#and I want to be able to see their fragments of goodness

[mimiiis]

Sugar (Remmick x Fem! Reader)

summary: Remmick needs you a bit too much

warnings: mdni (18+)— smut, pure filth, porn w sooome plot, dry humping, thigh/pussy fucking, desperate Remmick, horny ass reader, dirty talk, creampie, breeding kink, raw sex (!Not proofread!)

word count: 4.5k

a/n: wanted to try my hand at desperate remmick.-- this has probably been done a hundred times but i still wanted to try my hand at it ;P! Was in a bit of a writers block and I'm trying to get more comfortable writing smut, so this fic is a result of that! I hope u guys enjoy <\3

 For so long, he spent his life in the shadows. Knowing nothing but the gore and brutal nature of his existence. With the moon's cold light being the only gleam of beauty in his long and desperate life.

He had long forgotten what the sun felt like. What it was like to spend a day beneath its warm touch. To sweat underneath the scorching heat, only being able to feel its passing presence on hot summer nights. 

He even missed the fruits that would sprout from the ground. Their sweet taste lavished upon his tongue like the finest of ambrosia. It all tasted like ash to him now, bitter and cold just like the nights he was forced to spend eternity in. 

Oh how he missed feeling alive. 

He had been so lost. So tired, desperate, and deprived of all good in this dying world. Until, suddenly, there was you. 

Sweet, soft, gentle. You, whose smile shone like the sun. With soft hands and a tender heart, you brought him all the sweetness he missed from those summer fruits. You became the light in his darkness, and Remmick was almost scared he would burn beneath your gaze. 

He wasn't sure how someone so beautiful, so pure and sweet as you could love him. Despite his bloodied hands and bruised soul, you welcomed him with open arms and gave him somewhere he could call home. 

And oh how Remmick loved you for that. 

Loved the way you were able to carve a space for yourself in the broken fragments of his heart, making him feel whole for the first time in centuries. He loved you wholly and entirely, using the strength of whatever was left of his damned soul to devote himself to you.

He had spent so many years alone. Though, with the occasional lover or two, he had never truly had a companion. And after being thrust into such a gruesome and eternal existence, he spent so much time in his shame that he never even had a moment to breathe it all in. 

All he could think about was the way the life and beauty around him would eventually wither into dust and ash. But with you, time slowed. 

Life seemed bright once more. Longer, not as fast as his eternal existence made it seem. 

You made him feel alive. Almost human again. 

And with that spark of life, he felt the bit of  humanity left inside of him start to creep back up and out of his bones. Human desires and wants began to fuel his mind. Gone were the dark nights of feasting upon raw flesh and thick blood, now his days were full of sweet kisses that tasted like fresh lemonade. 

With that desire, came need. And oh how he needed you. 

He loved fiercely, passionately, and so desperately. 

It was almost primal, the way his love for you fueled his body. It came from deep within his very bones, crawling out and consuming him whole. 

One could blame it on the fact he was alone for so long. The years of loneliness and deprivation return to his memories when he misses you most. 

This often lead to that desire taking control of him. 

Simply seeing you, feeling and being near your sweet self made all thoughts leave him. 

His brain stopped working, all the fresh blood he had feasted upon now rushing to his cock. He no longer had to be alone, stroke himself to relief— he had you. You to help with the ache that began to build in his pants each time he saw you in those short frilly dresses. When he felt himself twitch with arousal while watching the way you ate ice cream, tongue darting out to lick your fingers and lips. The way you bent yourself over the table to reach something he ‘accidentally’ dropped. Sweat dripping down your chest and between your soft breasts, skin sticky and glowing in the soft summer heat.

He just couldn’t control himself around you. If he had an itch, he would use you to scratch it. 

And (not so) lucky for you, that lack of self control often lead to situations like this.

What started off as a nice, quiet dinner between the two of you, ended up with you getting bent over the table. Hard cock pressed against your ass, cunt dripping and making the thin cotton of your white panties go sheer. 

The food had already gone cold, forks and knives dropped and scattered across the floor. The pretty flowers he had picked for you a few nights ago now spilt over from their vase, water staining the table cloth and wood beneath. 

Your hands clutched the thin fabric, knuckles going white and teeth almost tearing at your lips from holding back whiny little whimpers. 

You will admit, it was partially your fault for getting into this mess. You knew what the short white dress you wore did to him. 

The way it hugged your curves, the ends stopping before your upper thigh, leaving no room for imagination always drove him mad. In the hot summer night the fabric clings to you like a second skin, turning sheer with your sweat and leaving you exposed in more ways than one. It hugs your hips perfectly, cupping your breasts in a way that makes them look softer and plumper.

You just wanted to tease him a little. Work him up enough into the mood during a nice dinner and make sweet love by the fireplace like you had a few nights ago. You should have known better. 

Now here you were, with his large hands caressing and gripping your hips. Squeezing and fondling the soft plush skin of your ass and kissing along your neck. 

His hot breath and tongue lapped at the side, almost slobbering like he was trying to lay his claim on you. His teeth nibbled at your skin, leaving deep love bites in his wake as he made his way to your ear.

His chest was pressed against your back, letting you feel every rumble and groan within his chest. Your arms held you upright, chest heaving and core fluttering and as you felt him hump against your parted thighs. 

His cock was so hard, you could feel it against your pussy through his trousers and your panties. He dragged the clothed length along your lips with long slow thrusts, twitching every time he felt your warmth seep into him.

His hands angle your hips just right, your toes standing at their tips while he feels up all over your cunt. He could feel your wetness drip out of you, smell it staining and soaking him through his pants. 

He nibbles your ear, licking a long stripe against your cheek while grinning and shutting his eyes in pleasure. He moans at your taste, grinding into you deeper. 

“So mean, baby.” He groans out. “Thought you could tease me ‘n that I’d do nothin? That I wouldn’t notice.” 

He grips your hips harder, bending you lower against the table. A small gasp escapes your lips. 

“Didn’t mean to,” You weakly defend yourself, words and tone unconvincing even to yourself. 

He hums, “Yeah, I fuckin’ bet.” He drags his cock back down your cunt, savoring the way your hips try to rock back into his own with desperation.

“Look what you do to me, baby. Got me so damn hard I can’t even think straight- fuck.” He moans, cock growing harder with the languid thrusts of his hips. 

You could feel your desperation clinging onto your skin, spreading and beginning to drip to your thighs. 

Your cheeks felt flushed, going lightheaded at the sweet and faint pleasure his movements brought to you. You could feel yourself clenching around nothing, aching for him to fill you up whole and so deep. 

You didn’t care if it was slow and sweet anymore, you just needed him. 

“Remmick, please.” You softly plead, turning your head back to look at him. Desperate eyed, batting your lashes, and pouty lipped, you grind your hips onto him. 

 He hisses through his teeth, fingers digging deeper into your hips to stop you.

“Fuck, I know baby-I know. Jus’ give me a second.”

His hands making their way up your body, caressing and rubbing desperately along your clothed stomach and up to your chest. 

With a harsh tug, he pulls your dress down from your chest, breast spilling out from the restraint of the fabric. They bounce softly, nipples hardening in the cool air and beneath his large calloused hands. 

He squeezes at them, fondling them together. His thick and skilled fingers softly tug and roll your sensitive buds, pinching and pulling and pawing at you with such fervor. You’re lucky it wasn't his mouth on you, too many times has he left you sore and aching from how hard he sucked and mouthed your breasts. 

Each time he always managed to draw the sweetest noises out of you, the room filling with soft gasps and moans. His own melted with yours like a song. 

Whiny and high pitched, he gasped with every desperate hump of his clothed cock against your pussy. He swore he was going to cum from just touching you. The feeling of your warmth seeping into him from all around drove him mad. 

Your scent filled his nostrils, need and desire spurring him on and filling him the same way fresh blood would. Coursing through his veins, making his dead heart pump and race like he was still human. You really did bring him back to life. He often thought that he didn’t need blood anymore, that he could live solely off of your sweet love and affection. 

His lips kiss your cheeks, breathing in your skin as he gives your tits one last squeeze before his hands move back to your ass. 

He pulls his body back, chest parting from your back and finding a steadier position to stand. You're confused for a moment, until you hear the soft clink of his belt coming undone. The sound of his zipper opening and pants hitting the floor fill your head. 

You feel his hand flip your dress up over your hips, fingers hooking around the band of your panties before shoving them down your thighs. A shiver crawls up your spine at the way the air hits your now exposed cunt. You try to catch your breath, fingers gripping at the table as a way to ground yourself. 

A gasp leaves you as you suddenly feel Remmick grip and pull your hips back. With his strength, he bends you over fully, arms falling from beneath you. Your bare breasts are flush against the table now, ass up and back arched against his crotch. The new position spreads you open, leaving you more vulnerable than before. 

You feel your cunt drip with arousal, pulsing with need as you finally feel his bare cock against you. 

It rests against the base of your ass, heavy with an angry red tip. You can feel the way it throbs and aches for you against your skin. You want to moan at the feeling, but instead suck in a breath of anticipation. 

You mind fills with ways of how he might fuck you. Slow and steady, with deep rough thrusts that have his tip kissing your sweet spot. Or maybe hard and rough, fucking into you by bullying your cervix by letting his head kiss and bruise it. You squeeze your thighs as you let your imagination run wild. 

You’re pulled away when you feel his cockhead part your lips. 

The moan you were holding back before slips, eyes rolling into your sockets as you feel his thick tip split your wet folds open. You're almost embarrassed by how much pleasure such a simple action brings you.

The hand on your hip tightens, holding you still from rutting back into him. 

His other hand grips the base of his cock, moving it slowly through the expanse of your sensitive pussy. He rubs and coats himself with your arousal, precum mixing in and creating an even wetter mess between your thighs.

He nudges himself between your dripping folds, beginning to softly thrust between them until you feel his tip kiss your clit. 

A whimper escapes both of you at the feeling. The mixed desperation in the air has both of you feeling like your skin was on fire. Chills and goosebumps littered your skin, tears almost falling from your eyes at the overwhelming feeling of him.

He wasn’t even inside of you and you were already falling apart. 

Without thinking, you begin to beg. Tiny incoherent cries and pleas start to spill from your lips. Sweet little words and moans that obviously come from thinking with your cunt and not your head. 

“Please, please fuck me Remmick. I’ll be good I swear, please fuck me.” You stutter out between gasps, hips mindlessly trying to move against his cock for stimulation.

“Not yet, sugar.” His hand falls away from his cock, leaving it trapped between warmth to grip your hips. His hands hold into your thighs harshly, nails digging into your skin until tiny crescent moons indent the flesh. 

“Y’know what happens when you tease me.” Pure poison drips from his lips as you feel him pull his hips away from yours. You whine, almost stomping your feet like a child. 

All protests and objections are gone when with a swift motion, he thrusts himself back between your thighs. He slides through easily, the mixture of your wetness allowing his cock to nudge your clit once more. 

Your body is burning, like a fever having come down. Behind you, you can feel Remmick’s own faint heat. His hips are flush against your ass, chest pressed against your back and you can feel the way drool drips from his mouth onto your shoulder. It mingles and melts into your skin with salty sweat. 

He licks you all the way to your throat, making his way to your cheeks and lips. He captures your mouth with his own, practically trying to devour you. 

Under his tongue, you were all the sweetest summer fruits wrapped into one. Sugar and honey dripped off of you like his own personal dessert. He groans at your flavor, kissing you harder and deeper.

You feel the rumble within his chest in your own, body shuttering with pleasure. 

“Gonna fuck you like this.” He breathlessly moans against you, not giving you a second to process the words before beginning to thrust into you. 

He begins fucks your thighs with a quick and steady pace, rutting his hips back and forth while dragging his cock over your cunt. 

With each movement, you can feel the way his tip catches and rubs at your clit. Nudging and kissing the sensitive bud lightly as he continuously rams his cock against where you need him the most. 

He throbs and twitches with each push and pull, your poor pussy clenching around nothing.You feel the way your arousal pools and seeps out of you like water. The thick honey coating his cock and your thighs, making an obscene wet noise fill the air. 

Beneath the sound of your combined moans, a faint plap plap plap can be heard as his heavy and aching balls slap against the back of your thighs.

Remmick grinds into your ass, hips angling himself just right so his cockhead nudges at your hole with each thrust. Teasing and wickedly grinning each time you whine when he pulls away, going back to fucking your clit and lips.

Tears spill from the corners of your eyes. Your body feels like you were lit on fire, flushed all around. Your fingers grip and claw at the table cloth, pulling at it until the dinner plates have fallen onto the ground. 

You feel your legs shake and your body twitch. You try to arch your back, desperately trying to meet his now brutal pace and rhythm but the iron grip he has on your hips has not faltered. 

Too much pleasure, not enough. 

You’re mewling and gasping into the table, feeling your knees slowly give out on you as he keeps bullying your poor cunt. 

Behind you, you would have sworn it was Remmick who was being teased so harshly. 

His loud whimpers fill the room, high pitched and whiny it almost sounds like he's dying. Each moan he breathes is dragged out and loud, like a sweet song made just for you. The sound rattles your bones and sends a lightning bolt right through your body. 

You knew he was sensitive. Knew how easy it was to make his pretty, thick cock cum with your hand and mouth. Even with a kiss, Remmick could become so desperate and needy in a second. 

And he tried to control himself, he really did. But with you in front of him, always ready and willing to give yourself over? How could he deny you or himself? 

Every time he starts to fuck you, the restraint he tried to build comes crumbling down within seconds. 

You were just so wet, so warm, and your walls gripped him so tightly it was like your body was just asking for him to lose control. The moans he held back flowed freely from him like a river, always growing louder than your own. 

Every sound that spilled from his lips dripped with pure sin and need. 

And when he started to talk? That's how you know both of you were done for. 

“You treat me so good, baby.” He begins, “F-fuck I don’t know where I’d be without you.” 

His thrusts get faster, desperately rutting against you. His cock pistoning in and out of your thighs, slipping through your pussy lips with how wet they were. He whines at the feeling of your arousal now dripping down his balls, softly squirting onto his skin with each slap to your cunt. 

His fangs peak through his teeth from the overwhelming hunger he feels for you. The sharp bones graze against the thin and tender skin of your shoulder, almost biting into you. Drool drips from the corner of his mouth and onto you, making your skin crawl.  

 “Ah- Your pussy’s so sweet to me baby. She always take me so good, so fucking tight for me, yeah,” He continues rambling, licking at his lips to stop saliva from flowing. “You ruined me for anyone else, Darlin. All I fuckin think about.” He punctuates every word with a harsh thrust, making your ass and thighs start to feel sore.

 “Did I ruin you? I bet I fuckin did, look at how wet you are for me.” He pulls his cock away, hand coming down to slap your cunt. The feeling has you jolting forward, a loud whine crawling out from your throat. 

He chuckles at the sound and sight. He watches the way your thighs clench together and how your back still arches for his touch. 

He grips his cock again, teasing and rubbing it back along your folds. 

“T’s alright, sugar. Sometimes you make me wanna cum so damn much I wonder if I’ll ever even stop.”

You think you would have cum right then and there if he had let his tip slip into you for just a split second. 

“Remmick, please.” You pathetically beg, rolling your hips back to meet his. Your words are slurred, your cheek having been pressed against the table and the way you were panting left your mouth dry.

You want him inside of you. Fuck no, you needed it. 

Desire starts to crawl through your ribs and fill your chest like if you were drowning in water. It fills your head, reaching your throat and lungs until you are practically suffocating on it. 

He described this feeling before. Said it was how he felt each time you looked at him, each time you left him touch and held you like he was born to do just that.  

You never believed him, thought the feeling to be an exaggeration, but now it seems as though you have some apologizing to do.

“My poor baby wants my cock?” He teases, parting from you once more. 

He grips your hips, pulling you further back off the table. Gently, he spreads your legs wider until you’re spread open for him to see. The position is embarrassing, exposing all of you for him to see better now. 

You feel two of his fingers part your lips, spreading them with a light squelch until your hole is exposed. The gentle night breeze has you shivering as it brushes against your warmth.

His fingers move, teasing your entrance before filling you up to the knuckle. A moan drags out of you, walls fluttering against the two thick digits.

He doesn’t even move. Simply keeps his fingers inside of you like a cork in a wine bottle. Lets you feel the stretch of him inside, spasming around him without even doing anything. 

 You’re sobbing, chest heaving as broken begs spill out of you. You’re not sure of how much more you can take. Lust clouds your brain as you try to claw your way out of the smoke. 

He leans down, nose digging into your hair before drifting down to your back. Tenderly, softer than anything he has done tonight, he kisses the space between your shoulder blades. 

“Oh, how could I resist you? I’d do anything for you, baby.” He whispers softly against your skin. 

He pulls his fingers out of you slowly, bringing them up to your lips to suck the excess of your wetness off. You obey, lapping up the thickness as you feel him massage your ass lightly. 

And without warning, he stuffs his cock inside of you. 

He fills you up to the hilt, cunt gushing around him as he enters and the feeling has all air leaving your lungs. 

Your mouth goes slack, his fingers leaving to wrap around your middle. They wander down until they ghost over your clit, gathering the wetness that was spread between your thighs. 

He gives you a moment to adjust, letting you feel every vein and twitch of his thick cock before pulling out and slamming back into you. His fingers rub at your clit and you can already feel the knot of your lower belly start to tighten. 

He thrusts in and out of you, whimpering like a bitch in heat. Your walls tighten onto him, trying to keep him inside as he pulls in and out. 

You both moan in sync, a loud symphony of whimpers and moans full of need and desperation. His hips slap against your own, his heavy balls rubbing against you as you gush onto him. 

You feel like you’re in heaven. Your tits rub against the table with each movement, nipples hard and receive stimulation from the feeling of the light fabric beneath you. Remmick swirls your clit like his hands were made to, his tip kissing your cervix each time he bottoms out. 

You’re so sensitive, leaning and about to drop right towards the edge. You almost came from him just putting it in, and his endless rambling isn’t helping.

“Best fucking pussy baby, squeezin’ me real tight. You tryna milk my cock, yeah? Want me to fill you up? Fuck you full of cum till it’s dripping?” His voice is getting pitchy, cracking with each word and you can tell he’s also close. 

You nod at each sentence, small ‘uh-huh’s being your quiet response. 

Your walls pulse around him, clenching the thick length as you feel yourself coming apart. 

“That’s right, sugar. Come all over me- fuck.” 

He growls at the feeling, fastening his pace as you cum all around him. It's almost animalistic, his loud groans rumbling into your body as you squirt. You can feel the warmth drip down to your knees, the feeling overwhelming you with embarrassment. 

His moans start to turn high pitched, a sign that he was close too. He breathes heavily above you, chest heaving as he groans and growls through his pleasure.

With a few more heavy thrusts, he stuffs you whole as thick ropes of cum start to fill you up. He whines, trying to rut deeper into you as your cunt milks his cock. The creamy substance leaks out of you, dripping down your pussy and coating his balls. 

Remmick whimpers as he holds your hips flush to him, letting the last of his spend shoot into you. 

You’re both panting heavily, chests heaving and lungs burning. Your bodies are sticky with sweat and other fluids that have you already craving a warm bath. 

You both stand there in silence, busy trying to catch your breaths as your highs start to come down. The tightness of your stomach wanes, warmth fading as the night breeze starts to cool you down. Your head falls onto the table, resting the muscles of your neck as you close your eyes. 

Your heart's pounding slows to a steady pace. Remmick had at some point pressed against you, now hugging you closely and feeling your heartbeat inside your chest. 

You hum at the feeling, the sudden softness and tenderness he displays making the love you feel for him ache inside your chest. 

You go to move, ready to try and shove him off of you but he is already doing so before you can even twist your body. 

You sigh, feeling him pull out slowly and helping you sit up. 

His lips meet yours, pressing a sweet kiss as he helps you up onto the table to rest. You hum against him, arms wrapping around his neck. You may not have gotten the sweet love making by the fire tonight, but he always ended up being just as sweet. 

“Love you, honey. So much.” He whispers against your lips, pulling you closer. His hands rub your tits softly, squeezing at the plump flesh before making his way back between your thighs. 

You hiss, feeling his fingers gathering up the drops of cum that hand escaped when he pulled out. Slowly, he gathers the spend and shoves it right back inside of you. 

You whimper, burying your head in his shoulder as he does. His mouth kissed your forehead, whispering some words you are unable to understand. 

He pulls away, hands resting at your waist before pushing you to lay down. Confusion fills your head, it all happens so fast. 

One second you were sitting up, the next you’re flat on your back with Remmick wrapping your legs around his hips. 

A tiny mewl escapes your lips when you feel his cock, already hard again, beginning to tease your entrance. 

You whimper, looking up at him with pleading eyes and quivering lips. 

He looks down at you with a smirk, biting his lip and tilting his head with a feigned innocence. 

“One more round, Sugar?”

He really just couldn’t control himself around you. 

Thank you for reading </3!! Comments and reblogs are v much appreciated! If you have any insights please leave them kindly!

[the-lonelybarricade]

Sometimes I want to shake people by the shoulders and scream, you need conflict to make a story interesting!

If every character got along perfectly and acted in everyone’s best interest, that would be unrealistic to the human condition but more importantly—so fucking boring

[chosolar]

ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈ wait for your love

nanami kento x fem!reader

exhusband!nanami who was your best friend since high school. you met during your 2nd year when he was getting teased for being a loser and you defended him. he stayed close to you after and has been close to you ever since.

exhusband!nanami who was forced to come with you to all the parties that you were too shy to go to. he never minded being your DD, as long as he knew you were safe then he didn't care about not being able to drink.

exhusband!nanami's parents had always nagged him to find someone after he graduated university. he took over his dad's company and as happy as his parents were, they wanted a daughter in law! he hated all the set ups his mom made him go to so he came to you with a proposition — get married to him for a few years to make his parents happy and he'll give you however much money you wanted. you needed the money he was offering so you accepted. the wedding was small and intimate with only your close friends and some family members.

exhusband!nanami worked his ass off ever since you accepted his proposal. even if it was just a marriage of convenience, he wanted to make sure you lived happily with him.

exhusband!nanami was the perfect husband. he was attentive, loving, and always spoiled you with everything you could ever want. the ladies in your neighbourhood loved him, wishing that their husbands were a fragment of what nanami is.

exhusband!nanami spent almost 5 years of marriage in bliss with you until you started pulling away. he never pushed you to talk though because he knew you were going through something. so he waited until you were ready to talk to him.

exhusband!nanami who felt in the dark when he was served with divorce papers. he was busy with paperwork, not bothering to look up at whoever was knocking on his office door. it wasn't until the manila envelope was placed on top of his desk that he looked up to see whoever served him.

exhusband!nanami wanted at least an answer before he signs the papers. you just told him the most vague answers. "I feel like we've grown apart" "we want different things in life" "I just can't do this anymore" he was confused with every reason that you gave.

exhusband!nanami couldn't wrap his head around the separation. he thought everything was going well but once he signed the papers to finalize the divorce, he felt the weight of losing you come all at once.

exhusband!nanami who hated being with anyone else but you. even if it did start out as a loveless marriage, he fell for you hard throughout the years. every "I love you" he's ever said, he's meant it. every kiss, every hug, nanami was surprisingly a good actor but he could never fake the affection he felt for you.

exhusband!nanami despises coming home. it was eerily empty and quiet, the sound of his footsteps were the only thing he could hear. he frequently thinks about moving away to get his mind away from you but he can't. he stays at the same place you've always know where he's been just in case you ever come back.

exhusband!nanami started drinking and smoking to waste his time. he rarely drank during college and he only did during parties with you. now that you're gone, he's turned to his vices. he knows that you hate the smell of cigarettes and you hate people who couldn't handle their alcohol but why does it matter if you're not with him anymore?

exhusband!nanami still remembers every little detail about you. no matter how hard he tried, he could never forget you and everything about you. you're the love of his life even if you don't feel the same about him.

exhusband!nanami felt like everything stopped when he saw you again on the street. you're still as beautiful as ever. your hair's longer and you've changed your style, but other than that you're still his pretty ex wife.

exhusband!nanami breathlessly greeted you back when you came up and said hi to him first. he thought you would've ignored him and just went along your way, but you stayed. your eyes stare up at him as you watch him fumble over his words. his heart skips faster as he sees you grin over his flustered state.

exhusband!nanami watches you leave after catching up. he wishes that it lasted a minute longer because for the first time in what feels like forever, he feels like he can breathe properly again.

exhusband!nanami starts sobering up and taking care of himself. he threw away the bottles of alcohol and cigarettes packs so that he can get away from feeling sorry for himself. if he ever sees you again, he wants to impress you (and make you regret your decision).

exhusband!nanami is shocked when he sees your face on the doorbell camera. the weather was relentless and he sees you shivering in the cold so he opens his door immediately. he hands you a change of warm clothes and turns up the thermometer of the house. 

while he's making hot tea for the both of you, he notices the bathroom door open and out you step, his clothes basically engulfing your body. nanami looks away, trying and failing to get rid of his lewd thoughts.

"sorry those are the only clothes I have that could fit you." nanami apologizes but you shook your head. "no don't be! if anything I should apologize for inconveniencing you."

nonsense, nanami thinks, you could never bother me.

nanami disregards his thoughts, "don't worry about that, I'm just glad to get you out of that snowstorm."

he hands you a cup of tea and you take notice of the mug he has in his hand. you think out loud, "you kept that mug?"

"hmm?" nanami glances up at you then to the cup, "oh yeah. how could I throw it away? you made it for me."

"but that was back in high school."

"and? I've kept everything you've ever given me." nanami cooly responded.

you kept quiet as you take sips of the tea he made for you. the taste is familiar until you remember — he made your favourite tea, just the way you like it. you dart your eyes between the tea and the blond man.

why is he like this? why is he still making your heart flutter after all this time? you wanted to get away but you couldn't, not until the storm calms down. the news reported that it'll continue until early in the morning meaning you'll have to stay inside — with him. knowing nanami, he would never let you out because he still worries for your safety.

sleepiness was creeping up on you as you both sat in the living room. nanami sees your head bobbling through his peripheral and offers you the guest room that you promptly accepted. he leaves you be, letting you explore the home that is exactly the same as when you used to live in it.

nanami laid in his bed, moving constantly to find a comfortable position enough to fall asleep. but he couldn't.

the only thing in his mind was you who was only a few doors down away from him. were you sleeping soundly or do you feel as insomnolent as him? he wants to get up and check on you but he restrains himself. with the wind blowing, all he can hear is the rage of the snowstorm hitting the windows of the house.

nanami directs his attention from the windows to the knocking of the door. "nanami? are you awake?"

he instructs for you to come in, the light from the hallway seeps into the darkness of his bedroom. he sits up and taps the space in front of him on his bed to tell you to come sit there. "why are you still awake?"

"couldn't sleep after I got into bed. you?" you wonder as you go to sit on his bed. he chuckles, "same. do you wanna talk? I remember you used to fall asleep to me talking."

"you remember?"

"how could I forget?"

you lift your legs to place them onto the bed and cross them, wrapping your arms and pulling your knees onto your chest. "why do you still remember everything about me?"

"I was your best friend before I was your husband. even if I wanted to forget, everything about you is engrained in me." his hand moves up to tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear. "you were my first and my last, it'll be that way till I die."

"you're so dumb," you mumble into your arms, "I divorced you and you still treat me so well."

nanami grasps your wrist and brings you to his lap, his arms wrapped loosely around you. he kisses your temple softly. "does that bother you?"

"I don't know," you confess. nanami exhales before he changes the topic. "if we're being honest, can you finally tell me now why you wanted a divorce?"

you shook your head. "not really, you might hate me."

"I won't." nanami reassures, "just be honest with me dear."

you sigh.

"the marriage was feeling too real."

nanami's expression twists into confusion.

"it was an agreement between us that if one day one of us wanted to stop, we will," you continue, "and one day, I thought about it. there's going to be a day you come up to me and maybe you'll tell me that you found someone else. I don't want to go through that, I don't want to lose you but we've already gone so far. I figured it was best for me to leave before that day does come.

"you'll never have to worry about that," nanami tightens his arms around you, "it's always been you."

you hugged him back, the scent of his cologne intensifies as you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck. "can we start over? but for real this time."

"we don't need to start over," nanami places a kiss on the top of your head, "we can just pick up where we left off."

as soon as the storm stopped, husband!nanami takes you to city hall to sign a new marriage certificate.

husband!nanami makes sure to treat you right this time. if you think that the act he was putting up was good, then nanami not having to hide his feelings is better. he's not one to shy away from physical affection in public as he always wants to hold your hand or stay very close to you.

husband!nanami who will always reassure you that he'll never leave. you are the light of his life, the reason he wants up everyday. he'll never take a day with you granted.

husband!nanami finds it adorable when you watch over the neighbour's daughter. he'll wait until her parents pick her up and then he'll bring up the thoughts that's been plaguing his mind for a while now.

"honey, what do you think about starting a family?"

ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈

as per usual, not proofread!! ◡̈

[mingtinys]

in a thousand lifetimes

pairing : choi seungcheol x gn!reader

hurt / comfort , angst , mafia leader!scoups au

warnings : language , descriptions of blood , mafia themes

word count : 3.5 k

requested ? no

a/n : there's just something about the domestic side of mafia au's that i just love so dearly . secretly soft and fragile mafia leader crying in the arms of their loved one >>>>>>> ruthless and cold mafia leaders .

The day you stood by Seungcheol at the altar, you promised a myriad of unconditional vows, as did he. For better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and health— until death do you part. To love him without doubt and cherish the heart he had so willingly placed in your care. You swore to cradle it with gentle hands; to keep it safe from shattering until the very last beat.

You were prepared for that. Excited, even.

But as Seungcheol limps through the entrance of the home you've built together, you feel your confidence in that pact falter for the first time. Perhaps you'd missed something in your vows. The part that told you what to do when the love of your life comes home stained in red. From his white button-up to his polished shoes— even his sweet, sweet face— tarnished.

You don't want him to hear the way your voice trembles. But God, that stench. That pungent scent of iron coats your throat and you can't help the way it constricts to keep the subsequent wave of nausea at bay.

"Cheol?"

His head snaps up at you like he's just now realized where he is. Glazed-over eyes connect with the wood floors you'd spent an hour mopping, then to his shaking hands painted in crimson, before that stale gaze finally lifts and meets your own.

"Are you hurt?"

He shakes his head.

"Seungcheol..." You take cautious steps his way, like how one would approach a wild deer. "Who's blood is this?"

Tears are in his eyes, but his face remains rigid. Like his brain is stuck in survival mode, but his emotions are leaking out.

"Chan's."

The boy's name hits your ears like venom. Sweet, gentle, kind, Lee Chan. The youngest intern under Seungcheol's leadership, you'd met him once at a company dinner. You don't think you've ever met someone with such a heart of gold. And it's a little hard to imagine you could be staring at all that's left of him. "Oh my God, is he okay? What happened?"

Seungcheol's face twists at your questions, some memory pulling at his brows and forcing his eyes shut. They open with fresh tears and the first ounce of clarity cracks through his otherwise dazed state.

"He's in the hospital—" You see the words catch in his throat. His fist repeatedly pounds against his thigh and his mouth hangs open until the words finally come. "It's my fault. He's just a kid, this is all my fault— he shouldn't have been there. They shouldn't have been able to get to him. It was too dangerous, he wasn't ready."

Nothing of his fragmented words makes any sort of sense. You've never seen him like this, so frazzled, so pitiful, so... broken. The sight of it twists your heart, contorting in your chest to such an unnatural degree there's a physical ache.

So, despite the nausea burning your esophagus and the screams of protest deep within your bones, your arms open and gravity pulls Seungcheol into them with labored steps. His knees buckle instantly at the contact and it takes every ounce of strength in your arms to catch him. Letting yourself sink with him to soften the fall; even if that means your knees land with a painful thud, already able to feel purple bruises blossoming from the impact.

Because you love him.

Because you vowed not only for better but for worse as well. And vows are only as good as the turmoils they prove to withstand.

Calloused hands grip the sides of your shirt. You try to ignore the stains they leave, pushing your focus onto the man before you on the brink of hysterics. His forehead falls to your chest, and that's when the most wretched sobs you've ever had the displeasure of hearing begin. Loud and sharp, like the blade of a sword, as they slice through the eerily still night.

A chill creeps in from where your knees connect with the hardwood and crawls up the length of your spine. It nests in your mind and metastasizes, igniting alarms in that little part of your brain that warns: you should be scared. Though it doesn't grant you the knowledge of what.

"Baby, what happened?" You ask and recite a silent prayer the answer to that is not him.

He sobs out an unpromising, "I can't."

"Seungcheol, there is too much blood for that shit. You need to tell me what the hell is going on." Your eyes are starting to burn with the flood breaching your lashes, unsure how much longer you can force an ease into your tone.

You need him to just spit it out. Before your heart explodes.

You steady his head between your palms and swipe at the blood spatter decorating his jawline. It just smears, mixing with his tears and tinting more of his cheek in a dull brownish-red. Seungcheol looks at you with eyes that scream please don't hate me and you don't know but... you know. Enough that when the confession finally pours from his lips, the shock doesn't totally shatter your ribs on impact. Instead, the words slowly seep into your skin and enter your bloodstream like a bitter poison.

Suddenly, minuscule details make much more sense, revealing the full picture like a jigsaw puzzle falling into place. The nights he doesn't return until the sun breaches the horizon. The general air of mystery around his job and the "family business" he took over years ago. How insistent he had been with you learning some type of self-defense. All the way down to the dried blood that lingered under his fingernails.

You should be levels more upset than you are at his confession. Any normal person would be. He lied to you, for years. Hid a secret so large it could easily blow a crater in the earth should the measly stilts it balanced on collapse. Yet, the anger you feel doesn't boil over into a blind rage. It stirs with concern and simmers until it has been diluted into nothing but the type of anger that can only be fueled by love. It comes with the terrifying revelation that the person you love most in this world, could've been stolen from you at any moment and you would've been none the wiser as to how. It makes you want to hold him a little extra in the mornings, a little harder, closer.

Then, somewhere, in that tangled web of emotions fighting to reach the surface, there's an unexpected relief. Because one thing has been glaringly obvious since the day you met Choi Seungcheol. The reason he appears as such a pillar of strength relies solely on the fact that he shoulders the weight of the world alone. Rarely does he let his struggles reach his cheery expression. You can't help but think, now that you know, there's one less burden he has to carry by himself.

"Please don't leave me," Seungcheol rasps out. You'd nearly forgotten where you were for a moment. Forgot his face was still between your hands, that blood still smeared his cheek, and tears were still slipping from his lashes. But at this moment, as those weary earth-brown eyes search your face for an answer, you realize just how malleable your morals are when it comes to him.

"I love you." You confess, like it's the first time the phrase has ever left your lips. "Cheol, I love you more than anything in this world." So much it frightens you what you're willing to forgive.

But then again it doesn't. Because he's never been Choi Seungcheol, the city's most feared mob boss. To you, he's always just been Cheol. The man that nearly burned your kitchen down two anniversaries ago trying to make you breakfast in bed. Who pouts and whines when you haven't given him enough attention after work. Who's touch has only ever been as gentle as a Summer's breeze. And maybe you're naive, but you'd like to believe the Seungcheol that peppers your face with kisses every morning and begs for five extra minutes in bed is a truer reflection of his heart than his job.

With one final deep breath to steel your nerves and silence the brigade of questions swirling in your head, you press a long kiss to his temple— one of the only areas not tainted with red. The tension in his muscles visibly melts away at the contact and beyond anything he just looks... tired. You want nothing more than to let him rest in the safety of your arms, but he's still covered in Chan's blood.

"Let's get you cleaned up, yeah?" You coax him from the floor, never once letting your voice slip above a gentle whisper. He tries to protest, insisting he needs to be at the hospital with the others to check on Chan, but puts up absolutely no fight when you tell him that can wait until tomorrow as you guide him towards the bathroom.

You gather towels and fresh clothes and lay them out on the vanity. "Take your time, okay? I won't go far, promise." With one last reassurance, you leave Seungcheol in privacy to shower and clean the blood from his skin.

Alone now, the adrenaline in your veins dissolves, and the full gravity of everything finally crashes around you. The metallic scent lingering in the air, the drying blood on the hardwood, the feeling of impending doom that comes with a truth so heavy. It's too much, at least to bear in such a tiny apartment. You all but sprint out the front door, accidentally letting it shut with a hefty slam.

The warm Summer night air hits your skin and wraps around you like a security blanket. You inhale deeply, once, twice, thrice, and on the fourth breath, it feels like the oxygen finally reaches the base of your lungs.

You sit, for a length of time you remain ignorant to, at the bottom of the stairwell. Lost deep in thought until the buzzing of your phone reverberates from your back pocket. You look at it but— no caller I.D.

Answering it anyway, a sense of comfort fills you at the familiar voice.

"Jeonghan." You greet.

"I'm sorry to call so late," He says, voice languid. "I just wanted to know if Seungcheol got home safe yet."

"He did."

There's a long pause of silence. Just the steady beeps of a heart monitor on the other side of the line. Then, "Is Chan okay?"

"Yeah, he's sleeping right now. Doctors gave him some of the good shit to knock him out for the night." There's a hesitance to the way he speaks and you think perhaps he's weighing in his mind what excuse Seungcheol might have told you as to why Chan is even in the hospital to begin with.

"Jeonghan, can I ask you something?"

"I can't promise I'll have an answer, but sure." He's always been so calculated in the way he speaks, which makes sense to you now.

You chew at the inside of your cheek. "Seungcheol, he... He keeps himself safe, right?"

"You know." He sighs, matter of fact.

"I do."

"He's careful, smart, keeps his hands clean-ish. We all look after each other, he's about as safe as he can be." The man on the other end of the line yawns, and you wonder how long he's been up wondering if Seungcheol made it home before he finally called. That in and of itself should comfort you and prove Seungcheol has people who care about him when you're not around, but it doesn't. You don't think anything ever could at this point. Perhaps it was better not knowing the truth.

"That doesn't exactly make me feel better."

Jeonghan snorts. "I didn't think it would."

Another stretch of silence spans over the line for an uncomfortably long time. So long, you begin to think maybe the call disconnected. But that steady beeping is still there, quiet, but there.

Then Jeonghan speaks, his sudden words sending ice pricking through your veins. "You're an accomplice now, you know?" His voice carries no emotion. It's as if he's reading the words straight from an instruction manual. "Unless, of course, you turn him in."

Oh.

You hadn't thought of that.

"Would you?"

His question lingers in the air like smoke, suffocating your airways so much it feels like you might choke before you can even answer.

Never has the idea of betraying Seungcheol's trust ever been a thought in your head, much less an option. But he's right. Your newfound knowledge makes you just as much a criminal in the eyes of the law as if you had committed the act yourself. It's either fess up while you still can or guard his secret with, quite literally, your life.

Perhaps you were a bit hasty. It was easy to hold Seungcheol in your arms and whisper comforting words between his sobs. However, when it comes to your own fate, you're forced to reckon with the dread that washes over you like a bucket of ice, alone.

Still, you're embarrassed that not even a shred of doubt weighs your decision. Just an immeasurable amount of guilt.

"No."

"You don't sound so sure."

"It's a lot to process." You defend, trying not to let your voice waver too much under Jeonghan's scrutiny.

"I know it is," He relents, and suddenly, his voice shifts back to the soothing, angelic tone you've always been used to. "I'm sorry, I haven't even asked how you're feeling."

The conversation lulls in what you assume is Jeonghan leaving space for you to share if so you wish. You don't— knowing that if you were to loosen even a single thread tethering your mind in the realm of sanity, it would all unravel. You've only just begun to construct the brittle wall that separates your Seungcheol from the one covered in blood. If it were to take a blow so early and come crumbling down, you fear you may not have the strength needed to start over.

Your current position is precarious and emotions are already tricky— pouring them out to Seungcheol's best friend even more so.

"I'm fine. I should probably get back to Cheol." You say instead.

Jeonghan hums. "He's had a rough night." Steady beeps still pulse like a metronome in the background, mixing with a subtle chatter. "Let him know everyone is okay and if you two need anything, just call."

"I'll tell him."

"That means you too."

A voice calls Jeonghan's name and the line goes dead before you can say anything more. Not that you had much else left to say— or anything that would be news to Jeonghan at least. It felt like he knew more about your spinning mind in one phone call than you'd pieced together since Seungcheol stumbled through the door.

Seungcheol.

Seungcheol, who's been alone in your tiny apartment for who knows how long at this point. With nothing but his thoughts and a water heater that runs out far too quickly to comfort him. Your heart aches at the idea of him crumpled up in the basin of the porcelain tub alone.

Seungcheol, whom you find sitting at the kitchen island with his head in his hands— hunched over a steaming mug of tea— upon your return. His hair hangs down in damp strings, dripping onto his pair of comfort sweatpants, the ones he tends to gravitate towards when he's had a long day.

The door clicks shut behind you and his head snaps up with lightning quick reflexes. A wild look flashes in his eyes, but it melts away almost as quick as it came. His shoulders slump with relief and for what seems like an eternity, he just let's his gaze linger.

"I didn't think you were coming back." He rasps. His fingers curl around the mug, siphoning off some of its warmth to combat the slight chill in the air.

His hands are clean now— free of any trace of dark red— then again, they never really were. Probably never will be.

"To be honest, I wasn't completely sure I was." You're still some distance away from where he sits, a fact you're made painfully aware of by the way his eyes flit between you and the door. As if he expects you to flee at any moment.

"I would understand, you know?" His voice is as soft and genuine as it was the day he said I do. "I wouldn't be mad. My job, this life, it was never supposed to be your burden. You can walk out and I wouldn't—" His voice catches and he takes a swig of his tea, cringing at the temperature as it goes down. "—I wouldn't stop you."

You know he wouldn't. Because Choi Seungcheol is a good man. There would not be a ring on your finger if he wasn't. It's why you're so comfortable closing the distance that separates you two.

It's why you're so comfortable excusing all of his wrongs.

"I'm not going anywhere."

"You should." He croaks. Tears gather at his waterline and on instinct, you wipe the first to fall away. But more continue to silently slip down his cheeks. Unable to catch them fast enough, you step between his legs and guide his forehead to your shoulder with a gentle hand on the back of his neck.

Seungcheol lets out a shaky breath as your fingers trail down the nape of his neck to just between his shoulders, then back up again. You hold him. Just as you've held his heart for years. Delicate. Like handling glass.

"I love you," He whispers. "I'm sorry I lied, I— all I ever wanted was to keep you safe."

"I know."

He tilts his head back, staring up at you with damp cheeks and bloodshot eyes. "I don't deserve you."

You tuck a piece of hair that's fallen into his eye behind his ear. "I could find you in a thousand lifetimes and there wouldn't be a single one where that'd be true."

"I'd still spend every one of those thousand lifetimes making it up to you." His hands grip your hips, holding you steady, as if he's still scared you'll run away.

"You." You hold the underside of his chin so he can't divert his gaze for your next words. Your tone is a firm, bordering on authoritative. "Make it up to me by coming home."

Seungcheol nods, but it's not a good enough answer for you.

"Don't ever make me plan your funeral, Choi Seungcheol. Do you understand? You cannot do that to me."

"I won't."

"Promise me. Because I swear if I ever have to hear from Jeonghan that you're not coming home I swear I'll—"

Seungcheol takes your hand from his chin and pulls it flat against his chest. The quick but rhythmic beats of his heart calms your barrage of threats instantaneously.

"I promise."

The words leave his lips slowly. Each syllable is enunciated loud and clear, so the sincerity with which he says them can reach your ears without doubt. His words linger in the air and all you can focus on is his pulse. How terrified you are that one day it'll stop before your own. That there could come a night where your head rests against empty sheets instead of his chest. No longer lulled to sleep by its steady beating.

That thought rattles you more than any crime Seungcheol could commit.

It takes Seungcheol's thumb grazing over your cheekbone to realize you're crying. But then it becomes unstoppable. More worries spilling out in the form of tears. It's the not knowing that may be the end of you.

"I want you in this lifetime, Cheol. I don't want to wait until the next to live a full life with you. So I need you to keep that promise."

Seungcheol rises from his seat and brings you into his chest. Allowing you to hide away from the horrors of it all in his strong embrace. "There's nothing I wouldn't do to make it home to you." He reassures. And the sheer determination in his voice makes you believe him.

"And no more secrets, okay?" You mumble against the soft fabric of his shirt. "I want you to tell me everything."

"It's better if I don't." He whispers with a deep exhale. And you want to be more upset with his answer than you are. But he keeps rocking you side to side and pressing long kisses to your temple.

"All you need to know is that none of it comes before you." The sincerity in his voice is as prominent as it was reciting his vows. "Everything I've built. All the money and power in the world— I'd burn it all to the ground for you."

[ihatethecrowdsyouknowthat]

taking advantage - s reid x fem!reader

reader gets over her breakup by getting under her very worried coworker - pt 2 of legally single

genre: smut wc: 2k warnings: convincing to have sex, emotionally fragile reader, coping with sex, spencer can't say no, handjob, f receiving oral, unprotected piv, reader on birth control

His Converse step through the barrier and into your apartment. Your empty apartment. The way he looks at you almost like an apology crumbles his stoic exterior. If only he could just throw away that boy next door personality and be a guy. You wish he would just take advantage of your vulnerability and give you another reason to hate yourself.

Only, it’s Spencer. He’s too good for that.

He whispers your name softly like, if he startled you, you’d fragment. It’s not like you’re a child. You know what you want.

“Why did you want me here?” Spencer asks.

You take a few steps closer and look up at him. “I don’t know.”

All he does is nod before sighing the start of a goodbye, “I think I should go.”

He turns to leave like a father would if your life was a movie. It makes you scramble for any excuse to get him to stay for even one second more. The only syllables that your mind seems to be able to conjure up are pathetic and worthy of venomous laughter.

“Please stay!”

You can hear the laugh track.

With his hand reached out towards the doorknob, he stops. Frozen in time, the only sound is the pitter patter of your fragile heart. “Please?”

He turns to search your features—your smudged mascara, sparkly lips, and glass eyes. And he caves.

“Okay,” he whispers.

The silence coerces you cruelly to speak.

“We broke up.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.” His eyes are sympathetic but somehow hurtful.

The way you look down at your heels compels him to take a step forward. “You know he doesn’t deserve you, right?”

“What?” you look up. You don’t think you’ve ever been this close to each other.

“You’re one of the best people I know.”

“I am?”

Vulnerability shines through your gaze and he can see it. He reminds himself to tread carefully.

“You are,” he nods sincerely.

Your head lifts until your nose brushes his. Spencer’s eyes widen. He tells himself that this isn’t okay, that he’s taking advantage of you and he should be at home.

You mutter softly, “so are you.”

When people compliment you, you say, “thank you.”

But what you don’t do is let them kiss you after. And you definitely don’t kiss back. But he does.

But it’s wrong, he knows. You’re hurt, heartbroken, he can’t be toying with your tarnished heart like it’s nothing.

His lips part before his body catches up to his thoughts. In a quick motion, you’re without his touch again. Even though it’s for the best, it sucks.

“What are you doing?” Spencer sighs.

“I just really—”

“I should go. I don’t want to make any more mistakes.”

You scoff. “Mistakes?” 

“You’re not in a good state.” His hand raises as if to make a point. “I’m not going to take advantage of that!”

Without another thought, you cry, “you’re not taking advantage if I want it!”

It clicks within a second that you actually might want to do more than just kiss him tonight.

So he asks cautiously, “what does that mean?”

Like any other stressful situation, you try to run. “Nothing.” But the squeak in your voice proves the sentiment false.

“Why did you invite me up?” he asks, firm almost like he could command you with the same tone. 

“I don’t know!”

The words hang in the air between your bodies, heavy with what’s left unsaid.

And that’s when you can feel the stone wall crumble to the ground with all of his reservations. Spencer’s eyes, swallowed whole by his pupils, soften into an understanding pity. You make your move again but he doesn’t stop it. He leans into it. Your lips meet hungrily, your hands tangling in unruly curls. One backward step at a time pulls him closer to your bedroom. Determined fingers push his jacket to the floor. The door of your room is clicked shut by his back when you urge him against it. 

It’s only now that his hands finally find your face. He leans down to twist your tongues together. He kisses you like he’s desperate or starving. Something you never had with your ex. When he kissed you it was for only the reason that he should. With Spencer it’s because he wants to. He wants to feel the vibration of your whimpers against his swollen lips. Which confuses you, your brain muddling into a mess of questions about your coworker. 

For example, has he always wanted this?

What if every time your eyes met across the round table, he was thinking about this? What if the whole time he was imagining swallowing your tongue into his mouth? What if he was picturing kissing you in a way that would screw you up for the remainder of your life?

What if his fantasies went further than that?

His large hand squeezes your waist firmly, pushing every what-if out of the way to make room for what’s about to happen. Because everyone knows you can’t move forward if you keep looking back.

You loosen his tie and pull it over his head. “Are you sure?” Spencer asks. Something about him makes everything he says come out like a whisper from the Gods—pure, with all-good intentions and completely genuine. You know your words should be the same way but, for right now, you just know you want him. What you’ll think tomorrow doesn’t matter.

And so an answer doesn’t come. At least, not an answer in words. Your response comes in the form of another kiss. This time a softer one.

It goes against everything he stood for at the opening of the night—what he believed before he stepped into your apartment. The argument is irrefutable, however. The moment he saw that look in your eyes, he couldn't say no. It was the shine in them and the redness under them.

It was the way you begged him with only a look.

How could he ever imagine giving you anything but exactly what you want?

Your hands run down the fabric of his shirt. One button at a time, you undress him down to his boxers. You decide he’s taking too long to return the favour, so you do it yourself, letting your dress fall to the floor.

Spencer stands in front of you in nothing but underwear and you look up at him in the same. You pull him close, tugging him to the bed with you. He lands on top.

Manicured nails softly scratch down his stomach. He visibly twitches in response. You push his boxers down just enough to bare him.

Not that you ever doubted, but his size does surprise you. Spencer’s an above average length. While his girth is nothing to tell the pope about, you’re impressed.

You look up at him with a bitten bottom lip and wrap your hand around the base. His eyes flutter shut as he lets out a whimper. When you smile with amusement, he shuts you up with a kiss. You swipe your thumb across the tip of his cock to pull a moan from him. Except he ruins your fun with his big hand covering yours.

“You have to stop if you want me to…” he nods downward.

You just agree. It’s hard to argue. Especially when he starts kissing down your neck.

Then chest.

Then stomach.

Until he’s right at where your underwear starts.

His head lifts so his big brown eyes can find your clouded ones. “Can I take these off?”

“Yeah,” you mutter breathily.

The fabric is carefully slid down your legs before his lips start moving up them. He gently lays pecks to your inner thighs, each one higher than the last. Heavy sighs tell him that he can continue upward. He presses a soft kiss to your clit and gauges your reaction.

He takes your parted lips as a sign that he’s doing something right.

He starts by licking from the bottom to the top and then taking your clit into his mouth. Waves of pleasure shoot straight through you. You realize now that you haven’t had an orgasm in a while.

It’s very obvious in how, from just a little suction from his lips, you already feel close to that ledge.

“Spencer, I’m gon—” you moan.

Instead of stopping or panicking and changing rhythm, he slides a finger into you. His mouth continues on your clit in the same way. His finger matches the pace while you squirm.

You throw your head back against the bed with a whimper. Your mouth hangs open, your chest rising with each attempt of a breath. The throbbing between your legs gets worse until it turns into pure ecstasy spreading from your pussy to your stomach.

It hits you almost without warning. Spencer doesn’t seem surprised or stop when he notices you’re done. Rather, he works you through it. His actions soften but persist. He doesn’t stop until he sees he’s made you sensitive to touch.

Your body buzzes. Spencer starts back up your body sloppily. He finds your parted lips with his own and slides his tongue in effortlessly. That’s when the sensitivity subsides—or maybe you just can’t take it anymore—so you reach for his boxers and pull them down the rest of the way.

Spencer freezes to whisper, “I don’t have contraceptives.”

“I’m on birth control,” you say with too much enthusiasm.

“Are you sure? Birth control is really only 91% effective without pulling out.”

The most Spencer thing ever. 

“I’m sure, Spence. Please?”

You look up at him and, once again, he can only seem to imagine one possible answer to your question. “Yes, ma’am.”

Maybe you should feel bad for how every decision made tonight has been because you convinced him to make the decision. Something should be stopping you. Maybe your breakup or your current state of denial.

But all you can think about is getting your coworker inside you.

He settles himself right at your entrance. A silent exchange between the two of you occurs. It goes like this:

Spencer says, “tell me you won’t regret this.”

You reply, “how could I? It’s you.”

But what gets left out is it’s him. You’re going to regret this.

He stretches you out, inch by inch. Your walls accommodate him in whole, nothing like the other guys you’ve been with. Again, you find he’s big.

The last inch hits your cervix and sends a moan tumbling from your lips. He controls the muscles of his mouth to not smile.

He was never an egotistical man. Sure, he took pride in his knowledge but after so many times of being told “I’m sorry I asked,” he stopped taking so much. Something that did feel good, though, was knowing that he could please you. Especially in ways that he’s sure your ex couldn’t.

So when he feels you clench around him, it starts to worry him how much he’s holding back. But with one word, he gives in.

“More.”

His hips snap forward to set a pace that will lead you both to what you’re craving. And then whatever comes after.

The sound of skin and heavy breaths melts your brain to a puddle of goo. The tip of his cock bumps your cervix in a steady rhythm. A rhythm that makes your eyes roll back and your thighs shake. His pants hit the side of your neck along with low grunts and whines. You think how vocal he is is what pushes you over the edge.

Your stomach tenses as your orgasm runs through you. Tiny contractions flutter the walls of your cunt. You feel him throb before he very quickly pulls himself out of you. With your legs wrapped around his waist, he finishes where he can. White hot drips down your naval.

In only a few seconds, the fog lifts. You look down at your naked body intertwined with your coworker’s. This happens to people a lot, you’re sure. The only logical response comes to you.

The only logical response that won’t lead to a meeting with HR.

“This didn’t happen.”

Everything in him says to fight you, that you could be something good. You could be what he sees in his mind when someone says love.

But, when you say something, he agrees.

“Okay.”

[himasgod]

I think requests are open? So you know that feeling of devastating elation when a person you thought was dead turns up? And I’m not talking about like an hour after whatever incident they thought took you. It’s been DAYS. They thought you were dead for DAYS. They were hardcore MOURNING when you show back up.

If you can, I’d love to see your take on this, either the point of reunion or the aftermath, where they are definitely overprotective (for good reason). Or both, I ain’t gonna limit you. You’re free to use whatever character(s) you want =^^=

LEONA X READER

Where you have been missing after an accident for days

It's been five days since a Spelldrive explosion during an unsanctioned match in Savannaclaw. You were playing with some Savanaclaw students when you decided to use a spell you'd read in a forbidden book in the library. It was supposed to have worked out. You’d gone missing in the smoke and wreckage. No one found your body. The only thing left was your broken magic pen — and Leona hadn't slept properly since then.

art credits to kura_usagi217 on twitter <3

Savanaclaw was quiet in a way that didn’t feel natural. No fights. No roars of challenge echoing from the training yard.

Leona sat, slouched low in one of the worn-out chairs, a bottle of untouched water beside him and Ruggie pacing nearby.

“You gotta sleep at some point,” Ruggie muttered. Again.

“You’re not gonna be able to do anything if you collapse.”

Leona didn’t answer. He hadn't answered that question the first time.

Or the second. Or the fiftieth.

His gaze was fixed on the shattered fragment of your pendant, the one you'd worn every day. The one they’d found in the wreckage of that cursed spelldrive field five days ago.

They had declared you missing.

After the third day, Crewel used the word "presumed."

But Leona didn’t. He didn’t say anything.

Not when Crowley offered to hold a memorial service.

Not when Azul offered condolences in that too-polite tone that always made Leona want to punch him.

Not even when Ruggie found him, head bowed in the sand behind the dorm, fists dug into the earth like he was trying to bury the grief with his own hands.

So now, on day five, he sat in the lounge. Not waiting. Just not moving. Just breathing. Barely.

At first, he didn’t look up. Just assumed it was Ruggie returning from another failed search sweep. Then he heard a voice.

“Leona?”

Everything inside him stopped. He turned.

And there you were.

Dirt-streaked and limping, one arm pressed against your ribs, your uniform torn. There were scratches on your face, blood all over, too-slow and weak breath.

But your eyes. They were bright.

Alive.

He stood so fast the chair crashed backward behind him.

You flinched.

And then he was there.

His hands grabbed your shoulders, a little too hard, like he couldn’t convince himself you weren’t a mirage.

“Where the hell—” He roared. “Where the hell have you been?”

You tried to speak, but your throat tightened.

“I— I was trapped,” you managed.

“The blast threw me into the ravine behind the field. My magic was gone, I couldn’t climb out. I screamed for days—”

He pulled you into his arms so fiercely you gasped. You didn’t even get the chance to finish your sentence.

He held you against him like he could squeeze life back into your body. Like maybe if he held you hard enough, the days would reverse, and none of this would’ve happened.

His voice was muffled against your hair.

“Five days.”

“I know.”

“I thought you were dead.”

“I know.”

“I—” He pulled back just far enough to look at your face. His eyes were bloodshot. And wet. Leona Kingscholar was crying. Just enough to shine.

“You left me. And I couldn’t even follow.”

“But I am back.”

And he closed his eyes like that was the only thing that mattered anymore.

You fainted right then and there.

You woke up in the infirmary with the strange smell of healing potions in your nose.

Your body ached in places you didn’t even know existed, but you were alive. Safe, and warm. And Leona was there.

Curled in the chair beside your bed, his head tilted back, mouth slightly parted. One leg was propped up, and his arms were crossed over his chest —out of tension.

He hadn’t slept much, but this was the first time you’d seen him close his eyes since your return.

You shifted slightly, and instantly—

His eyes snapped open. Alert. Focused.

“Hey,” you said softly.

He sat forward.

“You’re awake. Good.” His voice was low, roughened by disuse.

“You need to drink something. You’re dehydrated.”

“I’m fine, Leona—”

“You’re not.” He reached for the pitcher beside you and poured you a glass. When he handed it to you, you noticed the tremble in his fingers. Your heart hurt at the sight.

“Leona…”

He set the glass down. Didn’t meet your eyes.

“It was my fault, again. Should’ve known it wasn’t safe. Should’ve stopped you using that damn spell.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I let you out of my sight. I trusted that nothing would happen to you.”

“You couldn’t have known—”

“I should’ve,” he snapped, louder than before. His ears were pinned flat. You squeezed his hand. There was silence.

Finally, he exhaled through his nose.

“I’m not letting this happen again,” he muttered. “From now on, you don’t leave campus alone. You don’t use fucking secondhand spell tech. You don’t skip meals or run off to go ‘train in peace’ like some hero. You tell me where you are. Every time.”

“That’s a lot of rules,” you said, trying to soften the moment.

“Damn right it is.”

“A little overprotective, don’t you think?”

“I thought I was gonna have to bury you, I haven’t even told you how I feel yet.”

“...You mean—?”

“Don’t make me say it right after I thought you were dead,” he growled, looking away. “I’ll say it when you’re not half-doped up on potions.”

“Okay. Deal.”

[sleepingcup]

I can't ask in your crk blog for some reason.. So..i came here andd I wasn't sure to message you crk blog either..

But I wanted to ask if you can do shadow milk and PV or their skins.. To like comfort a mentality exausted Y/N.. 😅 (omg I'm nervous-)

(Sorry about that anon, yes the inbox in eepy-cookies is closed because it has a massive request that needs to be fulfilled. But I do feel a little bonus since it feels a bit incomplete.)

Characters: Truthless Recluse, Pure Vanilla Cookie, Sage of Truth, & Shadow Milk Cookie x G/N Reader (Bonus: Black Sapphire Cookie, Candy Apple Cookie, Awakened Pure Vanilla Cookie) Genre: Hurt/Comfort & Fluff Trigger Warning: Dark Topics and mentions of s****de Disclaimer: This is made for fun, please be aware of ooc

Summary: You are exhausted mentally for who knows how long, masking your personality. Always keeping a fake smile wherever you go, it went well even if it hurts but somehow someone noticed and corners you alone.

Pure Vanilla Cookie

It will take him a while to notice that you were masking this whole time, he always got fooled so easily its hard for him to notice a bit of your suffering. To him you are able to avoid him trying to understand you.

But if he happen to notice, he feels really bad for not noticing.

You didn't tell him and he didn't know, you two are on both fault at that.

You happen to notice that he was going near you at all cost, he won't be fooled by your attitude, instead he often goes near you to hug, ask you, and at the same time making sure that you are being comforted slowly.

Who knows he might be happy to see you being truly happy.

Truthless Recluse

You can't fool him, he can sense your sorrows.

Try masking your emotions and he can casually point it out like it was no big deal for him, of course he can piss you off wondering why but he knew he was trying to help you.

You heard me, "Help you." What else can you do when he found you alone on the top building with railings leaving behind many shoes of the unfortunate.

He may not be the best comforter but rest assure that his silent presence alone was there for you to at least let you lap on his lap, petting you and encouraging you to cry your heart out.

He looks cold but he isn't heartless there is still a slight fragment of Pure Vanilla Cookie in him.

Awakened Pure Vanilla Cookie

Fooling him once, crumbling to see you try.

Cause he can tell if you are alright or not, you might found him often checking up on you from time to time. Wanting you to be more open to him about your pain, sorrows, and dark thoughts that might hurt his heart.

Not only that be prepared for Pure Vanilla Cookie to arrive at your room asking you out to join him on a tea alone with him in a more private place just to comfort you no matter how many times other cookies tried to get him.

You being alone is not on his goal, his goal is to be there by your side. After all, he sees his own pain within you, he needs to see a future, a future where you are happy by his side no matter the cost.

Shadow Milk Cookie

Imagine your surprise that he found you alone on a bridge alone when you were lost in thoughts, you ignored him despite him mocking you to not do that unfortunate risk.

At first you think you fooled him, but he isn't he can sense your sorrow.

But even if you can't take it anymore and was about to jump, he simply won't let you. Putting you as his doll puppet for his own amusement. After all he found a PERFECT audience to perform no matter what state you are in.

But deep down, he finds your pain like a painful past reflection he has seen himself in. He won't let that slide, so he got his eyes on you no matter what. And he knew he got his instincts right the SECOND he leave you alone, disrespecting your privacy and making sure you feel better no matter his own efforts are not good.

After all, you serve a great challenge for him~

Sage of Truth

He can see you mask, your fake smile and it made him notice how you are mentally feeling. He is of course the fount of knowledge and the sage of truth, he knew the truth the second he see you. Cornering you to see how you are feeling got you on your nerves at first, but he reassures you that he was concerned for you and with valid proof he was doing everything he can to at least save you.

Of course there was an argument, but he won't back down even tho he will admit he is scared on the inside the pain that you help scares him but he knew his priority.

Finally he got you on your weakest and saddest days and he comfort you every time. And thus he decided to become your roommate despite how jealous other cookies are.

He has a feeling that leaving you alone once would make him hear the worse situation possible even tho it won't happen.

Surprise to say, he has become your therapist and comforter.

Black Sapphire Cookie

He didn't know at first but when he started inspecting you, it has somehow become a puzzle he wanted to solve like a detective investigating a crime scene. He knows your masking but he has no proof that you are mentally struggling to feel better, so he went deeper to find the pieces.

And let's just say once he did he got disgusted and now he has to capture you for himself, after all no child doesn't deserve the harsh treatment for a parent/guardian. By spreading a nasty rumor and making sure that IT IS REAL he was amused to see their face filled with begging, crying, and regret which he didn't believe and finish the job.

The next day you were doing peaceful stuff receiving concerns and worries from other cookies no matter where you go which got you confused.

But once you were finally alone, you knew the moment you see him it is checkmate.

"Now, now, where do you think your going, my dear audience~"

Candy Apple Cookie

Aside from doing the orders Shadow Milk Cookie gave her, you were the first cookie she somehow by any chance got along well with. Even if she manage to fool you, she notice that unusual look on your face. It got her confused and yet there was a desire to find out.

Those so called friends who betrayed you ticked her the wrong way, she often sees you with bruises and weird haircuts which her usual smile fades to a deadly seriousness. Candy Apple Cookie SIMPLY won't let that slide, after all YOU are her favorite friend aside from Shadow Milk Cookie and Black Sapphire Cookie.

She manage to convince Black Sapphire to join her on a scheme which gave him ideas to bring in the rumors about your so called "good friends" as she drags you away from them and your village.

Sure Master Shadow Milk Cookie WON'T mind this now do he?

[moonstruckme]

I absolutely adore your roommate James series! It’s so tender and soft and sweet and it feels like the literary version of a hug 😭 you nail it every time!

Thank you sweetness!!! I am giving you a hug actually <3

cw: threatening with a weapon

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │part 11 │ part 12 │ part 13

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 1.2k words

Things have come to a point where James needs to admit to himself that he likes you as more than a friend. 

The problem is, he likes you as a friend so much. He’s no stranger to the dilemma of risking a friendship for something more, but he’s not a teenager anymore and you’re not Lily. James knows he wouldn’t be able to play it off as a silly, harmless crush with you. And, really, he wouldn’t want to. You bully your way into his thoughts all day long. Your sweet voice, the way you talk with your eyes, tiny moments like the way your lips parted when he’d first slipped and called you sweetheart. You’d schooled your expression into teasing exasperation almost immediately, but there had been a softening in your eyes that made him impatient to do it again.

If he told you all that, James would probably come home to find all your things gone. You can barely handle it when he tells you you look nice. He doesn’t want to lose you. 

So, against his wishes and all his instincts and proclivities, he’s going to let it lie. James wants to be your friend more than he wants to discover what else you could be together. He can love you this way, too. 

That doesn’t do anything to deaden the thrill that goes up his spine when he picks up his phone and hears your voice on the other end, though.

“James?” 

“Y/n?” He checks the number on his phone. It’s not in his contacts. 

“Yeah. Um, are you—are you busy?” There’s a wobble in your voice. James’ heart drops straight down to his stomach. 

“I’m not,” he says, stopping short of the field where his teammates are gathering and turning back towards his car. “Is everything alright?” 

“Yeah.” It’s clearly not, but he was silly to ask. Of course you’d say that. “I just, if you’re free, I was wondering if you could maybe pick me up?” 

That wobble hasn’t gone from your voice. James’ heart trembles in solidarity. 

He gets back in his car, starting the ignition with perhaps a tad too much force. “I’m on my way,” he promises. “Where are you, what’s wrong?” 

“I’m outside the Waterstones on Manor Road, you know where that is?” 

“I know the one, yeah.” 

Your voice sounds held together by fragments. “I’m sorry, it’s far.” 

“Don’t be sorry,” he says, then regrets it instantly. This is hardly the time for a good-natured scolding. He turns out of the parking lot. “I’m coming. What’s wrong?” 

“I’ve—I’ve had my phone and wallet taken. I don’t have my key to the apartment.” 

“Taken?” James’ head buzzes like a TV turned to the wrong channel. “By who?” 

“A man, I—I don’t know. Um, I’m borrowing this woman’s phone, and I think I should give it back.”

His lungs feel small, panic choking him. “I’ll be there in thirty minutes. Be safe, yeah?”  

“Yeah.” A breath crackles through the phone. James wonders if you’d been choking, too. “Thanks, James.” 

“Just be safe.” 

The sun has dipped below most buildings by the time he gets there. It makes it difficult to see you, but James’ eyes work like a compass, finding your shadowy form curled up on the curb. The bookstore looks to be closed or close to it, no patrons walking by you as you sit with your knees bent close to your chest. 

You see his car pull up, and he’s halfway to you before you’re even standing. Your arms come around James as readily as his around you, your face squished willingly into the fabric of his workout shirt. Your breath seems to stutter out of you. 

“It’s okay,” he says, grasping the back of your head. He’s not sure if he’s talking to you, or himself, or either of you. He’ll tell whoever will listen. “You’re okay, sweetheart, it’s alright.” 

“Sorry,” you squeak. “I don’t know why I’m crying now.” 

“You’re okay,” James says again, just for good measure. His lips find the top of your head. “What happened?” 

“I think I was mugged,” you laugh. It comes out warped, completely unlike the sound he’s spent months chasing after. “This guy showed me a knife, and told me to hand him my bag and phone, and I just gave them to him. It was right out in the open.” Another jagged, heart-aching laugh. “I feel so stupid.” 

“Why would someone else mugging you make you stupid?” James lets you go enough to give you a little space, but his arms stay around you, his hand rubbing firmly over your shoulder blade. “Did you call the police?” 

You gnaw on your lower lip. It already looks bitten to shreds. “No.” 

He nods, taking a breath. James isn’t typically the responsible one in his relationships. He’s not good at knowing what to do. It makes him think of being thirteen and seeing Sirius all bruised and broken, feeling his heart break and knowing that he had to fix things despite the both of them being too young to have any clue how to deal with something so huge. James is an adult now, but he still feels too young. 

“Do you want to go home?” he asks you. 

You bite down hard on your lip, but your eyes gloss anyway. “Yeah,” you say, voice breaking. 

James pulls you close and gives in to treating you the way he wants to, kisses pressed into your hairline and tender words pouring from his lips. He gets you into the car and takes you home. 

Throughout the rest of the evening, you’re at once more reticent and more talkative than you’ve ever been. You’ll stare into the distance for minutes at a time, but then you’ll speak up, seemingly randomly, about some small fact you’d forgotten or a thought that’s been pushing at your consciousness. You tell him that you don’t think you could describe the man well enough to the police. That you have no concept of how long you stood around before you thought to ask for someone else’s phone. That you sort of wish you’d refused to hand yours over, because really what was the worst that could have happened?

“Well, he could have stabbed you,” James says.

“Yeah, but how often is that really fatal? And he might not have. It’s embarrassing, all he had to do was show me the knife and I turned everything over. I probably would have been fine.” 

“I don’t think you’re automatically fine if you’re not dead, angel. You were still at risk of being stabbed.” 

“I’d still have my phone and everything, though.” 

“I think you’re worth a bit more than that stuff.” 

“Mm, agree to disagree.” 

James does things he doesn’t particularly want to do—phoning your bank, filing a police report online, texting your landlord about a new set of keys—and several things he really does want to do. Once you’ve changed into your cozy clothes he practically swaddles you in blankets, putting a hot chocolate in your hand and that show you’re always watching on the TV. He makes you dinner, teases you until he gets a real smile, puts your mum’s number in his phone and texts her to let her know you’re okay. James touches you amply, lips on your cheek and hand smoothing the hair from your face and one knee pressing into your leg through the blanket. 

And you let him. 

[nelle-y]

You kept me like a secret, but I kept you like an oath

Synopsis: trying to spend time with your boyfriend while keeping your relationship private… or a secret…

Content: Alhaitham x fem!reader, low-profile/secret relationship, angst no comfort, writer!reader,

Warnings: slightly toxic if you squint, guilt-tripping, neglect, arguing, long intro (it gets good i promise), cursing, not proofread

Note: (Title from Taylor Swift’s ‘All Too Well (10 Minute Version) (Taylor’s Version)’) I tried to make this as in-character as possible while trying to convey the conflict of the plot so please let me know if there are any inaccuracies

—

The walls of Lambad’s tavern grew dim as the sun set; you, Tighnari, and Kaveh sat at a table having a little get-together. It didn’t feel complete, though, because two members of the group have yet to arrive. Cyno said he would be late due to an interrogation he has to do. And Alhaitham… he didn’t really give a notice but you all figured he was busy, being the acting grand sage and all that.

After a 30-minute rant about Kaveh’s clients, you talked about writing a new novel but you had no idea how to start it.

“Questions are overrated,” said Kaveh as he downed his drink, “I suggest you start with an at-large murder suspect being chased down by government officials—not guardes or the millelith, literal government officials.”

“You could ask Cyno for inspiration,” Tighnari suggests. You consider the idea but you figured Cyno wouldn’t have the time. “Or you could ask Alhaitham. I remember he has some experience in that field too.”

“Ah, yes,” you reply meekly. “I had forgotten.”

Hearing Alhaitham’s name felt like a stab to the heart, a curse laid upon you. You weren’t sure if it was out of love or suffering. After two years of dating, not a single soul knew about the two of you. As you asked yourself why that is, you give yourself an excuse that he simply wasn’t ready to be out. That he wanted you to make a name for yourself in case people would only remember you as the acting grand sage’s partner and not your rightful title as a writer.

When he first introduced the idea of keeping your relationship low-profile, you thought nothing of it. You knew he had no ill-intentions with the situation, so you agreed. But you thought the coast would be clear 6 months into the relationship.

During that time, the only signs of affection you got from him were when he was seldom tired from work and came home to you, longing for your warmth and drowning you with the most beautifully crafted compliments you could only dream of hearing. It was the side of him only you got to see. It was almost an honor being able to witness such greatness, all the while feeling like a goddess, worshipped and gratified by the gift of your presence.

Nowadays, you no longer felt like a deity worth praying to; that side of him became rarer than it already was.

The times when you were together—together being with the rest of your friends—you would always try to make some sort of contact with him just to feel the thrill of love your heart was aching to have, only for him to starve you of it and leave.

You felt alone, neglected, desperate, nonexistent, like a forgotten dream worth pursuing.

Everytime you thought of leaving, frames and fragments of his flattering psalms and echoing touch seemed worth the mind-numbing pain you’re going through. You’re the only one for me, he’d say. I don’t know what I did to deserve you. He would gaze upon you like you were a full moon, and you would embrace him like he was the sun.

But basking under the sun is bound to get you burned.

About an hour later, already midnight, Cyno had already arrived but Alhaitham was nowhere to be seen. Kaveh has had too many drinks and is now drunk to the core. And with the hopes of seeing Alhaitham’s face for once, you drank your fair share too. Your cheeks glowed with a drunken flush, a fire setting aflame to your frozen heart. Something he could never do.

“Looks like the acting grand sage will not be joining us,” Cyno pointed out.

A guffaw escaped from your throat, “What is there to even expect, Alhaitham has been busy since that damned Azar did… something.”

You can’t think clearly. The laugh you let out almost sounded like a sob, and to be honest, you were on the verge of crying. You were just tired. You needed the warmth only the love of your life could provide.

Then out of the blue, the voice you longed for an eternity echoed through the tavern, tired and monotonous. “Apologies for my utmost tardiness, there were some issues at the akademiya I needed to handle.”

Alhaitham.

Your stomach hurt all of the sudden. You watched as he walked to the seat opposite of you. Shouldn’t you be happy now? You were just about to break down because he wasn’t here. Now that he is, you should be content and watch your boyfriend from afar. But all you could feel was betrayal, the blank agony of despair, the cruel sting of rejection.

He failed to notice the tears that glossed your eyes, assuming it was the reflection of the light. Your gaze pierced his soul with desperation, begging for him to console you and just… do whatever. You were asking for even a squeak, a sliver of concern, the bare minimum.

“Tighnari, how is Collei doing with her studies?” Like he had a shield for your painful daggers, he didn’t even glance at your direction. Disappointment filled you like a glass of wine. You should be used to this by now—the overwhelming weight when he avoided your leg, another desperate cry you needed him to hear.

Tighnari shared Collei’s progress after seeing that you were okay. As much as you were proud of her, you prayed to every archon not to let her be in your situation. Your heart shreds for the other person, it screams his name like a priest in worship, and all that for naught.

The group laughed at something, you weren’t listening all that much. You just felt… empty.

Kaveh’s voice called your name, “Isn’t that right, Y/N?” The group turns to you, who was dazed and distracted. The architect immediately noticed this. He patted your cold hand, “Y/N?”

“Hm? Ah, yes. Yeah, sure.”

Alhaitham laughed, “You seem distracted tonight, Y/N. If you’re looking to write for the akademiya, that kind of attitude will not be tolerated.”

Somehow you got defensive. Was it Alhaitham’s obliviousness? The way he made it seem like you were aloof? His laugh that mocked you in your desolate state? Maybe it was all of the above. Whatever it was, it made you snap.

“Ah, Alhaitham, akademiya this, akademiya that—there are more things to life than work, you know.” Your voice covered up your attacks as simple friendly banter. You’ve gotten good at sucking up your anxieties and steadying your voice all thanks to him. Now you can cover yourself up real nice when you commit a crime. You have a knife in mind, and you’re ready to kill. “Like, I don’t know, a partner, per say.”

Stab.

The grand sage scoffed, “You know very well I don’t have time for such trivial things.” His muscles flex as he crossed his arms. So these were the words he chose to say to you, after centuries of broken promises and empty plates.

“Maybe you would if you actually made the time for one.”

Stab.

“You are aware that you just ignored what I just said, right? Are you even listening?”

Stab.

“Oh, I’ve been listening. For the past two years, I’ve been listening my butt out for you.” It was scarring how unbothered Alhaitham was; you wanted to scream at him. The tightening of your chest, the prickling of tears behind your eyes, the weight of despair settling in your stomach, could he see what you’re going through? “Now, all I ask is a little bit of sympathy because I have been suffering all alone, waking up to an empty bed, not even a-“

“Y/N, what are you talking about?” Alhaitham interrupted you, somewhat panicked. You didn’t realize how loud you were being, up from your seat with your palm stinging from how hard it hit the table. “You know, if you’re having boy problems, you don’t have to take it out on me. It’s not like I’m your boyfriend.”

Right then and there, your world began crashing down. “Alhaitham,” Cyno muttered disapprovingly, making Alhaitham realize how rude he sounded. The tavern’s customers hushed to listen to your table. You hadn’t realized there were so many people.

Without even looking around, you could feel their eyes on you, whispers riddled with scandal.

“They’re being so loud.”

“Has she no shame?”

“In the presence of Acting Grand Sage Alhaitham, too.”

“Look, the general mahamatra is there; she really needs to watch herself.”

The embarrassment, the anger; it all fuelled you with a feeling you could not explain. No metaphor could capture the entirety of the wickedness of a man. How come he gets to sit there with everyone’s respect while you grovel in your puddle of tears? How come he’s having the time of his life while you’re burning in hell?

“You’re right,” you began, eyes dulled and void of life—of love, “You’re not. Okay, that’s all the liquor I can handle, guys. I think I’ll be heading home now.”

“Y/N,” Kaveh called, standing from his seat to escort you on your way out.

“I can walk myself, Kaveh.” You grabbed your things and took a sip of water. “Acting Grand Sage, humblest apologies.” Once again, you looked at him with utmost disappointment before leaving the tavern and heading home.

—

I am adrift in a sea of longing, drowning in the silence of his absence, clutching to memories like driftwood in a storm-tossed ocean. Yet still, I cling to the fading embers of our love, fearing the darkness that awaits should I let them fade to ash.

Hours after you returned home, sleep had not been your friend. As much as it would be typical, you cried until your eyes stung. It was now 4am, the time Alhaitham usually wakes up. Lost in your never-ending, ever-agonizing thoughts, you stared blankly at the dining room, wondering if he will finally recognize his mistakes, how much pain you’ve been in.

The knob of your front door twisted open, and surprise, surprise, it was Alhaitham who entered your apartment. “What the FUCK was that, Y/N?” He was not one to raise his voice like that, or even curse.

“Of all the nights I was available, this was when and how you choose to talk to me?” Your voice was the opposite—calm, sad, empty.

“Do you realize you nearly told everyone about our relationship?” He spotted a notebook on your crossed lap and grabbed it. “What’s that, ‘I am adrift in a sea of..’ what? Y/N, is there something you’re not telling me?”

“You specialized in languages, Alhaitham, you’ll figure it out.”

The man scoffed, “I’m not a mind reader, Y/N, if you could stop being immature-“

“You’re calling me immature? Okay, what about you keeping our two-year relationship a fucking secret?” The both of you continued raising your voices at each other. If people in the tavern hadn’t already spread rumors, this will surely start them. “Just tell me you’re ashamed of me, Alhaitham!” Then the man fell silent. Serves him right. “Tell me you don’t love me, so you can have a concrete reason to leave!”

“You know being the acting grand sage was never an easy task. The Fatui and other rebelling organizations have me as their number one target, and they are more than willing to hurt anyone to get their way! I was keeping us a secret to protect you! Seeing you getting hurt would mean the end of the world.”

“Getting hurt?” You scoff, “If you never wanted me to get hurt, you’re doing a terrible fucking job. I had to sit through multiple tables with empty seats because you were never home. Do you know how embarrassing that is for myself? I had to tolerate every ounce of contact you avoided because ‘someone might see us.’ In case you couldn’t get how much pain I’m in, let me sum it up for you—IT HURTS MORE THAN DEATH, ALHAITHAM!”

As the last echoes of your argument faded into the silence of the empty apartment, it felt as though the very foundations of your world was crumbling around them. Each word spoken was like a dagger to the heart, tearing apart the fragile bonds of love that had once held you together.

Every word you said stung his chest, the last part beating him to a pulp. It was too late for regret to cross his mind. “I really did love you, Alhaitham, more than anything.”

Those words… he hadn’t heard them in what felt like eternity. All he wanted to do was melt into your arms and apologize endlessly for all his wrongdoings, the times he barely came home, the mornings he could’ve spent with you. He’s been feeling this way for what feels like centuries. If he opened his arms to you, would you still embrace him? Would you still forgive him?

“But I can’t keep giving myself excuses to tolerate all of this.”

He looked at you, your eyes that were once so full of light now dimming of any source. The desperation, the longing you both share. There was so much sadness in your eyes. Have you always looked at him that way? Alhaitham was always quick on his feet—he had to find a way to convince you to stay!

“Y/N,” he began, “We can’t just give up on everything we’ve been through. All the dates, anniversaries, everything we took our time to make—it will all be a waste if we give up now.”

“I think you gave up on us the first time you dropped my hand when I reached for you.”

You were slowly slipping from his grasp, from his future. “I’m willing to give you all the time you need. Every meal, every date, every word you desire, I will make time for all of it. I promise you.”

“How can I know this will be another empty promise? How will I know you won’t do this again? You were never the type to offer everything so helplessly, Alhaitham.”

“Y/N, can’t you see-“

“Where were you during my sleepless nights? Where were you when I had prepared the perfect dinner for us? Where were you when I stood in the middle of the park, waiting for a certain someone to show up?

You were never there, Alhaitham. But I forgave you for all of that. I gave you a million last chances.”

A million last chances… you were thinking of leaving him beforehand? When he couldn’t seem to move his mouth, you decided you’ve had enough.

“Please, leave.”

It was too late for him now. He was long gone from saving you, from saving this relationship. There was nothing left to say, or do.

In the dim light of dawn, you both stood alone, tears a silent testament to the shattered dreams and broken promises that littered the floor like shards of glass. And as you watched your former lover walk away, a part of you knew that the wounds inflicted that night would never fully heal, leaving behind nothing but the bitter taste of regret and the haunting echo of what could have been.

(A lot of you guys are having trouble with the link😭 anw I tried copying a new link of part 2, lmk if it works)

[myvoiddreams]

Fragments of Starlight (3)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Finally saved, there is nowhere else to turn other than the impending war.

Word Count: 4,666

Warnings: ANGST, violence, torture, dark themes

A/N: First, I am SO sorry that this took me ages to get together. Second, I am SO grateful for all the amazing feedback and sweet messages I’ve received from everyone. This is a hobby of mine that I love and love to share.  Third, please don’t be mad at me after this.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 4

---

Before

It had been a long night, full of unsettling dreams. Not that that wasn’t normal. A yawn escaped my lips as I rolled over to the morning light peeking through the curtains, the haze of night still lingering on me. Morning, that meant training. Stretching off the daze and the dreams, I sat up in bed and an herbal smell crossed my senses. With furrowed brows I looked to the nightstand next to my bed.

There sat a steaming cup of tea. Tea? Where the hell would that have come from? I reached for it, pulling it from the nightstand. Under the mug was a folded-up parchment. Placing the mug back down, I reached for the note and unfolded it. Azriel’s neat handwriting adored it.

“No training today. Cass and I are off to meet Eris. Drink up in the meantime. – Azriel.”

A smile spread across my face as I sat the note back down and took the mug into my hands. Blowing some steam away, I brought it to my lips. Peppermint. My favorite. My heart fluttered at the hot drink. Azriel must have caught on that it was always peppermint tea I would drink when staying up to finish work, a book, or whatever it may be.

After a few more sips, I set the mug back down on its place on the nightstand. I picked up the parchment once more and flipped it to the empty side and with a pen adorning my nightstand drawer wrote, “Don’t forget to breathe between brooding sessions. Stay safe out there, Az. – Y/N.”

Settling the parchment back onto the nightstand I knew the house would have it delivered for me. By the time I had reached for another sip, the note was gone.

---

The exchanging of notes had become a normal thing for me and Azriel after the first one I found placed on my nightstand. It was sweet really. They went from anywhere about having a good day, to meeting up later, or even just teasing one another. Teasing one another was my favorite.

Azriel, with his slinking shadows, was always sneaking up on me. Whether that be in the training ring, or in the library. So, I had left a note on his desk for him. Trying to get the house to understand that I wanted to deliver this one myself before it could simply just take it from under my fingers. The house had also grown accustomed to mine and Azriel’s note sharing.

Upon his desk in his room, I left a note that read, “If you keep sneaking up on me, I might have to start carrying a bell for you. -  Y/N.”

Satisfied with leaving it on his desk, I left his room and made for my own. I walked down the hallway, and as I was turning the knob to reach my own room, a hand clasped around my shoulder, “A bell won’t help you, but nice try.” Azriel’s voice made me jump out of my skin.

I swirled around and all but smacked his hand off my shoulder out of instinct. He chuckled at my response. His stupidly beautiful smile was something I still found myself grateful for being able to see. His usually stone-cold appearance would fade away when you knew him well enough. When you knew him the way I do.

“Damnit! How the hell are you that quiet and that fast!” I was smiling now, but still flustered with his surprise appearance. I was just in his bedroom after all. A blush crept up my cheeks at the thought.

“I have shadows in my room at all times, they just whispered to me about a certain someone sneaking around there. Then, they told me what your note said. I couldn’t just pass up on the opportunity to tease you a little.” His voice was warm. Azriel was always warm to me. He lifted his hand to my face and brushed some of the hair that had fallen into it from his surprise, behind my ear.

I’m sure my cheeks burnt bright now, at the touch, but I couldn’t help but just smile and shake my head. I pushed him away playfully and turned to my bedroom to enter.

As I entered, I heard his chuckle dancing in the hallway again and my heart felt like it was going to leap out of its chest as I shut my door.

---

Now

The pain that decorated my body was nothing compared to what was soaring through my hands and my heart. After being rescued I was taken directly to a camp where some of Rhys’ armies were. Instead of being put in the infirmary, they put me in a tent of my own, where Madja could tend to me personally.

I had asked Madja to tell the rest of the Inner Circle to leave me be while healing. I wanted to be alone. I wasn’t ready to forgive and forget.

Madja was there, unwrapping my hands again. It has been a few days since I was saved, but my hands were not healing at the same rate the rest of me did. At the site of my hands, I became nauseous. Fresh, pink skin was covering the back of them, but the palms. The palms were still blistered. Still sloughing off with old skin and trying their best to cover it with the same granulated tissue of the backs of my hands.

“Listen Y/N,” Madja sighed, “I cannot express to you how important it is for you to keep resting. You need to keep these hands bandaged at all times for the foreseeable future. This war is something you may need to take a step back from. You have been through enough.”

I respect Madja, I respect everything she had to say to me, but there was no way. “I can’t simply sit out Madja. Not after what they did to me.” I said back quietly, not letting my gaze meet her’s.

“I was afraid you would say that,” sighed the older female.

“Madja, can I ask you something, personal?” I winced as she applied a balm to the palms of my hands.

“Let me guess, it has to do with that silly Shadowsinger?” She didn’t look up from what she was doing, but I took the invitation anyways.

“How the hell do I put this behind me? This entire Inner Circle has changed since those Acheron sisters entered it. I want to be able to know my friends, my court, is there for me as I am for them.” The words were getting harder and harder to get out of my mouth, but I ventured on, “They left me there, grabbed Elain, and left me there to die.” Tears started flowing then, “I have known them for centuries, and yet, they still chose her over me.” I was slightly embarrassed at my vulnerability with Madja.

She simply continued to wrap my hands after finishing applying the balm and hummed. She let some silence slip on as she thought of a response.

“Y/N, you are right, you have known them for centuries, and Elain not even a cusping a year. You have to understand that that’s why they left you there. They were under duress, either save her, who does not know how to defend herself, or you, who has proved time and time again you can withstand so much.” Madja looked up into my watery eyes and continued, “They were terrified out of their minds when you were up and missing. Cassian did nothing but blame himself. Azriel sent his shadows to all corners of Prythian searching for you.”

I calmed my crying and was only sniffling now as she went on, “They love you Y/N. Even if their misplaced actions are not great at showing it. They may not deserve it right now but consider finding some forgiveness to show them. They are your family.”

I let her words fumble around my mind as she got up and left the tent. As much I want to forgive, I just couldn’t.

---

Before

I was exhausted, truly exhausted. There was a meeting earlier in the day, about strategizing when it came to getting more information on Hybern. I had offered to become an inside agent. To follow Hybern, become one of his soldiers, and send the information back to the Night Court. Rhysand on the other hand had gawked at my offer, and utterly refused it. He then decided to reprimand me, in front of everyone, on how reckless I had been even suggesting such a thing. It was embarrassing.

My mind had been reeling since. I was no use just sitting around, waiting for shit to hit the fan. I wanted to be helpful, I wanted to do something. I was a warrior to this court, an emissary to Dawn. I was no stupid child, like Rhysand had diminished me to during that meeting.

After a day of sulking and my mind reeling, I needed out of the House of Wind. So, I went to one of my favorite places. It was one Azriel had flown me too once. But, I wanted to be alone. Without him to fly me, I’d have to hike there.

A high hill on the outskirts of the city, where the Sidra had broken off into many little streams and creeks. The hill was plush with fresh beautiful grass and a cool evening breeze made the grass sway. Night had fallen by the time I had made it there, to my favorite spot.

Right on time. I told myself as I laid directly into the grass, looking up into the expanse of stars above. It was here I was usually able to find some solace when my mind would wander. Everyone had their burdens to bear, but this place made it seem a little easier. Everything I loved was slipping away from me, I could feel it. That impending feeling of pure dread.

I tried to push it away as I looked up into the stars.

A few hours had gone by when I heard the beating of wings. I sat up in the grass to see Azriel landing on the same long grass, only a few feet from me. I gave Azriel a half smile as I sat up to meet his eyes.

“I was starting to worry about you.” Azriel sighed, playing with his hair as he walked over to me.

“I just needed to get my mind off everything. I didn’t mean to worry you.” Azriel sat down next to me, our knees touching now. “Remember when you brought me here for the first time?” A smile spread across my face for the first time that day.

“Of course I remember it.” Azriel smiled as he reached to take off his jacket. My brows furrowed as he handed it to me.

“What’s this for?” I took the jacket from him. His comforting smell immediately filled my nose. Cedar and the night mist itself.

“Please, I can see your goosebumps from here.” He chuckled as I looked myself over. I had hiked up here during the warm of the evening, only sporting shorts and a short-sleeved leather top I usually dedicated to training. I hadn’t paid much attention to the cold that had slithered its way to my skin while I was trying to sort out my mind.

“Thank you,” I smiled at Azriel. Whether I wanted to admit it or not, he knew me well. I placed the jacket over my own shoulders and placed my gaze on the sky again.

Azriel had joined me, our knees still touching, his wing behind me now. We looked up into the night sky until dawn neared. We didn’t speak, but Azriel’s presence made everything feel lighter somehow.

---

Now

I had made it clear to Madja that I didn’t want any visitors while I was healing. I knew that that would only last so long. I had just finished getting dressed when I heard my tent flap open. Those were not the light steps of Madja. I looked up to see Azriel entering. His wing cramped in the small space.

“Y/N,” his eyes widened at my appearance. While the bandages on my body were covered with clothing, my hands were wrapped out in the open for him to see and my face still held some of the fading bruises. He winced at the sight of my hands.

I looked down, away from him. I went to work on getting my boots on to the best of my capabilities. “I told Madja I wanted no visitors.” I said coldly, still not meeting his eyes.

“It’s been days, I needed to see you. To check on you, myself” Azriel cautiously walked toward me.

I began to fumble with my boots, becoming frustrated at the laces. My healing hands did not have the dexterity they once did, and the bandages were not helping. I began to shake as Azriel’s form got closer. Tears were burning at the back of my eyes. It was evident to both of us that I wasn’t going to get my boots laced up by myself. His stupid, comforting, beautiful scent made its way to me. It was only making me lose whatever composure I was forcing on myself.

“Let me help you,” Azriel all but whispered as he reached to gently grab my hands in his.

My hands.

“Do not touch me.” I breathed out, ripping his closeness away.

He stumbled back, looking shocked. He pulled his wings in closer to himself at my outburst. I could feel him, feel his regret and agony through the bond. Through that annoying, patronizing, tug in the deepest part of my chest.

“Y/N, I care about you, let me help.” His hazel eyes were pleading now. I could almost see a silver rim aligning them. He looked helpless. I hated seeing him this way, it hurt me to know that I was causing such helplessness. But, how could I just let him in? Not after everything.

I all but laughed at his statement, huffing hair out of my face, I met his eyes, “You don’t care about me,” my voice wavered, “you showed me that when you left me there to die.”  I couldn’t help but let my lip quiver.

“Y/N, you have to understand-“ Azriel began to plead, but I would not hear it. I would not silence myself on his account.

“I’ve made my mind up Azriel. If I make it out of this, I’m not going back to the Night Court. I’m leaving.” The statement truly shut him up then. I almost couldn’t believe myself either. But this pain, the pain of knowing I would never be good enough in his eyes. I would never be good enough in the Inner Courts eyes. I had gotten myself taken into Hybern’s clutches, after preaching to Rhysand to let me do more. It was mortifying, I couldn’t even get myself out. I still relied on them even after they left me.

Pathetic.

“You don’t mean that, do you, Y/N?” His face completely fell. His hazel eyes wide, his hair pushed away from his face.

“I do. I can’t stay.” I started to shake my head now, tears finding their way into my face, “You lost me when you left me there. Hell, I fucking lost me in that tent. I lost me.”

“No, Y/N, you haven’t lost anything, please.” Azriel was pleading now, I turned from him. I couldn’t stomach the sight of him on top of his emotions flowing through the bond. “Please, listen to me. I lost it when you were missing. Cassian did too. Even Rhysand.” He took slow steps toward me. “I was ordered into that camp by Rhysand to get Elain, I had no idea that you would be there too.” He swallowed before nervously continuing, “We couldn’t grab you both, it was going to be impossible. I know you, I knew you could handle another day, and then we’d be back to get you, better prepared that time.”

It made sense, really, but it didn’t cut it. “That’s not good enough.” I finally met his eyes again. Mad, this time. “I was strung up. Beaten. Cut up. With no powers whatsoever thanks to their Fae Bane knives. I was dying, and you left me there. So, no Azriel, those words are not good enough.”

He opened his mouth to retort something, but a noise of the tent opening behind him cut him off. Peering over his broad shoulders and wings, Cassian was at the entrance of the tent. He was fully armored, weapons in tow, and concern was etched in all corners of his face.

“I hate to break up the reunion, but we have to go. Now. Hybern is moving in.” Cassian was on edge with his words, unknowing of the conversation that was at hand. I hated that seeing him gave me some ounce of relief as well.

With his words, I grabbed for my weapons. A sword, sheathed at my hip, and my bow and quivers strapped to my back. The set that Az had gifted me all that time ago.

Azriel grabbed my arm as I tried to move past him, “Madja told you to sit this out.” His eyes now were full of passion, his touch was unmoving, but light. At the contact my heart fluttered again. That bond sung between us, but only I could feel it.

I ripped my arm from his touch, no matter how badly I wanted to give into it.

“I’ll see you on the battlefield, Azriel.”

---

Before

Starfall was always one of my favorite times of the year. To just spend time with my family, to share gifts, drinks, and even dances. It had gotten late, the festivities finally winding down, and everyone going to their rooms.

I wanted a final look off the balcony before fully retiring. The present giving and gifting had gone great, everyone enjoying the gifts that had been gifted. I also loved the pieces of jewelry, the books, and even the apron, that Feyre, had gifted me, knowing how much I like to cook.

The midnight blue gown followed my footsteps out. It truly was beautiful. Backless, long, shimmering, Mor had gotten it for me, and of course dolled me up to go along with it. It wasn’t often that I got this way. Only when we had to take trips to the Hewn City or other Court business to attend to. My hair was curled and draped across my back. Light makeup littered my face as well.

I was leaning against the balcony railing when I heard those tall tale footsteps. I knew that if I was hearing them then he would want me to know he was there. I turned around and met Azriel’s gaze. He was stunning. In an all-black suit, but still sporting his blue syphons. I tried to hold back my blush at his appearance.

He walked towards me, a large, wrapped box in hand. I had already given Azriel his gift. I wrapped a leather journal, and a custom-made dagger, with a necklace that had Ramiel engraved on its pendant. He had thanked me, and did not give me one in return.

I guess he is now.

Azriel approached and handed me the large, slim box.

“What is this Az?” I took the wrapped package from him.

“Open it,” he nodded his head to it, “I wanted to give this to you privately.”

I smiled up at him and reached for the wrapping. Carefully, I unwrapped the box. Once completely unwrapped, I opened the box itself. Inside adored the most magnificent bow and quiver I had ever set my eyes on. I lit up at the sight of it.

“Az, this is amazing. Was this made in Dawn?” I took the bow and quiver from inside the box and admired it. Felt them in my hands, the beautifully intricate wooden long bow, with engravings from top to bottom. The quiver made of a light leather material, fashioned with some kind of fur on the strap.

  “Yes, Thesan helped me find it himself.” Azriel put his hands in his pockets, looking sheepish.

“Thesan himself, thank you,” I gathered the bow and quiver and gently set them down. Then, I reached for Az, my arms stretching around his neck. I buried my head into his collarbone. His arms found their way around my waist, and his head on top of mine. “You remember when I first came to Night? Nothing but my old bow strapped to my back?” I smiled into his chest.

“And it broke, on one of our first missions together. You hit that poor male right over the head with it,” he quipped, bringing one of his hands to the back of my head, patting down my hair.

“Thank you, Azriel, thank you.” I told him again. That bow meant so much to me. It reminded me so much of who I used to be.

---

Now

My hands were in no shape to be in a battle. It was nothing like I had ever seen before. Carnage was raining down everywhere. When I wasn’t striking with a sword, I was shooting with my bow. I was going to bring down anyone in my way.

Pain or not.

Sweat was beading down my forehead, and my back. The bandages on my hands were in ribbons, blood staining what remained. My hands made it difficult. I had to adjust to the sloughing skin and ignore what pain I felt jarring up from them to my arms and shoulders.

Rage fueled me as I made my way around the battlefield. Rage for myself not being good enough to save that first night. Rage for my family, who was scattered across the grounds. Rage for falling in love with Azriel. Rage for my unreturned bond screaming in my chest.

Screaming. It was screaming in my chest. A punch to the chest made me stagger back. I grimaced and looked up to my attacker, but no one was there.

Something was wrong. I scanned the skies.

Where are you?

There. Falling.

He was falling from the sky. A scream pierced my throat as the sight. He hit the ground on a hill above the main field being fought in. All my instincts were shouting at me to go to him. The bond was crying at me to go to him. So that’s what I did. Whether I was pissed or not, I could not lose him. Not like this.

I ran, taking out everyone in my way. My body was close to giving in, not fully recovered from my time with Hybern. The pain in my hands continued to radiate through me with every swing of my sword and draw of my bow.

I crested the hill to see Azriel had propped himself up against a tree. His head was lying back, and he gripped the side of his abdomen. I could see the blood from here. A naga was closing in on him.

The bond in my chest thrummed and hurt. It was pain, Azriel’s pain that I was feeling. Panic surged in my bones.

I pulled my bow from my back, skin ripping on my fingers as I drew. I aimed at the fast-moving creature and with a yell released my arrow. I was moving on instinct. No different than hunting for a meal.

It hit its mark. The naga slumped over not more than 10 feet from him.

Ignoring the blood dripping from me, I rushed to him.

He had blood running down his brow. His hair was strewn everywhere. His wings were limp at his sides. Limp. His breathing was ragged. His hazel eyes were shut, pain corroded his face. Even the gold of his skin was damped. I reached for his cheek, feeling his clammy skin. My other hand found his shirt and lifted to see his wound.

It was gaping, there was so much blood. Muscle was torn, ripped open.

“Az, Az, tell me what happened,” I begged him. He only lulled his head further against the tree in response.

The bond, it was fading.

Pure fear burned through me. If that bond was fading, that meant…

I gripped him by his shoulders and shook as hard as I could, “You cannot do this to me! You cannot leave me!” My voice was raw from the hours of battle, my entire being felt like it was being ripped in two.

“Cassian! Rhysand!” I belted at the top of my lungs, praying that someone would hear me over the carnage.

I again reached for his abdomen, placing as much pressure as I possibly could on his wound. He winced in response. Good, that’s good.

“Az, Az listen to me.” The bond was flickering now. “Get up. Get your ass up!” I reached for his end, tugged at it as hard as I possibly could, but I was met with a wall. Terror, true terror overcame me.

The Night Court might have been where I lived, but Azriel was my home. I was losing my home.

There was so much blood. Blood.

That’s when it hit me. I reached for a blade that was fastened to his belt. I didn’t hesitate when I sliced into my arm, deep enough to get good blood flow.

“I’m so sorry Azriel.” I cried as I put my arm to his lips, forcing his mouth open, and the warm sticky liquid into it. “I wish I loved you less,” I sobbed, forcing more into his mouth, “I wish you weren’t my stupid, fucking, mate.”

Saying it out loud, even if he wasn’t in a state to understand, made my heart stand still. Lightheaded, I moved from in front of him. I sat next to him, holding a hand on his abdomen, and a hand on my still bleeding arm.

I couldn’t scream for help anymore, not with the dizziness that clouded me.

So, I sat, holding our bleeding wounds together.

Slowly, I began to feel his end of the bond knit itself back together. Breathing was a little easier when I realized this. He was healing then. It worked.

I looked up from our battered state to see a red blur moving toward us.

Cassian, thank the gods.

He landed on the hilltop and ran to us, taking in our current predicament. Azriel started to stir at the sound of his brother approaching.

Cassian kneeled down, taking my arm in his hand, and staring between Az and I.

“I leave you two alone for an hour and you guys decide it’s a good time to die?!” His voice was rough.

“I don’t know that now is the time to joke around, Cass.” I winced as I sat up toward him. “I’m okay, but Az..”

“Where did all this blood come from?” Cassian said gazing over Azriel’s entire form, panic lacing his voice.

“I saw him fall, when I got to him, he was down, bleeding from his abdomen.” I lifted Az’s shirt to show Cass. The wound had started to close together thanks to his quickened state of healing.

“What about the blood on his face?” Cassian was looking him over for injuries.

My heart hammered. How do I just admit it? Out loud, for anyone to hear this time. It was a fact that I had held so close to myself for so long. I had pinned after Azriel for years now, in silence. I was nothing more than a friend to him, while I fell in love with him.

“Y/N?” He looked over at me again, panic danced around me. “What happened?” His face turned stone cold.

“I.. he’s..” I trailed off, swallowing my fear. I looked into Cassian eyes, more tears somehow finding their way onto mine, “he’s my mate. It was the only way I could save him.” It was almost a whisper as the words left my tongue.

---

Taglist: (sorry if I missed anyone)

@saltedcoffeescotch @thirstyroses-world @kingshitonly @spidersfrommars15 @mariahoedt @missromantasy @breadsticks2004 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @vhjlucky13 @helo1281917 @i-am-infinite @emptyporsche @quiet-loser @watermelomsuger @anxious-cactus @rcarbo1 @latinxbipride @chelsiemp @lilah-asteria @yeonalie @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @marina468 @kennedy-brooke @myromanempiree @craftytrashprincess @fairydustblossom @st4r-girl-official @darkbloodsly @kitsunetori @historygeekqueen @ivy-34 @optimisticbabydreamer @fightmedraco @maruiin @thefandomplace @bxtchopolis @annamariereads16 @whosmys @toobsessedsstuff

[ceoandslutler]

sebastian's memories, his form and the perceived "lie of omission" in chapter 215

many people have been picking up on how he purposely avoided giving a straight answer and how he may be hiding information from o!ciel but i would like to propose an alternative reading...

i (personally) don't think he would hide information from ciel anymore; not even because i think he 'cares' but because i think he's scared of UT and is taking everything more seriously now. more importantly, the first time he 'lies' (hides info) in the manga, we find out he can't 'lie' when he's directly asked a question and that's what ciel does:

in the new chapter (215), we found that sebastian only created this form for ciel which leaves us with four to five possibilities on what's going on and how modri must've recognised him:

1) modri recognised him from something other than his physical form (which people have mentioned) and sebs genuinely just forgot him because it was a long time ago/only a night long.

2) this is a crack theory but sebastian has facial blindness and doesn't realise how all his forms have the same face (likely considering all the costumes he put on for ciel during the negotiation looked the same) but at the same time, is sebastian really that stupid? (i mean kinda)

3) sebastian and modri met during this contract's time (which is possible since we do not see the better half of 1888, nor do we see much of 1887 or 1886, the year the contract was made).

4) genuinely mistook him for someone else (again possible) or UT made modri think sebastian is the demon/person who wronged him.

5) sebastian does not remember what all of his past forms looked like so cannot accurately tell whether he's ever made a form like this before or not. this will also explain why he did not answer about his previous contractors being devoured or not—he can't answer accurately if he does not know. this would also tie in with possibility 1. modri remembers sebastian but sebastian does not remember him. this would also explain strange things like sebastian remembering how to waltz but not being able to brew tea (as we see in his memories in the luxury liner arc), he can speak languages but did not remember ever having a single friend (which a lot of people found odd... personally i don't find it that strange but again, it's a good point, nobody ever wanted to befriend him?) all this to say one thing...

i think each of sebastian's bodies houses different memories and/or skills.

to visually represent this, i made an example chart:

say he wanted to contract a noblewoman living in a sultanate in the middle east then surely he'd go for spare body 2, or if he wanted to contract a travelling merchant in eastern europe then surely he'd go for spare body 1.

these are just possible body memories, obviously we don't know what sebastian's other bodies are like. but we do know one thing:

sebastian has to use a mask to become jeremy in the murder arc and he never changes his face when he's disguised. like these are all the same body in different costumes:

and they probably all remember schönbrunn palace and how to waltz.

to put it simply, he only has fragments of disjointed memory in each of these bodies because he readily swaps them out. he said he only took this form for ciel and it might technically be true, he might've taken on this body with this hairstyle and this clothing for o!ciel but he might've had this same body in a contract many many years ago... he might just not remember the contract in detail or he doesn't consider the body a unique 'form' but rather the body, hairstyle, clothing and role altogether make his 'form' (remember he spawns in with clothes/hair). is it truly impossible for one to escape from a demon's contract in kuro? for example, say your contractor kills themself, would sebastian be allowed to eat them or would they become a reaper? perhaps he genuinely doesn't remember. look at sebastian's cinematic record in the luxury liner arc (which UT reallyyy wanted to see):

there's no way UT decided to see the record from the moment they met, this body might just house memories from this point, and nothing before that. again let's visualise it into how each one of sebastian's humanoid 'bodies' could work, cinematic record-wise:

each time a contract ends, the memories of it end too, obviously there can be fragments/'episodes' remaining (which is why he can remember places he's been like a palace or a sabbath or concepts like witches, reapers, etc...) but it's also important to remember that things like language, dance, musical skills (like playing violin or piano) aren't stored in the same place our normal memories are stored (which is why amnesiacs will often forget everything but will still be able to speak, have muscle memory in dancing or playing piano or other instruments, even video games!) and this is because of how memory works, in branches.

what we see in black butler's 'cinematic records' are people's episodic memories. they contain one's first hand experiences.

sebastian's memories such as language fall under his semantic ability for example 'cat in french is chat' while his procedural memory is viennese waltz steps. this is also why the simple bizarre dolls that took over the liner had the memory to walk, jump and swim (sebastian even pointed out how they use each other to climb). this isn't to say sebastian is a bizarre doll, but he has a cinematic record just like humans and bizarre dolls do. as we know, the more complex doll of derrick arden had the ability to say a phrase about tea, he was drawing on his semantic memory 'this object is a cup of tea' and 'this smell is pleasant' in order to speak. on the other hand, vice principal agares had many 'episodes' meaning his episodic memory had started working and he remembered who he was (a teacher at weston college), that's why he could form opinions, teach, etc... though it limited his procedural memory (likely due to the brain damage of how he was killed) which is why he kept falling over. while the most complex of the dolls, r!ciel and doll, have full retention of past memories and are able to form new ones adding onto their records.

so let's run over what my theory is:

1. sebastian has multiple bodies he uses for contracts, unclear how many or how they look (can he produce infinite bodies or does he just rotate/reuse a few? if so, does he remember when he does reuse them?) but they are used for different contractors and he believes this form* is exclusive for o!ciel.

*though we don't know if he considers this body the form or the body AND his clothes/hair/role.

2. each of these bodies have separate memory systems e.g. one body's procedural memory could contain 'how to brew tea' while another could contain 'how to do the polka', another body can speak 'xyz dialect of french' while one can speak 'xyz slavic language'.

3. every one of sebastian's 'bodies' has its own cinematic record and they fade every time he 'ends' a contract/his record (explains why his record starts w/ meeting o!ciel). the memories remain if they are procedural/semantic and he has vague episodic memory (like the bizarre dolls' "episodes") which is why can remember places he's gone to but can't remember who he's met there (evidenced by the fact he doesn't know how many people could bear a grudge against him; the people he was counting were probably from the last 3 years he'd spent with o!ciel, not even previous contracts LMAO)

with all this said, there are 3 possibilities remaining for how modri knows him:

1. sebastian is telling the truth, this is the first time he's using this body (and my theory about the bodies is either completely wrong or sebastian uses the same organic matter to make each body which is how the procedural/semantic memories remain while his episodic record gets mostly wiped out everytime he starts a new contract) and modri is seeing something we don't see and that's how he's recognising sebastian.

2. sebastian does not remember using this body before but he has (which is why the body has semantic and procedural memory of how to speak and dance but no episodic memory of friendships despite certain semantic/episodic/declarative memories like 'i have been to schönbrunn palace' remain) and he's met modri before however his episodic record has faded away so he can't remember him, this possibility means that modri is recognising sebastian based on his appearance.

3. (most likely) sebastian does not consider each body a different form but rather each body with independent styling is a different form to him (most likely) and he doesn't remember his past contracts/people he met in this body because of his cinematic record being restarted with every new contract.

anyway, thoughts?

[iniquitousyearning]

pleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease could you possibly write a short little headcanon list/ oneshot for tom riddle? can be about whatever, i seriously have not been able to think of anything good lately !

i love u 🥺 here’s a weird little piece i wrote last night in a haze of cold medicine for falling inlove with tom.

title- boy left wanting.

——————————

you don’t just fall in love with tom riddle.

you placate him the way you would a fire across the moor — keeping yourself far enough to not be burnt but close enough to feel the heat of the molten at your fingertips and know, inevitably, it’ll spread. engulf. because tom riddle, above all else, is not a man to be snuffed out. not one who fades into a haze of ash and shadows. he’s persistent. and when he has his mind made up, it’s only a matter of time before you find his flames have spread under your feet, and began licking up your ankles.

your chest swells with the ache of it before your heart does. it’s the knowing that comes first, slow and awful:

you are going to burn for this.

for a while he exists in your life like a secret—kept not out of fear, but perseverance. reverence. the kind old gods would carve into marble and bury under cathedral floors, whispered only when the wind feels brave enough to announce the contradiction he’s become.

he holds holy in his palm in a way no unholy man should. and each time, you meet him like a confession: late, guilty, yet lacking in shame.

there is no kindness to him. not the usual degree, not the kind people wear in pleasantries. he offers up what he knows, when he knows he can, and presents it to you in fractions until he’s confident you’ll mathematize it all. he’s patient. he listens. listens so sharply it feels like you’re being taken apart with silk gloves. but it’s the only way he knows.

he says your name like it’s a hypothesis. something he can comprehend. study until he memorizes the fragments of each syllable that formalize it.

“you’re not afraid of me,” he says, long into night.

your breath fogs in the winter air. the frost doesn’t touch him.

“you want me to be.”

his mouth curls—not quite a smile, not quite mockery.

“i want you to be right.”

———————

you find that he doesn’t touch you the way lovers do when they want to claim. he touches you the way curiosity does when it wants to understand. tempered. fingers ghosting your thigh in the library when you lean too close. calloused palps tracing the edge of your sleeve like he’s charting the thread count. he longs to know. know the way you exist here in physical and there in ethereal. it’s the only way he can learn to trust.

he knows you’ll let him, so he doesn’t ask for permission. he just waits.

waits until your breath is too shallow and your skin too loud. until you’re blinking up at him with morning dew dotting your lashes, softened like spring.

everything is paced. every gesture a move calculated in test how of you’ll react. so when he finally does touch you in full, pressing his palm to your chest, it isn’t to hold. it’s to feel your pulse against his hand and say,

“how curious. you aren’t afraid, and still it stammers.”

you don’t fall in love.

you dissolve.

sugar left in the rain. you become the softness he can swallow. the throat he doesn’t slit. the mercy he never believed in.

and for a while, he tries.

tries to keep his hands folded. tries to keep the act up for as long as possible. tells himself you are a study, not a weakness. that your laughter doesn’t stain the walls of his dormitory. that your absence doesn’t hang around his shoulders like the curls against his neck.

but you see it.

in the way his flames cool when you speak. in the way he stares at you during duels, like he’s checking to see if you’ll flinch. if you’ll run. you never do. and that terrifies him more than anything.

because you, unafraid you, who matches him step for step, breath for breath—you make him feel possible. humanized in ways he has never known as the self-made god trapped inside the boy left wanting.

he tells you truth, quiet and unmade, “if i loved you, i would destroy you.”

you hum against the curve of his throat, mouth warm on his skin. “maybe that’s the only way i’d believe it.”

he just huffs. as if he’ll never forget it. “maddening girl.”

and that’s how it happens.

not with flowers. not with vows. but with time and ruin and restraint. with the realization that love, like his, is its most beautiful when it’s kept on the premise of understanding. that perfect balance.

you don’t fall in love with tom riddle. you stand still and let the tide take you.

to love tom riddle, it is to let the monster in you feast.

and for tom riddle to love, it is to let the monster in him sleep.

[kinichval]

haiiii ;3 can i request kinich and a reader who’s like half siren? like in h20 where when they’re dry they have legs and mualani finds her injured and keeps her in the springs and one night when he goes to see her she’s singer and he like falls in love? i’m not the best with ideas but ignore if you don’t want to lol

hi !! ty for requesting :3 i love the idea so i gave it a shot. i'm not deep into the siren mythology so i switched the lore and tried my best writing this one < 3

"you can't just take in a random stranger in your house just because they're injured, mualani."

"but they were suffering and needed urgent help!"

"then, you should've taken them to the clinic. who knows how severe their injuries are or if they have good intentions."

the conversation of your savior and a stranger stirs you awake from your slumber, eyes fluttering open as your mind gradually processes that it is time to get up. well, maybe if your legs weren't a bit impaired then standing up would've been useful.

except you're not in the best shape as you found yourself tangled in washed-ashore seaweed causing you to trample over rocks and bruising your legs; this means that you can not transform back to your siren appearance (and vice versa if your tail was injured). thank archons, your ridiculous situation ended soon when a kindhearted mualani decided to tend your injuries.

you were honest with your true self with mualani, believing in your instincts that she is as kind as she shows herself to be. like you, she was one with the waters, a soul that's tied to the flow of the oceans and destined to live freely just as the waters liberty to just be.

in the silence of mualani's shelter where you rest and heal, there's the envy creeping up in your heart that you desperately want to repress. but no, it makes itself known for you are not like mualani.

mualani is a free-spirited surfer, an adventurer of the seas; while you were a siren shunned out by society, viewed as a menace and a threat to the land's safety. kill a siren on sight before they destroy your life is what the people would say.

but you do not have the heart to decline her kindness, rather you want to see her heart as a chance to be seen by humans in a different light. because if mualani can, then why can't they?

still, you uphold the value that your mother had instilled in you; there's no point in proving your kindness when they do not believe in your existence. so you remain hidden within the confines of mualani's home, waiting for your injury to subdue until you're able to become siren again.

"kinich, this is yn. yn, this is 'malipo' kinich." mualani introduced you to a trusted friend of hers with enthusiasm high enough to reach the heavens. simply, you give the dendro user a nod and a gentle smile, he returns the gesture with a civil nod of acknowledgement. kinich's reserved attitude is intimidating, given that mualani is the only human you had ever interacted with, you're confused how human relations work and whether the land culture is different from those who reside under the waters.

you trust that mualani hasn't let a word out about your identity, yet it doesn't assure you when you feel the man's skepticism clawing at your skin as if he's ready to capture you the moment he confirms your true nature.

or maybe you're just overthinking.

kinich never intended for his lingering stare to feel like a dagger pointed at your neck, on the contrary, he harbors the curiosity to learn about you. he often finds how his mind wanders off to mualani's newfound friend whenever the usually occupied space in his head is vacant. who is she? why is he so subconsciously adamant on knowing her? only he fails to grasp a clear picture of reason as to why the voices inside his head are telling him to seek at least a fragment of her soul.

"mualani, thank you for taking care of me."

as a parting token, you granted mualani to experience your siren form. the two of you are within the privacy of the springs that only a few ever come to visit under the moonlit night sky.

your heart sinks at the thought of returning back to the deep, uncertain if you shall ever come up to the surface once your clan learns about your predicament knowing that despite you were well taken care of, they will only emphasize the what-ifs and assert the dangers of a siren caught on land.

natlan's springs are peaceful. you requested to have time in the waters for yourself the next night; promising that when morning comes, you are off to return to the ocean where you belong. but right now, you are neither your ascribed identity or whom you want be, you are just part of the waters.

cold air hits your skin, you lightly splash the water with your luminescent tail and softly smile at the quietness. sometimes, the water doesn't have to be constantly flowing, staying still is alright.

in the midst of your solitude, you hum a tune that your mother used to lull you to sleep when you were a young siren. your voice mimics the gentleness of a mother's love, a cradling feeling of tenderness and comfort. slowly, it shifts to a song, your voice becoming louder and alluring.

and just like a serenade, your song had captivated a certain saurian hunter's attention, he stands on the opposite edge of the spring right across where you were situated in. your eyes still closed and immersed in your enchanting euphony.

"i believe i'm not under a spell, but allow me to compliment your melody. may i stay here and listen?"

kinich fixes his composure, hiding the nervousness inside his pocket. but oh, the moonlight acts like a spotlight on your figure, your true nature completely open for him to realize that you are not human at all.

but kinich isn't fazed, neither does he yield the urge to capture you in exchange for the prestige that comes with catching a siren alive.

"are you not afraid?"

instead, you were the one afraid, wrapping your arms around your torso as if it's any help in shield your true form from his green and amber eyes.

"i'm fascinated. you are a beauty."

at this point, kinich does not intend to supress his longing need for you. he's conscious and sober, implying that a siren's song is not all about luring prey into the waters.

sometimes, just like yn, a siren's song is an open book to her innermost thoughts and heartbeat's poems. it doesn't need to hold words for kinich to depict the sentiments carried into the wind as she sings; to be known, to be understood.

"may i stay with you for tonight?"

this time, you wish for the moon to stay in its place, for time to pause, and for kinich to stay in the springs with you.

[toxicrelief]

Crawling Back to You

Chapter five

Synopsis: You can admit you are not very good at hand-to-hand combat. It has not really been something you needed to be good at until now. However, the worse you appear, the more suspicious your long “training” sessions with Cecil are starting to seem. And with each failure, Rex is getting more and more smug.

Pairing: Rex x F!Reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Chapter: 5/?

Masterlist of all Chapters

TW: Blood, Descriptions of Violence

Note: If you ever see me hating on the "pinned to the ground" troupe, kill me. That's not me. Also shoutout to the several youtube videos I had to watch on how to fight. you guys are life savers.

“I knew I was good, but I didn’t realize I was quite this good.”

Rex was completely destroying you, last you checked this was a “training session”, not a fighting tournament. He obviously did not have that same memo though. As you looked over at him, he was shifting his weight back and forth from leg to leg, his fists clenched in front of him. There is no way this is actually boosting his ego more. The cocky grin on his face told you it definitely was. You cursed Cecil in your head, putting you directly in a metaphorical arena with someone who has enhanced strength and durability. As far as you know you do not have either of those to the extent most people with powers did. And just because your body can heal the bruise forming on your ribs extremely quickly, does not mean you cannot feel it.

When you had walked in earlier you were met with complete silence. Rex was sitting, no, he was lounging, in the training room. Waiting. Cecil must have told him the plan for today, which you were secretly grateful for. You could feel the tantrum that would have come if you had walked up to him and said “Hey! I know you hate my guts, but that old guy with the receding hairline-? What am I saying? That hairline is no longer receding, it’s receded. Yeah, you know the one, he wants us to train together. What was that? You think I don’t deserve to be here? What was that? You think I am making a fool of myself? What was that? Die, die, die? Well, I hear you, Rex! And guess what, I agree full-heartedly! Thank you for blessing me with a fragment of your precious, and I mean precious, time!”

Ugh.

Instead, you had given him a polite smile, opened your mouth to speak, and were immediately interrupted with: “Yeah-Yeah I know, let’s get started.” Which is the most amicable interaction you have ever shared up to this point.

He was wearing a grey tank top, and his hair was pulled back loosely. As much as you disliked him, you had eyes. He was surprisingly toned without the suit on, it almost made you feel self-conscious. But then it made you feel a little panicked. You have supposedly been “training” with Cecil the past few months, or did they not know that? They did not have your records the way you had theirs. So maybe you could get away with saying that you had not been training for as long, and that’s why…you were completely and utterly inexperienced? All of a sudden it was starting to feel like Cecil jumped the gun in introducing you to the Guardians. If you were able to use your other abilities you could completely freeze Rex in place, but then what? You had no idea what you would do that could truly give you the upper hand. Although after keeping him in place for a while, you would eventually heel over and become a personal blood sprinkler.

But you can’t use your other abilities, to these people you were just a healer. And Cecil had reiterated to you last night that you cannot let them even get an inkling that you can do more. So here you are, holding your ribs with one hand, and sweat dripping down your brow.

“You know, I am not sure how effective this is if you’re landing every punch as hard as you can.” You winced standing up straighter.

“I’m not hitting you as hard as I can.”

You glared at him, taking a breath so that you did not immediately snap back. Be the bigger person and all that, nonsense. “Well, how about just not hitting me at all while you’re still showing me the basics. I feel like that should be implied actually.”

“The basics?” He put his hands down. “Do you not know anything about hand-to-hand combat?”

A very telling silence fell between them. You almost wished he would make fun of you, instead he just stared at you.

“Shit, so you really are just a healer huh?”

Basically yeah. “I mean, loose on the ‘just’ okay buddy.”

“So, I’m your babysitter for the day.” There it is, the familiar snark.

“Well usually babysitters are paid, so not even that.” You gave him an almost apologetic look to try and cover your sarcasm. You straightened all the way up, your ribs fully healed from his earlier hit.

“Goddamn it.” Rex ran a hand over the back of his neck looking at the ground in thought. “No chance I can just go fuck off and we tell Cecil we trained anyways is there?”

“Don’t think so, no.”

“Right… yeah no I figured.” The look of sheer disappointment on his face was a very telling sign he in fact, did not figure.

You put your hands on your hips now at a loss for how to progress this forward.

“Basics then?”  A hand ran over his face in surprisingly quiet frustration.

“Basics.” You echoed.

Rex stepped forward then hesitated, “Wait, if I teach you any of this will it even do you any good? Or would you get immediately torn apart or some shit?” Strong vote of confidence. But he had a point. If you were up against the likes of people like the Mauler Twins, were you expected to try hand-to-hand combat? There was no way you would win, even with support. And if the likes of which you were up against did not have human blood there was no controlling them either. At least for now, you still were getting nowhere with the Viltrumite blood and that was only one species.

“Uh, I’m not sure.” You said honestly, straightening up a bit. “At least then I will be dead, and you don’t have to worry about it I suppose.”

“Hey, I wasn’t worried about you I was worried about my own wasted time.”

“Glad for the clarification.”

Rex finally fully made his way over to you, standing at your side. He was quiet for a bit, seemingly in thought about what to start with. Which you had a hard time believing he could deeply think about anything.

“So- uh… I guess always be aware of your surroundings, you can get backed into corners quickly in combat-” There was a much more awkward tension in the room now as he obviously recited what could have been textbook self-defense 101.

“Let’s assume I know that much, how about some actual techniques.”

“God, nothing makes you happy, does it?” You raise your hands at his outburst, trying not to laugh. “Are you left or right-handed?”

“I don’t see how this is-”

“Left or right.” He cut in, gritting his teeth. After telling him, he gestured for you to have the corresponding foot forward. You bit the inside of your lip in irritation but followed.

“Your stance is important, if you don’t do it right-”

“I’ll be unbalanced.”

“You’ll look like a dumbass.” His lip twinged slightly, and he moved behind you. Using his foot, he pushed your feet apart for a wider stance. A little close for your liking. “Your feet should be a little wider than shoulder-length apart, shift your weight to your toes. You’ll be able to move faster.”

You do as he says, testing your weight from side to side with a slight bounce.

“Stop fucking moving.”

“Sorry-”

“You have to hold your arms up like this.” Before you knew it, he was positioning your arms. His fingertips felt oddly warm on your skin. If he wanted to, could he make your entire body explode from this contact? That’s one way to die. You bit back any argument and let him pose you to his liking. You clenched your fists loosely (after he got on you about using up spare energy for nothing, but he did not seem to have a problem with using up spare energy to yell at you, so who really needed training).

“Hold your elbows in, you have to protect your sides, vital organs… blah blah” He quickly slipped back into his indifferent attitude but for a second he seemed to be enjoying this. Maybe it felt good for him to impose his superior knowledge on others, you can’t imagine it happens often. “Anyways, basically this is how I was able to get you earlier.” You subconsciously rubbed your side, and he hesitated for a split second.

“Okay, keep your shoulders somewhat up.” He stepped out from behind you and quickly took his place in front of you. “Hit me.”

“What?”

He sighed, dramatically throwing his head back, “I didn’t say it that quietly, hit me.”

You hesitated, not because you thought you might hurt him, but because you knew he was doing this so you would make a fool of yourself. “Why don’t you just quickly show me-”

“Goddamn it, HIT ME!”

Your dominant hand came crashing into his nose surprisingly hard. So hard you wondered for a moment if you just broke your knuckles. Losing your form, you immediately stepped back, holding your hand in your secondary hand. The pain of your body immediately trying to heal it striking through you. “Fuck!”

“FUCK!” Rex echoed, holding his hand to his nose and tilting his head back. “Why did you go for the face first you dick!”

“You told me to punch you!” God your hand hurt.

“I said to hit me not fucking punch me in the face!”

“Well, I’m sorry! Your face is just too irresistible for me to miss the opportunity!” You hissed back, feeling your middle finger pop back into place. After a few seconds more, the pain subsided, and you stood straight up again, turning to face him.

Rex was glaring at you, blood trickling from his nose down his face. If you were feeling nicer you might have offered to heal it for him, but his dark look was not making you feel generous.

“Back to it then?” You gave a fake smile and returned to your earlier position. He ran his tongue over his teeth and closed his eyes for a moment before sniffling and also returning to his position.

You went to hit him on his chest, and he quickly deflected you, a little harsher than necessary. What a baby.

“Again.” He spat.

You went again, and he deflected it just as easily. “Why weren’t you this good at blocking when I hit you earlier?”

“Shut up. Again.”

You used your non-dominant hand to try faking Rex out, which worked. He went to block it, and you nailed him in the side. Not as hard as before, not that it would matter, since he can definitely take a punch much better with his torso than his face. Rex simply nodded, returning his eyes to your stance.

“You should twist your leg with the punch, it adds much more force.” He walked to your side, his hands brushing over your thigh to your calf. His touch was surprisingly gentle for how bad this entire interaction seemed to be going. After twisting your leg, he stood up straight and gave you a demonstration.

“You have to twist it as you punch, use the brute of your force from your back.”

“Okay.” His nose was still bleeding and now you were starting to feel bad. He was still training you even after you did that to him. It was almost sweet. Or he was just too full of himself to be the first to give in, either could be true. Most likely the latter.

“And I want you to try this after you land that hit.” He demonstrates another move, his arm making a hook-like motion in front of him. “Okay?”

“Okay.” You steadied up your stance again, bouncing back and forth on your toes. He returned in front of you and posed himself. He did not say anything this time. No ‘hit me’, no annoyance at your moving, he just watched and waited. His eyes trailing over you. He must be checking your stance.

You repeated your fake-out move from earlier, then went to hit him with the new move he showed you.

“Keep your arm closer to your body, or you’ll dislocate your elbow.”

You nodded, not having the concentration to come up with a quip to throw at him. You repeated the move again but with a second fake-out. Rex winced slightly as your fist made contact with his elbow. Ideally, this move would probably work better if you were aiming for his face.

“That was fuckin’ good!” He exclaimed with a smile, genuine excitement generating off of him. You did not know he was capable of smiling in a way that did not reflect cynicism and sarcasm. It was almost alarming.

“Thanks?”

“Do that again.” He returns to position, and you follow suit.

__

After several more demonstrations and Rex purposely tripping you to ‘show you that your stance was bad’, you were both working up quite the sweat. And worse you were starting to become aware of his blood. You could feel it beneath his skin with every punch. This was not something you usually experienced, but from all the excretion and fighting it was starting to feel like you were actually needing to win.

Rex was talking about something now, but you were struggling to pay attention, your body willing you to get back into formation.

“With your size, a tackle could be good to know. You’ve got some dick who’s towering over you-”

“Some dick meaning you?”

He ignored you and continued. “You have to be able to bring them down to your level if you are able.”

He stops for a moment to fix his hair, stray pieces had been slowly falling out throughout the session and limiting his visibility. Your eyes trailed down to his face, the blood had dried now, and you were tempted to get him a wet cloth or something. But your body was still screaming at you to fight. So, you stayed put.

He looked at you out of the corner of his eye as he finished putting his hair back up and you found yourself looking forward to where he usually stood. Now you were overthinking it, did you look away too fast? Was he thinking you were weird for staring at him? Weird for looking away outside of the set time for it not to be weird? God, can he please just stand in front of you so you can punch him? You really needed to punch something.

Which felt a little redundant since that was all you had been doing for what must have been nothing short of ages.

Finally, he was back in front of you, and you immediately took a swing.

“Woah, the fuck are you doing?” He gave you a quizzical look, after taking a step back from your attempted hit.

“Practicing.”

“Were you not just listening? I want you to try out tackling.”

“Oh, okay.” You lowered your hands feeling a bit embarrassed. You wiped the sweat off of your brow with the back of your hand, then tunneled your focus on Rex.

He gave you an odd look but continued forward with his demonstration.

“Okay, you have to stand tall up until one of the last moments, or they’ll know what you’re trying to do, and the whole maneuver will be spoiled.” He stood up straight, stretching his back, preparing himself for the inevitable. “I’m going to come at you, you have to go for my knees and try to take me down.”

“Okay.”

“Okay? You sure you got that?”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” That came out a lot harsher than you meant it to, you just really needed to hit something.

He furrowed his brow at you but did not say anything. Almost immediately he headed towards you. You jumped back, somehow a little startled even though he just told you what was going to happen. You missed your window; he was going in for punches now. Trying to deflect the best you could, you got yourself into position to tackle him.

Rex’s fist collided with your shoulder and knocked you off balance. “Fuck!” Without leaving any time to waste you were back on your feet. Sweat was dripping down your brow. And Rex was looking very concentrated. You went in to hit him, he deflected, you went to tackle, he hit. This was not even training anymore; he was trying to wear you out.

Your lip curled slightly with frustration. And you finally took a deep breath, focusing your thoughts. Rex leaned in the way he was going to hit, even with cop-outs. You had started to notice the pattern, if you used it against him, you could break his balance.

He leaned slightly to the left, swung left, left, left, right, right.

You swung left, hitting his ribs. He grimaced, taking a step back. And then you sprung forward, grabbing his legs and pushing him down,

You were both panting.

His face was flushed, and from how hot it was you were sure yours was too. His mouth was slightly agape, and his eyes you were not able to be read. You could feel his chest heaving underneath you. As much as he was trying to wear you out, he must have been wearing himself out too.

“I got you.” You said between breaths, what you needed more than anything right now was some water. Have you ever realized Rex had green eyes? You did not see green eyes much anymore.

He did not immediately respond, the rise and fall of his chest still apparent to you. He was very firm; he probably had a lot of muscle from years of being a professional hero. Your hands were digging into his shoulders. You could feel him tense slightly under you, feel the shift in his blood.

For a millisecond his eyes slid down your face, and you wondered…

“You’re not meant to stay on top of the person once you’ve taken them down.” His voice rang out dryly. His eyes met yours with half-lidded mild annoyance.

“Ugh. Nothing’s good enough.”

“Plenty is good enough. Just do shit right.”

You got off him, offering him a hand up which he briskly refused. He stood for a moment with his hands on his knees, catching his breath. He walked over to the corner of the room and grabbed something; it looked like a belt.

“One more go.”

“Seriously?” You almost whined, you needed a break badly.

“Yes, fucking seriously.” You missed that one moment of actual happiness he portrayed earlier, wondering if you would see that ever again.

“Fine.” For hopefully a final time for the day, you fell into place. Rex immediately went back into action; this time he was keeping his distance. Every time you caught up with him, he quickly got away. “Dude, what is this?” You said unimpressed, and then you saw it fly out of his hand. He was throwing small discs at you. There was no way-

Before you could even finish the thought, it ignited in a small explosion, sending you back.

“Rex, what the fuck are you doing!”

“This is actual combat training Nurse Joy. Catch up.” You grit your teeth, you had already learned a lot for one day, did you really need to have mini-explosives thrown at you too? You did your best to avoid them, a few singed your shirt, and you could definitely smell burnt hair. How many of those did he have? Should you wait him out?

Each explosion left a little cloud of smoke. You just needed to get close enough that it would affect his sight. Slowly you made your way closer, still trying not to get hit. Even with the smoke in front of you, you knew exactly where he was. You already had that neural connection.

After bidding your time on the last one you finally jumped forward through the smoke. His arms immediately came up to shield his face, but you weren’t going for his face. Your fist made direct contact with the left side of his chest. A mild headache immediately irrupts in your head. He should have let you at least have a water break, before pulling all of this.

With a groan, suddenly Rex was backing away, a confused, and angry look on his face. One of his hands was over the place where you punched. You almost wanted to call him a wimp, say something mean, and then you saw the bruise. It was reaching above his tank top.

Fuck. You had manipulated his blood. Not to heal.

You had made it burst in his blood vessels. That’s why your head started to hurt.

You blinked, trying to regulate your breathing at what you had done as you watched him pull his shirt up. Your hand quickly came up to cover your mouth. The immediate impact zone looked horrible; you could practically see the blood pooling under his skin. The wound, although under the skin, was spread out like ripples. The top of it reached up to his collarbone, and the bottom two or three inches above his navel.

“Rex, oh my god.” You took a step towards him. He did not seem to be registering your voice, his hand ghosting over the wound.

He finally looked at you and lowered his tank. “Well, seems like you’ve had enough training to me.” His voice was much more fridged than before. You did not even know you could be doing worse than you were this morning when it came to him.

“Please, just let me heal it, that’s what I am here for right?” You desperately wanted to fix this. Not just because it was unexplainable and was sure to raise more eyebrows about you, but because you wanted to help him. As much of an asshole as he was, you did not want to actually hurt him, he just taught you a lot of valuable things. Hell of a thank you!

“It’s fine Nurse, I’ve got it.” He looked at you with an unclear expression. It felt a lot like disgust.

“It’ll be quick-”

“Just fucking-!”

“I’m so sorry! Please just let me-”

“Just stop!” Rex held his hands out in front of him and backed away, you did not follow this time. Everyone at the hospital whoever refused your help flashed in your mind. It almost made you want to cry, even around other people with powers you were not trusted. It was easy for people to put faith in superheroes when there was nothing they could do about the situation. If they do not see you as a necessity, you’re just a freak. You just did not realize that those of your own kind would see you that way too.

Rex stormed off to the exit of the training area just as Rae was walking in, bumping into her. She exclaimed but he unambiguously gave her a glare and continued out.

“What was all of that about?” Rae glanced over to where Rex had been standing moments ago.

You sighed, rubbing your neck and looking over at her. “I think I’m just going to ask Cecil for a gun or something if I have to fight.”

Author's Note: I might need to slow down soon with releasing chapters, finals are coming up and I don't think my professors will take "I had to write fanfiction" as an excuse for late assignments 💔. But then I will have a lot of time with summer. I want to get this out as fast as possible cause I hate waiting for updates as much as the next person. I hardly plan ahead so were experiencing this at the same time haha

divider credit: @/ saradika

Chapter six

[krems-chair]

Something Something Yeah It's Still Solavellan Hours (Mythal is kind of here, too)

I've seen a few very beautifully articulated posts talking about the conflicted responses players are finding themselves having in regards to the decision by writers* to have Solas' atonement route possible because of his conversation with one of the remaining fragments of Mythal.

(*honestly I hesitate to put the weight of bigger game events on their shoulders because of how much I know bigger players in the company were involved, so when you read 'writers' know I just mean whoever had final say on plot)

I love reading where people are at on this, and having now breathed, re-played the scene, cried, read some more theories, and then played the scene again enough times I think I'm now able to figure out where I'm at.

TLDR: in my humble opinion, the conversation Solas has with Mythal doesn't bring him any actual closure at all. It is only the version of the atonement ending that has Lavellan in which he is actually set upon a road to redemption.

This, like everything else where I lose my mind, will be long. I tried to restrain myself and here we are, unhinged as ever.

I was unhappy at first that Mythal's incredibly brief conversation with Solas where she releases him from her service seemed to be what finally allowed him to make a decision based on his wants and not hers. My concern stemmed mostly from the fact that a lot of us are trying to be active participants in a society that recognizes patterns of abuse and seeks to establish channels through which individuals can pursue healing without the approval, consent, or demise of their abuser.

But the more I look at the scene, the more I wonder what would have happened in a world where Veilguard got just a little more time in development. Could we have gotten a scene that more elegantly conveys the theme that we cannot heal every part of our loved ones, much as we might like to?

In an imperfect world it isn't always up to us how someone finds closure, which really sucks when you'd like to ensure a loved one finds it in a way that preserves their dignity and limits exposure to the individuals who have harmed them.

And while it could be left there, I'd like to actually push back on the idea that Mythal is in any way responsible for "healing" Solas in this moment.

I went on a different tirade a few days ago about how at the end of Inquisition, Mythal says words to Solas that on their surface seem well-intentioned or placating, but they actually just serve to further bind him in guilt and a position of servitude. In Veilguard's finale, she still does not take accountability for exactly how much of a role she played in the pain that Solas, a man others have revered and feared as a god, has gone through as he cowers, actually cowers before her.

Mythal's interaction with Solas conveys exactly two things to him as far as I am concerned (I'm going to botch these quotes but my laptop is dying so please accept some paraphrase as I rush to finish this before I go cry about this analysis to my uncaring dog):

"The terrible things we did, we did together." You are forever tied to me.

"I release you from my service." But what am I releasing you to?

Because up until Lavellan joins the fray here, all I take away from the physical and unwilling emotional cues Solas gives in this scene (he is a master in trickery, for goodness' sake, the thought of so many witnesses seeing him unable to hide behind a mask has to leave him feeling anguished on top of everything else) is that Mythal has once again reminded him of everything he did in her name and telling him that all that's left for him is to go back to the fade prison and, as he as always done, endure the crushing weight of his failures alone.

To me, in my interpretation, the Solas that hears this from Mythal with no Lavellan intervention may choose to willingly step down from his original plan (and yeah, that's gonna do some damage) but he is certainly not free of his past. He's going to be reminded of it every time he turns a corner and finds more blight to try and soothe, and even the moments that he rests will be filled with more manifestations of his regret. He says it himself: where he's going? It's terrible.

Enter Lavellan. Yeah, he couldn't bring himself to listen to her at her first plea (but like damn how many times are we going to have to watch her give a heartfelt speech only for him to be like 'something something beautiful elven rejection'). But I know that you know that our clever icon knows better than to take what Solas says at face value. She tells Rook plainly that he's absolute dogshit at lies of the heart, and she says it with her whole chest.

Lavellan sees the way his shoulders slump (in resignation yes, but you can't convince me there's not a little bit of relief there, too), she hears the agony in the "vhenan" that escapes his lips (which, don't even get me started on the fact that it's been like nine years and he has no hesitation at all calling her his heart, it just spills out of him). It is not the sound of a man delighting in the steps he's about to take. They're certainly not steps he does not dislike that lead to a destination he enjoys.

And then she watches Mythal (who I can't imagine she feels any sort of fondness or respect for) pull some weird nonsense on her love one final time, and she knows it's her moment to shine.

Mythal, I would argue, pushes Solas down one more time, shames him into seeking atonement, into once again being alone.

It is the romanced Lavellan that kneels so that he cannot fail to meet her eyes. It is she who invokes their connection, not to remind him of his failures but to reaffirm his greatest strength: their love and their love alone is inevitable. Not the consequences of his past, not the regret he thinks will consume him as he seeks to mend what has been broken. It has only ever been them.

"There is no fate but the love we share". We are forever tied together.

"There is no fate but the love we share." *I* am releasing you from everything else save for this love.

Put colloquially: get absolutely fucking wrecked, Mythal.

Body language comparison to chase up the dialogue one, anyone? The way Solas shrinks before Mythal as opposed to him walking off into the fade with Lavellan at his side and standing tall, and he does not flinch when she lifts a hand to his shoulder?

Ultimately, Mythal is a part of the atonement endings no matter what. But it is only Lavellan that refuses to let him walk alone. It is only Lavellan that guarantees that his dinan'shiral ends not in a prison of regret, but a place of promise.

Mythal bends Solas until he breaks one last time. Lavellan takes each piece, claims it as hers, and uses them to build the beginnings of a future.

[alexa-yukiyu]

Can u do one where sukuna has a daughter who was like 4 when he got sealed away he thought she died but she was also sealed away but different than sukuna her body is intact and shes just in a box that puts her to sleep the gojo clan took her and kept her there til sukuna got awoken by itadori so satoru woke her up she doesn't remember her father and she get very attached to satoru and megumi they avoid her meeting sukuna til later when they decide to see how he would react to her and he was shocked to see her alive and well but she doesn't recognize him and is scared of him when hes on itadoris face hes angry what the jujutsu sorcerer did to her and wants her back

Hidden Awakenings ft Satoru Gojo, Megumi Fushiguro and Ryomen Sukuna

A/N sorry for the wait Anon! When part of the fic got erased I got so angry I just walked away 😂 but anyhow here we are! Hopefully this is what you were hoping for!

Reader here is replaced by Dokucha which stands for reader in japanese for the enjoyment of both reader and oc character readers!

Consider buying me a coffee!

“Where am I? Dokucha mumbled,” rubbing her eyes awake as she looked around, stretching her limbs as she stood from the box she was in. She looked around in a daze; she didn’t seem to recognize her surroundings, but yet again, what were her surroundings like before? She couldn’t seem to recall much of anything.

“Good to see you awake,” a voice piped up joyously, catching her attention as she took in the white-haired stranger before her. She tilted her head, confused, as she gazed at the stranger.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Satoru Gojo, a jujutsu sorcerer, and you, my dear, are a curse,” he exclaimed, not losing his previous jovial tone.

“Curse?” she muttered, fragments of memories slowly filling her young mind. Many blanks were still left behind, but enough came back to her to understand the current situation that being a curse in front of a sorcerer would put her in.

“I die?” She mumbled sadly

“Nah, the elders do want to, but I see no point in it, at least not right now,” he called as he picked up the girl, lifting her from the box and pulling her closer, each leg on each side of his hips as he pulled her to eye level.

“Especially with that father of yours running around; you will be hanging out with me from now on!”

“Father?” She questioned as she tried to recall such a memory with only blurs coming to mind instead

“Don’t worry about that right now,” he replied with an innocent smile on his face.

It was hard to believe such a small and innocent child was related to the king of curses, but he, more than anyone, knew that appearances could be very deceiving. Despite her meaning no harm and being the least interested in any destruction, she was still a high-level curse, so he couldn’t afford to leave her be.

Back in the Heian Era, her father sealed himself within his fingers with the hope of one day reincarnating, only to be stuck with a capable but strong-willed host, but that was not the case for Dokucha; the man had made sure of this after all. Before sealing himself, he had used most of his energy preparing his daughter's seal, one much more complicated than his; a small box he had spelled to put the child into a deep sleep and one that would preserve her completely and thus eliminate any need to attach herself to any object as with her body intact there would be no need for a host. It was because of this enormous loss of energy that he was unable to repeat such a result on himself and ended in his current imprisonment in his own host.

Such an advanced spell had been set to link to his own, ensuring that she would only wake up when he did and was able to retrieve her. But much like his own revival, Dokucha’s did not go as he originally planned. The box in which she laid had been retrieved by the gojo clan many generations ago. Because of this, her successful revival had remained hidden from the king of curses, unable to detect her presence upon his revival, something that had greatly angered Sukuna. I would even go as far to say that the curse was anguished when he failed to feel his daughter, believing this to mean her demise.

The elders wanted to eliminate the young curse the moment she had awakened, but Gojo had seen potential in keeping her close, something that could keep the dangerous father under control. But the plan could wait; he had always had a soft spot for the younger ones, so he didn’t mind spoiling the child while she was under his care.

"Gumi! Gumi!, can I see Gyokuken again?” The young girl begged as she approached the Shikigami user, hugging one of the many rabbit shikigami that surrounded the two of them, much to the owner’s annoyance.

“Dokucha, they aren’t pets,” he grumbled.

“I know! But they are the cutest!” She cheered as she nuzzled the Datto

“Please?” She begged.

Megumi sighed. He had never thought he would be in such civil terms with any curse, much less one related to the most dangerous of all, but after various weeks of spending time with her, he couldn’t avoid the soft spot she had carved in him. Despite his unique and hard-to-read personality, he could see the same was the case for his benefactor, though, as always, the older man was more shameless in his affection.

“Just for a few minutes,” he stated

“Okay! Thank you, Gumi!” she exclaimed, watching with glee as the sorcerer made familiar gestures that caused the Datto to fade away and make way for the twin wolves.

“Gyo! Kuken!” she cheered as she wrapped herself around the white wolf’s neck, giggling as Gyo lifted her from the ground in response to the embrace, and Kuken began nudging her affectionately.

Fushiguro shook his head at the curse and the shikigami's antics but could not hide the small smile that grew on his face as he watched the three of them fool around.

“Ah, I see my precious little students are having fun~” a familiar voice piped up.

“Gogo!” she hollered as she made a run for the man, beaming with happiness at his arrival.

A grin grew on the man’s face as he embraced her when she jumped on him’ spinning her around in circles, causing a string of laughs to escape him.

“Hi, cutie,” he beamed as he pulled her close, rubbing their cheeks together. A pink tint grew on his face as he coddled the girl, finally placing her on his hip after he had his fill.

“I brought sweets!” he announced as he shook the small bag in his hand.

“Can I have some?” she marveled, staring at the bag with a heated stare, drooling at the thought of the sweet flavor.

“Of course!” he exclaimed as he began pulling one of the candies from the bag as he kept the girl balanced in his other arm, putting one of the sweets in her awaiting hand.

“It’s so yummy! Thank you!” She beamed, holding her cheeks as she savored the flavors rolling on her mouth

“Gojo-sensei, you gave her your sweet tooth; she’s gonna get sick.” Fushiguro sweatdropped, watching the girl plop another whole candy into her mouth with a dopey smile.

“Don’t worry, she washes her teeth!” Gojo confirmed as he sent a thumbs up to his student much to the latter’s exasperation.

“Not the issue!”

“Anyhow,” The teacher began as he turned back to the child.

“Don’t change the subject,” Fushiguro Grumbled

“There’s someone I want you to meet, Dokucha!” he said, calling towards a pink-haired boy in the distance. He repeated the same words he had told the child.

“Gojo-Sensei? Are you sure?” Fushiguro questioned, looking at the approaching pink-haired boy with uncertainty

“Don’t worry, I can handle him,” Gojo waved off.

As Yuji got closer to the two, Gojo changed his hold to holding the girl by her underarms, extending her away from his body and towards Yuji, dangling her.

“Yuji, this is Dokucha; Dokucha, this is Yuji,” The white-haired man introduces.

“Hi!” They both beamed, waving vigorously at each other.

“You’re so cute,” he mumbled, a pink tint growing on his face.

“Wh- agh

Yuji groaned as he held his head and suddenly slapped his arm as what looked to be a mouth sprouted from It.

“Let me out, you damn brat,” a deep voice growled from another mouth that had sprouted on his cheek before the teen had slapped it away. Watching this happen, the child let out a cry as she wiggled out of Gojo’s grip, running behind him in fear. In response, Gojo moved the child away from the two and into Fushiguro’s hands, returning to his previous spot in the blink of an eye.

“Gumi?” Dokucha questioned, alarmed as she noticed the instantaneous change in the environment.

“Don’t worry; that was just Gojo-sensei using his abilities; it’s better if you stay over here for now,” he called as he awkwardly patted her back and attempted to calm her down.

“No!” itadori snapped to the curse.

“He must be really angry right now,” Gojo chuckled as he watched the teen’s dilemma unfold.

“Yeah, he’s just screaming up there; how did you know Sensei?” Itadori questioned

“Might have to do with his daughter being here, but too bad for him, she doesn’t really remember him,” Gojo shrugged.

“That really made him mad,” Yuji winced.

“Let him out.”

“Sensei?”

“Don’t worry, I got him,” he reassured the boy as he began stretching.

“If you say so,” Yuji muttered, allowing Sukuna to take over his body, the familiar markings appearing on his face. As soon as this happened, the pink-haired boy launched himself towards the sorcerer, pure fury contorting his face.

“Why the hell is she with you?” He roared, attacking the man, letting out another growl as the man punched him to the ground with ease.

“She’s always been with us, with my Clan, that is,” he piped up, crouching down next to the fallen curse.

“We expected her revival and curse energy to remain hidden from you, but I didn’t expect her to lose her memories too.”

“I will kill you,” He boomed at his words, beginning to rise only to be punched back down once again.

“Don’t get too grumpy! She can be with you if you behave as well!” he added cheerfully.

“Silence! I will have the head of every single sorcerer in here, and you will be the first one!” he bellowed, only growing angrier as Gojo let out an exaggerated sigh at this, shaking his head.

“You know that you are many fingers away from being a match to the advanced students and teachers here, much less the strongest, so why don’t you just listen to what I have to say?”

“Why the hell would I waste my time listening to some nameless fish?

“Because I can easily send you back, bring Yuji back, and you can just watch her from afar or listen and interact with her.”

“What do you want?”

What we thinking?