y/N) sticks out like a sore orange thumb in a sea of red, white, and black around her. She gets a couple of looks from the fans around her when she stands up. but it doesn't matter. She’s just trying to prove a point.

No one would blame her if they knew.

On the ice, she watches Luke skate up to his older brother. His eyes flicker in her direction. Luke leans into Jack’s ear and says something to him, who looks right at her. He has a look on his face that she has never seen before. He looks so angry.

When he starts to skate over to where she’s standing, Jesper intercepts him as soon as he sees where he’s going. He says something to Jack but Jack’s eyes never leave his girlfriend. She waves at him with a sly smirk on her face.

Mission accomplished. He saw her.

Jack slaps pucks at the net in obvious frustration or anger. She doesn’t know which it is at this point. She wouldn’t be surprised at all if he takes a few penalties during the game.

If he’s angry now, it’s just gonna fester for the next few hours. She’s probably screwed but it’ll be worth it in the end.

The Flyers jersey doesn’t deter her from cheering every time the Devils score a goal.

When Erik Haula nets his third goal of the night, she makes sure she throws the beanie she’s wearing onto the ice. Technically it wasn’t even her beanie. Jack left it at her apartment and never asked for it back so she stole it for the game tonight.

Throughout the game, she does notice that Jack glances at her a handful of times with a look of fury darkening his usually bright blue eyes. He sends glares at her when she cheers for the one goal he scored in the third period that secured the Devils the win.

An angry Jack has never scared her, but his anger has never been directed at her like it is right now. She’s either in for the worst night of her life after the horn blares when the game ends, or she won’t be able to walk tomorrow.

Like she usually does after a game, she meets up with the other wives and girlfriends in a lounge by the locker room. Kristen Haula is the first one to approach her.

“What’s with the Flyers jersey?” she questions.

“Needed to prove a point to Jack,” (Y/N) replies. “That’s all. I’m not jumping ship or anything. We just had a fight and he hasn’t spoken to me in like a week. I proved my point so next game I’ll be back in a Devils jersey.”

Before Kristen can reply, Jack marches through the doors and immediately scans the room. His hair is still dripping from his postgame shower and he looks very disheveled, like he rushed to get ready.

His eyes land on her and she presses her lips into a line. Jack takes large strides over to her so it doesn’t take him very long to cross the room.

“What the fuck is this?” he asks. “A Flyers jersey? A Travis Konecny jersey? Seriously?"

Kristen smiles and silently walks away while (Y/N)’s eyes remain on Jack. “What? You don’t like my new jersey?” she asks with innocence in her voice.

He bites his bottom lip as he thinks about his response. She gives him the smallest of smiles while the gears in his head turn. "I want you to take it off," Jack tells her.

"Oh, Jacky," she sighs. "You wouldn't want me to do that if you knew what I wasn't wearing underneath this jersey."

She watches his eyes darken. "Let's go," he says to her. "We're going to my apartment right now."

Her jaw drops and Jack grabs her wrist. "Who said I wanna go anywhere with you?" she asks as she tries to wrench her wrist out of his grasp. "You haven't talked to me in nearly a week, Jack."

Jack turns and faces her. "Wonder why," is all he says. She raises her eyebrows at him. "Let's go, (Y/N). We can talk at my apartment."

This time, she lets herself get pulled out of the Prudential Center and into Jack's car. Luckily she caught an Uber to the arena. A very small part of her figured she would be leaving with her boyfriend after the game.

Neither of them speak as Jack drives from the arena to his Hoboken apartment. Her eyes are on the passing buildings and cars. She feels Jack's hand on her thigh at one point but she doesn't react to it.

Yes, she was teasing him with the "if you knew what I wasn't wearing" comment. Yes, she hopes they'll fall into bed. Falling into bed isn't happening until they talk. She wants to know why Jack hasn't talked to her in five days before his dick comes anywhere near her.

It's a silent car ride and a silent ride up the elevator to Jack's place. She can still feel how annoyed Jack is by the fact that she wore the opposing team's jersey and still cheered for the Devils. She's annoyed too. She's annoyed because she had to wear the opposing team's jersey just to get his attention.

Jack opens the door to his apartment and walks inside. She follows him as he throws his suit jacket onto a coat hanger by the door. She shuts the door behind her and watches Jack unbutton the first few buttons of his shirt.

"Why?" she asks before he turns around. "Why did it take me wearing a Flyers jersey before I got your attention?"

He runs his fingers through his hair before he turns to face her. "I was thinking," he admits to her. "I was worried that I'd say something that I'd regret. I didn't want to hurt you, so I waited and actually took some time to think."

"Think about what?"

"Think about us," he softly tells her. "I wasn't sure if I was ready to find out if you actually meant what you said during our fight."

Her words come rushing back to her.

I don't know if I'm ready for this kind of life is what she had said to him.

"What did you think I meant by those words?" she asks.

"That you weren't ready for a life with me," he replies.

Jack is a beautiful man, but sometimes the smarts aren't there. Too many pucks to the head from Luke and Quinn.

"Jack, I meant that I didn't think I was ready to be an NHL wife," she tells him. "Of course I'm ready for a life with you, but it's everything that comes along with you. The spotlight, the eyes. I wasn't sure if I was ready for that."

The look that forms on Jack's face could make (Y/N) laugh. His eyebrows are raised and his mouth forms a little 'o'. She presses her lips into a line to suppress a smile. "I am such a dumbass," he says after he processes what she said. "Jesus Christ."

She wraps her arms around his neck and finally lets out a laugh. "You're my dumbass though."

When she leans in to kiss him, Jack pushes her away.

"Nuh uh," he says when she looks up at him. "I am absolutely not kissing you while you have that ugly ass jersey on. Not happening, (Y/N)."

Her eyes fall to the Flyers logo on her chest like she just remembered that she has the jersey on.

She reaches down between them and grabs the bottom of the jersey. Slowly, she pulls the fabric over her head to slowly reveal to Jack that she's not wearing anything underneath the jersey.

When the jersey is over her head, her eyes land on Jack. His eyes are wide while he looks her up and down. “Fuck, (Y/N),” he groans. “You really know how to piss a guy off. Not only are you wearing a Flyers jersey, but you didn’t even wear anything underneath.”

“Had to get your attention somewhere, Jacky,” she tells him as she gets up onto her tiptoes to attach her lips to his neck. “Glad it worked.”

Jack leans down and picks her up by the back of her legs. She wraps herself around him and keeps kissing and nosing at the skin on his neck as he walks somewhere in the apartment.

When he drops her on the couch, (Y/N) looks up at Jack and asks, “What about Luke?”

“What about him?” Jack settles comfortably between her knees.

“Won’t he be home soon?”

“Told him to find somewhere else to stay unless he wanted to see something that would scar him for life,” Jack tells her. “He told me that he’ll be at Dawson’s for the night. Now let me show you what happens when you decide to wear a jersey other than mine to a game.”

Yeah. She’s totally fucked. Literally and figuratively.

Jack ravishes her lips as soon as the last word leaves his mouth. A soft moan comes from her throat before she can stop it. One of his hands cups one of her bare breasts and the other cups her jaw. She tries to roll her hips against his to get some friction on her core, but he quickly puts a stop to that.

“I don’t think so,” Jack mumbles against her lips as he pins her hips to the cushion beneath her. “Only good girls get to come quickly tonight. You weren’t a good girl with the stunt you pulled.”

“Guess you didn’t like my new jersey,” she gasps as her boyfriend attaches his lips to the sensitive skin on her neck. “Or was it the fact that there was a different name on my back?”

The nip she gets is the answer she was looking for. Jack was jealous that another player’s name was on her back instead of his. She revels in the realization since it has been five days and it took wearing the jersey for him to talk to her.

He slowly begins to kiss down her neck and chest. He makes sure to give both breasts some attention before moving further down her belly.

Her fingers find a home in his now dry hair. She adores how soft his hair feels when it has just dried after a shower.

Jack’s fingers hook in the waistband of the leggings she has on. He slowly pulls the thin fabric off her body and kisses her hipbone when it’s exposed. She sighs as her boyfriend strips her of her pants. She kicks her sneakers off so Jack can pull them completely off of her.

She lets her legs fall open while Jack throws the leggings somewhere on the floor. Her soaked underwear is on full display for him. She watches his tongue dart out at his view.

“Touch me before I touch myself, Jack,” she orders him.

He goes back to hovering over her. A hand lightly wraps around her throat and she looks up at him in surprise. “You will do no such thing if you want to come tonight,” he retorts.

(Y/N) bites her lip at his words. She can’t remember the last time he spoke to her like this, but she is loving every second of it.

His other hand snakes between them and into the thin fabric of her underwear. A gasp comes from her lips as his fingers easily run through her slick folds. She wraps her hands around his arm to keep herself present.

“Jack,” she whines.

He cups her pussy and she has to stifle a moan. “Who does this belong to?” he asks.

“You, baby,” (Y/N) quickly tells him. “It’s all yours. I’m all yours.”

Jack leans down and presses soft kisses to her cheek and jaw. “Good girl.” His words shoot straight down to her already pulsing core.

Without warning, Jack stands up and pulls her up. He gets her on her knees and leans her against the back of the couch with her chest pressed against the cushions. In the reflection of the glass cabinet that’s behind the couch, she can see Jack undressing behind her.

He twirls her hair into a makeshift pony and gets on his knees behind her. Jack’s lips are on her neck right under her ear. “Tell me who fucks you until you can’t speak,” he whispers.

His low voice causes the knot that has formed in her belly to tighten.

“You do, Jack,” she replies. Jack pulls on the makeshift pony until she’s looking straight up at the ceiling. A soft moan passes her lips. “You fuck me so good. Only you.”

“Yeah, I do,” Jack mumbles as he presses her into the cushions beneath her. He doesn’t release the pony.

With one hand, he manages to get her underwear off of her and onto the floor with both of their clothes. She feels his hard dick between her legs and had to resist the urge to grind against it.

Her legs are practically shaking as she waits for release.

He leans over her and kisses the back of her neck for a second before he slams into her. She cries out in surprise because that was the last thing she expected to happen.

“Fuck, Jack,” she breathes out as he lets her adjust to him. “Give a girl a little warning before you destroy her.”

She feels him smile and mumble, “We’ll see.”

This boy is going to be the death of her.

A minute passes before Jack begins to rock his hips into her. She bites her lip to try and keep herself from making an embarrassing noise.

Eventually, she gives up because she’s worried she’ll make her lip bleed with how hard she’s biting down on it.

(Y/N) begins to meet Jack’s hips with every thrusts. She lets out soft moans and whines every time they meet. He lifts one of her legs up onto the back of the couch so he can get a new angle on her.

She has to lean against Jack’s chest as he continues to fuck into her at the new angle. “This pussy was made for me,” Jack pants into her ear. He wraps his arms around her to keep her steady. “Feels so good around me.”

She wants to say something, but she’s so overwhelmed with pleasure that she can’t form any. All she does is let out a soft whine in reply.

“See? No one else can fuck you speechless like I can.”

The knot in the bottom of her belly tightens. She has to force herself to form words. “Jacky,” she whines. “Wanna come. Been a good girl for you. Please.”

Jack kisses the swell of her ear and grasps her breasts. “You only wear my name, baby,” he pants in her ear. “My number on your back. No one else’s.”

“No one else’s,” she agrees. “Can I come? Please?”

He hums and she clenches around him as soon as she has his permission. She loses her vision for a moment as she comes on Jack’s cock. His name echoes throughout the apartment as she hits her high.

She had no idea that Jack could be like this. Maybe she’ll have to mess with him if she’s going to see this side of her boyfriend. She’s pretty sure that she’s never had an orgasm this intense in her entire life.

Without realizing because of how hard her orgasm hit her, Jack comes inside of her and slouches against her when he comes down from his own high.

When she comes to, she’s lying on her back on the couch and Jack is wiping her with a wet cloth. His boxers are on the lower half of his lower body and she pouts.

“Was that okay?” Jack asks before she can say anything. “I might’ve gotten a little carried away.”

She shakes her head and says, “It was perfect. It was more than okay. You were jealous.”

Jack laughs and shakes his head. “Maybe a little,” he admits. “I don’t like it when you wear other players’ jerseys.”

“Maybe talk to me next time and I won’t have to,” she teases. Jack rolls his eyes. “Anyway, can we go to bed? I wanna get your dick in my mouth and apologize in my own way.”

She’s surprised with how quickly Jack picks her up and whisks her off to his bedroom after that.

༺═──────────────═༻

MASTERLIST

have a request ? check out the guidelines !

wanna be added to the taglist ? fill out this form !

taglist : @dasiysthings @ithinkimokeei @equallyshaw @dancerbailey3 @goldihocksrocks @love4lando @sweetinsatiable

[lovexdeepspace]

hi! can you pls do an alternative version of the breakup of the l&ds men?? instead of making up and forgiving them, reader just flat out rejects them and kicks them out or reader has found someone new and the boys get a taste of their own medicine??

also love your work!!

“life without you.” (v2)

summary; once your trust is broken, there’s nothing xavier, zayne, or rafayel can do to undo the damage they’ve done.

warnings; angst, sadness, heartbreak

note; as much as i — along with others — needed a happy ending to the original post, the itch to do this was in the back of my head and i’m glad others wanted it too! ( credit to @neverlandlostchild for helping me immensely with this idea, i am so so grateful towards them and @noclue-0 for advocating for this idea alongside anon!! )

!! divider by @cafekitsune !!

part 1 | happier ending

༊*·˚ . xavier

curled up on the couch with remote in hand, you were absentmindedly scrolling through movies when there was a loud knock at your door.

food’s finally here, you thought excitedly while kicking the blanket off your legs. you grabbed your wallet and fished out a ten to tip the driver before heading to the door.

“thank you so — much.”

the last word fell flat as you opened the door only to find xavier standing there. he looked at you with half-lidded, tired eyes and a tight-lipped grimace as you took in the shell of a man standing before you.

his clothes were wrinkled and stained; his hair was messy and it was evident he hadn’t showered in at least a couple of days. his cheeks were red and tear-stained and you couldn’t help but think that he looked downright pitiful.

“xavier, what’re you doing here?” you asked, pocketing the money before crossing your arms over your chest. “i thought i made myself clear.”

the blonde rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “i know but i just couldn’t get you off my mind. i miss you and what we had.”

you raised a brow at him. “things with her didn’t work out?”

“she doesn’t matter,” xavier retorted with a frown. he stepped closer to you and you stepped back just as fast. “you’re all that matters to me and —”

he stopped as a voice behind you called your name and, a moment later, a pair of arms wrapped around your waist from behind. you felt your face flush as sylus pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“food’s here?” he asked you as his eyes moved from you to xavier. noticing the lack of food and the subdued yet very evident fury in xavier’s eyes, he quickly added, “guess not.”

“i’m —” xavier started but you held up a hand to cut him off.

“i think it’s best if you left, xavier,” you interrupted, leaning back against sylus. “we’re trying to have a relaxing evening.”

xavier faltered, giving you an incredulous stare before nodding slowly. “right. i guess i’ll leave, then.”

you gave him an unenthusiastic half-wave and shut the door in his face, leaving him alone in the hallway of your apartment building.

he felt the hot sting of tears in his eyes as he heard you and sylus laughing about something behind the closed door before forcing himself to walk away.

༊*·˚ . rafayel

with the days finally getting warmer you refused to stay holed up in your apartment all the time, often opting for outings to the park for some fresh air.

on a particularly fateful day, you were standing in the shade of a beautiful cherry blossom tree, admiring the picnic you had set up so perfectly. with your hands on your hips you racked your mental checklist, making sure everything was set out and ready for your —

“well, well, long time no see.”

shit.

pinching the bridge of your nose, you didn’t even bother to look over your shoulder as you addressed rafayel with a dull, “what do you want?”

rafayel clicked his tongue, sidling up to you. “aww, c’mon, that’s no way to treat your favorite artist.”

“you say that as if you have any right to be my favorite anything,” you retorted, side-eyeing him with a frown. he was watching you with that usual cocky grin but you could tell time had not been the kindest to him — dark circles under his eyes, unkempt hair, and this awful odor that made you gag as he moved closer.

“about that,” he muttered, trying (and failing) to put on that usual innocent guise that would’ve had a more naive version of you falling head over heels, “it’s been a while since i’ve last seen you. i’ve changed, i promise. i’ll be a better —”

“you won’t be anything, not to me at least,” you snapped, stepping away from him. “go run back to whatever her name is, since you wanted her so bad. i’m waiting for someone and don’t need you scaring them away looking like a lost puppy.”

rafayel staggered backwards at your harsh words, his demeanor changing as the idea of you seeing someone else really sunk in.

“who are you —”

“ah, fuck.”

rafayel’s jaw clenched as he slowly turned, eyes ablaze as they settled on thomas. his manager offered a sheepish grin before quickly heading to your side, muttering an apology to you.

“i can’t believe this,” the artist hissed, looking between the two of you. you shrugged nonchalantly and drove the point further by placing your hand in thomas’, slotting your fingers between his. “you - and you —!!”

“you made your choice,” you said plainly. “now, would you please leave? i’d like to enjoy my afternoon.”

rafayel gaped at you before muttering something under his breath, turning on his heel and storming away. the last thing he needed was for you to see the way tears had started to form in his eyes or the ugly sobbing that came seconds later as soon as he was out of sight.

༊*·˚ . zayne

you had finally found some balance in your life, a rarity that you held onto desperately. things had finally calmed down months after your breakup with zayne and you had bounced back in ways you didn’t even imagine.

hell, you even found yourself putting yourself out there and — with your newfound confidence — things were going really well for you!

so well, in fact, that you were sitting in the destiny cafè with a book in hand while you waited for your partner to return with your order. so captivated by the text, you didn’t look up when the chair across from you was once again occupied. it was only when the occupant said your name did you grimace and take a mental note of the page number before closing the book and setting it down in front of you.

“gods i do not have the energy to talk to you right now,” you said bluntly, putting your head in your hands. “or ever, for that matter.”

“well, hello to you as well,” zayne replied, sitting up straighter in his chair as you took your hands away to glare at him. “you look beautiful.”

“i know,” you deadpanned. giving him a once-over, you can’t see much difference from the last time you saw him save for the fact he looks more sleep deprived than usual. “now, let me be direct: i don’t want to talk to you.”

zayne sighed. “fine, but i need to talk to —”

he was cut off by the soft thunk! of two mugs being firmly set down on the table.

“here you are, pipsqueak.” caleb slid one mug in your direction with a sweet smile then turned to zayne. his expression quickly became menacing hidden behind a fake smile. “i’d say it’s nice to see you again, zayne, but i’m about three seconds from punching your face in. get out of my seat and leave my partner alone.”

zayne’s jaw clenched as he looked from caleb to you. “i just need to talk to them.”

caleb laughed and leaned in a little the smile dropping from his face. “you don’t need to do anything, zayne. so how about you get out of my seat and go yap to that girl you were getting all handsy with, hm?”

the air was thick and you could only watch with a smirk as zayne stood and quickly exited the cafè. caleb reclaimed his seat and reached across the table to give your hand a reassuring squeeze.

“you okay?” he asked, grabbing his mug with his other hand and taking a sip.

you nodded and squeezed his hand in return. “better now.”

[novaursa]

Aegon I Targaryen Masterlist

main list

- The Last of Valyria - You bind yourself to your siblings in a tradition of the Old Valyria. - mild 13+

- Witch of the Dunes - After Visenya tries to take your life, Aegon finds her with all the fury of the dragon. - mature 16+

- The Broken Crown (NSFW Alphabet) - explicit 18+

Works (sister!reader/Aegon I Targaryen) below are listed in chronological order:

- The Queen That Was Not - After Aegon broke his promise to you, he leaves you broken. You decided to take your fate into your own hands. But fate is a fickle beast. - alternative version of TBC, is standalone story - mature 16+

- Crown of Fire - Aegon didn't conquer Westeros because of the prophecy. He did it because of you. And it started as a child’s game. - mature 16+

- Chains of Flame - Aegon conquers the North, breaks your betrothal to Torrhen, and takes you as his third wife. - mature 16+

- To Hold A Kingdom - Aegon keeps his promise and marries only you. - alternative events of TBK- mature 16+

- The Broken Crown (1/2) - Aegon the Conqueror's youngest sister, Y/N Targaryen, once bethrohed to Torrhen Stark, is forced into a marriage with her brother after he calls off her engagement out of jealousy. Struggling with her lost future and the life she never wanted, she repeatedly refuses Aegon's attempts to consummate the marriage. When she tries to escape to Essos on her dragon, Visenya intercepts her, and Aegon, in an act of control, chains her dragon to prevent any further rebellion, leaving her feeling trapped and broken. - mature 16+

- The Broken Crown (2/2) - explicit 18+ (just to be safe)

- Fire and Heart - You accept your life with Aegon, finding happiness in him and your growing family. - one of the possible endings - explicit 18+

- The Conqueror's Legacy - Dragon blood is meant to twist and coil on itself, and so Aegon wishes to bethrode his children to each other. - follows the events of Fire and Heart - mature 16+

- The Last Flight - You go to Dorne instead of your sister Rhaenys. And you never come back. - one of the possible endings - mature 16+

- The Last Fire - You survived the fall in the desert, and now it's up to you to decide where your story leads or ends. - two of the possible endings - explicit 18+ (just to be safe)

- The Queen's Choice - On your way to Essos, your love for Torrhen wins. You turn your dragon North. - one of the possible endings where y/n chooses Torrhen Stark - mature 16+

- The Fire That Was Promised - You burn down King’s Landing in an act of revenge before flying to Shadowlands. - one of the possible endings - mature 16+

[flowerandblood]

The Fall from the Heavens (11)

[ canon • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: sex content, smut, angst, violence, swearing, descriptions of wounds, physical and verbal aggression ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

After what had happened, after what he had found out, he ordered his most necessary things to be moved to her chamber. Seeing the look on his face and his fury, his mother dared not say a word on the matter, sensing that he already knew what she had done with his grandfather's blessing.

She had forced his betrothed to drink moon tea without his knowledge, without his consent, knowing that he would never allow it to happen, that if it turned out she was expecting his child he would marry her immediately without asking their opinion.

He thought with regret and remorse consuming his soul and heart that he should have done it right away, but now it was too late.

His moment of hesitation had cost him everything.

For the first two days, the only thing that came out of his niece's mouth was a quiet babble; she was still asleep, and when she woke up, his sister fed her with warm soup.

Helaena was the only person besides the maester and himself that he allowed to be in her chamber.

His mother, grandfather and Cole were not allowed in by his decision – he had vowed to them that if they crossed the threshold of her quarters, neither he nor Vhagar would aid them with their participation in the war they had unleashed at their own request.

As it turned out, his threat worked.

He realised that he was indeed a rider of the greatest dragon living in the world and could use that as a negotiating card, that they needed him and the alliance he could provide for them.

Storm's End.

He only left her alone when he needed to deal with something urgent, always asking Helaena to stay by her side then.

He trusted no one but her.

To his surprise, his brother-king showed a surprising understanding and a kind of compassion he had not expected from him.

He did not mock or joke about the situation during the meetings of the Small Council, and asked if her health was improving, personally giving his permission for him to be able to stay with her day and night even though he was not her husband, against the wishes of their grandfather.

The power they had was turning against him and Otto felt this, his daughter was also no longer so willing to listen to him seeing what tragedy the decisions he was putting into her head had led to.

She had completely broken down after the day following his niece's attempt to take her own life, because word from Dragonstone reached them that Rheanyra had lost her child.

In him his mother tried to find understanding and words of comfort, but he did not speak to her or look at her, unable to forgive her for her betrayal.

He had hoped that as a woman she would show more sensitivity, more caution.

His niece lived as if half asleep, waking and falling back into a dream, not understanding who she was or what was happening to her.

As night fell he would pull off his tunic and boots, staying in just his chemise and breeches, lying down behind her back, embracing her, entwining their fingers, sinking his face into her fragrant hair, inhaling her addictive scent.

She purred then sweetly, involuntarily recognising him, her head tilting back, letting him place soft, warm, wet kisses on her long neck, his large hands tentatively trailing over her body covered only by her thin nightgown, trying to draw on the time he had left until it reached her what had really happened.

His cock throbbed hard in his breeches as she whispered his name, pressing against her buttocks; he sighed quietly then, rubbing against her but not bringing himself to fulfilment, punishing himself in this way, recognising that he did not deserve relief.

He wanted to burn with her.

After three days he was awakened by her quiet hiss; he flinched and opened his eyes, sensing that she was trying to get up. She stared at her wrists wrapped in a fresh bandages before looking at him and he already knew.

Her lips pressed together, her brow arched in pain and disbelief, her eyes glazed over with tears of helplessness, anger and disappointment, her body began to twitch.

"− my love? −" He whispered, but she turned away from him, laying back on the bed and wept. He put his arm around her waist and kissed her neck, feeling the squeeze in his throat, breathing erratically, tears of shame in the corners of his eyes.

"− I didn't know − I swear I didn't know about moon tea −" He muttered, but he knew it was for nothing.

She didn't speak to him then or for the next few days, not even bestowing a single glance on him.

He thought with a sneer that the roles were reversed, that now it was he who begged in his thoughts for her attention, for her forgiveness, and he wondered if she would follow in his footsteps and not speak to him for the next eight years.

He sat in the evenings in a chair by the fireplace, gazing at her silhouette lying on her bed, a book in her hand, her wrists no longer bandaged, her freshly healed wounds still red, dark lines on her skin reminding him of who he was and what he had done to her.

At night he would lie down beside her and embrace her from behind, stroking her hands with his thumbs, and though her whole body tensed and froze when he touched her, she never pushed him away.

It seemed to him that her silence was even worse than her words of condemnation.

The day he was to set out on his mission to Storm's End was approaching mercilessly and she still didn't know it; he had no idea how he should convey it to her, himself discouraged and bitter at the thought of being forced to marry another woman, of living in a purely political marriage, which although he had reckoned with as a child, after his father's decision, he believed he would never experience.

He thought, looking at her face, at the girlish, pleasing shape of her body, about marrying her in secret, but he knew that she no longer wanted him, and no Septon would agree to help him out of fear of the Queen and his grandfather.

A nuptials in the tradition of Old Valyria remained, however, it required a cooperation on her part that he did not expect.

Moreover, guards stood outside her chambers day and night, watching not only her but also him, his grandfather was prudent and seeing his involvement he knew that he would try to act behind his back.

Although he hid behind a stony, indifferent face he felt helpless and tried to find a solution in his mind that would give him more room to act, to lull his family's vigilance.

He decided that, for the time being, he had to act as his relatives wished, so that they would believe that he was going to do what they told him to.

However, he had no idea how he was going to reason with his niece, how he was going to initiate her into his plans when, for obvious reasons, she was no longer going to participate.

He finally decided, experiencing a kind of revelation, that he would write her a letter, just as she had done to him all these years.

He saw her lift her gaze to him from the piece of embroidery she had just worked on, a bird from the crest of the Arryn family, her relatives on her grandmother's side, as he moved towards his secretary's desk, from which he pulled out a quill, ink and parchment.

Her expression of who she was, who she identified with, whose side she stood on.

He didn't give a fuck.

He sank the sharpened quill into the ink and stared at the blank sheet of parchment for a moment, wondering what it was he actually wanted to convey to her, and then he began to write, for the first time in his life openly expressing what he felt.

He thought it was liberating in a way, his words flowed like a river from his mind and his heart.

My Rhaenys,

I set out on my journey to Storm's End to quench my grandfather and mother's thirst with a sense of injustice. It occurs to me that only now am I able to understand what you have been going through all these years, experiencing from me only the silence I deeply believed you deserved at the time.

I'm sure you think the same of me now, and you're not wrong, because I myself am unable to comment or justify what happened through my hesitation, which cost me everything.

I thought it is easy to see what is right and what is wrong, to choose the proper path, but after my father's death it became apparent that none of this was the case, and my mother's and my grandfather's decision set it out for me, against my will, and although I tried to stand up to it, it seems to me that the consequences of their actions have sunk me like a wave that carries me onward, away from the safe harbour that you are.

I want you to realise, my niece, that one word from you is enough for us to slit our lips and hands upon my return and drink our warm, mingled blood, sealing at last our destiny once and for all.

I, unlike Aegon the Conqueror, want you in my bed every night.

I don't think Lord Baratheon's mind can contain what we read about as children and that he would accept that his daughter would be merely a second, and moreover, unwanted wife in my life. Union with him may give us an army to wage war on, but my union with you may in my mind end it with the birth of our child, a descendant of the Greens and Blacks.

I am not, and will not be able to accept, either as your uncle or as your husband, Jacerys, Lucerys or Joffrey as heirs to the throne for reasons that are well known to you, and which neither the marriage nor the threats of your stepfather and your mother can change − we both know full well that they do not and cannot have rights to the crown.

However, Aegon's and Viserys's rights to it are strong, unassailable even by me, and although as your uncle I have no personal interest in your mother or her offspring sitting on the Iron Throne, as your husband I would be willing, as part of a truce, to agree that it should not be Helaena and Aegon's children who inherit the throne, but my half-sister's and my uncle's or, if both sides in the conflict were to be at least partially satisfied, ours.

I have spent the last few days reflecting on what has happened and on what I think would be a solution that would satisfy me, but it has turned out that there is none. Unlike my brother, I don't delude myself that your mother will bend the knee, any more than any person with any dignity or pride would.

We all have to sacrifice something.

He looked at what he had written being filled with awe at how many words were in his mind, how many thoughts he was afraid to say out loud, that one could perhaps even consider a betrayal.

His words to her, to his childhood friend.

He huffed at the ink, wanting to make sure it wouldn't smudge, and rolled the parchment into a scroll. He rose from his seat with a creak of wood, feeling her surprised gaze on him as he placed his letter on the small table beside her bed, and then left, informing his guards that in his absence no one but his sister was allowed to cross the threshold of her chamber.

He changed with the help of his servants into his rider's attire, his leather cloak and gloves reminding him of how long it had been since he was riding on Vhagar, absorbed in all the events of the past weeks.

Rhaenyra gathering her forces around Dragonstone, her wrath that reached all the way to the Red Keep announcing that she would take back everything she had been robbed of.

Her daughter and her throne.

He thought about this, heading for the hill near the keep where his dragoness rested, no longer fitting into the Dragon Pit, like he didn't suit anywhere, didn't belong anywhere.

His journey to Strom's End was unpleasant and tiring; he had the feeling that the heavens were trembling with rage, that he was defying, though not of his free will, his destiny, the storm around him and the rain made him see little and he had to be very careful, gliding between the peaks of the mountains.

When he finally saw the high stone stronghold on the edge of the cliff in the distance he pressed his lips together and thought he would choose the most annoying and unpleasant of his daughters, not to experience a single bit of sympathy towards her when she realised what fate awaited her.

He squeezed his eyes shut, thinking of his beloved, his Rhaenys, and felt his heart beat fast, elated at the thought that she had surely already read his letter.

He thought it was amusing that as he flew to choose his future wife, all he could think about was how much he wanted to marry someone else.

He was welcomed in the fortress with honours. Lord Baratheon with his wife and daughters awaited him in the great circular throne room lit by torchlight, all around them he could hear the thunders being muffled by the thick walls.

"My Lord." He said lowly, looking up at the tall man seated before him, his bushy eyebrows furrowed as if he was judging him as a candidate for a husband for his daughters.

He struggled to contain the grimace of amusement that pressed across his face.

"My Prince. At last you have honoured us with your presence." He said drily, with an impatience from which his lips involuntarily curved into a wide smile. He could see in his gaze that he did not like it, however he clearly cared as much about this agreement as his mother, for he decided not to make any further remark.

"Let me introduce you to my daughters." He said in a low, throaty voice, pointing with his hand to his side, his gaze lazily directed towards them.

They each had dark hair, tied up in elaborate hairstyles apparently meant to add to their elegance and refinement, braided in the back and smoothed in the front, their simple gowns, though sewn of the most expensive materials, looked faded and grey to him, their eyes dark as were their eyelashes and eyebrows.

They were not repulsive or ugly, yet he felt nothing at the sight of them.

The emptiness that taken over his mind was astonishing to him compared to what overwhelmed his body when he saw his niece years later then, when she had watched his duel with Ser Criston, when he saw her bare shoulders, her long, loose, wavy hair, her sweet, puffy lips, her big, bright eyes.

He shuddered, reminding himself of her beautiful soft bare body, of how wonderfully tight and warm her fleshy insides were, of her sweet, shy moans of pleasure as he opened her wide on his fat cock again and again with confident thrusts of his hips.

His manhood throbbed in his breeches so hard at the thought that he swallowed loudly and grunted.

He nodded and approached them slowly, measuring them with his gaze. Only one of them dared to lift her gaze to him – he noticed a barely visible amused smile on her face. He raised his eyebrows seeing this and thought that she liked to coquet and mock men.

Perfect, he thought.

These were the kind of women he despised the most.

"What do they call you, my Lady?" He asked in a low, deep voice that echoed around them.

The girl straightened up proudly, clearly pleased that she had caught his attention, her gaze travelling over his figure from top to bottom, she was just deciding, apparently, whether she thought him handsome.

"Maris, my Prince." She said softly, her voice low, not as melodious, girlish and light as his niece's.

"Hm." He hummed under his breath and shuddered as he heard a guard walk swiftly into the great hall.

"Prince Lucerys of House Velaryon, heir to Driftmark." He announced loudly, and he turned, feeling his heart begin to pound like mad, his lips tightening into a thin line as he caught sight of the silhouette of a black-haired boy, completely drenched from his journey.

When Luke spotted him at the other end of the hall he froze completely, pale and terrified – he felt a wild satisfaction at the thought that he knew he didn't stand a chance against him in a battle neither on the ground nor in the heavens.

He watched with a wide grin and a sneer as little Lord Strong in a trembling voice tried to persuade Borros Baratheon to support his mother's claim to the throne in accordance with his father's oath, and laughed aloud when it became apparent that he had come up empty-handed.

"Go home, pup. Tell your mother she won't call on me when she wishes like some dog." Growled Lord Baratheon, clearly self-satisfied that he could dismiss him with such ease, leaving him with nothing.

He felt like going after him, forcing him to fall to his knees before him and then gouge out his eye, to experience a wonderful sense of justice and atonement at last, but he refrained, recognising that his Rhaenys would never forgive him for that, so he merely looked away and sighed contentedly, grinning to himself.

"Was it not he who took your eye, my Prince? Are you going to let him just walk away?" He heard Maris's amused, mocking voice behind him and looked down at her with a gaze from which she lost her earlier confidence, her smile gone from her face.

"I have made my decision, my Lord." He said in a cold, indifferent voice. "Her."

Though Borros Baratheon's wife had insisted that he stay in Storm's End and not return to King's Landing during such a violent storm, he had replied that he would leave immediately.

Lady Baratheon looked at him then, tightening her lips, clearly wanting to ask something, hesitating whether she should do so, but in the end she could not bear it.

"It has come to my knowledge that Rhaenyra Targaryen's daughter, and your would-be betrothed, is your prisoner, my Prince." She said reluctantly, watching him intently, as if she wanted to see anything in his face that could tell her if he still had feelings for her, if this girl was any kind of threat to her daughter.

He looked at her with an intense, indifferent gaze until she turned her face away, swallowing loudly.

He hummed under his breath and left without giving either of her daughters a single glance.

As he left their stronghold he noticed with surprise that Luke was standing in the distance in the rain, quivering all over, looking at him. For a moment they did not take their eyes off each other, all around them lightning and thunder making the ground beneath their feet tremble.

"I want to see my sister." He called out to him in a shaky voice, forcing himself to be confident, and he snorted, turning his head away.

He wanted to humiliate him, to press his face to the mud and remind him that he was a fucking bastard, but he hesitated.

He licked his lips at the thought that if he allowed them to meet perhaps she would forgive him, believe that he was not her enemy, that for her he had not carried out his revenge, for her he had not killed, but had brought to her the man he despised so deeply.

His expression of goodwill.

"Fly after me, my Lord Strong, if you dare." He sneered and moved towards Vhagar, climbing the ropes to her back, settling into his saddle all wet from the rain to take to the skies with her a moment later.

He looked over his shoulder and spotted the figure of a small dragon among the dark clouds; he thought in the back of his mind that his nephew had been a fool, that he had been guided by his emotions rather than reason.

He decided to take him to Vhagar's lair, and then to one of the back entrances to the Red Keep which he used when he wanted no one to notice his disappearance.

After a few hours of travel, he landed on the hill and slid off his dragoness onto the wet grass, watching impatiently as his nephew took his place a piece away, looking at him apprehensively as soon as he jumped down, catching the hilt of his sword. He smirked mischievously at the sight.

"Don't be ridiculous, nephew. Fighting you would be a little challenge. Come." He hissed impatiently, turning and moving ahead, cold and wet just as much as he was.

"How do I know it's not a trap? That she's alive?" He heard his trembling voice behind him, full of fear and uncertainty, from which he sighed heavily, rolling his eyes, hoping his niece would appreciate how much he had sacrificed for her, how much he had put himself at risk for her.

"If I wanted to kill you or imprison you, I would, my Lord Strong." He said indifferently, stopping him with a gesture of his hand, seeing the guards walking along the wall above them, looking around; he only moved on when they were out of his sight.

They went inside through a small wooden door covered in ivy, which opened with a loud creak; he looked at him with disapproval, his eyes large, his face pale, he breathed loudly through his mouth, knowing he was a fool.

That if he took him hostage their mother's hands would be tied, deprived of her two children and two dragons she would have to bend the knee.

He contemplated whether to do so, whether it would perhaps end the whole war, but he decided that this one, and only one time, he would do something not for himself, not for his family, but for her.

Proof of how deep was his affection towards her.

"Wait here and be quiet." He growled and moved ahead leaving him behind, passing into the pits beneath the Red Keep itself.

He climbed the cramped side servants' staircase to the corridor into which her chamber was located and came upon the surprised guards, who awoke upon hearing his footsteps and stood at attention.

"Bring me my dry garments and inform the servants that I will take a bath." He said lowly, one of them nodded and immediately moved ahead, intending to obey his order, but the other remained in his place, looking at him uncertainly.

"Has she eaten anything today?" He asked him, and he shook his head, swallowing loudly, terrified apparently that he would blame him for such a state of affairs.

"Inform the cook to prepare some warm soup for her."

"Now, Your Grace? It's the middle of the night…"

"He is to prepare her fucking warm soup, I said." He hissed, the man nodded and also disappeared after a moment around a corner.

He walked into her chamber, and she pulled up in bed with a scream – he saw that her face was red with tears and he felt a squeeze in his throat that perhaps it was because of his letter, that perhaps she still loved him.

However, there was no time to think about that.

"− uncle? − what are you − stop −" She cried out horrified, not understanding what was happening, what he wanted to do, when he took a plain grey hooded coat, pulled her violently by her arm and forced her to stand up, putting it over her shoulders and head.

"− no −" She mumbled, but he pulled her forcibly out of her chamber; after what had happened to her she was still weakened and her resistance was having no effect.

"− I don't want to − you won't make me − I'm going to scream −"

"Be fucking quiet. Don't you want to see your little brother? Hm? I thought so." He growled, gripping his fingers tighter on her arm and heard her quiet squeal of discomfort, however, no more words left her lips.

They walked down the same path he had entered, walking for a while in complete darkness – he knew she had walked barefoot, that she was cold and uncomfortable, but they had no time.

They had to get back before the guards informed anyone that she was not in her chamber.

He let her go as they stepped out into the narrow corridor at the end of which Luke was standing, heard her draw in a loud breath and stop in mid-step, not believing what she was seeing.

They both looked at each other as if they couldn't believe it was really happening, completely shocked.

"Luke!" She cried out and ran towards him pulling the hood off her head – they threw themselves into each other's arms, both bursting into sobs like little children.

He stared at them impassively thinking about giving them a few minutes and then bringing her back and taking her in her bed, his cock swollen and hard, he hadn't experienced relief in days.

"A-are you all right? Did they hurt you? Why do you have a bruise under your eye? What is it?" He asked in a trembling voice taking her wrists in his hands, noticing the freshly healed cuts on them.

Luke looked at him accusingly, but she shook her head, grasping his face in her hands, stroking his cheeks with her thumbs, smiling broadly, happy and full of energy, as if awakened from a deep sleep.

"No, it was an accident. Nothing serious." She lied, and he lowered his gaze at the thought that he hadn't spoken a word to Criston Cole since that day, since he found out what he'd done, and the only reason he was still alive was because his mother had begged him to show mercy.

"Please, Aemond." His mother mumbled in a trembling, terrified voice, holding his shoulders, seeing his cold, angry gaze directed at her sworn protector.

"I'm not going to ask a third time, Cole. Did you hit her?" He hissed through clenched teeth, feeling that the bones in his jaw were about to burst with rage, his hands closed into tight fists, his chest rising and falling rapidly in uneven, ragged breaths.

Ser Criston lowered his gaze and swallowed loudly, standing with his hands folded behind him, clearly embarrassed.

"Yes, my Prince. I admit with shame that I lost my temper. I called her an undignified name and slapped her." He mumbled, not daring to look at him; he felt his lips part in a wicked grin that had nothing to do with contentment.

"Did you do it before or after you made her drink moon tea?" He asked in a mocking, matter-of-fact, sharp tone, and saw the glances that Cole and his mother exchanged, horrified that she had already told him everything.

"− Aemond, she cannot carry your child if she is to marry −"

The Queen began but her voice stuck in her throat when he locked her cheeks between his fingers in sudden, violent gesture, digging his fingertips into her skin, Criston Cole twitched not knowing what to do, her pupils dilated in shock and fear.

"I was the one who wanted her to run away with me. For her to give herself to me. I promised her I would marry her. And I fucking meant it!" He growled like an animal and shook her head as if he wanted her to finally realize what he was saying, felt tears of helplessness under his eyelids as he looked at his mother in despair, her gaze changed, she drew in air loudly, her eyebrows arched in pain.

"My Prince, for gods sake, it is your mother!" Exclaimed Criston Cole, and he let her go, panting hard; the Queen took a few steps back, breathing heavily, looking at him in disbelief and pain, holding her hand on her chest, trembling all over.

She did not recognise him.

"Return with me to Dragonstone." He heard Luke's quiet mumble and furrowed his brows, returning with his mind to them; he felt his heart begin to pound like mad, terrified that she would try to run away with him, his hand slipped involuntarily to the dagger fastened to his belt.

He swallowed loudly at the thought that he should have followed his instincts from the very beginning and just kill him.

"N-no. No." She said horrified, seeing in his gaze what he was thinking about, what he was prepared to do; she stroked her little brother's shoulders with hands trembling with fear, smiling again, wanting to comfort him.

"But you go. Tell my mother that I am faithful to her and that I love her very much. Can you do that for me?" She asked softly, her voice breaking as she spoke her last words.

"I won't leave you here. I will never…"

"You will leave. I'm begging you, go now." She muttered, releasing him, but his hands refused to let her go.

"Please."

"I can't, you have to understand me −"

"Time's up." He heard his own low, cold voice, saw her terrified look – she nodded quickly, wanting to be obedient and gentle, wanting him to remain calm, not to do anything under sudden rage.

"Go, Luke." She said.

"I'll set you free, I swear." He mumbled and let go of her hand, escaping at last, disappearing into the rain.

They both let out a loud, terrified breath and looked at each other uncertainly, his hand letting go of the hilt of his dagger. He felt some kind of deep, wonderful relief.

She stayed of her own free will.

He licked his lower lip in satisfaction at the thought that she herself didn't know what she thought of it all, her cheeks red from emotion and tears.

"How did you find him?" She asked quietly, looking at him uncertainly, as if she didn't know what she could expect from him. He hummed under his breath at her question, lifting his chin in a gesture of superiority.

"He came to Storm's End as an envoy." He explained matter-of-factly, approaching her slowly with his heart pounding faster and faster, feeling like his cock was about to explode if he didn't finally touch her.

She swallowed hard at his words, lifting her gaze full of pain and regret to him, her eyebrows arched in a clear sense of helplessness; he thought with delight that he was not indifferent to her.

"Have you made your choice?" She asked quietly, and he smirked, feeling that somehow he had regained his advantage over her, that she was jealous of him.

"Yes."

"Then I'm afraid you can no longer sleep in my chamber. It would not be appropriate." She said softly, not taking her eyes off him, and he felt his heart stop, his lips tighten into a thin line.

"After what I did for you? What I risked for you? This is how you thank me?" He growled, stepping closer to her, feeling burning rage and disappointment that she didn't throw herself happily around his neck, that what he'd done wasn't enough. She furrowed her brow, looking at him with fear and disbelief.

"I'm grateful to you, gods, I really am, but if you think I'm going to be your whore, you're wrong." She mumbled with pain from which he felt a squeeze in his throat, his body trembling with disappointment and rage.

"I don't want you to be my whore. I want you to be my wife." He hissed through clenched teeth, gripping his dagger, which he took out in a swift, sure movement. She squealed as he gripped her cheeks violently in his hand, her fingers tightened on his wrist trying fruitlessly to free her from his grasp, her eyes opened wide with terror as he pressed his blade against her lower lip.

"Don't move. Don't fucking move, I said." He growled when she cried out loudly and clenched her eyes shut as he slashed her delicate skin, a thin trickle of blood dripping from the red wound.

He passed his dagger into her hand, clenching it in her palm; he looked at her pleadingly, sliding his fingers into her hair, pressing his forehead against hers in a gesture of desperation.

"− I can't take it anymore − we both know it was always going to end like this −" He muttered stroking her cheeks, her hair, her neck, her shoulders with his hands, feeling that he was in some kind of frenzy.

"− kill me or marry me −" He said in a trembling voice; she drew in the air loudly, her gaze hot, helpless, terrified, full of pain, resentment, desire, regret, anger, exhaustion.

He looked straight into her eyes as her trembling hand lifted his blade, first stopping on the line of his neck, then grasped his cheek in her fingers – a low, surprised groan of delight broke from his throat as he felt the cold, astringent taste of steel on his lips, then the burning pain of sliced skin.

He looked at her dreamily, feeling that what she had done had aroused him even more, that he was about to throw himself at her and rip off everything she was wearing.

He watched her face as he took his dagger in his fingers and with a sure, shallow movement slit the skin of the inside of her hand. She hissed quietly, clenching her lips in discomfort, tears of horror, emotion, sadness and relief running down her cheeks.

He breathed loudly when he observed her as she did the same, creating a burning wound on his hand from which his warm, sticky blood dripped.

He clasped their bleeding palms together, holding the dagger beneath them onto which drop by drop flowed their mingled blood.

There was something at once frightening and divine about the sight, as if in a mysterious and only known to them way the gods of their ancestors had bound them together for eternity.

He lifted the blade up and licked it with a gasp of contentment as he gazed at her face; he hummed with delight as he felt that forbidden, tart taste.

He repeated the act and this time he held the blade to her lips; he felt his cock throb in pleasure in his breeches as her glistening, pink tongue ran over the bloody steel before his eyes.

He released the dagger from his hand and clung to her with his lips, both of them moaning loudly in pain, discomfort and pleasure, not caring about their wounds, realising that this was what their love had been.

Something so painfully fulfilling.

As much as he craved it, as much as he wanted to spend hours with his face between her thighs, he needed to feel her first, her hands helping him quickly unfasten the clasps of his coat and tunic. He untied the material of his breeches and tilted it aside, releasing what was beneath them, his manhood painfully hard and swollen, its tip wet with his own moisture.

He pulled her nightgown up over her thighs and grabbed her in his arms, lifting her, her legs immediately closing around his waist, her hands entwined in his hair and pressed his face against her puffy, sweet mouth.

He groaned low into her throat, meeting the tip of his tongue against hers, licking her and sucking her lips; they both clamped their hands tightly on their bodies as the fat head of his cock began to push against her leaking folds from below.

"− let me in − let me in, sweet wife −" He muttered between the loud dance of their tongues, teeth and saliva. She squirmed loudly as he slowly slid into her with a sigh of pleasure, her insides and thighs wet with her moisture, making him open her wide with one sure thrust of his hips.

"− Aemond −" She cried out sweetly as he began to root into her with thirsty, desperate thrusts, their whole bodies twitching and vibrating, her hands roaming over his cheeks, hair, neck and back, her throbbing, hot, weeping cunt clenching around him and sucking him inside, refusing to let him go, forcing him to pound into her with more brutality.

"− fucking mine −" He hissed out, tightening his fingers on her soft flesh, leaving a trail of blood on her skin and nightgown, slamming into her violently with his cock, thick and swollen with almost painful arousal.

He was panting loudly along with her, sensing that he was embarrassingly close to his peak, his thighs slapping again and again against her buttocks with a shameless splat of her moisture, her scent, her closeness, her whimpers filled his entire mind, leaving only bliss.

"− g-gods, uncle −" She mewled, tilting her head back, moaning like a whore and yet like a saint, sweet and loud, as if she was surprised at how quickly and suddenly fulfilment shook her body.

He felt her juices running down his thighs, soaking his cock; he sighed with some kind of relief when he finally let go, filling her to the brim with his warm seed, her walls squeezing him greedily.

"− fuck-fuck-fucckkk −" He gasped clenching his teeth, stunned by the pleasure and fulfilment that enveloped his body, his muscles suddenly soft, his body numb.

He fell to his knees with her and heard her squeal in terror, her legs and hands embracing him tightly; he rooted into her for a moment longer with sloppy, slow thrusts of his hips, wanting to savour the fact that he felt her again.

That she was his wife.

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96 @rwdkarla

[patolemus]

Sterek fic recs: ABO/Mpreg AU Edition

As per @oldefashioned's request, since this is for her, here you go. I tried to filter my bookmarks, so these are more about the plot than the smut. There's probably a lot of ABO without mpreg, but I hope some of these change your mind about it!!

1. Fire, Fury and Flame by IAmAVeronica

Stiles Stilinski was never going to be the omega who got knocked up right after high school, and then he's accidentally artificially inseminated with a stranger's sperm. Awesome. And the father of Stiles's baby just so happens to be Derek Hale. Half-feral, quite possibly a murderer, and pursued by a gleefully sadistic band of hunters who are only too eager to use Stiles and his baby to hit Derek right where it hurts. Joy.

Notes: this is Jane the Virgin if there were werewolves and abo. It’s absolutely phenomenal. That's it, I have nothing else to say, 10/10. It's completed!

2. I don't know why, but I guess it has something to do with you by LunaCanisLupus_22

“You smell like me,” the guy says, scowling as he crowds in and Stiles staggers back between the coats and finally hits the wall. “Why do you smell like me?” He barely lets out a garbled sound as the blood rushes to his cheeks. “No reason,” Stiles yelps, struggling to get his footing and grasping at a whirlwind of puffy fur. Or the one where Stiles goes thrift shopping and steals an alpha's shirt. And gets a lot more than he bargains for.

Notes: Stiles does something he's not supposed to. Derek is... confused. It ends up pretty okay. Also kind of an office au?? Anyways they're both dorks and I love them. It's completed, but you need to have an account to see this work.

3. Take Me Away From Here by Hedwig221b (also @hedwig221b here on tumblr!)

Derek Hale looked terrifying. With his broad frame and muscles, with his wild black hair and thick beard, with his eyes the color of blood and fangs of a killer. Despite his kindness and his apparent attraction to Stiles, he was still a stranger, a predator, a wolf. The thing is, Stiles would deal, but others might not. People found Lord Hale horrid, monstrous and unapproachable. If Stiles stood behind him, no one would touch him. He’d be safe with the wolf. If not from him, then definitely from everyone else. And that was enough.

Notes: of course I had to rec at least one Hedwig abo fic, they're the best! Don't you worry, there's a lot more in this list. This is a historical au... sort of. If history had werewolves and omegas. Don't worry, it works out fine. The whole world building in itself is interesting, because it treates omegas like a different species. Derek, my beloved, always and forever obsessed with Stiles! It gets dark for a little while, but don't fret, all is okay in the world. It's completed!

4. Scent Left Unsaid by bleep0bleep

In a society where werewolves are second class, Deucslist is an alternative werewolf network (similar to Craigslist) where humans and werewolves offer (mostly sexual) services. Derek is a long-term client of an anonymous human omega whose scent is just perfect. He never expects to meet him, until it happens.  Derek has slept with that faded red hooded sweatshirt every night since he got it in the mail. It’s calming, that scent; it’s everything to him. So it’s strange now that Derek is smelling it wafting from the end of the subway car as it careens towards the L line, lights flickering on the passing platforms.

Notes: imagine meet cute, only Derek is too socially awkward to actually enact the necessary steps to make it a meet cute, and Stiles has to do it instead. Also using the good old trope of Stiles' scent being like cocaine to Derek. It's very wholesome, and it's completed.

5. Never a Hardship by Julibean19 

“Derek, meet Stiles, your new bodyguard,” Talia says. Derek doesn’t get up. He’s frozen to his seat on the couch, staring at the man who will now be hounding his every step. “What’s a Stiles?” he asks dumbly, finally budging when his mother smacks him on the shoulder.  “That’s Chief Stiles to you,” his mother says, scolding him. Derek huffs in annoyance, wondering how this could possibly get worse. “Senior Chief Stilinski is a Navy SEAL, Special Operations Forces, and has been handpicked by me, out of several hundred options. You will treat him with respect and do what he says.” “I’m a grown man, Madam President,” Derek says through clenched teeth. “You can’t expect me to listen to this guy. I don’t know anything about him."

Notes: I love First Family aus! And Omega First Son!Derek with Alpha Bodyguard!Stiles is just delightful. There's a lot of omega politics, and Stiles gets to be a total badass when he and Derek are not pining after each other. Also, Chris Argent, surprisingly, is the best. I don't know what else to say without spoiling everything, so just know this is amazing! It's completed.

6. A Sheep In Wolf's Clothing by dumpac

"What the fuck, Stiles, what the fuck?!" "No, no, you don't understand, Scotty, this is the best idea ever!" "Because you think registering as a fucking alpha to college when you're actually an omega is the best idea ever? It's not even a good idea!" Or : Being an omega, Stiles has few chances to be accepted in the college of his dreams. Registering as an alpha seems like a good idea... until his new roommate, hot-as-the-sun alpha Derek Hale, comes in the equation.

Notes: I know I say this a lot but this fic is SO GOOD!! Stiles pretends to be an alpha and IT WORKS because he's a badass, only things go a little bit sideways because he's not an alpha and Derek... well Derek has no idea. My poor man is confused. Also has a dash of good old discrimination against omegas and nepotism. One of my favorite abo AND college au fics. It's completed.

7. Untouchable by Hedwig221b

The day Stiles Stilinski entered the Berkeley campus was the day all the alphas went absolutely fucking nuts. See, omegas were rare, even more than redheads. Got to be extremely fucking lucky to even see one in a lifetime. They were supposed to be these ethereal creatures of beauty and elegance, irresistible and blinding. And Stiles Stilinski was exactly that.

Notes: another Hedwig fic hehe. This one makes me go feral EVERY TIME. Literally one of my favorite fics to ever exist, I think I've read it three times in the last month and a half alone. If you're looking for unhinged sterek with absolutely besotted Derek, and pretty omega Stiles who has only eyes for him, this is the fic for you. They are literally so great!! 10/10, please please please go read this. It's completed.

8. You Smell Like Mine by bleep0bleep, marguerite_26 

People talk about the alpha instinct, an alpha's head being swayed by a nice-smelling omega, or the desire to drop everything and show off. Derek's never felt any of that. He's just not that kind of alpha. Then he meets Stiles.

Notes: I love Derek in this, he's trying SO HARD to remain nonchalant over Stiles, but he never stood a chance. One whiff of Stiles' scent and he was a goner, pathetically entranced. Good thing Stiles wants him back hehe. A sprinkle of Enemies to Lovers (and really, can we say it's sterek if it doesn't have enemies to lovers who are inexplicably drawn to each other despite their best efforts to appear indifferent?). It's completed.

9. His Only Defence by LunaCanisLupus_22

Stiles had just accidentally challenged an alpha. Oh God, and Scott had just stood by and let him do it. He was the worst best friend ever. Stiles was going to kill him. Except, oh right, the alpha was going to kill him first. Like beyond dead, ripped into tiny little pieces dead. So far dead that his dad would not be able to identify him, dead.

Notes: I honestly don't know how to explain this one. It's a modern au, only archaic abo rules exist and Stiles and Derek... well, Stiles is Stiles and Derek is Derek. They work it out. It's completed, but you need to have an account to read this work.

10. cheer up, babe by graveltotempo, SpringlockedSpectre

He was the basketball captain. And he was a cheerleader. Can I make it any more clear? OR: Derek Hale thought he had his crush on Stiles Stilinski under control. And then Stiles decided to show up to school in a skirt.

Notes: Derek is pining and makes a fool of himself all the time in front of Stiles. Stiles, thankfully for Derek, finds it charming. That's it, that's the fic. It's completed. I also recommend checking up graveltotempo's other works, they're great!

11. Love's Violent Delights by Dexterous_Sinistrous

Derek caught the way the man’s eyes looked over Stiles before lingering on his ass. He waited for the clerk to place the key on the counter before he reacted. Stiles startled at the loud noise, turning away from the pamphlets in the display box to see Derek pinning the clerk’s head against the counter. He drew in an even breath, looking between the struggling man and Derek. Derek briefly looked at Stiles, hesitating before he saw the gleam of excitement in Stiles’ eyes and the hint of lust in his scent. “Ever look at him, or any other Omega, like that again, and I’ll slice your eyes out with my claws.” He shoved the man back, not caring of the commotion that was made as he snatched up the key from the counter.

Notes: this makes me go feralllll it's so good. The Sheriff is imprisoned for what basically amounts to bullshit charges, and he and Derek share a cell. When Derek is freed, he looks for Stiles to make good on his promise to the Sheriff to take care of him. Somehow, they end up running from the law lol, my little criminal babies. Their relationship here is so uuuuuuughhhhh so wonderful! There's also critics to the system and talk about abo politics. It's completed.

12. Side Character by Hedwig221b

He should’ve kept his mouth shut. He should’ve smiled like always. Now everything was ruined, crushed, destroyed. Dust, shards, and the remnants of his pride. Love that no one needed. Derek’s gaze scalded the side of his face but Stiles refused to meet it. He had already revealed too much.

Notes: Hedwig, as always, writes such good stories! Seriously one of my favorite sterek writers! Stiles is oblivious and pining, Derek is also oblivious and pining, only in a completely different manner. They still end up together because they are meant to be in EVERY UNIVERSE. This doesn't have the traditional Alpha/Omega pairing, since Stiles is a Beta (really, the root of all this issue in the first place) He is very insecure in this one, but Derek is here for him. It's completed.

13. Made Your Mark on Me (A Golden Tattoo) by writteninthewolfstar

Beacon Hills High and Lycan Heights High are well-known enemies. Derek Hale, Lycan Heights' star quarter-back, is well-known for being aggressive and arrogant. Imagine Stiles surprise when he discovers that Derek Hale is actually his soul-mate.

Notes: this is a very sweet one. Pretty light hearted, especially compared to canon. The bullying does get a little intense at some points, though, so if that's triggering proceed with caution. Jock Derek, my beloved. Stiles is a loner, and also very insecure on this one! But Derek is an absolute sweetheart and a real champ, so love conquers all. Has some Bad Friend Scott, too, so if that's something you're interested in, this is your fic. It's completed.

14. We Gotta Hide What We're Doin' by CharWright5

As a Bodyguard within the Stilinski Rodzina, Derek's one and only job is to watch over the Omega son—and only child—of the Family's Head, Stiles, a task that is easier said than done some nights. It's just good that the Alpha knows the best way to punish the little troublemaker when his bratty behavior threatens to expose a secret that could get the Bodyguard killed.

Notes: this one has a lot of smut, and the premise is absolutely killer. I'm actually very sad it's not 200k words long, but what can you do? Stiles is the heir to a Mafia Empire, and Derek an enforcer and Stiles' personal bodyguard since he was young. Stiles is a spoiled brat here, but Derek likes that hehe. It's also a secret relationship. It's kiiiiind of dark, since this is a mafia au, but nothing too terrible. To be honest the most explicit part is the smut. It's completed.

15. Survival of the Species by Lissadiane

“I think I’m dying.” Nothing makes sense – and now Derek has left him. “No, Mr. Stilinski,” Deaton says grimly, rooting around in his special cupboard of herbs and remedies. “I’m afraid not. You’re merely suffering from a biological imperative to bear your alpha’s children and strengthen the pack.” Stiles considers that for a moment, as best he can with his mind a hazy mess, and then he says quietly, “I think that might be worse.” “So, so much worse,” Scott agrees. * In which Derek's pack is apparently stable enough to begin planning for the future, and somehow, the universe has decided Stiles is the perfect candidate to bear his alpha's children.

Notes: honestly?? One of the best fics I've read about mpreg, not just in the Teen Wolf, but in general. It keeps things real, everyone is the appropriate amount of freaked out, for a while no one is having a good time, and there's enough to hint at body horror that my angst thirst is satisfied. Don't worry though, everything's fine! And there's no actual body horror, Stiles just has a very wild imagination. There's also not actual mpreg either, it's just discussed. It's complete.

16. before the world catches up by negativelyme

Stiles is a beta, so he’s never been a part of the annual Winter Mating Rituals that take over his high school. Or so he thinks.

Notes: this one is so wholesome! Derek truly is trying his very best, you can do it, Derek! Stiles' I'm-a-Beta-no-one-wants-me issues are getting in the way of true love. All ends well. It's completed.

17. All You Ever Needed to Know About Knotting by orphan_account

Derek had started reading the column by accident. Really, reading strangers’ questions about knotting and heat had never really appealed to him. However, at that point in time, he was a little desperate. And he was right: most of the questions submitted by anonymous readers didn’t appeal to him. The answers, though, did. (Or: In which Stiles writes an advice column about knotting and Derek is smitten. Also they're neighbors.)

Notes: it's pretty much what it says in the summary. Overall very wholesome, made me laugh. Derek is absolutely precious here. It's completed.

18. You Want Me Back by graveltotempo

Stiles and the Hale pack come back to Beacon Hills for a High School reunion.

Notes: classic 10 year reunion fic (or maybe it's not classic in this fandom?? Tbh, most of the reunion fics I've read are from KHR), Stiles comes back to BH married and with a child. He, Jackson and Isaac are the best of bests, and Derek is, of course, wonderful. Peter is also pretty great, even if he appears for like 5 seconds. Canon Divergent from season 3b, bad friend Lydia, bad friend Scott. There's an epic smackdown and the Hales are basically top dogs. It's completed.

19. Over the Moon by likeshipsonthesea

Stiles and Derek spend a night together, and Derek, thinking he's protecting Stiles, tells him it was a mistake. Stiles leaves Beacon Hills. He also leaves behind 6 letters to say goodbye to the pack. From his letters, the pack thinks he's killed himself. Meanwhile, Stiles is in NYC, living with Jackson, going to Columbia, oh, and he's pregnant.

Notes: Derek is an idiot, but his heart is in the right place. Misscomunication ensues, basically, and it escalates way too much. Jackson and Stiles' broship is literally the best thing ever, I love them!!!! We should have more fics with them being the best duo ever.

20. the Jurisdiction series by elisera

John is a pretty level-headed guy. He wasn’t always, back during his own Sturm und Drang period, but he married a firecracker of a woman and got a kid with an affinity for trouble like he got payed for ending up in it, so someone had to level out or they would’ve ended up living in a treehouse or Lapland doing god knows what. Anyway, getting a hold of his temper is one of John’s better life achievements. It makes him a good sheriff and it kept him from blowing his lid too badly those last two years when Stiles started acting out in a way that John had never seen before.  But the temper is still there. He’s reminded of it when he comes home on a random Saturday in March after spilling his milkshake all over his uniform shirt only to notice he didn’t have a spare in the station and finds Stiles bend over the kitchen sink with hunched shoulders.

Notes: the first part of the series gets, admittedly, pretty violent. Everything after that is very wholesome though. The Sheriff is an absolute gem in this one! Also, the mpreg is a very important factor after the first part of the series, but the first part is mostly just sterek pining and the aforementioned violent events. I'd mind the tags. It's completed.

21. What To Expect When You're Expecting (A Litter of Sourwolf Puppies) by Brego_Mellon_Nin

The Sheriff sighs and plops down in a chair opposite his son. “Stiles, I’m going crazy here. We need to get you to a doctor. You sleep like you’re trying to get into the Guinness Book of World Records, and your eating habits are bizarre! You vomit around the clock and for some reason only the tea your mother used when she was pregnant will get your stomach to settle down for any length of time. Is there something you aren’t telling me? Can werewolves get guys pregnant? I’ve noticed how you look at that Hale kid-”  Stiles meeps and flails, sloshing tea down his front. Luckily it’s not scalding anymore, but still hot, so he jumps up and wrenches his shirt off. “God, dad, no! Guys can’t get pregnant, that’s ridiculous, it’s like...” “Like werewolves being real?” his dad questions, deadpan.

Notes: a wonderful accidental pregnancy fic. I love the Sheriff on this one, he's so supportive and actually has a hold of every single braincell because he is just THAT great. Stiles is also lovely, and while Derek is missing for like the first third of the fic he's great, too. This are pretty fluffy all around! It's completed.

22. I Don't Blame You for Being You (but you can't blame me for hating it) by LadySlytherin 

Derek hits Stiles with his Camaro - 'Dammit, Stiles, it was an accident!'...'Why don't I believe you?' - and hilarity ensues.

Notes: do you know how there are fics that make you go 'I LOVE STEREK SO MUCH AAAAAAAAAAH'? Well, this is one of them. Derek hits Stiles with his car, Stiles ends with a broken leg, Derek gets to take care of him while he recovers as payment. Oh, and there's a fight about which pack Stiles actually belongs to, but that works itself out. It's pretty great. It's also completed.

23. Predators by Hedwig221b

He was born for this. Nature itself whispered into his ear where he should put his hands, how to twirl his tongue just right and when to bite. Stiles knew well enough that his saliva was currently working its magic on this unfortunate man, making him hungry, lustful, and insatiable. Soon, all his thoughts would be consumed by Stiles. And, just this once, Stiles would allow Derek to consume him.

Notes: to be honest, I thought I'd be putting this on another section, since this is a creature!Stiles fic (and it'll definitely go there when I make that fic rec list), but if it has mpreg then it has mpreg. This is actually one of my favorite fics ever!! I feel like I'm always saying this but it bears repeating, so: Hedwig always makes such great stories (as proven by the sheer amount of Hedwig fics I have in my rec lists lol). Stiles is so uuuuuugh in this one, I love him! And Derek! Oh lord, Derek makes me go feral here. Honestly, so good! It's completed, but do mind the tags because it gets... intense.

24. Disposition by Tulikettu

Stiles has an itch. A kinky, kinda dirty itch he needs to scratch.  So why not go on the Internet and look for a complete stranger to scratch it?  Derek needs a partner for his rut.  What a coincidence.

Notes: alright so this last one really veers off track from the rest of this list. It's basically pure smut so if you're not into that, don't read it. It also doesn't actually have mpreg, it's just discussed (and barely as a subject, since in their current present it isn't possible). Also, the kinks are... well, they are. There are some pretty triggering stuff in here so please mind the tags before you read, because if it's in the tags, you will read it, in detail. Other than that, it's pretty great! Stiles and Derek are very obsessed with each other, as they should. It's completed!

And this is everything. I honestly surprised myself with the amount of fics that ended up here, I hadn't realized I'd read that many sterek fics with ABO and mpreg. I hope you like these, Shar! And of course, anyone else who bounds finding this, I hope you enjoy these too.

[mononijikayu]

as the world caves in — ryomen sukuna.

In an instant, the peace you had cherished was shattered, replaced by the harsh reality of war. With a sense of dread knotting in your stomach, you looked at Sukuna who nodded back at you resolutely. Your uncle led the way, his voice ringing through the compound. There was no way back. There was only kill, or be killed.

GENRE: Heian Era to Shibuya Arc, 2018;

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

masterlist

ashes of love

song: as the world caves in by sarah cothran

note: beyond what i usually write, but i ended up doing it because i dont think it would be easy to fit in the next chapter. the next chapter is already decided. so i dont think i have the heart to add another chapter. the series is already long as it is. but still, i hope you enjoy it. i hope you enjoy the ride. buckle up, the chapters change from this on to absolutely brutally painful. anyway, i love you!!!

YOU HATED BEING HERE. In the tranquil expanse of neutral territory, where the boundaries blurred between the domains of the Ryomen and Fujiwara clans, an uneasy gathering took place. Here, beneath the boughs of ancient trees and amidst the whispers of nature, the destinies of two families intertwined. Families bound by bad, spoilt blood —blood that unites in misery, meet to unite again. 

Your bright colored kimono felt tighter as the air disappeared from your lungs. The weight of the fabric, usually a symbol of your clan's pride and dignity, now seemed like a constricting shroud, amplifying the suffocating tension that surrounded you. Each breath became a conscious effort, a reminder of the expectations and pressures bearing down on you from all sides.

You stood beside your father, Ryomen Isamu, his presence as imposing as the ancient trees around you. The towering oaks and cedars, with their gnarled trunks and sprawling branches, seemed to echo his steadfastness and strength.

Isamu's broad shoulders and firm stance radiated a quiet power, a testament to his unwavering commitment to honor and duty. His face, lined with the wisdom of age and experience, remained calm, though you could sense the undercurrent of resolve that lay beneath his composed exterior.

In stark contrast stood Fujiwara Ankoku, your grandfather. His cold eyes, sharp as a hawk's, pierced through the air with a severity that made the spring day feel like the dead of winter. His proud demeanor, honed by years of wielding power and influence, seemed to draw the very warmth from the surroundings, creating a palpable chill.

The lines on his face were etched deeply, not just by time but by the burdens of maintaining his family's supremacy. His robes, richly embroidered with symbols of the Fujiwara clan's authority, only amplified his intimidating presence.

The neutral ground, chosen meticulously to symbolize a chance at reconciliation, felt anything but peaceful. The tension between Isamu and Ankoku crackled like a storm ready to unleash its fury.

The air, thick with unspoken words and historical grievances, seemed almost tangible. Every rustle of leaves and every distant bird call felt amplified in the heavy silence that followed each exchange.

Your father spoke with measured calm, his voice steady and deliberate. "We seek an alliance built on mutual respect and honor, Ankoku-dono. This marriage is a chance to mend our….past wounds. We are kin, after all. We must move forward united."

Ankoku’s response was an apprehensive snicker. "Respect and honor, you say? Words often spoken too easily, Isamu-dono. It is a matter of them being upheld. What guarantees can you provide that your lineage is worthy of our name?"

Each word from your grandfather felt like a blade, slicing through the fragile hope for peace. His dismissive tone stoked the simmering anger within you. Your clansmen felt the same, you knew that too well. There was pride in all of you—the Ryomen were older, bolder, more ancient than the Fujiwara. 

Even so, to say that you were unworthy of your cousin Koku was entirely foolish. The clan had wondered in hushed whispers if Koku was even worthy of you. The Fujiwara had only been in such power for such a short time, one could consider it a blink.

You felt the burning pride for your clan call to you.You and your brother were born to such a glorious name. You were both worthy. You have no need to prove it. Your blood was noble. It will always be. 

"The same one which you had wrought upon me by marrying me to your daughter," your father retorted, his voice firm but edged with a restrained anger. 

Hiramu’s lips trembled with laughter, but he bit his lip.Your mother’s glare bore against your father’s head and then your uncle’s. The tension in his words was palpable, a clear challenge to Ankoku's authority. 

“Do you question me so, Ankoku–dono, that you forget thus?”

Ankoku's eyes narrowed, the lines on his face deepening as his expression turned icy. "My daughter brought honor and strength to your clan, Isamu-dono. It is you who must prove that your bloodline is worthy of continuing this legacy."

Isamu's jaw tightened, his composure fraying at the edges. "We have upheld our end of the alliance with dignity and strength. You see my daughter, as you have seen my son. They had grown to be the pride of our clan.  It is not our lineage that is in question here, but the sincerity of your intentions, Ankoku-dono."

A cold smile curled at the corners of Ankoku's lips. "Intentions, Isamu-dono? My intentions are transparent. I seek to ensure the superiority of the Fujiwara name. That is my duty. If that means questioning the worth of those who wish to align with us, so be it."

You could feel the air grow heavier with each passing moment, the space between your father and grandfather crackling with unresolved tension. Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat echoing the intensity of the confrontation.

"An alliance built on mutual respect cannot thrive under a cloud of suspicion and disdain, Ankoku–dono." your father pressed on, his voice steady but with a hint of frustration. Sukuna catches your uncle’s eye for a moment. 

"Things as of late, it must be known as regretful. But we must move beyond these grievances if we are to secure a future of peace and prosperity for both our families. Have we not proven this with my own marriage?”

Ankoku's eyes flashed with a dangerous glint. "Peace and prosperity are earned, Isamu-dono, not freely given. Prove to me that my granddaughter can uphold the honor of the Fujiwara name, and perhaps then we can speak on the completion of this alliance.”

A sharp intake of breath from Sukuna caught your attention. His eyes, usually filled with warmth when meeting yours, were now cold and hard as he glared at Ankoku and then towards your cousin Koku.

The anger simmering within him mirrored your own, a shared defiance against the oppressive authority of your grandfather. Sukuna’s usually calm demeanor was replaced by a visible tension, his jaw clenched and his fists tightened at his sides.

Koku, seated beside you, seemed entirely unfazed by the turmoil around him. He sat with an air of smug confidence, his back straight and his chin lifted slightly, exuding an aura of superiority that only served to stoke the fires of resentment burning within you and Sukuna. The pride in Koku's eyes was unwavering, a clear indication that he felt secure in his position and indifferent to the suffering or discord that his family's actions caused.

As Sukuna's gaze bore into him, Koku met it with a condescending smirk, a look that spoke volumes about his sense of untouchable entitlement. He was the first born son, the symbol of Fujiwara pride, and he seemed to revel in the conflict, basking in the glow of his perceived invulnerability. And he was seeping in — destroying the peace, by forcing Fujiwara peace through a putrid marriage that should never be.

The tension was palpable, an invisible thread stretching taut between Sukuna and Koku, threatening to snap at any moment. The space between them crackled with unspoken animosities, the air thick with the weight of ancestral grudges and personal vendettas. You felt caught in the middle, the pressure of the moment making your kimono feel even tighter, your breath coming in shallow, rapid bursts.

"My daughter has proven his worth time and again, Ankoku–dono." Isamu countered, his voice rising. "It is not my daughter’s honor that is in question here, but your unwillingness to see beyond your prejudices.”

Ankoku's cold smile vanished, replaced by a stern, unyielding expression. "Choose your words carefully, Isamu-dono. This marriage is not just a union of individuals but a merging of legacies, of clans. Any misstep could bring dishonor upon us all."

Your father took a deep breath, steadying himself before responding. "We will honor this union, Ankoku-dono, but it must be based on mutual respect. If we continue down this path of mistrust and animosity, we doom ourselves to repeat the mistakes of the past."

The silence that followed was heavy, each second stretching into an eternity. Your heartbeat thundered in your ears as you watched the two patriarchs lock eyes, their wills clashing like titans in a battle for the future.

Ankoku finally broke the silence, his voice cold and measured. "Very well, Isamu-dono. We will proceed with this marriage. We will keep the peace. But know this: I will be watching closely. Any sign of dishonor or weakness, and the consequences will be severe."

As Ankoku turned away, the tension in the air began to dissipate, leaving behind a sense of uneasy resolution. Your father exhaled slowly, the strain of the confrontation evident in his eyes. You exchanged a long, meaningful glance with Sukuna, your silent vows of defiance and determination reaffirmed.

Ankoku, sensing the tension still lingering, paused and turned back towards Isamu, his cold eyes narrowing. "Do not mistake this agreement for weakness, Isamu-dono. The Fujiwara name demands nothing less than absolute loyalty and unwavering strength."

Isamu met Ankoku's gaze, his voice steady but edged with a simmering intensity. "And do not mistake our willingness to unite as submission, Ankoku-dono. We are equals in this alliance, and respect must be mutual if we are to succeed."

Ankoku's lip curled in a slight sneer. "Respect is earned, Isamu-dono. Your family has much to prove."

Isamu's jaw tightened, but he remained composed. "And we will, through actions and honor, not through empty words and hollow threats."

A tense silence followed, each word hanging heavily in the air. Ankoku's gaze flicked to you and Sukuna, his eyes narrowing with suspicion and challenge. "See that you do. The future of both our clans depends on it."

Isamu nodded, his expression unyielding. "Indeed it does. Let us hope that our children can bridge the gaps that we could not."

Ankoku turned to leave once more, but this time Isamu’s own voice stopped him. "Ankoku-dono, understand this: the Ryomen clan will not tolerate disrespect. We come to this union with duty in our hearts, but we will not be subjugated."

Ankoku's eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and grudging respect. "Very well, Isamu-dono. Let us see if your actions can match your words."

As Ankoku finally walked away, the atmosphere remained charged with the remnants of their confrontation. Your cousin Koku stood from his position, his movements deliberate and measured. His smug expression never wavered, and he approached you with a condescending air that made your skin crawl.

"Well, little cousin." Koku began, his voice dripping with feigned politeness, "It seems we are to be bound by fate and duty. I hope you are prepared to uphold your part. To honor our family, despite your… humble origins."

You bristled at his words, but you held your ground, meeting his gaze with defiance. "I am ready to do what is necessary for our families' future, Koku–dono. I trust you will do the same."

“Oh so formal with me. Are we not family?” Koku's smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and disdain. "Of course, I will. After all, it is my duty to guide and protect you, to ensure that you do not falter in your responsibilities."

His patronizing tone grated on your nerves, but you refused to let him see your frustration. "I must do well by my family. I shan’t be degrading. I am sure this must reflect that I am perfectly capable of handling my responsibilities, Koku–dono. You need not concern yourself with such acts.”

Koku chuckled, a low, mocking sound that only served to heighten your irritation. "Ah, such spirit. It will be interesting to see how long it lasts. Remember, little Hiromi, this union is as much a test for you as it is for me. Do try not to disappoint."

Before you could respond, Sukuna stepped forward, his presence a solid wall of support beside you. His voice was cold and measured as he addressed Koku. "Hiromi-sama does not need your condescension, Koku-dono. Hiromi-sama is your equal, an heir of her lord. You must respect my lady."

Koku's eyes widened slightly, the surprise quickly masked by a sneer. "Respect, Sukuna? Respect is earned. Your Hiromi-sama may have the title, but she has yet to prove she deserves the honor that comes with it."

Sukuna's expression remained steely. "Hiromi-sama's worth is not for you to judge. My lady has shown strength and grace under immense pressure. That, in itself, commands respect."

Koku stepped closer, his gaze flicking between you and Sukuna, his voice dropping to a low, mocking tone. "It seems you have quite the protector, little cousin. But remember, loyalty can be a fleeting thing, especially when tested by the harsh realities of our world. One of course, your pet will never understand.”

You could feel Sukuna's anger simmering beside you, his body tense with barely restrained fury. You placed a hand on his arm, a silent plea for calm, and stepped forward to face Koku directly. You shook your head at him and mouthed an order, telling him to move away. Sukuna glared at you, as though he wishes to resist. Your eyes glared back, hardening at his indulgence. His face contorts and bows swiftly, before he walks off.

"My loyalty to my family and to this alliance is unwavering." you said, your voice steady and clear. "And I expect the same from you, Koku-dono. Do not let your arrogance blind you to the importance of unity. That is your hubris.”

Koku's sneer faltered for a moment, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features before he masked it with a condescending smile. "Very well, little cousin. Let us play this game. Let us hope that your confidence is not misplaced."

He turned away, the tension in his posture revealing more than his words ever could. As he walked off, you exhaled slowly, the weight of the confrontation settling heavily on your shoulders.

At that moment, Your father Isamu had slowly come to approach you. You bowed before him, but he raised his hand, releasing you from that obligation to formality. He looks to you, before turning to order the servants away, to give you some privacy. In that moment of lonesomeness, the lord’s face withers to reveal a father’s.

Ryomen Isamu expressed a mix of pride and worry as he approached you. His gaze held a depth of concern that spoke volumes, revealing the inner turmoil he grappled with. "Daughter."

"Father." You smiled at him, but you knew, as he did, that it was never full. There was a weight to his words, a heaviness that lingered in the air between you. "I am glad to serve you and your will, father."

Isamu's expression softened, but the worry remained etched in the lines of his face. "Hiromi, you do not have to do this. I do not want you to sacrifice anything for the sake of peace."

You opened your mouth to argue, to reassure him of your commitment to the alliance, but before you could speak, Isamu's next words stopped you in your tracks.

"I know about you and Sukuna," he reveals quietly, his voice tinged with a hint of sadness. "And if being with him is what makes you happy, then I will allow it. I would do anything for you to be happy, my dear. So that you may not suffer as much as me.”

Shock washed over you, mingled with a pang of guilt. You had thought your feelings for Sukuna were a secret, carefully concealed from prying eyes, but now you realized that your father had known all along. The realization was both comforting and heartbreaking, knowing that he had seen the turmoil within you and had chosen to support you nonetheless.

Tears welled in your eyes as you shook your head, your heart breaking at the thought of disappointing him. "Father, I... I cannot…" you whispered, the words catching in your throat. "As much as it pains me, I must do my duty to you, to our family, our clan. For the sake of peace. You know this.”

“Daughter—”

You feel tears prickle your eyes. “Father, please.”

Isamu's eyes glistened with unshed tears, his voice filled with a mixture of pride and sorrow. "I understand, my dear. Your sense of duty has always been your strength, and I am proud of the woman you have become."

His words wash over you like a balm, soothing the ache in your heart even as they deepen the resolve within you. You hold onto his embrace, seeking solace in the warmth of his love and understanding. It's a rare moment of vulnerability between you, a reminder of the unbreakable bond that ties you together as father and daughter.

The weight of his acceptance and support is both a comfort and a burden, knowing that he sees the sacrifices you make for the sake of peace, for the sake of your family's legacy. But in this moment, you also feel a flicker of hope, a glimmer of light in the darkness that surrounds you.

"Thank you, father," you whisper, your voice trembling with emotion. "For everything."

Isamu pulls back slightly, his hands cupping your face as he meets your gaze with unwavering love. "You are my daughter, Hiromi. And nothing will ever change that. No matter what challenges lie ahead, remember that I will always be here for you."

You nod, a lump forming in your throat as you try to hold back tears. "I know, father. And I will always strive to make you proud."

He enveloped you in a warm embrace, holding you close as if trying to shield you from the weight of the world. In that moment, you felt the depth of his love and sacrifice, and you vowed to do everything in your power to honor his trust and uphold the legacy of your family.

As you pulled away from the embrace, wiping away your tears, you met Isamu's gaze with a renewed sense of determination. "I will make you proud, father. I promise."

Isamu smiled, a bittersweet expression tinged with pride and love. "I know you will, my dear. And remember, no matter what challenges lie ahead, I will always be here for you."

With those words lingering in the air like a comforting embrace, you felt a sense of peace settle over you. Whatever trials awaited you on the path ahead, you knew that with your father's unwavering support and your own sense of duty guiding you, you would face them with courage and resilience.

TIME PASSED TOO QUICKLY FOR YOU TO KEEP UP. The past few weeks had been a blur of unspoken words and lingering heartache. But you could not say it out loud. You couldn’t cry out or sob about it. Not anymore. Your personal life could not get in the way, you knew that. But you couldn’t help it.

Not in the lonely nights when you long to brush your fingers against fuschia hair. Not when you long for the warmth that brings you the sun on cold nights. Not when you long for the rare smiles that truly only belong to you. 

These past weeks, Sukuna and you had not exchanged a single word. When you saw him, you tried to look away. When he looks at you, he lowers his gaze. Between the two of you, the silence between you grows heavier with each passing day. 

He has maintained that he is loyal to you, that he is your right hand man. That he only belongs to you. Yet, he cannot call you with all the loving names he has made for you. He cannot hold you, he cannot love you as you wanted him to. And it breaks your heart over and over.

You had tried to focus on your duties, to bury your sorrow in the preparations for your upcoming wedding to Koku, a union that you loathed. You tried to sleep it off, to bury out the sound of whispers.  But nothing had settled you. Not duty, not stifling your sorrow, not resting. The weight of duty pressed down on you, stifling your spirit and filling you with a sense of despair.

Uncle Hiramu had tried to speak to you, so did father. It was easily noticeable that you were unhappy about your day to day. They worried, you knew that much. But in each conversation that comes between you, you consistently said that you were fine.

You parrotted words that expressed the same thing — you must do your duty. A Ryomen must do their duty.  But you knew, they did not buy it one bit. Yet they kept their tongue tied and mouth closed.

In a desperate bid to escape the suffocating atmosphere, you saddled your horse and rode out into the countryside, the wind whipping through your loose dark hair as you sought solace in the open expanse. The rhythmic pounding of your horse's hooves against the ground provided a temporary reprieve from your thoughts, but no matter how far you rode,  no matter how fast, no matter how the pressure of your horse’s weight dove against you, you couldn't outrun the pain. 

Eventually, you slowed your pace, coming to a halt near a secluded grove of trees. Your kimono had all but become wrinkled, your hair tattered. You thank your horse in a small mumble, your breath echoing exhaustion. You dismounted and led your horse to a nearby stream, letting it drink as you sat on a large rock, your heart heavy with the burden of your unspoken sorrow.

Hours passed, the world around you a blur. Soon enough, your mind began to drift. Laying your head against the tree, closing your eyes from the image of the secluded grove. The stillness of the place wrapped around you, offering a brief respite from your pain.  The voices around you faded into the background, replaced by a distant hum as you retreated into the sanctuary of your memories.

You saw Sukuna’s face, his eyes filled with warmth and mischief as he teased you about a particularly clumsy moment during one of your training sessions. You remembered the way he laughed, a sound that felt like sunshine breaking through the clouds, lighting up even your darkest days. There were stolen moments in the garden, where he’d lean in close, his voice a soft murmur in your ear as he shared his dreams and hopes with you.

A particular memory surfaced, one of the two of you riding through the countryside, the wind in your hair and the world spreading out before you like an endless tapestry of possibilities. You recalled how he’d reached out to steady you as your horse stumbled, the warmth of his hand a comforting anchor. In those moments, with Sukuna by your side, the future seemed bright and full of promise.

But now, those days felt like a distant dream, a cruel illusion that had slipped through your fingers. The reality of your impending marriage to Koku, a man you neither loved nor respected, loomed over you like a storm cloud, darkening every corner of your heart.

The memory of Sukuna’s smile, his touch, his laughter, was too much to bear. Desperate to escape the suffocating weight of your duties and the impending wedding, you decided to steal a few moments of freedom. You sighed, not knowing or caring what the hour was. What propriety was as you lay against the grass. You could only want, you could only dream. You could only yearn. You wanted to pretend that your world isn’t falling apart. 

Moments later, the sound of approaching hooves reached your ears. You blinked, slowly returning into reality. With a heavy sigh, you sat up. You turned to see Mikoto Masaomi, your loyal guard, riding toward you. His expression was one of concern as he dismounted and approached you.

You felt like he had aged in just a small time, just looking for you. But then again, you had disappeared for so long. He got off his horse, and settled the animal beside your own. He walked towards you and bowed.

"Hiromi–sama." Masaomi said softly, his voice filled with worry. "We've been looking for you. Are you all right?"

“I’m alright.” You retorted, tight lipped. “I was just….”

Masaomi sighed, his shoulders rising and falling with the weight of his concern. “Hiromi-sama, you do not have to lie. It is alright… to be honest with me. It is just me. Your loyal friend.”

You looked at Masaomi for a moment, searching his eyes for any sign of judgment or doubt, but found only sincerity and a deep, abiding loyalty. His presence, a constant in your life, offered a rare moment of solace amid the turmoil. For a moment, your brother’s face tethered in your mind as you looked at Masaomi. 

“Masaomi, I just....” you began, your voice trembling with the effort to hold back tears. “I… I feel so lost. Everything is falling apart. Sukuna is gone, and I am being forced into a future I never wanted. It feels like I am being crushed under the weight of everyone's expectations, and I don’t know how much longer I can bear it.”

Masaomi nodded, his expression understanding and patient. “I know, Hiromi-sama. I see the strain this is putting on you, and it pains me to see you suffer. You have always been so strong, but even the strongest hearts can break under such pressure.”

His words struck a chord deep within you, and the tears you had been holding back spilled over. You turned away, trying to hide your vulnerability, but Masaomi gently took your hand, his touch grounding you in the present.

“It is alright to feel this way,” he continued softly. “You are not weak for wanting something different, for longing for happiness. You are human, and your feelings are valid.”

You took a deep, shuddering breath, feeling the dam within you finally begin to break. “I miss him so much, Masaomi. Sukuna… he was my anchor, my hope…..my heart. And now, without him, I feel adrift, lost in a sea of expectations and duties that I never wanted.”

Masaomi’s grip on your hand tightened slightly, a reassuring pressure that reminded you of his unwavering support. “Hiromi-sama, your happiness is important. You deserve to find joy and peace, not to be shackled by obligations that only bring you pain.”

A fresh wave of tears blurred your vision, and you looked down, the words spilling from your lips in a torrent of despair. “But how can I? I am bound by duty to my family, to this alliance. My brother’s duty is mine. I cannot abandon them. If I refuse, it could mean disaster for everyone I love. How can I be so selfish as to choose my own happiness over the well-being of my clan?”

Masaomi’s voice was gentle but firm as he responded. “Choosing your own happiness is not selfish, Hiromi-sama. It is necessary. A leader who is broken and unhappy cannot effectively lead or bring peace. Your well-being is the prosperity of your clan, of all your vassals. Of me.”

You looked up at him, your eyes filled with a mix of hope and uncertainty. “But what can I do, Masaomi? How can I find a path that honors both my duty and my heart?”

Masaomi’s gaze was steady, his expression filled with determination. “We will find a way, Hiromi-sama. Whatever it takes, we will forge a path that allows you to fulfill your duties without sacrificing your soul. And if that means defying tradition or challenging those who stand in our way, then so be it. As I was with your brother, Akimu–dono, I am with you. Always.”

His words lit a spark of resolve within you, a flicker of hope that had been nearly extinguished. You squeezed his hand, drawing strength from his unwavering support. “Thank you, Masaomi. You have never abandoned me. I am grateful to you. Truly.”

Masaomi smiled, a rare expression that softened his usually stern features. “You will never have to find out, Hiromi-sama. The Mikoto will always stand with you. If we must go against the Fujiwara, then we will. Until death, Hiromi-sama. We will join you.”

The sincerity in his voice, the unwavering loyalty, filled you with a newfound determination. But there was still the lingering pain of separation from Sukuna, the unresolved feelings that gnawed at your heart. Masaomi seemed to sense this, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully as he studied your face.

“You need to talk to Sukuna when he returns,” Masaomi said gently but firmly. “You need to tell him how you feel, Hiromi-sama. Keeping these feelings locked away will only cause more pain. He deserves to know the truth, and you deserve the chance to find peace, whether it be with him or through closure.”

The idea of facing Sukuna after all this time, of baring your soul to him, was both terrifying and exhilarating. Your heart ached at the thought, but deep down, you knew Masaomi was right. Avoiding the truth had only prolonged your suffering.

“What if he doesn’t feel the same?” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “What if… what if I’ve lost him forever?”

Masaomi shook his head, his expression resolute. “You will never know unless you speak to him. And even if his feelings have changed, at least you will have clarity. You cannot live in this state of suffering, Hiromi-sama. It is not fair to you, and it is not fair to him.”

You took a deep breath, the enormity of the decision settling over you. “When he returns… I will talk to him. I will tell him everything.”

Masaomi’s smile broadened, a rare show of genuine happiness. “That is all I ask, Hiromi-sama. Be true to yourself and to your heart. No matter the outcome, you will have the support of the Mikoto and of those who love you.”

As the last light of the setting sun bathed the grove in a golden glow, you felt a sense of peace settle over you. The path ahead was still uncertain, but for the first time in a long while, you had a clear direction. You would confront your fears, face the truth, and fight for your own happiness, whatever that might look like.

You and Masaomi mounted your horses and began the ride back to the estate, the cool evening air washing over you. As you rode, you allowed yourself to hope. To imagine a future where you could find a way to honor both your duty and your heart, where you could find peace and perhaps, even happiness.

YOU TOOK MASAOMI’S ADVICE. The days stretched into weeks since you last saw Sukuna, the silence between you growing heavier with each passing moment. The engagement to Koku felt like a noose tightening around your neck, suffocating the very essence of who you were. You missed Sukuna terribly, his absence a constant, aching void. Finally, you could bear it no longer and summoned him to your chambers.

The night air was cool as you waited in your dimly lit room, the flickering candle casting shadows on the walls. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the sound of your own breathing. When Sukuna finally arrived, he entered quietly, his presence filling the space with an intensity that made your heart race.

“Hiromi-sama,” he said formally, bowing slightly as he stood before you. “You called for me. Why am I here?”

The formality in his tone cut through you like a knife, a stark reminder of the chasm that had grown between you. You swallowed hard, trying to find your voice. “We need to talk, Sukuna. There are things we need to say… things we need to understand.”

He nodded curtly, his eyes dark and unreadable. “Very well. Speak.”

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself. “I… I’ve missed you, Sukuna.” you began, your voice trembling. “I’ve missed us. This engagement…duty as it may be – it's tearing me apart. I can’t keep pretending that I don’t feel anything for you.”

A flicker of emotion crossed his face, but he quickly masked it. “You chose your duty, Hiromi-sama. You chose Koku.”

“I had no choice!” you cried, your voice breaking. “You know that…. My family, the clan… they all depend on this alliance. Peace depends on this. It’s not about what I want. It’s about what I have to do.”

“The Fujiwara care little for honor and you know this.” He hisses back at you. He shakes his head. “Do you honestly believe that they will not do some trickery, some game upon us?”

Your eyes narrow. “Sukuna, they are my kin. They shall honor–”

“Blood means little to the greedy.” 

“You know I cannot….” You whisper, lowering your gaze. You knew he was right. You knew that he was honest about it. When has Fujiwara been honorable? “You are not the only one suffering this, Sukuna.”

Sukuna’s eyes flashed with anger. “And what about me? What about what we have? What we had together, our love? Does that mean nothing to you? Do I mean little to you?”

Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision. “Of course it means something! It means the world to me. You mean everything to me…..But I’m trapped, Sukuna…..I…”

He took a step closer, his presence overwhelming. “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t feel the same way? You’re not the only one suffering here, Hiromi.”

The raw emotion in his voice broke something inside you. It burns to hear only your name from his lips. Not his endearment. Not his token of love. The tears you had been holding back spilled over, and you turned away, trying to hide your vulnerability. 

“I hate this.” you whispered. “I hate all of it…..I don’t want to,....I don’t want us to fight. I don’t want to do away with this. From the person I love.”

Sukuna’s expression softened suddenly. It hurts him to see you in tears. To see you in pain. He sighed. He loses to you, he always does.  

He reached out, gently turning you to face him. “Night flower… look at me.”

You met his gaze, your heart breaking at the sight of his own anguish. “I don’t know what to do, Sukuna.” you confessed, your voice trembling. “I feel like I’m losing myself. I want to follow my heart but I just….”

He pulled you into his arms, his hold possessive and desperate. “You’re not alone in this, night flower. I told you, I will not abandon you.” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. “We’ll find a way against the Fujiwara. Trust me.”

You felt the heat of his body against yours, the familiar scent of him enveloping you. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in the quiet, intimate space. He tilted your chin up, his eyes searching yours.

“Night flower,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “You belong with me. You know that, don’t you?”

A sob escaped your lips as you nodded, the tears streaming down your cheeks. “I know.” you whispered back. “I’ve always known.”

Sukuna’s eyes darkened with a fierce possessiveness as he leaned down, capturing your lips in a searing, desperate kiss. It was a kiss that spoke of longing, of frustration, and of a love that refused to be denied. Your initial resistance melted away as you clung to him, pouring all your pent-up emotion into that single, searing moment.

His hands roamed over your back, pulling you closer as if trying to meld your bodies into one. The intensity of his kiss left you breathless, your heart pounding in your chest. You could feel his desperation, his need for you, mirrored in your own.

When he finally pulled back, his breath ragged, he rested his forehead against yours. “I can’t let you go.” he whispers to you tenderly, shutting his eyes.. “No matter what it takes, night flower.  I’ll do it. Just….just stay with me.”

You nodded, the tears still streaming down your face. “I’m sorry, my love.” you agreed, your voice a whisper. “I really am.”

“You don’t have to apologize.”

“But I—”

He says, his eyes opening once more. “I’ll kiss you.”

You looked at him, tears spilling from your eyes. “Do it.”

“Beg for it.”

In the heat of the moment, your words dissolved into a needy moan, your fingers tangling in his hair as you surrendered to the overwhelming desire that pulsed between you. "Don't tease me." you pleaded, your voice husky with need, unable to deny the magnetic pull of his touch. “Please, my love.”

“Hm… what does this little flower want?”

“You.” You moaned, weak against his warmth. “Only you, my love.”

Sukuna’s response was immediate and primal. He growled deep in his throat, the sound reverberating through you and igniting a fierce, uncontrollable hunger. His hands gripped your hips with bruising force, pulling you flush against his hard body. The intensity of his need matched your own, a raw, animalistic force that threatened to consume you both.

With a low, guttural sound, Sukuna's lips crashed down on yours, not gentle or tender, but demanding and feral. His kiss was a storm, fierce and unrelenting, his teeth grazing your lower lip as if to mark you as his. You gasped into his mouth, the pain only heightening your desire, and he took the opportunity to delve deeper, his tongue tangling with yours in a battle for dominance.

Your fingers tightened in his hair, pulling him closer, needing to feel every inch of him. His hands roamed your body with a possessive urgency, his touch setting your skin aflame. He pushed you against the wall, the cool surface a stark contrast to the heat of his body, and you arched into him, a desperate whimper escaping your lips.

Sukuna's grip on you tightened, his nails digging into your flesh as he growled against your mouth. "You're mine, night flower." he snarled, his voice rough with possession and desire. "All mine."

The ferocity in his words sent a shiver down your spine, and you moaned, your body reacting instinctively to his dominance. You clawed at his clothed back, needing to feel him closer, to be consumed by the fire between you. Sukuna responded in kind, his mouth leaving a trail of fiery kisses down your neck, biting and sucking at the sensitive skin, marking you as his own.

Your breaths came in ragged gasps, the world narrowing to just the two of you, lost in a whirlwind of passion and need. Every touch, every kiss, was a desperate claim, a refusal to let go. The line between pleasure and pain blurred as Sukuna's teeth grazed your collarbone, your back arching in response, pressing your body harder against his.

He pushed you back against the wall with a force that left you breathless, his body pressing firmly against yours. The hard, unyielding surface behind you contrasted starkly with the searing heat of his touch, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins. Your back arched instinctively, seeking more of the delicious friction he offered, as your senses were overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. 

His hands roamed possessively over your body, igniting flames of desire wherever they touched. The sensation of his fingers tracing the contours of your skin sent shivers down your spine, awakening a hunger you hadn't realized was lying dormant within you. With each caress, each brush of his lips against your skin, you felt yourself surrendering to the primal need that pulsed between you.

Your hands found their way into his hair, fingers tangling in the soft strands as you pulled him closer, urging him to deepen the kiss. Sukuna's lips trailed down your neck, leaving a burning path of bites and kisses in their wake. Each touch was like fire against your skin, sending waves of pleasure cascading through your body and making your head spin with dizzying delight.

With a rough, almost desperate motion, he tore at your clothes, his hands exploring your skin with a fervent need that sent shivers down your spine. Fabric tore away under his touch, leaving you exposed and vulnerable to his hungry gaze. The air crackled with anticipation as he hungrily drank in the sight of your bare skin, his eyes ablaze with an intensity that made your heart race even faster.

You tear at his clothes eagerly, happily — not caring about the cost, the damage. Such fine clothes do not need to exist. You wanted him. You wanted your lover. You did not care for much else. You wanted it off. You wanted to feel him. Skin to skin, the advent of bare worlds merging together in the flesh. 

"I've waited long enough," he growled, his breath hot against your ear as he pressed his body closer to yours, his lips tantalizingly close to yours. The heat of his words sent a surge of desire coursing through you, igniting a fire that threatened to consume you both. “I can’t do it anymore.”

The raw hunger in his voice stirred something primal within you, awakening a need that mirrored his own. You found yourself responding to him with an urgency you couldn't deny, your body arching into his touch as you surrendered to the overwhelming passion that pulsed between you.

His hands moved with purpose, exploring every inch of your exposed skin with a reverence that made your breath catch in your throat. Fingers traced delicate patterns along your curves, sending electric currents dancing across your flesh and setting your nerve endings ablaze with sensation.

"I won't let anyone else have you," he vowed, his words a fierce declaration of possession as he claimed you as his own. There was a primal possessiveness in his touch, a certainty that you belonged to him and him alone, that sent a thrill of excitement racing through you. “No one, not any man. No one.”

In that moment, there was no room for doubt or hesitation, only the wild, untamed passion that burned between you. You surrendered yourself completely to him, giving in to the irresistible pull of desire that drew you together like moths to a flame.

As his lips crashed down on yours once more, sealing the union, that vow with a searing kiss. You knew that there was no turning back. You were his, body and soul, bound together in a love that defied reason and logic, a love that would endure for eternity.

As Sukuna's lips claimed yours in a fervent kiss, his hands continued their exploration of your exposed skin, tracing every curve and contour with an expert touch that left you trembling with anticipation. With each caress, he seemed to stoke the flames of desire within you, igniting a burning hunger that threatened to consume you entirely.

His touch was electrifying, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body and leaving you yearning for more. Fingers danced along the sensitive skin of your neck, trailing down to your collarbone before wandering lower, teasing the edges of your desire.

With a skillful motion, Sukuna's hands roamed lower still, tracing the outline of your hips before slipping beneath the fabric of your remaining clothing. His touch was bold and confident, fingers dancing lightly over the heated flesh of your thighs as he moved ever closer to the source of your need.

You gasped as his fingertips brushed against your most intimate parts, sending waves of pleasure rippling through you. Each touch was like fire against your skin, igniting a wildfire of sensation that threatened to consume you entirely.

Sukuna's touch was relentless, brutish. You feel like you would burn at each motion. His fingers expertly coaxing forth the symphony of pleasure that lay dormant within you. With each stroke, each caress, he pushed you closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy, his lips claiming yours in a heated kiss that mirrored the fervor of your desire.

As the intensity of his touch reached its peak, you felt yourself teetering on the brink of release. Moan after moan, your entire being was consumed by the flames of passion that raged between you. With a final, exquisite touch, Sukuna pushes you over the edge, sending you spiraling into the depths of pleasure as you surrender yourself completely to him.

Your reaction was one of pure ecstasy, a symphony of pleasure that swept through every fiber of your being. As Sukuna's skilled hands and lips worked their magic, you felt yourself unraveling, surrendering to the overwhelming tide of sensation that threatened to consume you entirely.

Every touch, every caress sent sparks of pleasure shooting through your body, igniting a fire that burned hotter with each passing moment. Your breath came in ragged gasps, your heart pounding in your chest as you teetered on the edge of release.

When Sukuna finally pushed you over that edge, sending you spiraling into the depths of ecstasy, it was like nothing you had ever experienced before. You felt like you were seeing the stars for the first time.

The way he made you feel, the way his fingers played through your confines made you quiver, shake over and over. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you, each one more intense than the last, until you were lost in a haze of pure bliss.

As the intensity of the moment began to ebb, Sukuna's voice cut through the haze of pleasure, his tone husky with desire. "You're mine," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. He bites against your neck. “Mine, mine. Forever mine.”

You let out a soft moan of contentment, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest. His possessiveness could only ever make you even more pleasured.

"’kuna," you whispered, your voice barely audible. You felt broken against him, so deliciously broken. And he loved it. “I’m…gonna…gonna…ah!”

The air crackled with raw intensity as Sukuna's gaze bore into yours, his eyes dark with desire. "Say it," he demanded, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver down your spine. “Say it, night flower.”

"I'm yours," you replied, your voice filled with a mixture of passion and submission. “I’m….oh…I’m yours! Yours!”

Sukuna's grip tightened on your waist, his fingers digging into your skin with an almost painful urgency. "Louder, little one." he commanded, his voice tinged with a hint of dominance. “I don’t care if they hear us. Louder.”

"I'm yours!" you exclaimed, your voice rising with each word as you surrender yourself completely to him.

A fierce hunger burned in Sukuna's eyes as he claimed you once more, his touch rough and possessive as he took you to heights of pleasure you had never known before. Every movement was charged with an intensity that left you gasping for breath, his hands exploring every inch of your body with a relentless urgency that drove you to the brink of madness.

As the crescendo of passion reached its peak, you felt yourself teetering on the edge of ecstasy, your senses overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the moment. And then, with a cry that echoed through the room, you came undone in his arms, waves of pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave, leaving you trembling and spent in the aftermath of your shared release.

In that moment, there was no past, no future, only the present - a fleeting instant of pure, unadulterated bliss that bound you together in a timeless embrace.

And as you basked in the afterglow of your shared passion, you knew that this was where you belonged - in the arms of the one who had awakened the deepest desires within you.

Sukuna's lips curled into a smug smirk as he watched you, his eyes alight with satisfaction at having brought you to such heights of pleasure. His chest rose and fell with each ragged breath, a silent testament to the intensity of the moment.

"Was that everything you hoped for?" he asked, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction.

You could only nod in response, your body still trembling with the aftershocks of your release. Words failed you in that moment, lost in the overwhelming sensation of being utterly and completely consumed by him.

Sukuna's smirk widened as he leaned in to press a lingering kiss to your lips, his touch gentle now, a stark contrast to the rough intensity of moments before.

"You belong to me, night flower." he murmured against your skin, his words a promise and a vow all rolled into one. “You are mine to love, to have, to live, to breathe. To bow to. To yearn for. You are only mine.”

“Make it so.” You huff tenderly at your lover. “I am truly yours.”

As Sukuna's hands skillfully undid the fastenings of his pants, releasing his arousal, a surge of anticipation coursed through your veins like wildfire. The sight of him, his eyes ablaze with unbridled desire, set your heart thundering against your chest with an intensity that matched the rhythm of your racing breaths. In that electrifying moment, the confines of the room seemed to shrink, the air thick with the palpable tension of longing and need.

With a hunger so primal it bordered on desperation, you met his lips once more in a pulsing kiss, your bodies melding together in a fiery embrace.

The world dissolved into a blur of sensation as you drowned in the heady rush of his touch, every caress like a flame igniting your skin, sending ripples of pleasure cascading through your entire being. Each brush of his fingertips against your skin was a symphony of ecstasy, each stroke leaving you gasping for more.

Your hands moved with a frenzied urgency, exploring every inch of his body with a fevered passion. Fingers traced the contours of his form, memorizing every dip and curve as you surrendered yourself to the intoxicating pull of desire.

There was no room for restraint in this tempest of passion, no need for words as your bodies spoke the language of lust and longing, entwined in a dance as old as time itself.

When you parted for air, Sukuna moved slightly and you watched as he towered before you, even in his kneeling position. His presence was overwhelming, commanding the entirety of the room. His figure exuded an aura of raw power, every sinew and muscle of his sculpted physique hinting at the strength that lay beneath. 

Your eyes trailed down his form, taking in the breadth of his shoulders and the defined lines of his torso. He was a towering figure, his height accentuated by the sheer magnitude of his presence. And as your gaze lingered on the bulge straining against the fabric of his pants, you couldn't help but marvel at the sheer size of him.

He was a man of undeniable stature, you had always known so. But to see him in full, to the bareness of his person – you found that he was possessing a primal magnetism that drew you in even more with an irresistible force. And as he moved closer, the intensity of his presence seemed to envelop you, filling the air with an electric charge that sent shivers down your spine.

In that moment, you were acutely aware of just how small you felt in comparison, and yet, there was an undeniable allure to his size, a primal instinct that stirred within you at the thought of being consumed by him entirely.

And as he drew you into his embrace, you couldn't help but surrender yourself to the overwhelming sensation of being enveloped by his sheer magnitude, knowing that in his arms, you were safe and utterly, completely his.

As Sukuna stood before you, his presence looming large, you couldn't help but remark, "You're so... big."

A smirk played on his lips as he leaned in, his voice low and husky. "And you like that, don't you?" he teased, the heat of his breath sending a shiver down your spine.

You nodded, feeling a flush rise to your cheeks as you admitted, "Yes, I do."

Sukuna's smirk widened into a grin as he closed the distance between you, his arms enveloping you in a strong embrace. "Good." he murmured against your ear, his voice laced with desire. "Because I'm going to make you feel every inch of it."

As Sukuna positioned himself above you, a primal hunger burned in his eyes, mirroring the fierce desire coursing through your veins. With a rough urgency, he slid inside, the heat of your connection igniting a wildfire of sensation that threatened to consume you both. Your eyes locked in a fierce gaze, a silent acknowledgment of the raw passion that bound you together.

His thrusts were relentless, each movement driving you both closer to the edge of oblivion. With each powerful thrust, he claimed you as his own, his dominance asserting itself with every primal urge. Your body met his roughness as though a thunderous wave against a cliff. You surrendered to him, every touch igniting sparks of pleasure that sent shockwaves through your entire being.

Before you could react, Sukuna closed the distance between you in a heartbeat, his hands gripping your shoulders with a possessive strength that left no room for escape. His touch was rough, demanding, as he pinned you beneath him, a primal force of nature unleashed. In that moment, there was no denying the intensity of his desire, no escaping the magnetic pull of his dark desires.

The hard, unyielding surface undernearth burnt you as his thrusts pushed you against the tatami floor and over roughly. It was a sharp contrasted with the searing heat of his touch, heightening the sensations that coursed through your body. Your hands instinctively reached for him, fingers tangling in his hair as you returned his kiss with equal fervor.

As Sukuna positioned himself to bottom out, his eyes ablaze with hunger, he whispered huskily, "My darling wife, my little bride. My night flower.”

Your breath hitched as you met his intense gaze, feeling a surge of arousal coursing through you. "Yes, yes….y’r wi’e, ah, ah yo’r bri’e!" you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. “M’ husb’d, my husba’d!”

With a primal growl, Sukuna claimed your lips in a battering kiss, his hands gripping your shoulders with possessive strength. "Good little wife." he murmured against your lips, his voice rough with desire. " I'm going to show you what it means to belong to me."

As Sukuna's desire intensified, so did his movements. With a growl of primal need, he increased the force of his thrusts, driving himself deeper into you with each powerful movement. Your body responded eagerly to his rough dominance, every thrust sending waves of pleasure crashing through you.

You gasped at the intensity of his actions, your nails digging into his back as you surrendered yourself completely, honestly, truthfully, to the raw passion of the moment. "Mo’e," you moaned, your voice thick with desire. “Faster, fast’r…oh, oh!”

Sukuna's lips curled into a feral grin as he complied with your plea, his movements becoming even rougher, more primal. Each thrust was a declaration of his dominance, a reminder of the unbridled passion that burned between you.

With each thrust, Sukuna's control slipped further, consumed by the primal urge to possess you completely. His movements were primal, bordering on savage, as he claimed you as his own with each powerful thrust. The room echoed with the sound of your moans, a symphony of pleasure that filled the air as you surrendered yourself to the intoxicating rhythm of his desire.

You arched your back, meeting each of his thrusts with equal fervor, your bodies moving in perfect harmony as you sought to satisfy the insatiable hunger that burned between you. The intensity of the moment was overwhelming, a whirlwind of sensation that threatened to engulf you both in its fiery embrace.

As Sukuna's primal desire surged, he growled against your ear, his voice thick with lust. "You feel so good, so tight around me," he rasped, his breath hot against your skin.

Your own voice was lost in a symphony of pleasure, your moans mingling with his as you surrendered to the primal rhythm of your bodies. "Hard’r!," you pleaded, your nails digging into his skin as you urged him on. “I’m feeling….I’m feel’ng… Please!, ‘on’t stop! ‘Kuna, ah!”

With a primal grunt, Sukuna complied, his thrusts becoming even more forceful, more desperate. Each movement sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you, building towards an inevitable climax that promised to consume you both in its fiery embrace. 

You were certain that you could no longer think. Not about propriety, or who ever could hear. It doesn’t matter. Only he did. He was your world. And you know you were his.

As the intensity of your pleasure peaked, you felt yourself teetering on the edge of ecstasy. "’m cloooose…" you gasped, your voice strained with the impending release. Tears flow through your face freely.  “‘Kuna, it…oh, oh!”

Sukuna's movements became even more relentless, driving you towards the brink with a primal urgency. He bites against your neck hard, causing you to mewl. 

 "Come for me," he growled, his voice rough with desire as he urged you on. “Come, little wife. You could do it. Give your husband one more.”

With a cry of ecstasy, you shattered into a million pieces, waves of pleasure crashing over you in an overwhelming crescendo. Your body trembled with the force of your release, every nerve ending ablaze with sensation as you surrendered yourself completely to the pleasure that consumed you.

But Sukuna wasn't far behind. With a feral roar, he followed you over the edge, his own release tearing through him with a savage intensity. You felt him pulse inside you, each throb of his hot release sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body. 

As you both rode out the aftershocks of your shared climax, you collapsed into each other's arms, spent and sated. In that moment, there was no room for anything else but the raw, unbridled passion that bound you together. 

As you lay entwined in the aftermath of your passionate encounter, Sukuna held you close, his breath still ragged with desire. "I never want to be separated from you." he whispered, his voice husky with emotion. “Not in this lifetime, not the next. Never.”

You melted into his embrace, overwhelmed by the intensity of his declaration. "I don't ever want to be apart from you either." you murmured, your heart swelling with love.

Sukuna's arms tightened around you possessively, as if afraid to let you slip away. "Promise me you'll stay." he pleaded, his voice tinged with vulnerability. “Don’t ever leave me again.”

You looked up into his eyes, seeing the depth of his love reflected in their depths. "I promise, my love." you vowed, sealing your commitment with a lingering kiss. “Now and forever.”

IT WAS TERRIFYING TO STAND BEFORE YOUR FATHER NOW. You and Sukuna knelt side by side in the grand hall, the tension thick in the air. Before you stood your father, Lord Isamu, and his brother, Hiramu, Sukuna’s own adoptive father — your uncle. The gravity of the situation weighed heavily on you, it now feels real. But you had made your decision. It was time to face the consequences of your actions.

The grand hall, with its high ceilings and ornate decorations, seemed to close in around you. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the occasional rustle of clothing or the distant murmur of servants. Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat a reminder of the enormity of what you were about to confess.

Sukuna's hand in yours was a small comfort, a reminder that you were not alone in this. His presence, solid and unwavering, gave you the strength to meet the stern gazes of the men before you. Lord Isamu, your father, looked weary, the lines on his face deepening with concern. Hiramu, Sukuna's father, wore a mixture of curiosity and amusement, his eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief.

"Father," you began, your voice trembling slightly, "we have come to confess something important."

Isamu’s eyes narrowed slightly, a subtle indication of anticipation His gaze, warm and reassuring, also held a hint of wariness as he studied you, as if trying to decipher the truth behind your words. It was a look you had seen before, often preceding moments of stern reprimand or heartfelt advice.

You swallowed hard, the weight of his scrutiny bearing down on you like a heavy burden. Despite the urge to look away, you met his gaze head-on, determined to convey the sincerity of your words. There was no turning back now; you and Sukuna had made your decision, and you were prepared to face the consequences, whatever they may be.

"Sukuna and I... we've... we've performed all the acts of marriage," you confessed, the words spilling from your lips in a rush. Each syllable hung in the air, heavy with implication, as you awaited your father's reaction.

For a moment, there was silence—a pregnant pause that seemed to stretch on indefinitely. Isamu's expression remained inscrutable, his features a mask of carefully controlled emotion. It was as if he were weighing your words, measuring them against some unseen standard of judgment.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke. "Is that so?" he said, his voice deceptively calm. There was a sharpness to his tone, a subtle undercurrent of disapproval that sent a chill down your spine. It was a tone you knew all too well—a warning that you were treading on dangerous ground.

You felt a pang of guilt at the thought that it was disappointment in his eyes. Yet, beneath the veneer of reproach, there was something else—a flicker of understanding, perhaps, or even a trace of resignation. Isamu was a man of duty, bound by the traditions and obligations of his station, but he was also a father, with all the complexities and contradictions that entailed. You were his only child left. What should he let you suffer more? 

As you awaited his response, you couldn't help but wonder what thoughts were swirling in his mind. Was he disappointed in you? Angry? Or did he, in some small corner of his heart, understand the depth of your love for Sukuna, despite the circumstances?

Whatever the case, one thing was certain: the road ahead would not be easy. You had chosen to defy convention, to follow your heart in the face of overwhelming opposition. But as you looked into Isamu's eyes, you knew that you would face whatever challenges came your way, you would not forsake Sukuna. He was yours. He was your heart. He was your soul. Your husband. You would not forsake him, even if your father did.

Sukuna took your hand, his grip firm and reassuring. "Ryomen Hiromi, the most noble of your blood, is my wife." he said clearly, his voice unwavering. "In every way that matters, we are husband and wife, my lord. I will not….I will not forsake my wife. Not even if you put me to death for it.”

A heavy silence fell over the room. Ryomen Isamu sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping with the weight of the revelation. He felt a headache pulse through his head. The hubris of love between the youth. He could only wonder what it was like.

"This means the marriage with Koku cannot happen." he said, his voice tinged with weariness. The strain of the past weeks was evident in his eyes, the conflict between duty and his love for you tearing at him. “After all the work we put into it….”

“Father, I know that I….that I insisted on doing my duty.” You gulped as you held tighter to Sukuna’s hand. “But I cannot forsake my heart. I love Sukuna. I do. And my heart, it is stronger than anything else. I cannot live without it. And I cannot live without Sukuna. Please, father. I shall do anything you ask of me.”

“I too will do the same.” Sukuna added hastily as he held his head high in front of your father. He looks to you for a moment, before he returns his attention to his new father-in-law. “I am devoted to your daughter. Only to Hiromi. If there must be consequences, I will bear it with my wife, as she insists. We are yours to command, my lord.”

Hiramu laughed, breaking the tension with a hearty sound. "At least the kids are honest with us now, eh, brother?," he said, clapping Sukuna on the shoulder. He turned to you with a warm smile. "Welcome to the family, daughter-in-law."

You blushed at his words, feeling a mixture of relief and embarrassment. Holding Sukuna's hand tightly, you looked up at your father. You let go of your husband’s hand and slowly lowered yourself to bow towards your uncle. “Thank you, father-in-law.”

Isamu's stern expression softened slightly, and he slowly nodded. “Well, what is there for me to do, brother? We have no choice….They have consummated marriage. It is known. It is done.”

“I shall try to be worthy of your trust, father-in-law.” Sukuna too humbled himself, bowing before your father, who sighed heavily at his act.“I will not let you down.”

“You best not.” Isamu retorts back, his words stern. “My daughter risks ruin, the clan risks war. There is much that costs us. You both followed your hearts more than your brain’s logics–”

"Now calm down, brother. You act like you aren’t happy that your daughter is happy." Hiramu said, snickering.

“She is my only child left, I am happy. But as clan leader, I simply cannot—”

Hiramu waved his elder brother off. "We'll deal with it. As long as Hiromi and Sukuna are happy. I don’t think anything is to be frowned upon.”

Isamu sighed, nodding resignedly at his younger brother’s words. “Perhaps your grandfather would be satisfied with a plausible marriage peace between your future children and Koku’s own children.”

“Or if there is a war—”

“Brother, we will not seek war just because our children wed.” Isamu sighed at his younger brother, who rolled his eyes. “There is more logic to Ankoku–dono than that.”

“We shall see.” Hiramu snickers bitterly. 

Tears welled in your eyes at his words, a flood of emotions overwhelming you. The fear, the uncertainty, and the relief all mingled together, leaving you momentarily speechless. Sukuna squeezed your hand, grounding you, his presence a steady anchor in the storm of your feelings.

"Thank you, father," you finally managed to say, your voice thick with emotion. "I know this isn't what we have planned, but I promise we'll make it work. We'll find a way to honor our families with the duties you endow on us now.”

Isamu nodded again, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "You always were strong-willed, little one." he said softly. "I told you. I have always known you would find your own path."

Hiramu chuckled. "And it's a good path." he said, his eyes twinkling with pride. "No paths are bound, after all. The Ryomen will be stronger for this. Do not worry.”

As you knelt there, holding Sukuna's hand, you felt a sense of peace settle over you. The road ahead would be challenging, but you were not alone. With your family’s blessing, and Sukuna by your side, you were ready to face whatever came next. Nothing is hard now.

YOU ENJOYED THE PEACE IN SUKUNA’S ARMS. In the serene embrace of marital bliss, the world outside seemed to fade away as you and Sukuna basked in the warmth of each other's love. With every tender caress and whispered endearment, you found solace in the sanctuary of each other's arms. 

Your father and uncle's decision to delay the announcement of your marriage felt like a reprieve, a precious respite from the tumultuous currents of politics and conflict that swirled around you. In these quiet moments, you reveled in the simple joys of the companionship of your husband. In these slowly drifting days of joy, you happily yearned for finding refuge from the storm that raged beyond the confines of your shared quarters.

The prospect of a public declaration of your union loomed on the horizon, promising both joy and uncertainty. You do not know how the whole world will react. But for now, you were content to linger in this private cocoon of happiness, savoring each stolen moment together.

The world does not sleep in your bed. Your husband does. And you wanted to indulge into the privacy of your world as much as you could. You wanted to belong to each other before you did the world.

Wrapped in the soft glow of candlelight, you and Sukuna exchanged tender glances and gentle smiles, your hearts overflowing with love and gratitude. In each other's presence, you found strength and reassurance, a beacon of hope in a world fraught with uncertainty.

As you lay intertwined in a tangle of limbs and whispers, the outside world faded into obscurity, its worries and conflicts distant echoes in the hush of the night. Here, in the sacred space of your love, you found sanctuary from the chaos that threatened to engulf the world outside. And for a fleeting moment, all was right in the world.

As the moon cast its gentle glow upon the room, you lay beside Sukuna, his warmth a comforting presence beside you. Thoughts of the future danced through your minds, visions of a family together, of laughter and love filling the halls of your home.

As Sukuna's whispered desire lingered in the air, his voice carrying the weight of his affection and longing, you felt a blush tinge your cheeks, a telltale sign of the emotions stirring within you.

His words, filled with warmth and tenderness, ignited a spark of joy in your heart, the prospect of sharing in the joys of parenthood with him filling you with a sense of profound happiness.

“I should like a daughter.” He whispers to you in the dawn of moonlight, kissing your cheeks tenderly. “One that looks like you. With all your warmth and your beauty. I should be satisfied with spoiling a tender girl from you.”

"I would be happy with that." you confessed, your voice soft and filled with love, your heart overflowing with adoration for the man beside you. The thought of bringing a daughter into the world, a precious soul to cherish and nurture, filled you with a sense of purpose and fulfillment. “But I want her to look like you too.”

“We can have a few.”

You pouted at him. “But that shall take effort.”

He laughs, pinching your cheeks. “Who says I shan’t have the effort to make it possible?”

“Oh, you are so happy to enjoy being in bed with me so well.”

Your husband nudges his head against your head. “Is it too bad for a happy husband to indulge in his little wife?”

“No,” You can only sigh with that, letting him hold you closer. “I shall indulge my husband as he pleases.”

Sukuna had a small playful glint danced in his eyes, his smirk betraying a mischievousness that never failed to elicit a chuckle from you. “Then my little wife shall be spoiled as can be by my affections.”

“Hm…I shall let you do so.”

“Oh, you must or I shall be forceful with it.” He presses kisses across your neck, inciting giggles out of you. 

"But I should like a son. One that takes after you," you admitted to him, your voice laced with affectionate teasing, a smile playing at the corners of your lips. “With your sharp eyes and your impatience. Your cheeky nature. I shall like that so much.”

Sukuna's smirk widened into a playful grin as his fingers brushed against your loose locks, his touch sending a shiver of delight coursing through you. "You desire such a boy swaddling against your chest the way I do?" he teased, his voice tinged with amusement. “Oh, you shall like that won’t you?”

You couldn't help but laugh at his jest, swatting his hand playfully as a blush colored your cheeks. "Oh, you are insufferable, my love." you chided, though the fondness in your voice betrayed your true feelings. “All too much.”

In moments like these, surrounded by Sukuna's playful banter and affectionate teasing, you found yourself falling even deeper in love with the man who held your heart. The thought of starting a family together filled you with a sense of purpose, a shared dream that bound you together even more tightly.

Sukuna's playful smirk softened into a tender smile as he gazed at you, his eyes alight with affection. "Only because I love you, little wife." he whispered, his voice filled with sincerity. “My only night flower.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, the warmth of his love enveloping you like a gentle embrace. Despite the teasing banter, there was an undeniable depth to Sukuna's affection, a steadfast devotion that anchored you to him in a bond that transcended words.

"I love you too," you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper. In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of Sukuna's embrace and the soft glow of the moonlight, you felt a sense of completeness wash over you, as if all the pieces of your soul had finally found their rightful place. “More than you know.”

As the night wore on, you both drifted into a peaceful slumber, the rhythm of each other's breathing a comforting lullaby. In each other's arms, you found safety and serenity, the worries of the world fading into insignificance.

But the tranquility was short-lived. Abruptly, you were jolted awake by urgent shouts and the clamor of weapons clashing. Your uncle's voice pierced through the darkness, his words heavy with urgency.

“Rouse from your bed, make haste!”

“What has happened?” You pondered as you scrambled to your feet, with your husband’s help.

"The Fujiwara are attacking." he exclaimed clearly, with no hesitation.

Sukuna mumbles. "They never intended to keep the peace. They intended a distraction.”

Hiramu shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter now. There’s a lot to be done.”

“What must we do, uncle?” You whispered to him, your brows furrowing.

“Kill.” Hiramu uttered with tension. “In the way a Ryomen knows how.“

In an instant, the peace you had cherished was shattered, replaced by the harsh reality of war. With a sense of dread knotting in your stomach, you looked at Sukuna who nodded back at you resolutely. Your uncle led the way, his voice ringing through the compound. There was no way back. There was only kill, or be killed.

THERE WAS NO TIME TO WORRY ABOUT YOUR PROPRIETY. Emerging from the confines of your residence, still clad in the elegant folds of your inside kimono, you stepped outside hand in hand with your husband, Sukuna. The air crackled with tension, and the acrid scent of battle hung heavy in the air, mingling with the subtle fragrance of cherry blossoms that drifted on the breeze.

As chaos erupted outside, the once serene courtyard transformed into a battleground, the urgent clangor of battle reverberating through the air like a thunderous symphony. The sounds of metal meeting metal, of shouted commands and desperate pleas, filled the space around you, drowning out all other noise.

With a sense of grim determination, you and Sukuna rushed forward alongside your uncle, your footsteps quick and purposeful. The courtyard was a hive of activity, clan members standing shoulder to shoulder, their faces set in expressions of fierce resolve as they channeled their cursed energy to create a protective dome shield against the relentless onslaught of the Fujiwara attacks.

Amidst the chaos, voices rose in a cacophony of sound, some screaming encouragement and rallying cries, while others spat curses and insults at their adversaries. The air crackled with a palpable tension, each member of the clan fully immersed in the gravity of the situation, their commitment to defending their home and their loved ones unwavering.

For a brief moment, time seemed to stand still as you took in the scene before you, the tableau of bravery and sacrifice etched into the very fabric of your being. With every beat of your heart, you felt the weight of responsibility pressing down upon you, urging you to stand tall and fight for what you believed in.

With Sukuna's hand clasped tightly in yours, you steeled yourself for the battle ahead, drawing strength from the unwavering support of your loved ones. Together, you would face whatever challenges lay ahead, united in your determination to protect everything you held dear.

With determination etched into your features, you turned to Sukuna, your eyes meeting him with unwavering resolve. "I'll go and release cursed energy to reinforce the shield," you declared, your voice firm despite the tremor of fear that lingered in the depths of your being.

“You go with uncle Hiramu. There’s so many sectors of the manor that remain unshielded. They need you more than I do right now.”

Sukuna's gaze softened with concern, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek. "And I'll go and fight in areas the shield can't reach," he vowed, his voice resolute as he met your eyes with unwavering determination. “Be safe, wife.”

You nodded in silent agreement, a silent understanding passing between you as you shared a brief, tender kiss. In that fleeting moment, you conveyed a wealth of unspoken promises and emotions, a silent vow to stand together against the tide of adversity.

With one final, lingering glance, you and Sukuna parted ways, the weight of the impending battle heavy on your shoulders. Each determined to do your part in the raging conflict that threatened to consume your home, you rushed towards your respective duties, the urgency of the moment propelling you forward.

As you sprinted towards your kin, your body thrummed with an electrifying surge of cursed energy, its power coursing through your veins like a raging torrent. Every step forward was fueled by a fierce determination to protect those you loved, to stand firm against the tide of adversity that threatened to overwhelm you.

Your kin turned to you, their eyes alight with a mixture of hope and desperation as you approached, the aura of your cursed energy pulsating around you like a halo of light. With a determined focus, you joined your palms together, the air crackling with anticipation as the energy around you intensified, thickening against the encroaching darkness.

As you unleashed the full force of your cursed energy, a blinding white light erupted from your palms, enveloping those around you in a protective barrier of pulsating energy.

With each passing moment, the barrier expanded, its formidable strength pushing back against the relentless onslaught of the Fujiwara attacks, offering a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos that raged around you.

“Be careful, Hiromi–sama!” One of your kinsfolk says to you, his strained voice echoing across the courtyard to you. 

"I will," you called back, your voice firm with resolve. With a final wave, you turned back to face the fray, your focus fully on the task at hand.

As you continued to channel your cursed energy, the strain of maintaining the protective barrier began to take its toll on your body. Beads of sweat formed on your brow as you poured every ounce of your strength into the effort, the weight of responsibility pressing down upon you like a heavy burden. You knew this cannot be kept up for too long.

You can give as much as your cursed energy as much as you can, but the other kinsfolk would not last. If you don’t have them, the barriers would fall.

As the chaos of battle unfolded around you, your voice rang out with commanding authority, cutting through the clamor like a clarion call. With a fierce determination burning in your eyes, you singled out one of the guards amidst the fray, his sword gripped tightly in his hand.

"You!" you shouted, your voice echoing across the courtyard with a commanding force. "Rally all the women and children towards the tunnels. Alert an evacuation now!"

The urgency in your tone left no room for hesitation as you issued your orders, your gaze unwavering as you met the guard's eyes. Every word was imbued with a sense of purpose, a stark reminder of the gravity of the situation at hand.

Around you, the chaos of battle continued to rage, but amidst the turmoil, your voice served as a beacon of clarity and direction. With swift efficiency, the guard nodded in acknowledgment of your command, his movements quick and decisive as he set about carrying out your orders.

As you turned back, your heart pounding with a mixture of fear and determination, a scene of horror unfolded before your eyes. One by one, your kinsfolk fell to the merciless onslaught, their cries of pain and desperation echoing in the air like a haunting melody of despair.

Shock and disbelief washed over you as you watched in horror, your gaze fixed on the figure responsible for the carnage. It was your own mother, Akiko, her features twisted with a madness that chilled you to the bone.

Tears welled in your eyes as you struggled to comprehend the betrayal unfolding before you, the realization of her treachery cutting deep like a dagger to the heart.

The protective barrier you had worked so tirelessly to maintain began to falter, the cursed energy of the Fujiwara merging and multiplying with each passing moment. As the shield came crashing down, a sense of dread settled over you like a suffocating blanket, the full weight of the impending doom bearing down upon you like a relentless storm.

In the chaos and confusion that ensued, you found yourself paralyzed with shock, your mind reeling as you tried to make sense of the nightmare unfolding before you. The once tranquil grounds of Ryomen Manor were now engulfed in a maelstrom of violence and destruction, the air thick with the stench of death and decay.

With a heavy heart, you realized that the battle was lost before it had even begun. As the cursed energy of the Fujiwara swept over the manor like a tidal wave of darkness, you knew that there was little hope of survival in the face of such overwhelming odds.

You stumbled backward, disbelief etched on your face as you locked eyes with your mother, Fujiwara Akiko, amidst the chaos. "You…... how could you?" Your voice quivered with a mixture of hurt and betrayal, unable to comprehend the depths of her actions.

Akiko's gaze bore into yours, devoid of any remorse or empathy, her expression twisted into a cruel sneer. "Oh little foolish girl." she hissed, her voice dripping with malice. "You were always too weak, too sentimental. You have no place in the new order I am creating."

Tears welled in your eyes as her words cut through you like a knife, the realization of her betrayal striking you like a physical blow.

"But... why?" you choked out, your voice barely above a whisper.

A bitter laugh escaped Akiko's lips, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "Why, you ask? Because power is all that matters, my dear. And I will stop at nothing to seize it, even if it means sacrificing everything I once held dear."

As the shock of betrayal rooted you to the spot, you watched in horror as your mother, consumed by madness and darkness, charged towards you with lethal intent. The air crackled with tension, each heartbeat echoing in your ears like a drumbeat of impending doom.

Just as despair threatened to consume you, a sudden rush of movement caught your attention. With a sense of surreal relief, you saw Sukuna appear beside you, his presence a beacon of hope amidst the chaos. Without hesitation, he unleashed his devastating technique, Cleave, with a swift and powerful strike aimed at your mother.

Time seemed to slow as the force of Sukuna's attack collided with your mother, the impact sending shockwaves rippling through the air. You watched in awe as the sheer power of the technique tore through the darkness that had consumed her, dispersing it like a veil lifted by the wind.

As your mother staggered back, her form wavering and flickering like a candle flame on the verge of extinguishment, he sent another wave of Cleave towards her. Finally, she fell dead. She was a traitor. And he would not forgive her.

You stare at the lifeless corpse of your mother, your pupils shaking. Sukuna rushed to you and held you. You looked at him, in a state of delirium as everything burned around you in intense flame.

“S-she…”

“It’s okay.”

“Where’s father?” You asked him frantically, “Uncle Hiramu?”

“They’re on their way here, night flower. Do not worry.” He whispers to you. “They are keeping the Fujiwara at bay, so the others may leave.”

“Then….”

“We must fight here.”

As the once tranquil grounds of Ryomen Manor erupted into chaos, the air was thick with the acrid scent of smoke and the sounds of battle. The double heron banner of the Ryomen clan, a symbol of pride and honor, burned amidst the turmoil, its flames a grim reminder of the devastation that had befallen the once-proud estate.

You and Sukuna stood side by side, your backs against each other as you faced wave after wave of attackers. With each strike of your enemies, your resolve only grew stronger, fueled by a fierce determination to defend your home and protect your loved ones.

As the battle raged on, the air thick with the stench of smoke and the cries of the wounded, you stood amidst the chaos, a beacon of power amidst the turmoil. With a fierce determination burning in your eyes, you reached out with your mind, tapping into the primal forces of nature at your command. 

Eyes turning purple, your gaze turns narrow.

Hunger. Anger. Bitterness. Cruelty. Hatred.

You do not know what you were right at that moment.

 But one by one, you longed for more bloody hands. 

More and more until nothing was left, until nothing was there.

With a forceful command, you summoned torrents of water from nearby sources, the liquid crashing down upon the raging inferno with a deafening roar. The flames hissed and sputtered as they were doused by the relentless onslaught, steam rising into the air as the inferno was quenched.

But your control over the water was not gentle; it was a violent deluge, tearing through the flames with a ferocity that left nothing but charred remains in its wake.

Meanwhile, gusts of wind whipped through the battlefield at your command, their force amplified to hurricane-like proportions. The wind howled and shrieked as it tore through the air, sending debris and bodies hurtling through the air like ragdolls.

Your enemies were caught off guard, their movements hampered by the violent gusts that buffeted them from all sides. Limbs were torn asunder, screams of agony drowned out by the relentless roar of the wind.

The scene was gruesome, a tableau of chaos and destruction wrought by the sheer power of your manipulation. The ground beneath your feet trembled with the force of the elements, the air thick with the taste of blood and the metallic tang of fear. But amidst the carnage, you stood resolute, a force of nature in your own right, your power unchecked and untamed.

As the battle raged on, you continued to wield the elements with ruthless efficiency, your every movement a testament to the raw power at your command.

With each torrent of water and gust of wind, you pushed back against the encroaching darkness, fighting tooth and nail to defend Ryomen Manor from its relentless onslaught.

Beside you, Sukuna became a whirlwind of destruction, his every movement a lethal dance amidst the chaos of battle. With Cleave, he unleashed devastation upon the enemy ranks, each slash a precise and calculated strike that cut through flesh and bone with merciless efficiency.

The air around him seemed to crackle with the energy of his fury, his movements fluid and deadly as he carved a path of destruction through the opposing forces.

With each swing of Cleave, Sukuna left a trail of carnage in his wake, mutilated bodies falling in his shadow as he moved with unparalleled precision and ferocity. His attacks were swift and relentless, each strike finding its mark with deadly accuracy.

It was as if he was a mad man as he clubbed one man after another — as he brutalized one after another. He drowned in blood, he drowned in vengeance. He was a beast.

As the battle raged on, hand-to-hand combat merged seamlessly with the elemental onslaught, the clash of cursed energy bursts through each and every stone.

The roar of brutality, the cannibalistic nature of survival danced in vicious harmony,  in a cacophony of chaos and destruction. Amidst the din of battle, Sukuna's presence was a constant, a beacon of strength and determination amidst the turmoil.

Together, you and Sukuna fought as one, your movements synchronized as you danced upon the battlefield. With each strike and each spell, you pushed back against the encroaching darkness, your combined efforts a force to be reckoned with amidst the chaos of war.

As the chaos of battle raged around you, your uncle Hiramu finally arrived, bloodied and broken, a grim expression etched upon his weary face. He threw his broken sword, grunting as he picked up another one from a mutilated corpse. From the way he looked, it did not seem promising. The whole world had turned into madness.

“You brats shouldn’t be here anymore!” Your uncle says with a voice hoarse with exhaustion. “Everyone else has fled! You both need to go, now!”

But you objected, your resolve unwavering even in the face of adversity. "A Ryomen stands his ground, no matter what, uncle." you insisted, your voice ringing with determination. “Hida cannot fall. Not in our hands.”

Hiramu's gaze softened, a mixture of pride and sadness in his eyes as he regarded you. "And what is there left to stand for if a Ryomen is dead?" he countered, his voice tinged with resignation. "Sometimes, little girl, survival is the only victory worth fighting for."

Turning to Sukuna with eyes full of emotion. “Be a good son for once, hm? Your old father here needs you to do as he asks.” Sukuna's expression wavered, torn between loyalty to his adoptive father and his desire to protect you. “Go. Now."

“Uncle—”

After a moment of internal struggle, Sukuna took your hand, his decision made. You looked at him, your face shattered into grief at what he intended to do. 

With a heavy heart, he looked to his adoptive father “Don’t you die yet, you old geezer. I swear, if you die—”

Hiramu snickered at Sukuna's words, a bitter smile playing upon his lips. “Have trust in your father, brat. I’ll live to see my first grandchild!" he admitted, his tone laced with grim determination. He smacks his son’s head. "But for now, escape. Go! Take her! I’ll hold them off!”

As you scream for Sukuna to put you down. Over and over as you fight against him, as your throat grows weary and pained, he will not relent. Not as the sounds of battle continued to echo behind you, a cacophony of clashing steel and crackling magic filling the air. With each step, the weight of your uncle's sacrifice hung heavy upon your heart as you screamed for him. 

You caught a glimpse of Ryomen Hiramu, standing tall amidst the chaos once more. He grins at you, waving his sword. Tears fell as easily as his enemies did. His sword was all you could see through the flames, flashing in the dim light against the belly of a Fujiwara one after another. But as one fell, another came and they surrounded your uncle soon enough. Until it was all disappearing, until he was gone from your reach. Until there was nothing.

With a heavy heart, you tore your gaze away from the battlefield, focusing instead on the path ahead. Beside you, Sukuna remained silent, his hand tight around yours as you navigated the maze-like corridors of Ryomen Manor.

You thought of your father, you wondered where he was. You wondered about Masaomi, who had gone missing as the attack went through the compound. You could not fight back the tears as they came. Not even if you wanted to. 

The air around you crackled with tension as you pressed forward, each step bringing you closer to safety and yet further from the home you had always known.

Though the way ahead was uncertain, you clung to the hope that your uncle Hiramu's sacrifice had bought you—the chance to live to fight another day. Even if you didn’t want to. Even if you didn’t think to. 

As you and Sukuna finally emerged from the chaos of battle, the cool night air washed over you like a balm, a stark contrast to the heat and violence you had left behind. With one last glance back at the manor, now engulfed in flames and shadows, you and Sukuna turned away, leaving behind the echoes of a life once lived as you set out on a new path, together.

It was then from the bitter dusk did the first drops of rain begin to fall. From afar, it had cast a somber veil over the charred remnants of Ryomen Manor. The cool droplets mingled with the tears that streamed down your cheeks, their gentle patter against the scorched earth a mournful lament for all that had been lost.

Sukuna knelt beside you, his expression one of uncertainty and helplessness as he watched you wrap your weary arms around your shaking legs. He didn't know what to say, nor did he know how to dry your tears. All he could do was offer his silent presence, a steady anchor amidst the storm of emotions that threatened to engulf you both.

The rain continued to pour, harsher and harsher — a relentless downpour that mirrored the torrent of grief and sorrow that threatened to consume you. With each passing moment, Sukuna felt the weight of your pain pressing down upon him, a burden he couldn't bear but refused to abandon.

In that eve of the year 953, in Hida Province,

The proud Ryomen Clan of old, ancient blood;

Had all but fallen to the hands of Fujiwara's cruelty.

Of the Ryomen’s main bloodline remained two.

Husband and wife, Ryomen Hiromi and Sukuna.

facts about this chapter

this was entirely a chapter i saw from the beginning happening. the destruction of the ryomen is something i believe is the reason sukuna is the only ryomen we know.

this chapter took me the longest to write than any other of the series thus far. this was also the most emotionally taxing to write. so i had to come back and write some fluff and then drink matcha to calm down.

hiromi and sukuna's marriage was a last minute addition after my beta reading friend suggested that the idea of their marriage have consequence. but since it was never announce, only the ryomen know.

the fujiwara planned that they were going to destroy the ryomen the moment sukuna defeated koku. they think that koku being humiliated was the whole clan being humiliated. moreover, there's bitterness with the 'lowly' marriage of fujiwara akiko. this was a correction to the fujiwara.

masaomi is just the same age as koku, akimu and suzaku. masaomi was akimu's childhood playmate. and by extention, hiromi's own playmate. upon the death of akimu, hiromi became the focus his loyalty. hiromi considers him a friend.

heian culture doesn't really have a strict conduct of marriage, except in the in the nature of the noble's blood. if the marriage was ever announced, people would view hiromi to have married down even if sukuna took the ryomen name. because hiromi has noble blood and sukuna does not.

isamu and hiramu already knew that hiromi and sukuna would end up getting together because they knew too well that they were too in love to let go of each other. they already had contingency plans, if that happened. they knew that the kids being happy mattered more.

akiko is obsessed with power. and it was her end. i always wondered what i could do with her and her wanting. but its quite easy to see too that she's a victim of her family's own culture. if she had broken free from that, she would have ended up not dying.

hiromi's power introduced here is called 'heaven's bounty' which allows hiromi control of the surrounding and nature itself for a limited amount of time. she combines this with hand to hand because she doesn't know how long her cursed energy could last.

hiramu doesn't have that strong of a cursed energy, but he makes up for it with his strength. which has been noted since 'the night we met' when they first met sukuna.

fujiwara ankoku in a way is inspired by zenin naobito but worse. he'd commit to the destruction of his own family. blood and innocents to have satisfaction and revenge. i think he'd get even worse with time passing by.

with ryomen manor burned to the ground, the whole of hida is under occupation by the fujiwara. hiromi and sukuna are wanted alive by the fujiwara, the rest of the ryomen and their retainers have bounty in their heads, but to death

the ryomen family tree looks like this

lord ryomen - his wife

|

isamu hiramu

m. | (adoptive)

akiko sukuna

|

akimu hiromi

the fujiwara family goes like this

fujiwara ankoku - his wife

|

lord fujiwara akiko

| |

koku akimu hiromi (married) sukuna

[achromatophoric]

Wenclairtober 2024, Day 24 - First Date

“As first dates go,” she said, her glossy gaze still admiring the woman in her lap, “this really could have gone better.”

“It was more than I could have imagined.”

“Well, you never were very good at imagining the nicer things.”

“Are you calling me unimaginative?”

“If the predictably black boot fits…”

The detective exhaled a breathy chuckle and smiled. For once, it was entirely sincere, unfettered by pained past or impending future. From her partner’s delighted gasp, it too was more than she could have imagined.

“You have dimples?!” exclaimed the wolf in an incredulous tone. “After all this time, you’ve been hiding what are, and I must emphasize, the most adorable-as-shit dimples I’ve ever seen!”

The answering shrug was barely more than a shudder. “Contingency plan. Secret weapon. Either way, I was saving it for when your usefulness inevitably ended.”

The wolf’s mock offended gasp rang hollow, as did her half-hearted shove. Too a light a touch. Too aware of the damage.

“Screw you, Detective.”

“If we only had the time, Wolf.”

Those words proved too much for the moment. It finally broke with one woman’s sob, while the other could only marvel as tears rained upon her face. Hot droplets upon rapidly cooling skin and that exceedingly rare smile. Marvelous.

“Moon above, I’m going to miss you.” She wiped away tears from eyes that have never been more vividly blue and pressed her wet palms to her beloved’s face.

“As I will miss you, my sunlit heart.”

“Wait for me, okay? Wherever you’re going.”

“Of course. When have—have I not?”

A trembling smile. Tears that were once specks of heat now went unfelt. Her entire world had narrowed to behold only the one who cradled her. The one who held her heart. Everything else had long gone black.

“One—One more kiss, my love? For… the journey?”

Did she manage to speak? She couldn’t tell. She couldn’t even feel relief when the shining angel above her nodded. So bright. So perfect. So—

Oh.

Pressure upon her lips. Her angel. Her faithful wolf. She was gravity beyond celestial. In that infinite black, with all else gone, it was magnified a trillion fold. Binary existence. The nothing of Zero, and the everything that was Her, distilled into singularity.

If she could still speak, something the dead are lamentably incapable of, she would have reassured her love one last time. She would have laced their fingers so their nails alternated rainbow and black. Her smirk would be the one her wolf so adored. Then, in the driest of tones, she would have told her this:

“As far as last dates go, this was unequivocally flawless. For what else could I have ever desired, but to be ushered into eternity by the very one who had become my everything?”

And so did it end. One final case, closed with a long-awaited date that was both their first and their

“HELL-TO-THE-FUCK NO!!”

Wednesday: Excuse me?

The writer looks up from her manuscript to take in Enid’s tear-streaked visage. Twisted as her face is in distraught fury, she is breathtaking, if perhaps a touch snotty from ugly crying.

Enid: Wednesday Friday Addams, you— *sniffles* —are NOT allowed to finish the book this way!

Enid: Whatever THAT was— *jabs finger at the manuscript* —is NOT how things are ending for Viper and Zeva!

Wednesday: *stunned* But it’s done. I just need to send it to the editor—

Enid: No! Nope! Nada! Nein! Ie! Aniya! Οχι!

Wednesday: Enid—

Enid: 🙅‍♀️

Wednesday: Then what—

Enid: What you are GOING to do is edit the everloving shit out of the ending, so that my girlies get the HAPPILY-ever-after they freakin’ DESERVE!

Enid: *claws out* You are NOT ruining Wolfviper, GOT IT?!

Wednesday: *deep suffering sigh*

Enid: 😡

Wednesday: 😒

Wednesday: Fine. I’ll rewri—

The manuscript goes flying as Wednesday is bowled over by Enid’s exceedingly pleased and relieved tackle hug.

Enid: THANK YOU BABE I LOVE YOU YOU’RE THE BEST!!!

Wednesday: *peppered with kisses* I love you too, mi sol.

Enid: *releases Wednesday* Kay, now get to it.

Wednesday: Get to what?

Enid: *shoves Wednesday towards her desk* To fixing that dumpster fire you call an ending.

Wednesday: Now?

Enid: 🤨

Wednesday: *sighs* Yes, dear.

[english-mace]

You know, I'm going back to poetry. I have to; it's my only home in the horrors, in the wordlessness. In the screaming.

I'm going back to this one, that I wrote March 15th 2020:

we are become molluscs, in a way, curled up soft and moist within our shells / I try to think of us as coral because the alternative is to wake in the night as red blood cells

And I'm going, in fury, back to June 28 2022, back to this one:

to open myself to the horror is to let the sea rush in. / for the pearl must grow, or so we’re told, regardless of the oyster, and if it rips the thing apart so much the better.

And then, in the end, I think of Julia Rios' particular vision of a magazine home only to the hopeful, and go back to:

shh, love, hush; you will dream again soon, and your skin will settle around the constellations of your bones, and all the humming galaxies will tumble down to sleep until your skull has formed a cradle of their fears.

fuck this, fuck this, fuck everything about this, fuck this selfish horrid insular little world that shreds us when we dare to hope - but care all the fucking harder about each and every one of us, our loves and friends and neighbours, the children, the despairing, the elders. care out of spite. care fierce and furious.

and make art despite them. make a world despite them. because we can. they know we can. and it fucking terrifies them.

don't let the ocean take you.

[logansargeantsbabymom]

Too Good To Say Goodbye pt 10 Alt Ending

Logan Sargeant x Fem!Reader, Lando Norris x Fem!Reader

(I was asked one time for an alternate ending so I had to do it. So @inejghafawifesblog this is for you)

Follow my instagram account (THATS STRICTLY FOR THIS BLOG) for updates on when i post and fun stuff like that!

Instagram

F1 Masterlist

Lando Norris sat in the stark, antiseptic waiting room of the hospital, his world collapsing around him. His hands trembled uncontrollably, clenched tightly in his lap. The faint, rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall was the only sound, a cruel reminder of the relentless passage of time. Each tick echoed the pain in his heart, a relentless drumbeat of loss and fear.

His fiancée, had been rushed into emergency surgery after a traumatic delivery that had taken the lives of their twin babies, Carlos and Liberty. The names they had chosen with such love and anticipation now felt like a cruel mockery. Lando's chest tightened with every breath, the agony of losing his children a physical weight pressing down on him. He couldn't fathom a world without them, and the fear of losing Y/N as well was a dark, all-consuming void.

Yelena, Y/N's one-year-old daughter from her previous relationship, was with her grandmother. The little girl had become a beacon of light in their lives, her laughter and innocence a salve for their souls. Now, with this unimaginable loss, Lando wondered how they would ever find their way back to any semblance of happiness.

The waiting room door creaked open, shattering the oppressive silence. Lando's heart lurched as he looked up to see Logan Sargeant, Y/N's ex-boyfriend, standing in the doorway. Logan's presence was an unwelcome reminder of past betrayals, particularly the time he had spoiled the gender reveal of their twins by posting it on Instagram. The memory of that betrayal was a raw, festering wound.

Logan stepped into the room, his usual cocky demeanor replaced by a somber expression. "Lando," he said quietly, his voice filled with an unfamiliar gentleness, "I heard what happened. I'm so sorry."

The words, though seemingly sincere, did nothing to quell the inferno of anger raging inside Lando. He shot up from his seat, fists clenched at his sides, his body taut with rage. "What the hell are you doing here, Logan?" he spat, his voice trembling with barely contained fury. "You have no right to be here."

Logan took a step back, his hands raised in a placating gesture. "I know you're angry. You have every right to be. But I came to offer my condolences. I know what it's like to lose a child. We lost Theo, remember?"

Lando's fury only intensified. His vision narrowed, and he took a menacing step toward Logan. "You think you can just show up and pretend to care? After everything you've done?"

Logan's face contorted with grief, his eyes glistening. "I'm not here to fight, Lando. I'm here because I know the pain you're in. When we lost Theo, it tore us apart. I never wanted Y/N to go through that again."

Lando's fists tightened, his knuckles turning white. The raw emotion in Logan's voice gave him pause, but the searing pain of his loss overshadowed any sense of empathy. "You think showing up here makes up for what you've done? You're a selfish, arrogant bastard, Logan. You always have been."

The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of their shared grief hanging between them like a suffocating shroud. Logan took a cautious step closer, his voice trembling. "I know I can't change the past, and I can't make up for the mistakes I've made. But I loved Theo, and I still care about Y/N and Yelena. I just wanted to let you know that I'm here if you need anything."

Lando's shoulders sagged, the fight draining out of him as exhaustion set in. The reality of their loss settled heavily on his heart, a crushing weight that threatened to pull him under. He took a shaky breath, his voice barely above a whisper. "I just want Y/N to be okay."

Logan nodded, his own tears finally spilling over. "Me too, Lando. Me too."

Just then, a nurse appeared in the doorway, her face kind but grave. "Mr. Norris, you can see her now."

Lando's heart leapt into his throat as he hurried past Logan, rushing to Y/N's side. As he entered the recovery room, he saw her lying there, pale and fragile but alive. Relief washed over him in a tidal wave, momentarily easing the crushing weight of his sorrow.

He took her hand in his, squeezing gently as tears streamed down his face. "We're going to get through this, Y/N," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "I promise you, we'll find a way."

She opened her eyes, weak but determined. "I know we will," she replied softly.

Lando stayed by her side, holding her hand, his heart breaking anew with each passing moment. After what felt like an eternity, the door to the room opened again, and Logan stood there, looking hesitant and vulnerable.

Y/N looked at Lando, then back at Logan, and nodded. "Let him in," she whispered.

Logan stepped into the room, his eyes locked on Y/N. He walked slowly to her bedside, his emotions raw and exposed. As he reached her, he broke down, his sobs racking his body. "I'm so sorry, Y/N," he cried, his voice a broken whisper. "I'm so sorry for everything. I know I can't make anything up to you, but I want us to be on good terms. For Yelena. We need to be there for her, to co-parent well."

Y/N's eyes filled with tears as she listened, her heart aching. "Logan," she said softly, "we've been through so much. But you're right, we need to be there for Yelena. We need to find a way to move forward, for her sake."

Logan nodded, his tears flowing freely. "I brought Yelena to the hospital. I thought she might want to see you."

At that moment, the door opened again, and Yelena was brought in, her wide, innocent eyes scanning the room until they landed on Y/N. The little girl's face crumpled, and she began to cry, reaching out for her mother.

Y/N's heart broke as she saw her daughter's tears. "Come here, sweetie," she whispered, her voice trembling. Lando gently lifted Yelena and placed her in Y/N's arms, his own tears mingling with those of his fiancée and her daughter.

As they held each other, the enormity of their loss hung over them like a dark cloud, but in that moment, they also found a flicker of hope. The road ahead would be long and painful, but they would face it together, bound by love and the shared determination to find a way through the darkness. THE END

—

Okay, NOW the story is done.

taglist:

@luckyladycreator2 @itsmiamalfoy @jeffs77 @ilivbullyingjeongin @forevercaffeinated-lee @daemyratwst @gulphulp @callsignwidow @f1wintermoon13 @teenwolf01 @victoriassecret101 @hiireadstuff @formulaal l l @kazza72584 @zabwlky1999 @dark-night-sky-99 @rougekiki @xoscar03 @jess-wither @bountychanti @dhanihamidi i @tellybearryyyy @a-panseuxalmess s @love-simon @tallrock35 @iiaik0ii @Milkyymelanine @ilovsyou3000morgan @styl1shl1v @eddieharrington @hellowgoodbye

[s-awturn]

Moon Spell || CS55

summary: They were fated to love someone they hated. There was no spell, no grudge, no curse that could break the bond that united them, doomed to die in the feelings they fiercely nurtured. The Moon had determined it and there was nothing they could do to stop it.

“These violent pleasures have violent ends, and die in their triumph, like fire and gunpowder, which, when they kiss, consume each other. The sweetest honey is disgusting in its own sweetness, and its taste confuses the palate.”

cw: Violence, conflict, soulmates, blood, magic, alternate universe, obscenity, pure filth, chaos, fighting, swearing, intense hatred, love, mention of death, blood.

a/n: I'm excited about this story because I love werewolves and witches so I can't stop reading it. This will be the last one posted until I update Underworld Sun, because I've been owing this update for a few days.

starring: werewolf!Carlos x witch!Fem reader

1. we were born to die;

Part Two: Monsters

One misstep, you're mine And you better stay clever if you wanna survive

Her breath caught in her chest as she saw the massive beast emerging from the bushes, its fangs as big as the blade of her dagger, its eyes gleaming like molten gold and stared at him with nothing but murderous fury. Being the first night of the full moon, Y/N could feel the deep magic of lycanthropy within him, vibrating the beast's solid muscles and teasing his senses, making it tastier prey than any animal in the forest.

It was a bad day to be with your magic so weak.

The werewolf began to surround her and Y/N did the same, she couldn't give him a chance to attack from behind, dying wasn't in her plans. Whether from angry villagers or from that hungry werewolf. Her eyes remained glued to the massive creature in front of her, she couldn't take her eyes off the wolf's dangerous fangs; her fingers pressed the dagger and she took a deep breath, asking for wisdom and strength to get out of that situation.

“I’m not going to die tonight, beast, so I hope you don’t mind when I use your fur as a blanket,” she said. Y/N knew how to poke a mindless beast with twice her strength and huge teeth were dangerous, but she had never been a sensible witch, and now was not the time to start being one.

The moon shone even brighter in the sky and an ancient shiver ran down her spine. At that moment, the wind carried whispers in an ancient voice to her. Whispers that she didn't like to hear and Before she could think, her magic core was gone and her body lost its strength. She fainted, dropping her dagger, dropping her bag; the black kitten purred, ignoring the werewolf standing there, much more concerned about his owner. Spix pressed his feline snout to the witch's face, waiting for her to wake up.

Trapped in her subconscious, Y/N looked around, recognizing the tiny kitchen of the cottage she shared with her parents, the smell of her mother's familiar herbal tea made the girl whimper. She missed her mother so much, her advice and love, and that smell made things less unbearable to deal with.

She heard light, rhythmic footsteps and saw her mother enter the room, wearing the raw cotton dress and white stone necklace, so characteristic that they made her eyes burn.

“Would you like some tea, dear? You look hungry,” she heard her mother say. “The rye bread is fresh, have a piece, will you?”

"Mommy?” She spoke softly, approaching fearfully and touching the woman's face, and when she felt the soft texture of the older woman's cheek, Y/N finally gave in to tears. “I missed you, mommy!”

The older one hugged her before Y/N fell to her knees on the floor, the younger witch felt herself being dragged to a chair.

“I missed you too my little sunshine, don't cry anymore, your dad and I are fine, glad you're safe”

“This is so unfair, you didn't deserve to die like this, I w-wanted to help...” she sobbed, her face hidden in her mother's shoulder.

“Shhhh it's okay, there's nothing you could do dear, and I honestly don't regret saving your life, I didn't give birth to you to watch you die, dear, stop crying over things that are beyond your reach,” she said, making the girl look at her and wiped her tears. “Let's not waste this precious time we have with complaints and tears, I need to tell you something... Something important that will change your future”

The young witch's still tearful face contorted in confusion and she saw her mother smile, stroking her damp cheeks.

“W-what do you mean?”

Y/N saw her mother sigh loudly “After tonight, nothing will be the same, my love, it's time to stop the killing between our people and the lycanthropes”

“M-Me?” she laughed in disbelief “I can barely keep my magic core stable, how can I stop something that has been going on for centuries?!”

“You young people are so impatient, let me explain, we don’t have much time, so be quiet,” her mother scolded. “There are few things in the world that are truly unbreakable, the bond of partnership between a werewolf and his destined one is one of those things and you are on the other end of the cord, my dear.”

S/N stood up, her mother couldn't be serious, it could only be a joke in bad taste.

“I can’t mate with a werewolf! I’m a witch.”

“But you are, and that will change the history of our people, S/N,” the older witch said seriously. “We are being persecuted and killed by madmen who use the name of God to justify their sins” She paused for a few seconds, reinforcing her speech “We cannot protect ourselves on both fronts, my little sun, we need to choose our battles and it is time to stop fighting with the wolves”

“But why me?! I’m not the best option to negotiate peace in a thousand-year-old war!”

“But you will, I can't give you any more details, I know you will do the right thing, just follow your heart, it always knows the right direction” the woman said, getting up to get some tea.

“Then I will have to kill him, because that is where my heart is going.”

Y/N grumbled in disbelief. As if her life wasn't already busy enough.

“Don’t be petulant, girl, and accept the goddess’s designs, she knows what she’s doing and I know you’ll be happy.”

Y/N sighed, feeling like she was waking up, so her time with her mother was close to ending.

“I don’t want to say goodbye, take me with you”

“I would never do that to you, my love... You have a beautiful life ahead of you and I know you will be happy, trust me, okay?”

The little witch sniffed and nodded.

“You are never alone, and live your life the best way you can, your father and I love you, dear.” Y/N felt a kiss on her forehead and saw everything fade before her eyes.

— ☽ —

The werewolf watched the witch fall to the ground unconscious. It was a strange thing, because he hadn't even intended to attack her—yet. In other times he would have taken advantage and satisfied his hunger, but his instincts told him otherwise. The werewolf approached slowly, but stopped when he saw the cat bristle and growl in his direction. That cat was a totem linked to the unconscious witch, and if he tried to attack her, he would probably have to deal with that stupid cat.

The wolf licked his teeth, he couldn't kill the witch, but he couldn't retreat either, his paws kept moving forward even though the cat was ready to scratch his snout. The moon grew brighter and a bit of rationality came to the werewolf's mind, the creature poked the witch's cheek, receiving no response.

As delicately as he could, he gathered the belongings that had fallen out of the bag with his nose and teeth and thought of a way to put it on his back. The cat watched the whole process and He gave a meow that, to the werewolf's ears, sounded like mockery, and before he could grab the kitten, the werewolf saw the cat digging in the ground near the witch and understood what the little animal wanted. Within minutes a large hole next to the witch's unconscious body was opened, the werewolf entered the hole and pulled the witch by the cape with his teeth, making her fall onto her back. With the girl unconscious, the wolf jumped until he was out of the hole, being careful not to knock her over and shouted carefully, being closely followed by the black cat, the moonlight flickered slightly before hiding behind a cloud.

The werewolf kept his pace short until he reached his small village, only children, some pregnant women and elderly people were present, all the rest spread out into the forest to hunt and give in to instincts. He entered the furthest cabin from the village, and laid the witch on the bed, she remained unconscious and he left, leaving the cat at the door. He wasn't happy about having a witch so close to his people, but his instincts screamed to catch her and keep her close.

He left the unconscious witch there and ran back into the woods, he needed to eat and he needed to stay away from her, or he would end up killing the girl and something in his bones told him to keep her alive.

— ☽ —

The sun was rising when she finally woke up. She knew that experiences like this were possible, but she never expected to experience one in person. Y/N she felt the fluffy weight on her abdomen and ran her fingers through Spix's silky fur, the kitten purred, rubbing his little face against her hand, clearly relieved that she had woken up; Y/N blinked slowly, catching glimpses of a wooden and straw roof above her, only to snap up, she was no longer in the forest, she was in an unfamiliar cabin. Alone with her cat.

She looked around, finding her things thrown in a corner, stained with diluted blood.

“By the grace of the Goddess, what happened last night?” she muttered to herself, looking at her things, the candles were broken, but the rest seemed intact thankfully. None of her grimoires had been lost. Little by little, memories of last night came back to her mind, the escape from her home, the search for shelter in the woods, the werewolf in her path and the strange conversation with her mother... Y/N rubbed the back of her neck, feeling strangely tired, even though she slept through the night. She looked around, trying to figure out where she was, but nothing gave away who the cabin belonged to or who had brought her there. but if Spix was cool with it, it must be a good sign.

She avoided thinking as much as she could about the conversation with her mother as she rummaged through her belongings in the cabin, she could never be a werewolf's mate. They had been enemy races for so many years that she didn't even know the reason for the enmity, and she didn't even mention that her insides were turning over at the idea, no, her mother was delirious. She was sure of it.

She found some still-good bread and a canteen of beer, it wasn't the best breakfast, but she was starving and couldn't afford to refuse food; S/N devoured the bread in three bites and She downed her beer in one gulp. Maybe now she could leave, pretending her mother hadn't said anything as absurd as that. It would never work, she was a witch, that bond was unnatural, it couldn't happen.

Quickly, she gathered her things and picked up Spix, but the cat jumped off her lap and remained on the bed.

“Let’s go, Spix, we don’t know whose house this is, we’re not going to stay to find out” she said as she reached out her hands to grab the feline, but Spix jumped away, making Y/N frown in confusion. “Now, don’t be like that, Spix! I know this bed is comfortable, but we’re not staying here! It’s dangerous!”

The kitten meowed in protest and Y/N asked the heavens for patience, or she would take the cat by the tail. “Come on Spix, I'm in charge!”

She couldn't be ignored any more than that, the black cat raised his own magic and became invisible, making Y/N curse. Y/N felt around on the bed, finding the cat among the woolen blankets and before it could get loose, she put it in the leather bag and ran out of the cabin, she couldn't stay there, he didn't know who might arrive and he wouldn't risk himself like that and it wouldn't be a cat that would dictate her actions.

As morning arrived, Carlos breathed a sigh of relief when the beast allowed him to control his body again, he had few memories of last night, but he knew there was a girl lying in his bed, a girl who was probably his companion.

A witch.

He could feel her scent impregnated on his body, it was a cruel joke of fate, the Moon could not unite him with a witch. It was absurd that he wanted to laugh, as if his life wasn't troubled enough, he still had to deal with a damn witch in his house, a witch who was his predestined. He was on his way home when the scent of lavender and lemon reached his nose and it wasn't long before he heard quick footsteps breaking branches on the ground. Before he could understand, Carlos ran in the direction of the scent, his body transforming mid-run, he could see the witch's thick cloak fluttering in the air as she walked away; It wasn't as if the little witch could run faster than him and in a short time, Carlos was just a few meters away from her. His muscles tensed and he leapt at her, knocking her to the muddy ground until they ended up rolling down a local ravine. She screamed in fright, trying to pull away from him, but she was trapped between him and the ground.

Carlos growled, holding the witch under his body, was she leaving? How dare she?!

She began to punch and kick the wolf above her, but he growled, leaving his teeth exposed, making the smaller girl retreat as far as she could on the ground.

“Get off me, help! Help, someone help me!” she screamed, but all she heard was the birds squawking and the trees crashing against each other. The werewolf got off her and grabbed the witch's ankle, dragging her back to the cabin. "Let go of me!" she tried to kick the creature, but it sank its teeth into her skin, making her scream.

Behind them, Spix trotted along leisurely, dragging his leather bag carefully as he followed.

Carlos wondered if it was really the right thing to drag that witch back to his house, she was a witch, she could kill his entire family, he gave up.He didn't understand why the Moon had chosen a witch to be her companion, this couldn't be serious, it had to be a joke.

She kept struggling and kicking, trying to get free, which made Carlos grunt with laughter, her efforts were laughable and it was clear she didn't have enough magic to break free, otherwise he would have already been thrown against a tree.

It wasn't enough to be a witch, she was also useless.

As soon as they arrived at the cabin, Carlos let go of her ankle and walked around the house, the girl didn't need to see him naked, he transformed and picked up a pair of pants hanging on the clothesline next door, listening to her whine about the bruises on her ankle. When he came back inside, the witch was rubbing her ankle, muttering a strange chant that he didn't understand.

“This wouldn’t have happened if you had stayed here until I got back,” he said, surprising the girl, the witch screamed in fright, throwing a broken candle at him, which he dodged without any further problems.

“I have no reason to stay here!” she scolded, trying to stand, ignoring her sore ankle.

“You have nowhere to go, girl, or you wouldn’t be running through the woods in the middle of the night.” He landed a wound on the witch, who took a deep breath, trying not to think about what she had lost in such a short time.

“That’s none of your business, mutt,” she retorted rudely and Carlos clenched his jaw, irritated by the insult.

“That became my business from the moment you became my companion!”

“I AM NOT YOUR MATE!” she screamed and the rafters of the hut shook, her magic gradually returning.

Carlos looked at her even more stressed, this really shouldn't be happening, he should be connected to a wolf from his pack, following the natural course of things. But no, he was there, destined for a witch.

"You can scream all you want, little witch, you are my companion, whether you like it or not, and you will stay here.”

“Never! I’d rather die!” She marched towards him so determinedly that she didn't even groan in pain and stared at him without fear. “You'll have to tie me up!”

He tilted his head back, laughing deeply at the girl in front of him. “That’s not a problem, little witch, I’m very good with ropes.”

She screamed in anger and backed away from him, feeling her body tremble, abruptly her magical core had completely restored itself and she refused to believe that this was due to the bond with the werewolf.

“Even though I haven’t marked you yet, we’re united, little witch,” he said mockingly, “there’s no way you can leave here, because listen carefully...” he approached her, feeling the angry vibration that the witch emanated so strongly. “I don't care if our races have hated each other for centuries, I don't care if you want to disembowel me now, the Moon has decided that you would be mine, and that's what you are from now on, so don't even think about running away from me, witch, because I'll hunt you down to the end of the world”

Neither of them even realized that they were inches away from each other, Carlos only noticed when the scent of lavender and lemon disoriented his senses.

“There’s no point in running away, you’re mine now and you’re going to stay here”

“I don’t belong to anyone! Much less to a mutt like you!”

In one quick movement, Carlos wrapped his arms around the witch's throat and they both fell onto the bed.

“Don’t call me a mutt, you filthy little witch.”

He felt her swallow hard and take a deep breath, struggling to get away from him, but Carlos pressed harder on the girl's throat, seeing her choke a little, but that didn't last long, because he was thrown against the wall, knocking over some shelves.

“I’ll kill you!” they shouted together.

#taglist: @barcelonaloverf1life

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO S-AWTURN™ 🪐. I do not allow copying or republication. Any unauthorized publication will be reported.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[bloodycassian]

Bow + Scrape, angst. TW - cheating/mention of bodily harm/groveling

Anon Req. "in the mood for angst lol what about cassian x reader, marriage in crisis, grovelling etc"

Thanks anon, this was a bit therapeutic

A deep, soul level crack had been leveled inside of you when you’d seen Cassian being bounced on by a petite female at Rita’s.A server off her shift, likely half as drunk as Cassian was, and a horrible dancer as she leaned up against him and shook her body at him. A deep well of unnerving feelings erupted from the canyon in your being, followed by a cold, calm fury that overlapped all else. 

You watched for a long while, sitting across the bar, debating if killing your partner would land you in a regular trial or if you’d be dragged straight to the prison beneath the mountain by his brethren. 

His eyes half closed and dazed could only half focus upon her as she twirled and stomped to the beat the band played. His hands rested upon her hips, but didn’t move from there while she swayed to a slower song. The hands that had done everything from wipe away your tears to make you squirm while he was making you come. The ones that now betrayed you, that took your trust and care for the male and tossed it into the abyss of your heart as it split wide. 

He slammed a handful of coin into the females hands at one point, and began stumbling through the crowd. You slipped out the door before he could notice you there, racing back to your apartment. The burn of cold air against your lungs a welcome distraction from the hatred and disgust that roiled in your stomach. 

You slept beside him that night, cringing away from his hands and flushed body. Your eyes were wide, staring out at the glow of streetlights through the sheer curtains. Planning, curating your hurt and betrayal into something tangible. With every small detail that fell into place, it made it more bearable to be at his side, at least for one more night.

The tears came silently, but profusely in the bathroom. You mourned, you pleaded to wake up from the nightmare, but there was no end. The only relief from the hot, overwhelming grief was the chilled tile against your cheek when you passed out in the bathroom.

In the morning you cooked his favorite breakfast, and ran down to the shops to get his favorite coffee. You plated everything, then particularly loudly began doing dishes. He emerged shortly after, rubbing at his face and groaning. He sighed when seeing the bevy of food, and began eating immediately. No good morning, no thanking you, not a single acknowledgement. 

Your rage began anew. You gripped a butter knife, stared at the small serrated edge, and scrubbed viciously at it’s surface.

Your love for him had been replaced by the cold bitterness that you’d honed into a million different words, different jabs and arguments to hurl at him now. Killing him wouldn’t give him the same suffering he’d offered you. Death was too easy, living and knowing he’d hurt the one who loved him most was a much better alternative. 

Once the dishes were done, you sat across from him, where half the plates sat empty and a small drip of coffee marred his white shirt. His head rested in his hands, nursing the pounding in his head. Your excitement to make him hurt was ungodly. 

“Tell me what you did last night.” You demanded. There was no room for conversation in this. If he didn’t tell you on his own, there would be no point in trying further. It was your sign to get out.

He cradled his head in one hand still, gnawing on a piece of bacon. “Huh? ‘Dya mean?” He breathed, scratching at his tangled hair.

“You have two chances to answer me Cassian. What did you do last night?” You said the question slowly, allowing him to hear the rage in your voice.

“You know where I was, we talked about this before I went out.” His tone sharpened, and he looked at you with a frustrated expression. It only fueled your fire. You wanted him to worry about this, you wanted him to stress. You wanted to see your pain tenfold be unleashed upon him. A vengeful, dark part of you wanted his penance to be unending. You’d given him everything, every part of you without limit, an unending well of love and he so easily went and… nausea made your stomach clench in disgust at the memory of his hands upon her, the way he’d watched her.

“With Azriel, right? At Ritas… So who else was there?” You spat, wishing you had something to hold on to, somewhere to place the tension that seeped from every fiber of your being.

He froze, his face going paler than it already was. His mouth popped open, then his brows pulled together. “Did I-” He began, then the food fell from his hand. “I-” He stood, the chair scuttling out from under him when he did. 

You watched, cold and furious as he recalled exactly what he did. 

“Baby I-” He went to you, making the distance in two long strides of his muscled legs. He stopped though, his hands reaching for you. He knew better. He knew just what kind of injuries he’d end up with if he tried touching you when you were angry. He’d had to learn the hard way more than a few times, but never to this extent. 

He’d never done this. You’d never expect him to do anything quite like this. It certainly wasn’t predictable by the way he treated you normally.

“Holy shit.” He buried his face in his hands, his voice going muffled. “Holy shit honey, baby- I’m….” His head moved back and forth slowly, and when his hands moved in front of him, in a praying motion, his eyes were glassy, wet marks appearing upon his cheeks. “I am so sorry- no… Sorry doesn’t begin-” He sighed, and a fresh wave of tears washed across his face.

You couldn’t help but smile at them. At his hurt. At the same time, the part of you that cared for him - the part that was locked away behind a frozen door at the moment - reached for him, cried with him and wanted to hold him and make him better. That part of you, the portion of you that loved him that he’d torn to pieces, and you weren’t sure if it could be fixed.

He reached for you, and when you did not move he placed a hand upon yours. You were frozen, stuck between the strange sense of wanting to go to him and wanting to crucify him. “I thought- no… I- I’m-” He struggled for the words, his other hand pulling hard at his hair. “I’m going to fix this.” He said, his eyes meeting yours. 

“How? I dont think they’ve made a potion to erase memories yet, Cassian. I guess unless you get as drunk as you did, then that counts as one.”

“I know I- I’m a fucking idiot. I… There are no excuses. There’s not a thing I can fucking say to justify it and-” He stood suddenly, then went to the bedroom. You waited, nearly getting up when he came back with his weapons belt. He went back to his knees before you, laying out the items, different knives, small tools, a blunt hammer, the black stone you’d gotten him to sharpen his blades with. “Take your pick. Do what you’d like.”

“I wont-”

“I’m deserve it.”

“I know. Hurting you like this isn’t even close to the pain that you’ve made me feel, though.” 

He crumpled at that, tears rushing down his cheeks as he paced the dining area, his hands upon his head as he took deep, choked breaths. He wasn’t used to this kind of anger from you. He was used to the yelling, to the easy hot and fast arguments that left your voice raw and made wanting to slap him so easy. 

“She didn’t even look like me Cassian-”

“I know, I was drunk and fucking stupid and thats all I have as an excuse.” He managed, his voice wavering. 

“Did you want to fuck her?” You asked calmly. 

He bit his lip, eyes squinted shut and shook his head. “No.” He breathed. 

“Or you already have, and I just caught it before it could happen this time?”

“No, nothing like that- not ever. I have no reason. Not when I have you.”

“Had.” You corrected quickly. 

He hung his head. 

A long silence passed, the pale sunlight painting the dining area in blues and greys. Children outside laughed and screamed as they played in the puddles left overnight. Your mind flashed to the instances when you and he had discussed children, how he’d held your belly, imagining it round with his child. The hands that’d held the hips of that barmaid. 

He went to the pantry, and came out with several bottles of his various liquors. A tendril of his siphons power popped the corks on several, if not cracking the glass mouth entirely. He then laid them all down in the sink and went to you, grasping your hands in both of his own. 

“I am going to fix this. Look-” He moved his head to catch your gaze. “I’m going to do everything. I’m going to make this right, if you want me to burn Rita’s to the ground I’ll make it happen. I’d defy the mother to make it like it never happened. I can’t change that it did, I can’t take it back but gods above I would if I could. If you’d give me the chance to though, if you’re willing to allow me to try -” His voice caught, his chin quivering before he continued. “to make you love me, make you trust me again. If you’d have me.”

Your eyes swam, your cold demeanor, your will to see him suffer cracking beneath his words. 

The hurt still roared beneath it all though.

But if he was willing to try… if he still wanted you, if it’d been a drunken mistake- 

“Nothing you ever do can make this go away.”

“I know, I know baby.” He brushed his thumb over your knuckles. “I don’t expect it to.”

“You’ll never be away from this, from your fuck up- are you saying you’re okay with hearing about this for the rest of your existence?”

He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that hadn’t truly stopped since you’d left the bathroom. “Whatever it is, the answer is yes. If it lets you tolerate me, then yes. As long as I can still be with you.” 

You sniffed, unable to hold back the burst of hurt, of fear and sorrow any longer. He held you, rocked you and gave you your space when you wanted it. He bowed his head and nodded when you screamed at him. He went to his kees and clutched your legs when you were nothing but a statue before the window. 

Your heart ached, your body and soul ached by the time the sun crested over the city and fell behind the ocean. 

Cassian watched over you while you slept on the couch, passed out mid conversation while he tended the fire. He watched you all night, taking in every inch of you while he could, because if when the sun rose, and you decided he was no longer yours, he’d need the reminder that something as exquisite as you was worth living for. 

[ladybirdswritings]

Silken Webs & Pirouettes - Miguel O’Hara x Reader

Summary - You have landed yourself on Miguel’s bad side… or have you? Ballerina!Reader & CEO!Miguel. Alternate Universe with most of the characters included as seen in "Across the Spiderverse." Many cameos ahead. Miguel is a successful business owner but personality is canon. This is a steamy reader insert, Miguel x You! Enjoy and pls leave me lots of love and comments as it keeps me motivated <333

five

Oh, you’re stupid. You’re so, so horribly stupid. Be it for the fact that you talked back to your boss, didn’t follow orders, the fact that you’ve been a liability twice now, oh no no- maybe the fact that you knowingly allowed yourself to get fired though you’re in debt and really— you willingly walked out. Maybe it’s all of that.

Or perhaps you wish it was all of that.

You tense as your finger hovers over the small triangle, afraid to press play on the glowing screen in your lap. It taunts you like the apple of Eden, dripping with droplets of temptation that render you curious. How much longer will you wait?

You press play without second thought, burying your face to hide away in your hands, only allowing your eyes to peek on behind your fingers.

“Good Evening John yes, breaking news this evening coming out of Nueva York. Infamous O’Hara Enterprises’ CEO Miguel O’Hara’s home was broken into late last night. Police say this occurred when Mr’ O’Hara was out on business, but he soon returned home to find his housemaid and six-year-old little girl shot dead in his home.”

The air thins.

Your body chills like it’s been cased in the waters of the arctic, bile rising at your throat as the blonde newscaster continues. A part of you, a very strong part is just begging you to toss your phone across the room and forget this ever happened, you can’t. You’re struck frozen when you see his face on screen.

Christ.

He looks disheveled, lost, broken. So different from the man who belittled and questioned you in his leather throne.

“Mr. O’Hara!! Sir!! Do you have any idea who’s responsible!?”

“Sir! Please just a word!!”

“Mr. O’Hara!! Mr O’Hara!!”

“Was it you!? Did you have your daughter killed!?!”

You gasp, eyes pooling with shameful tears and lip quivering as you watch on screen. The once composed man, towering over everyone in sight who crowds him, turns in fury.

That look.

You know that horrible look because he gave it to you.

He didn’t grab you, though. Maybe he should have…

Mr. O’Hara… he looks like a man destroyed. You understand now that gaze beyond his anger when you mentioned his daughter. His daughter you very much thought was alive and well. Stupid you for not finding more time to fall down the rabbit hole.

You watch on screen as he grabs the newscaster by his collar and tugs him up off his feet like he weighs only but a feather. Panic ensues around him, his lawyer who wears red, round glasses and holds a metal cane is begging him to place the dangling idiot down. His jaw is tense, spitting inaudible words at him through clenched teeth. He tosses him down to the rough concrete eventually though, swiftly passing by the shocked crowd without another word once he does.

“Yes John as you can see in that short video, O’Hara’s emotions were high this evening and he couldn’t keep control of his temper…”

They flash one final picture at the end. It’s him. He looks lively, human… happy. His little girl looks so small on his shoulders, grinning from cheek to cheek like she’s the luckiest thing in the world.

You have a strong feeling she was.

Two droplets of shame fall upon the luminous picture, your eyes staring into the dark brown orbs of a dead girl.

“M’ so sorry I didn’t know…” you whisper to her, running your thumb over the glow of her cheek.

How dare you mention her? Over a stupid, hideous Christmas tree that’s probably been torn to the ground by now. Over silly pink ribbons.

You don’t know how long you sit like that, head hung in shame with an ache biting at your neck. It seems like you just have a talent for ruining the lives of people who take a chance on you… it saddens you.

Your mind flashes to Katerina, the anger in her eyes when she found out. The twisted wire hanger in her hand…

“You deserve this! You stupid, ungrateful girl!”

Your back aches.

Though… by some higher grace, your darkest memories and moments are interrupted once the doorbell rings. It startles you. Not until it rings twice more. Oh, you immediately know who it is.

With a sniffle and harsh wipe at your flushed face with frayed cotton, you throw a sweater upon your shoulders and rush to the door, unlocking it with much relief.

You needed a distraction.

“Uhh te tr- tra? Tra hee? un… un empanada!”

Miles stands with a warm foam plate in hand and a big smile plastered upon his face. He’s proud of his attempt at Spanish. Christ, you’re grateful now more than ever that your neighbor is a kind and chatty teenager with a Hispanic mother. The plate smells delicious.

You smile warmly at him, even through your sadness, thanking him softly as you grab the plate and make your way to your countertop. He follows promptly, taking a seat on the stool and squinting once he gets a clearer look at your face.

“Have you been crying?” He asks, curiosity laced like ribbon in his voice.

“…no.” You whisper, opening the microwave to warm up the delectable treat in your hand. Your stomach grumbles impatiently but through your peripheral, Miles shoots his hand out in panic.

“Waitdontmicrowavethat!!”

You halt, knowing immediately why not. To be sure, you flip open the foam plate and are very much unsurprised to see a hundred-dollar bill taped to the top, adorned with a cursive note that reads: “for groceries.”

Rio…

You shake your head, pulling the emerald bill out from the place where it is snugly taped before you attempt to hand it to Miles.

“Nope!” He dodges your hand swiftly. You’ve done this with him before. However, you just can’t today.

With a defeated suck of your pretty teeth, you shake your head.

“Miles I can’t accept this, I’m fine!”

His hands are raised in protest, “well that’s too bad because mom said if I come back with that hundred-dollar bill, she’s gonna beat me with her chancla…”

Christ… you’d laugh if a certain CEO and his beautiful, deceased daughter wasn’t looming— poisoning the back of your mind.

“I— alright… thank you.” You breathe. You just don’t have it in you to protest today, and you are beyond grateful. Besides, you’ll most definitely be needing this soon, anyways.

Your response must confuse him because Miles furrows his brows, crossing his arms over his chest in overwhelming suspicion.

“No more fighting? Alright, what’s going on? I thought you were happy cause you got that new fancy job.”

You frown, turning your back and gathering your thoughts as you microwave the first thing you’ve eaten since sunrise. You stay dead silent as it heats, only allowing yourself to respond once you’ve stuffed your mouth full of a bite of warm, soft dough, meat and cheese. You nearly moan. God, Rio can cook. It’s times like this where you truly wish you had a mother like her, growing up.

Miles is waiting, you remember.

“I got fired.” No bullshitting, no avoiding. Straight to it no matter how big the pit in your stomach is. No way to sugarcoat that with pink ribbons and pearls.

His chocolate orbs go wide, “What!? It’s your first week!”

The realization makes you groan, soothing your pity with another big bite of warm comfort to drown away the reality you’re forced with, now. All by your own hand… or mouth, rather. How history repeats itself.

“Pissed the boss off…” you mumble before swallowing down the food. Another bite, and another. Miles waits anxiously for more context, and although you’re aching to forget all traces of your idiocy… you give it to him.

“I mentioned his daughter who is very much-”

“Gone…” he interjects, “Yeah, everybody knows that. It was some guys that had a vendetta against him or something. At least, that’s what kids on the block used to say back when we were in Nueva York...”

God, does everyone know but you?

You groan, stuffing your mouth full of one last bite before burying your aching head in your hands. You slowly, far too softly and repeatedly bang it against your palms.

Miles places a comforting hand on your shoulder,

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up. You didn’t know! Besides, working for big shots like him is a waste of time anyways. You’ll get so rich you’ll leave this place and then who will my mom have to send half of her tip money to?”

You know he’s trying to cheer you up, but it only makes you groan again. You feel pathetic. Completely and utterly. Living off of credit cards now, credit cards and groceries from Rio. You never imagined your life to amount to this… At least you’ll have a day’s worth of pay. It’s certainly not small.

But god, it baffles you sometimes… how one stupid choice led you right here. One choice took everything from you. One choice, but all your fault.

The sound of “Sunflower” emits from Miles’ cell, and you glance at the screen to see a picture of a grinning blonde with a bob and a piercing.

Gwen.

The new neighborhood girl who skates out front sometimes, Miles has clearly taken a liking to her. You grin, and he gives you a look that stops you before you can poke any fun.

He immediately reaches to mute it, but you shake your head.

“Go. I’m fine, promise.” Oh, you’re very much lying but, you don’t let him know that. It’s clear there is uncertainty laced in his eyes as he nods and gives you a hug, leaving the bill on the counter before making his way outside.

You shut the door with a huff, resting your forehead against the cool kiss of December’s snowfall.

It feels like pins and needles have nestled all over your skin. Your anxiety plagues at your fingertips and heart and you truly wish you could just sink into your sheets and never rise again.

Every position available. You applied to every position available and were a lucky, lucky girl to land one at the highest paying company that sits in a castle above the clouds. But you were lucky then, too. Dancing. Just look how you strangled that…

You know that if you don’t move from the door, you’ll be glued to it… so you do.

Off to grab your phone to do the dreaded and delayed.

Call home.

Your finger shakes as you pick the devil’s box up from the countertop, throat constricting like a serpent has coiled around it. That would be a far better fate, you’re sure. Eyes swell with tears that you slap away with cold hands.

You did this to yourself.

Your body begs you to toss the phone, begs you not to call and to just sink into those cool sheets but… you have no choice.

You can’t bury yourself in more debt, you can’t depend on Rio, you can’t depend on anyone but you. God knows that your denial of the day looming was just stupidity. Your mother told you you’d come crawling back. Today must be that horrible day that sat upon the horizon. Taunting you.

Perhaps you thought too soon.

Because maybe, just maybe your guardian angel is giving you a break, today.

A call interrupts you. A call from Cindy Moon.

Your shaky hands accidentally prompt you to pick up, body heating in embarrassment. She’s definitely called to confirm the news, or to shame you for your disgusting words. That must be it…

With a breath of preparation, you place the phone against your dampened cheek,

“Uh- hello?” You sound mousy, pathetic.

“Oh, hey! I was just calling to see if you got the ornaments yet? No pressure or anything but I’m just here at a gift shop downtown and I found some really cute ones that might go with the bow theme.”

Oh… lovely. She doesn’t know.

You wince, pinching your skin hard enough so that your tears subside. A trick taught to you by Katerina. Well, less of a trick and more of a punishment.

“Cindy… I don’t think I’m gonna be working with you all anymore.” You force.

She pauses and god, your fluttering heart stops as you await any response. Yet you only hear the tapping of quick fingers against a screen on the other end. Time passes deathly slow as you wait for something, anything. You’d hang up, but this gifted agony is far better than the agony of calling home.

“Have you checked the schedule? I showed you how, right? You’re booked for all of next week. If you weren’t working with us, Mr’ O’Hara would’ve definitely voided your hours… actually, looks like he extended them!”

What?

No, no that can’t be right...

“There must be a mistake…”

She interrupts, “Nope! Trust me, you’d know if Mr. O’Hara was doneso with you. One time, a girl stole from him, and he screamed at her so loud that she had permanent ringing in her ears for the rest of her life.”

You’re silent. Confused, baffled, amazed? You don’t know. You don’t find the right words to respond with, so Cindy just continues,

“Did Mr. O’Hara say something? Look, he’s not a soft guy. He’s almost fired me at least a dozen times now. You’ll get used to it. Just keep your head high and do your job without complaints and you’ll last here. Promise.”

She’s so lively when she’s not in the office, so much more human. Less nervous. It all makes your head spin, strikes you silent.

You have fallen at an utter loss for words, so you simply offer a, “Thanks, Cindy. I will see you Monday.” Before hanging up the phone and facing it down, away from your sight.

God…

You are left with as many questions as there are ribbons on that stupid tree. Left with confusion, fear even. You are simply completely and utterly baffled.

Well, unless it’s a grave mistake on his part…

… it seems like you’re stuck with him after all.

🏷️’s: @reirain @needybitez @laysmt @migueloharastruelove | chap 5 song 🎧:

[katyaromanoffpetrova]

Masterlist

Thank you for visiting my masterlist! All the oneshots below are connected to my Ghost Series that you can read on Wattpad or AO3. So if you're interested in Kat and Nat's full story, I direct you there :)

I'm currently not writing requests, but maybe in the future I'll open them.

Oneshots

❥ A first (very insecure) Valentine's: It's Natasha's first Valentine's Day with her girlfriend, and she struggles more with the concept of love and romance than she feared | wordcount: 3.9k

❥ It's lights out and away we go: Natasha isn't the only one obsessed with the motorcycle her wife got her. Turns out it's perfect for knocking Katya's ego down a notch as well | wordcount: 1.4k

❥ The only fool on April Fools': Natasha thought she came up with the best prank ever. But she forgot exactly who she was trying to prank | wordcount: 2.7k

❥ Spicy cake: Katya finds a new way to communicate her needs | wordcount: 1.4k

❥ Emoji, questionmark: Katya receives a special text from Natasha, who is very... appreciative of her muscles | wordcount: 3.1k

Series

❥ A lifetime of dates: After being together for twenty years, Natasha and Katya have been on many dates in their lifetime. In this series, we see one from every part of their lives | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

❥ Is this the end?: Katya is new at SHIELD. When she messes up during her probation, she thinks Fury will send her away. To ease the pain, she distances herself from Nat | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Book canon short scenes

Really short scenes/drabbles that never made it into my books because they didn't fit into a chapter but did happen in the canon storyline.

❥ Thrown in the deep end: Katya doesn't set foot into a swimming pool anymore after some serious trama. Or does she? | wordcount: 1k

❥ Our goddess and savior: Natasha Romanoff: Katya is good at ending up in bad situations. Natasha is good at getting her out of them | wordcount: 1.7k

❥ Inked surprises: What's better than getting tattoos? Surprising your wife with them! | wordcount: 1.4k

❥ 2 + 1 = 3: Maya is six and will be placed in foster care soon, much to Katya's fear and pain, but Natasha has other ideas | wordcount: 1.4k

Alternative Universe (AU)

What if...

❥ too much time has passed?: Instead of running into her in 2007, Natasha doesn't see Katya again until 2018, when she and Yelena manage to break free from the Red Room's brainwashing. Katya isn't as eager to see Natasha again | wordcount: 3.4k

❥ they don't run together?: Instead of going on the run together after the Accords, Natasha and Katya split up for safety reasons. They barely see each other. Until Kat surprises Nat on that ferry to Norway | wordcount: 1.2k