#as the world falls down series

[delicatebarness]

ᴀs ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ғᴀʟʟs ᴅᴏᴡɴ | ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʀᴀɪʟᴇʀ

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: In the middle of the night, your world is shattered. Chaos erupts around you and you're forced to leave your home as the terrifying reality of the apocalypse unfolds.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: Apocalyptic Themes. Violence and Gore. Death. Panic and Anxiety.

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 968

sᴘᴏᴛɪғʏ ᴘʟᴀʏʟɪsᴛ | sᴜᴘᴘᴏʀᴛ: ᴋᴏ-ғɪ

sᴇʀɪᴇs ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ | ɴᴇxᴛ ᴇᴘɪsᴏᴅᴇ

ᴀ/ɴ: Another one for Prologue Season, remember to let me know what you think if you want the story to continue, by the way, it is eventually Bucky Barnes x Reader. - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as mine. - B

ᴀᴛᴡғᴅ: Let me know if you would like to be tagged for possible future chapters.

ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ: @hallecarey1 | @pattiemac1 | @uhmellamoanna | @scraftsku35 | @ozwriterchick | @sapphirebarnes | @rach2602 | @thetorturedbuckydepartment | @lanabuckybarnes

Tangled in the warmth of his arms, the blanket wrapped you in the quiet safety of the night. It was almost surreal how peaceful the night felt, the distant hum of the city outside, the steady rise and fall of his chest under your head. No urgency, no fear– just the comfort of each other. 

Then suddenly, sirens split through the silence, jarring you from your haze. Flashing light of red and blue outside the window, bathing the room in an eerie, pulsating glow. Sitting up, you clutched the blanket close to your chest, as your heart hammered against it. Looking over at him, you watched the color drain from his face. He knows. 

Dread opens a pit in your stomach, dropping further as you witness something unspoken in how he moved. In that instant, he jumped out of bed, yanking open drawers and tossing clothes into a duffel bag. His frantic energy only intensified your fear. Your mind reeled at the dull sound of metal scraped as he retrieved something from his nightstand: a blank and ominous gun. 

Finally, you found your voice, it trembled barely a whisper when you managed to find the words. “What’s happening?” You questioned desperately, a fragile hope that this was just another nightmare, and any moment now, you’d wake up. But deep down, as you looked into his eyes, wide and wild, you already knew this was reality. 

“Get up,” he urged, voice straining as he shoved the bag into your hands. “We’ve got to go. Now.” 

Clutching the duffel bag, you froze, your body refusing to move. Through the window, shadows lurched through the street, and alarms wailed and mingled with distant screams. Chaos erupted as streetlights flickered, covering the scene in a sickly, unnatural glow. You couldn’t reconcile the sense of it.

He gripped your shoulders, desperately shaking you out of your temporary paralysis. “Listen to me,” he said, his voice gruff but urgent, “ you have to move. Right now.” 

He pulled a jacket over your shoulders, it was thick and worn but, it smelt like him, the home you were about to leave behind. Barely registering his rapid instructions, as he continued to talk, your mind struggled to play catch up. 

“We need to head north. We’ll find a car and stick to the highways. Don’t stop, don’t–” he paused with a crack in his voice, just for a second, but long enough to make your breath catch. There was a fear in his eyes, fear you had never seen before.

Your throat was dry, and your words were stuck, catching on the forming lump. But, you managed to choke them out, even though you weren’t sure you wanted to know the answer. “W- What about everyone else? Our families and our friends are here– what’s happening to them?” 

There was no plan for them, the hesitation in his eyes was enough of an answer: no rescue was coming. Only this, a frantic scramble to survive, thrown at you without warning.

Stumbling to your feet, the duffel bag slammed against your legs as you tried to pull the jacket around you with numb fingers. It felt like you were watching this happen to someone else, maybe a character in a horror movie you never auditioned for. 

Already at the door, the gun gripped tightly in one of his hands as he peeks through the peephole. Each jagged piece of time cut deeper than the last as seconds stretched on. Fear twisted itself into something cold and sharp as the pounding in your chest drowned out everything else. 

When he finally opened the door, the sound hit you like a physical blow– The screaming, gunshots, and guttural groans from the dead. Nothing made sense, and there was no time to make it. Dragging you down the hallway, his grip tightened as you ran toward the chaos. 

“Go!” he yelled, shoving you forward as you made your way out of the apartment building and onto the street with a stumble. The night's air was thick with acrid smoke, the scent of burning mingling with the stench of decay, of death. 

Your eyes darted from one horror to the next, the twisted bodies that used to be people, shattered windows, and overturned cars. People were running, screaming, and falling. The world was falling down around you, and there you were, trapped in the middle of it, nothing more than a bystander to the end. 

Fingers digging into your skin, he pulled you toward the edge of the street. “Just run!” he shouted, but his voice was barely audible over the discord of the apocalypse unfolding around you.

Another stumble, you turned back to look at him. You didn’t understand, he wasn’t following. His gaze met yours, eyes wide, filled with fear and something else, something dark. You didn’t want to understand, but then, you saw it. His hand clutching his side, fingers staining crimson. Seeping through his shirt, the blook spread like inkblots. That was when you saw it— the ragged and deep bite, his flesh torn where the teeth had sunk in. 

“Go!” he shouted again, but his voice had grown weaker then, and he trembled with the effort to stay on his feet. His strength ebbed away with every drop of blood that soaked his clothes, what little color was left in his face, now draining with it. You knew what that meant, what he was trying to tell you without words. He wasn’t coming with you.

Your world collapsed in on itself at that moment. Driven by his last desperate command, your body moved instinctively and ran. The duffel bag slammed against your back, tears blurring your vision. As you sprinted into the unknown, his scream was swallowed by the night as the dead closed in on him.

---

sᴇʀɪᴇs ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ | ɴᴇxᴛ ᴇᴘɪsᴏᴅᴇ

[jujoobedoodling]

To grieve deeply is to have loved fully.

Gift for @redisaid.

A sketch of a scene from the last installment of Falling that breaks my heart every time.

[avatarskywalker78]

Chapters: 1/3

Fandom: Aquaman (Movies - Wan)

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Relationships: Arthur Curry & Orm Marius, Atlanna & Orm Marius, Orm Marius & Mera

Characters: Orm Marius, Arthur Curry (DCU), Atlanna (DCU), Mera (DCU)

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Family Feels, Brotherly Love, Brotherly Bonding, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Orm Marius Needs a Hug, Redemption, Post-Aquaman (2018), Mother-Son Relationship, Male-Female Friendship, References to Orvax's A+ Parenting, in other words, Past Child Abuse, Minor Character Death, (of ocs), background aquamera, Angst with a Happy Ending, other characters are mentioned but don't appear a lot so they're not tagged, Humor

Series: Part 1 of Aquafam AU

Summary:

Orm Marius begins his trial expecting to be sentenced to lifetime imprisonment or worse; he knows just what Atlantean justice looks like, after all, and Arthur has already shown him mercy once. The last thing he expects is for his family to fight for him, ensuring that he stays in Atlantis and gets a second chance, an opportunity to make amends.

The problem is that he doesn't know how he can even begin to do so, after everything he's done, nor does he understand why Arthur keeps visiting him - he doesn't have to, after all. But it soon becomes clear that Orm is going to have to rethink his assumptions about a great many things...no matter how painful this might be.

But whatever happens, he won't be alone.

[puppyeared]

Atla live action 😐

[aq2003]

series 3 is so frustrating because there is like a shining core of pure diamond underneath the problems . like conceptually it rocks so incredibly hard. but the problems

[kirbyddd]

[nerdie-faerie]

Very funny to think at the same time the supernaturals of New Orleans are bickering about who should be in charge and how to get more power, the Mystic Falls lot are fighting against the literal unravelling of all magic in the world

[emcads]

thinking about people bitching about liz staying home to raise henry again and honestly? i think ppl need to remember how close she was with her own father, and presumably her mother has been dead for a long time. both her and will's arcs had a lot to do with their relationship with their own parents, and you don't think elizabeth would want to be the best possible mother, and make the best possible world for her son? she wouldn't leave him like bootstrap did to go pirating, and he's already deprived of a father.

[tea-cat-arts]

Anyone know if someone has edited Mest’s face bouncing around the screen like the Microsoft idle animation while “you ruin everything, you stupid bitch” plays in the background?

And if one of y’all decide to make it, can you please tag me

[butdotheykiss]

im sorry, but was the kiss in a boss and a babe like bad buddy lvl wow? no. but is it on a constant loop in my mind cause Reasons? yes.

[delicatebarness]

ᴀs ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ғᴀʟʟs ᴅᴏᴡɴ | s𝟷ᴇ𝟷

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Your search for the truth finds you in an encounter with a hardened stranger and throws you into a dangerous journey through the fallen world.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: Post-Apocalypic World. Violence and Gore. Encounters with the Undead. Reference to past trauma and loss. Panic and Anxiety. Implied Sexual Tension.

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 3548

sᴘᴏᴛɪғʏ ᴘʟᴀʏʟɪsᴛ | sᴜᴘᴘᴏʀᴛ: ᴋᴏ-ғɪ

sᴇʀɪᴇs ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ | ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʀᴀɪʟᴇʀ | ɴᴇxᴛ ᴇᴘɪsᴏᴅᴇ

ᴀ/ɴ: I'm very excited for this one, I won't lie. - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as mine. - B

ᴀᴛᴡғᴅ: @winterslove1917 | @ell0ra-br3kk3r

ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ: @hallecarey1 | @pattiemac1 | @uhmellamoanna | @scraftsku35 | @ozwriterchick | @sapphirebarnes | @rach2602 | @thetorturedbuckydepartment | @lanabuckybarnes

The years passed by, but the memory of that first night burned into your soul. One scar that time would never heal. Somehow, you survived. Letting the world forget you existed you learned to hide and to stay quiet. 

The world tried to move on, focus on ending the nightmare, and find a cure or a way out. You felt differently. You didn’t want to stop it, but more to understand it. Why did it start? Why everything you loved had been torn away from you within an instant? Somewhere in the ruined world the truth was buried and you were determined to find it. 

That’s what brought you to where you are now, inside the ruins of an old library. A place where knowledge may still be hidden beneath the dust and decay. It was silent, undisturbed, the only sounds from the building being that of age and neglected groans. Moving quickly, you traced your fingers along the spines of forgotten books, searching for hope and answers. 

The scent of old paper and mildew filled the air as you moved through the dim aisles. The titles were barely visible beneath layers of grime. As you scan the shelves, you pull at a few books; covers worn and faded. You scanned for any mention of events that could have possibly led to the world’s collapse. Flipping through the pages, your mind raced. The silence was almost comforting as it contrasted against the constant danger outside. It felt like you had found a sanctuary, somewhere you could piece together the fragments of the past.

Groans began to echo through the library, shattering the silence as the undead emerged from the shadows. Their eyes locked onto you, and your heart leaped into your throat. Panic surged through you, grabbing whatever books you could reach, you shoved them into your bag as you began to move. Tugging at your shoulder, the weight of the bag slows you down, but you don’t stop and don’t look back. Narrow aisles and towering shelves became a labyrinth, but with desperate speed and ragged gasps, you navigated your way toward the exit. 

As you brushed past them, the noise of tumbling books only spurred the undead closer. Your heavy footsteps thudded on the worn floor echoed. The scent of decay grew closer, and you could feel their presence gaining on you. 

A sliver of light in the darkness was in sight– the exit, and you pushed yourself harder, willing your legs to go faster. And, just as you burst through the door, the harsh light warming your skin, the undead reached the spot where you stood moments before. Your mind was fixated on one thing at that moment– survival. 

The streets were a blur as you ran, fear clawing at your throat. You didn’t see him at first, but a man sat in a car across the street, watching the chaos with annoyance and amusement. “What the fuck–” he muttered to himself, his hand reaching a gun that sat beside him. That was when he saw you– The terror in your eyes, and the desperation in your stride.

“Great…” he sighed with a roll of his eyes, stepping out of the car and raising his gun. “It’s always the pretty ones…” 

With deadly precision, each shot hit its mark as if it were second nature to him, he effortlessly cleared a path through the horde. Breathless, you stumbled as the last of the undead fell to the ground. You struggled to process what had happened as your chest heaved. 

Moving toward you, the man carried an air of calm that seemed unnatural in the fallen world– imposing, with broad shoulders and a muscular frame, easily over six foot, you thought. Each of his movements were controlled, and purposeful as his dark hair fell in messy waves framing his faintly stubbled face. 

The sharpness of his gaze, a piercing shade of blue, cold, and assessing, contrasted with the weary lines etching into his face as he scanned the area. There was something you couldn’t place in his expression, irritation? A reluctant duty? It was as if saving strangers was not how he wanted to spend his time, but he’d do it anyway. 

Dangling loosely at his side, the gun still smoked from the shot that had been fired. His red henley shirt, scuffed and worn, clung to his frame. As he glanced at you, his eyes narrowed as if he were assessing whether you were a threat or just another helpless survivor. Then, without a word, he holstered the gun and reached out his hand. 

The gesture caught you off guard causing you to hesitate for a second before you reached out, your fingers wrapped around his large, calloused hand. Pulling you to your feet, with a surprising gentleness, he kept a firm grip on your hand as you steadied yourself. Up close, you could see the lines around his eyes and a faint scar along his jawline. 

“Get in,” he commanded, his voice low and gravelly, no room left for argument. His order jolted you out of your daze, but he refused to wait for a response as he turned to open the car door for you. You hurriedly obeyed, scrambling into the passenger seat of his car. When you were inside, he released your hand and slammed the door shut, circling to the driver’s side. 

He wasted no time, flooring the gas pedal the second the engine roared to life and sped away from the scene. Swerving around abandoned vehicles and debris, he navigated the town’s maze with unnerving skill. 

Neither of you spoke, sitting in silence as the adrenaline coursed through your veins, and your heart raced. You watched the ruins of the town blur by as you stared out the window. 

And then, when he finally spoke, his voice was more contemplative, softer. “What were you doing in there?” 

Unsure of how much to reveal, you hesitated before taking a breath. “I’m looking for answers,” you admitted, keeping your voice small, barely audible. “I, um, I want to understand why this all started… why the world fell.” 

Letting out a low, almost resigned sigh as he repeated, “Why this all started–” The words hung heavy in the air. “Not many people left who care about that.” 

“I care,” you murmured. He glanced toward you, his knuckles turned white as his grip tightened on the steering wheel. There was a flicker of understanding that passed through his icy blue eyes. And, for a moment, it seemed like he was about to say something, but instead, he pressed his lips into a tight line and focused back on the road. 

“You’re chasing ghosts,” he muttered after a while, almost to himself. “Whatever answers you’re looking for, they won’t bring back what you lost.” 

You snapped your gaze toward him, surprised by the bitterness in his tone. “Maybe not,” you retorted, “but it’s the only thing that keeps me going.” 

There was a long silence settling between you, only broken by the sound of the car’s engine and the occasional groan of the undead lurking by the side of the streets. Outside of the car, you watched as remnants of the world passed by– abandoned vehicles, shattered windows, and overgrown greenery reclaimed what was once civilization.

The man sighed heavily with a weariness that ran deeper than just the physical toll of survival. “I know some people,” he said, he kept his voice low, almost reluctant. “My group might be able to help you, or at least give you somewhere to rest.” 

“Your group?” you echoed, unsure if you should feel weary or relieved. 

“Yeah,” he replied in a stern tone. “They’re not exactly the most friendly to strangers, but they’re good at staying alive.” 

Glancing at his side profile, you weighed his words carefully. He had an edge, a darkness, there was something about him that made you uneasy, but yet, at the same time, you could not deny the gravitational pull toward him. You had isolated yourself for so long in your search for answers, and the idea of finding others who may be able to help was almost too tempting to resist. 

“Why are you helping me?” You asked in need to understand his motivations. 

The silence stretched out, he didn’t answer as the car sped down a deserted road. Glancing over at you again, his expression was unreadable as he finally spoke. “Maybe I don’t want to be the kind of person who looks the other way anymore,” he said, his voice guarded.

As you searched for something– anything– that would give you a clue about who this man was, you stared at him. You wonder why he’d chosen to save you as his answer hung in the air, but his eyes, cold and piercing, gave nothing away. 

An endless ribbon of cracked asphalt and faded yellow lines stretched over the road ahead of you. The car’s tires hummed a steady rhythm, calming the chaotic thoughts swirling in your mind as the remnants of the world you once knew lay in ruins. 

As the time ticked by, you were unable to stay silent for any longer. “What’s your name?” you asked.

A flicker of surprise crossed his features as he glanced at you again before he turned his attention back to the road. “James,” he simply said. 

You repeated his name, testing the word on your tongue. Strange, you thought, almost too normal for someone who brutally saved your life. But then, maybe this was the type of normalcy you craved.

~

The sun began to set as you drove further, the landscape growing more barren. The trees were sparse, and their branches gnarled, twisting like something out of a horror movie. A chill crept into the air as the sky above turned a bruised shade of purple. 

Just then, as you were about to ask James if you were close to your destination, the car suddenly jerked to the side. A violent shudder came from the vehicle, and a loud thumping echoed from the rear. 

“God damn it!” James cursed, his knuckles turning white as his grip on the steering wheel tightened, fighting to keep the car under control. Easing his foot off the gas, the car slowly came to a halt on the side of the road. 

“What happened?” you asked, your heart racing from adrenaline. 

“Flat tire,” James sighed, a lace of frustration in his voice. Killing the engine, he stepped out of the car. “Stay here,” he ordered, not waiting for a response before slamming the door shut behind him. 

You watched as James circled to the back of the car before kneeling beside the rear tire. He mumbled curses under his breath as he inspected the damage. You suspected he drove over some hidden debris on the road, causing the tire to shred. He glanced around the deserted landscape as he stood, his hand instinctively resting on the gun tucked into his jeans. 

Staying in the car, you nervously tapped your fingers on the armrest. The sun sank lower, and the shadows began to grow longer. The sense of was back and stronger than ever.

James rummaged through the trunk before pulling out a spare tire and jack. He worked quickly, with a sense of urgency in his movements. Glancing around now and then, scanning the horizon as if expecting someone, or something to emerge from the shadows. 

You watched him work through the wind mirror, noticing something in the distance. It seemed like just a flicker of movement, barely noticeable in the fading like, until your eyes adjusted and you saw them– moving slowly but steadily towards the car, multiple undead. 

“James,” you called out, trying to keep your voice steady and low. “We’ve got company.” 

He looked around sharply before his gaze met theirs. His expression darkened as he recognized the approaching figures– At least a dozen of them stumbled toward the car. 

“Get in the driver’s seat,” he ordered, his voice tense. “When I say go, floor it.” 

Your heart sank as your eyes met his through the back window. “I-I don’t know how to drive.” 

James froze for a second, disbelief flashed across his face. “What?” 

“I never learned!” you confessed, a slight tremble in your voice. 

“Fuck my life,” he muttered under his breath, narrowing his eyes as he glanced back at the nearing horde. “No time for this, just, get in the seat anyway.” 

You hesitated before scrambling over the center console, and sliding into the driver’s seat. Your hands trembled as you gripped the steering wheel. Your mind raced as the undead drew closer, their groans growing louder. A smell of decay filled the air, a scent you’d have thought you’d grown accustomed to by now, but still made your stomach turn. 

Tightening the last lug nut on the new tire, James’ movements became frantic, tossing the jack into the trunk and slamming it shut. He sprinted to the passenger side and yanked open the door. 

“Okay, listen to me, Princess,” he said, his voice low and urgent, the nickname dripping from his lips with endearment as he slid into the seat beside you. “Put your foot on the brake– the left pedal.” 

Your heart hammered in your chest as you listened to him, following his instructions. They were almost at the car now, rotting hands reached out as they closed in. 

“Now, take the gearshift,” he instructed, nodding toward the lever between the seats as he rolled the passenger side window down. “Move it down to ‘D’ for drive.” 

Your hands shook so much, you were barely able to grip the gearshift, but with a deep sigh, you managed to push it into position, just as James set his gun up out the window.

“Nice, now–”

James was interrupted by one of the undead slamming against the window, a grotesque mask of decay moaning into the glass. Screaming, your foot slipped off the brake, lurching the card forward. Instinctively, you slammed your foot on the gas pedal. 

Tires screeched as the car shot forward, and you clung to the steering wheel. You could barely see as the vehicle swerved wildly. 

“Ease up on the gas!” James shouted, his hand darting toward you, trying to steady the wheel. “You’re going too fast, princess!” 

The fear had already taken over, keeping your foot pressed to the floor. Down the narrow highway, the car rocketed dangerously close to the edge.

“Let go of the gas! Now!” he barked, his voice managed to cut through your panic. 

The car immediately began to slow down to a more manageable speed as you forced your foot to lift. The moment of relief was short-lived, as when you looked up ahead, the road began to narrow, flanked by thick forest on either side. Between the trees, there seemed to be more movement, and as you got closer, the car’s headlights revealed why– more undead, dozens of them, staggering toward the road. 

“Oh my god, I-I can’t,” you whispered, gripping tighter on the wheel, your nails starting to dig into the leather. 

“Just keep driving,” he ordered, his voice low but calm. “Don’t stop. Just go right through them.” 

You looked at him, surprise and horror etched in your features. “You can’t be– what? We’ll crash!”

“We won’t if you hold steady,” he firmly said. “Trust me. Aim straight, and don't swerve. Just… trust me.” 

The undead were closing in, their eyes hollow as they fixed on the car. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to look straight ahead. 

“Gas, now!” James shouted.

Slamming your foot back on the gas pedal, the car surged forward once again. The undead were everywhere, their bodies thudding against metal as you plowed through the horse. Cracking bones, groans, and the screech of metal filled your ears. You tried not to look at the blood smeared across the windshield, tried to think of anything other than what was happening, to not cringe at the sound of gunshots beside you. 

Eventually, you made it through, somehow. The road cleared ahead, forest fading into the distance as you sped away from the chaos. Adrenaline and terror coursed through your veins, shaking you uncontrollably. 

James reached over, gently loosening your hands from the steering wheel. “Ease up, princess,” he softly said. “You did it. You’re okay,” he continued reassuring you as you lifted off the gas again. His hands guided the car as its pace smoothed. 

Your mind was numb with shock, and you barely registered his words. The only sounds now were the engine’s soft hum and your heart pounding in your ears. After another rough mile, and as the last remnants of daylight vanished, the tension in the car was palpable. James must have sensed it when he glanced over at you. Your nerves were frayed, hands trembling on the steering wheel. 

His expression softened as he noticed the hardened lines begin to etch in your features. “Pull over, princess,” he quietly said. “I’ll take it from here.” 

Too exhausted to protest, you nodded. You eased the car to the side of the road with shaky hands and switched off the engine. James shuffled in the passenger seat and leaned toward you, his movements were deliberate but gentle. 

It was cramped inside the car, forcing you both to maneuver carefully. Sliding closer to you, his arm brushed against yours, a small shiver shooting down your spine. His scent caused your breath to hitch– earthy and warm– it filled the small space between you. You were acutely aware of the heat that radiated from his body.

You carefully lifted yourself from the driver’s seat and tried to give him room. Your leg brushed against his as you shifted, and your arm grazed his chest. The contact between you was brief but it was electric. Stilling for a moment, James’ eyes met yours and something unspoken passed between you before he moved under you, settling into the driver’s seat. 

You climbed over the center console, slowly to avoid bumping into him again, yet it was almost impossible not to. Your bodies were too close, the space too tight and his hand lightly touched your waist as you slid into the passenger seat in a small gesture to help steady you. You tried to ignore the heat rising to your cheek as you settled into the passenger seat. 

Adjusting himself in the driver’s seat, James’ demeanor changed. He was refocused, his gaze sharp as he pulled back onto the road. Now in his control, the car felt steadier and the tension in the air eased slightly. 

The car’s headlights cut through the night, the road ahead and its surroundings were barely visible. Yet, somehow James navigated it all with ease, it was evident he was familiar with the area. 

You couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt for being such a liability, twice in less than twelve hours this man had saved your life. Shaking the thought out of your head, you knew there was no time to dwell on that now, the only thing that mattered was getting to safety.

“Where exactly is it we’re going?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

“It’s not far now,” James replied, his eyes never left the road. “It’s a base camp– it’s secure and well fortified. There are people there, good people. You’ll be safe.” 

He was so certain and reassuring in his tone, it made you want to believe him. But you hadn’t felt safe or secure since before that night. Too much had changed in the world, and even the thought of somewhere being ‘safe’ seemed almost impossible. 

After what felt like hours, you fought to stay awake as your eyes grew heavy with fatigue. Just as it was about to take over, James slowed the car and a faint glow appeared ahead. A high chain-linked fence topped with barbed wire revealed itself as the road leveled out. You could make out the dim outlines of buildings beyond the fencing, and makeshift structures that looked like military barracks rather than homes. Illuminating the area, floodlights cast oppressive shadows on the ground. 

“Here it is,” James murmured, caution laced in his tone. A lone figure stood waiting by the large gate at the camp’s entrance. His silhouette was stark against the floodlights, broad-shoulders, imposing and tall. It wasn’t until the car approached that he stepped forward, his features revealing in the light. 

The man’s face was rugged and weathered, it spoke of years of hard living. Dark hair cropped short, and his strong jawline covered in a shadow of stubble. His eyes were cold and calculating as they locked on the car. There was command in his presence, a quiet authority that made it clear he wasn’t to be trifled with. He seemed the kind of man who would be ready for anything with a solid build, muscular concealed under a dark, well-worn jacket. 

James slowed the car to a stop, rolling down the window. “Bucky,” the man called out toward James before landing his gaze on you. He looked irritated, setting his jaw tight as he assessed you. “Who’s this?” he asked, without any warmth in his tone, just a cold, scrutinizing edge.

---

sᴇʀɪᴇs ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ | ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʀᴀɪʟᴇʀ | ɴᴇxᴛ ᴇᴘɪsᴏᴅᴇ

[awkward-teabag]

Bonus: Movies are actually written in such a way that account for the limited time they have. At least the good ones and older movies are. There's more and more "dead" time in modern movies as the writers have to pad things out to hit the 120-150 minute mark studios demand.

[dovedrangeas]

i don’t know why I’m writing this. but there’s something on my mind that’s making me ache.

i don’t know how to cope with the fact that i no longer have a spark for snow au. i don’t know how to handle it. it was so deeply intertwined with who i was and all my thoughts and emotions, but now… i don’t feel any of that anymore. it’s not that i don’t like it anymore, or that i’m not proud of the work i did, it just feels… oddly distant.

maybe it’s because snow au as a concept and a project is so inherently connected to a specific part of my life, a part that i’m just no longer in. It’s connected to a hope and experience that i just. Don’t have anymore. i’ve gotten sicker, i had to move back in with my parents, i’ve recovered from some of the grief that motivated me. and i just have no desire to keep working on it, because i feel like i failed that part of my life anyway, so now the project that i was so proud of is just a reminder that i fucked it all up and i’m back to square one.

and like, it’s not that deep, right? at the end of the day, it’s a stupid dramatic fanfic about block game roleplay and magic and angst. it’s not that important. but it was so important to me for so long, and no longer having that drive is just. it feels wrong.

and i’m still writing dsmp fic! I still enjoy doing it! it’s still one of my biggest interests! but snow au no longer holds that importance and i don’t know to cope with the fact that i might never work on it again and i feel so empty inside about it.

it's been almost 4 years. and i don't know what i'm supposed to do.

[kbwrites]

The Lord's Favorite CH.3

Synopsis: “And there you were, lying underneath the terrifying king, a man of immense power and ruthless intent, who would watch the world burn on a whim.”

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⚝content: trueform!Sukuna x f! reader, nsfw, mild language, voyeurism, sukuna has two cocks, pure smut, gentle sukuna

⚝wc: 2.2k

⚝a/n: please the messages I’ve been getting from this series have been so unhinged?? I love it

“I believe your presence is precisely what I crave.”

And you swear your brain ceases to function. When you regain awareness, you find yourself against the black silken sheets of Ryomen Sukuna’s enormous bed. The air is thick with the scent of incense, and the dim light from flickering candles casts long shadows across the room. And there you were, lying underneath the terrifying king, a man of immense power and ruthless intent, who would watch the world burn on a whim.

He looks down at you, two of his strong arms gripping your hips, the rough pads of his fingers digging painfully into your flesh. Your gaze flickers down to his body, taking in the sight of his rippling muscles, flexing with each subtle movement. His broad chest rises and falls at a steady pace, a stark contrast to the thunderous beating of your own heart. His crimson eyes hold a possessiveness, the gaze of a predator stalking its prey, intense and unyielding.

Ryomen Sukuna was alreadyterrifying fully clothed, but his naked form elicited a different fear in you altogether. Two thick cocks stood proud and eager. You try to take in every detail, thick veins running up the sides, flushed angry red tips dripping pre-cum down his monstrous shaft. Your breath catches in your throat, all of your saliva drying up as you force a swallow. His lips curl into a smile that sends shivers down your spine. He lowers his head to your ear, his breath searingly hot against your skin.

“You are aware I do not like waiting.” He growls.

“W… what would you like me to do My Lord?” The uncertainty in your tone is evident. He pulls back slightly, his gaze piercing through you with a mixture of disbelief and dark amusement.

Yes, you were younger than the other women in the castle, most of whom had come to serve after being widowed or hardened by life. But he assumed you’d had some knowledge. He had no need for concubines with no experience, anyone else who would dare enter his chambers without it would be swiftly dealt with. ‘Training pets’ was of no interest to him. But he couldn’t seem to ignore the way his cocks twitched at the thought of being the one who would ruin you. With a swift, almost effortless motion, his four powerful arms shift your position. Within the span of a heartbeat, he flips you over so that you find yourself straddling him, the change in position startlingly abrupt.

You’re momentarily paralyzed, a jolt of panic surging through you. What exactly were you supposed to do now? Theoretically, you knew what was expected, the steps that were supposed to follow, but… how?

༺═────────────═༻

On occasion, you found yourself wide awake during the night, the sound of the bed frame creaking and exaggerated moans muffled through the door connecting your room to Sukuna’s. Of course, Curiosity, that dangerous and ever-present impulse, got the better of you—and you innocently pressed your ear to the door. And of course, your eyes found their way to a convenient crack in the dark mahogany.

‘You should be ashamed, spying on your king’

You cursed yourself as you watched him. He laid on the bed, a woman—who you’d seen enter his chambers multiple times was bouncing up and down on his length. Crying out as her hands rested atop his broad chest. Two arms guided her hips and the other two rested behind his head. Her loud moans of pleasure, a stark contrast between his low grunts. Your hand clasps over your mouth, suppressing your gasps as your own hand reached under your nightgown.

The sounds of skin slapping, squelching, and the woman’s theatrical wails acted as cover to your own quiet moans. As it continues Ryomen's head suddenly turns to the side, eye locking directly onto the door. A menacing smile spreads across his lips. Your blood runs cold as you make direct eye contact with your lord.

You cease your movements, tiptoeing back to your bed. Squeezing your thighs together, to desperately cool the unbearable heat.

“My…. lord… what are you looking at?” She gasps in between thrusts. You only hear a slap before covering your ears and praying it was just coincidence his eyes fell on that part of the room.

And from his lack of mention, you thought you had gotten away with it.

༺═────────────═༻

And now you sit between his two muscular legs, the same way you saw that woman do. Staring down his two thick members. A shaky hand wraps around one, unable to grip him fully. A soft moan escapes his lips as you feel his cock twitch under your touch. You begin to pump slowly, your movements hesitant. 

“Don’t..act so coy, I know you’ve seen this before.” And your heart drops in your stomach. You search for an excuse, a denial, but they all die in your throat. He only grins in response, looking at you through half-lidded eyes. One arm reaches behind your head, gently pushing your face mere inches away from his throbbing length. Your eyes flicker up to him then back down to his angry red tip, after a deep shaky breath you gather some spit in your mouth allowing it to flow onto him. He groans at the sensation, hand gripping your hair tightly. 

You loll your tongue out, smearing the spit and pre-cum around his tip. Your other hand wraps around as well. Sukuna growls as your mouth engulfs him, tongue swirling around his head. He pushes your head down slowly, your mouth stretching at his size. Tears well up in your eyes as he hits the back of your esophagus, sinful gagging noises emanate from your throat. He hums amused.

“This view suits you…” He chuckles lowly as his hands guide your head up and down his shaft. He sets the pace, before letting go of your head. You look up at him through your fluttering eyelashes, the tears pooling in your eyes. Sukuna lies against the plush pillow, hands giving attention to his aching second cock. His breath hitches as his hips buck up, his length pushing even deeper into your throat. A sudden feeling of choking causes you to come up for air, coughing as oxygen finally enters your lungs again. A wave of embarrassment washes over you. 

How pathetic you must look to your king, not even able to provide him with pleasure.

Ryomen grabs your waist, pulling you back under him. His eyes, darken as he pushes his body closer to you. A low thunderous rumble reverberates from his throat as his spit-soaked length finds friction against your stomach. You feel your own arousal pool between your legs as you are overwhelmed with a dangerous mix of fear and desire.

His lips capture yours in a rough kiss, sharp teeth baring down on your bottom lip as his tongue explores your mouth. Your soft moans are swallowed by him as his strong hands roam your naked body. He parts from the kiss, a trail of spit still connecting you two. He looks upon your panting form, without a second thought diving into your neck nipping and sucking at the delicate skin. Two hands grope your breasts, rolling the swollen buds between his fingers. He squeezes gently as you whimper under him, moving his mouth to encircle your nipple. The heat between your core nearing unbearable.

“My.. lord… p-please..” You cry out, his teeth graze your nipple, a warning. He huffs against your skin.

“Do not rush me, woman.” His mouth moves to your other breast. Staring up at the high, ornately decorated ceiling of Ryomen’s chambers, you find yourself drifting into a daze. Suddenly coming to when you feel a rough hand reach between your wet folds. Sukuna purrs lowly, gathering your slick between his fingers. Your gaze meets his once more, you desperately squirm against his hand.

“Already so eager… surely you realize you’ll break if I try to fuck you.” His voice laced with playful menace as his fingers tease your entrance. Your vision hazes as you look up at your king, your bruised lips part taking in shaky breaths in anticipation.

One thick finger enters, pumping into you slowly as you feel your whole body turn to jelly. Sukuna chuckles darkly as you writhe under him, he adds another thick digit giving you just a second to adjust to the slight stretch. You feel a pressure building in your abdomen, similar to the one you felt the night you spied on your king.

“You’re close, aren’t you… How disappointing it's just from my fingers.” He coos bringing his other hand to your throbbing clit. He speeds up his ministrations, slipping in a third finger to bring you closer to the edge. A slight curve upwards is all it takes for your sinful walls to clench around his fingers, your back arches as you are delivered to a place you’ve never been before. The unfamiliar feeling of orgasm, the pleasure of release washes over your body.

Ryomen removes his fingers from you, watching as your hole flutters around nothing, he brings the slick-coated fingers to his mouth, tongue darting out to taste the fruits of his labor. You catch your breath as you feel his weight pushing you deeper into the sheets. His crimson eyes bore holes in your soul as he looks down at you with pure hunger in his gaze. One of his cocks rubs between your folds, gathering your arousal. A flash of hesitation crosses your face.

“I do not expect you to take both your first time.” He attempts reassurance. His cockhead rubs up and down, kissing your clit before pushing into your hole. 

He growls as he slowly enters you, feeling the warmth of your walls enveloping him. You wince at the stretch, tears pricking your eyes. His hand reaches to cup your face, thumb wiping away the tears as they fall. He hushes your cries with a gentleness previously unknown to him.

“Relax little one… I hnng am going as slow as possible.” He moans as more of his length is surrounded by you. The way your warm walls clench around his thick cock makes his eyes roll, you were so tight, a temptress made to bring him to his knees. A vision of utter seduction. Buried deep in your pussy, you could ask anything and surely he’d grant every one of your desires. “You.. fucking minx.” He curses as his tip kisses your cervix.

Your hands claw at his chiseled chest as you feel him reach the depths of your cavern. 

“Lord Sukuna! T’much!” Your words come out jumbled and slurred as he begins to thrust into you. His pace slow, painfully so. His face etched with utter concentration as he tries to control his urge to split you open. With each long stroke, you feel every vein as he drags along your walls. Feeling deliciously full as King Sukuna pumps purposefully into your cunt.

“F…Faster please my lord..” You whisper shamelessly, his eyebrow quirks up in amusement.

“You dare…order your king?” He sneers, picking up the pace anyway. His hips stutter as he feels your cunt squeeze around him. Sukuna pulls you up to him, now resting on his heels as his two strong arms hold your back and the others hold your hips in place. Your arms snake around his neck supporting yourself as he pistons into you.

His thrusts become less rhythmic as he nears his breaking point. He grunts louder, his breath quickening.

“You belong to me… fuck… you hear me woman?  All mine. Mineminemine...” He groans and babbles as he delivers one last thrust, his cock twitching as he paints your walls with his hot sticky seed. Your back arches in his hold as you reach your climax. He watches as your body convulses, melting like putty into his hands. He lowers you back onto the mattress, watching as your chest heaves. He slides his cock out of you, still semi-hard now covered in a mixture of your slick and his cum.

You take in the sight above you: his slightly damp pink hair, tattooed arms now bearing tiny welts from your scratches. And the look on his face—his red eyes nearly black from arousal. Gods, you wished you could take a picture, a snapshot burned into your brain for eternity.

He sinks into the space next to you, catching his breath. You are quiet for a moment, mind still reeling from the events that just transpired. Should you stay? Were you meant to just up and leave after? Unease coils in your chest as you sit up, gathering yourself for the short walk to your room before you hear his voice again.

“ Where do you think you’re going?” His voice laced with a hint of annoyance. You glance over your shoulder to see him propped up on one of his hands, his gaze dark.

“I thought you’d want me to—”

“You will stay. You will… sleep here with me.” he commands softly, his grip firm yet gentle as he pulls you onto his broad chest. Your ear presses against his pectoral, the strong, steady beat of his heart thrumming through you like a soothing lullaby. You look up at him, his eyes are closed as he rests his hand atop your head. 

“Sleep…” he murmurs, his voice a deep, husky whisper before his soft snores soon rumble in his chest. You close your eyes as well, drifting off as you lay on the man who’d watch the world burn… for you.

taglist (I added who I could, some blogs were unable to be tagged!! FULL NOW IM SORRY) @quinnyundertow @devastyle @bokuatsubro @alt-her @novembersavior @twinkyjohnson @allthestarsarecloserrrrrrr @bubb13gumb1tch @kalulakunundrum @flowerpot113 @caratinluv @koyukilove @memers666 @saikilover7878 @smolbeanzzz @byul9158 @shadava @bellinghambby22 @pastelbunnelby @jvg02 @ohmykwonsoonyoung @goldenglow149 @imnotabot28 @s1urpjuic3 @nctislifue @szired @mold-ed @fuyuji-ii @samisfunky @junni-berry @call-memissbrightside @wil10wthetree @iamthehybrid @poemzcheng @00frenchfries00 @greentea-ellie @worldean @klutzylaena @heyheyheyggg @hillmiaxoxo @lashaemorow @kuudere-raia @didielly @thejujvtsupost @malazloje @dumplings4life0520 @kum1ko-chan @paprikaquinn @damnshorty @dumbmi

[yueebby]

𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 – 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

synopsis. period piece, forbidden love

contents. ooc, angst (eventual comfort), yandere emperor!gojo, lovesick!gojo, servant!reader, obsessive behavior (5k words of gojo pining), lowkey unreliable narrator, time skips

notes. inspired by the apothecary diaries and this post. loosely based off of ancient japan (this is basically its own world). this is the prologue to the series where everything can generally be read as a standalone ! (fic under the cut)

series masterlist

emperor!gojo who broke a hundred year tradition to take you as his only lover. despite your role as a concubine, everyone in the imperial palace knew he was going to make you his empress.

emperor!gojo who had not meant to fall in love with you, but you have managed to somehow charm him. a man that single handedly brought his own clan to power– weak in your hands. hushed whispers around the imperial palace call you a witch, but they never reach your ears. not as long as he is alive.

emperor!gojo shamelessly showering you with love. he pays no mind that it is highly frowned upon, he will have his hands on you every time you are in the same room.

emperor!gojo who is livid when there is an attempt on your life. his usual ocean eyes turned to blue flames like a wild animal. servants and clan elders alike scurry under his gaze. the assailant is taken care of by his own hands. 

emperor!gojo who is forced to satiate the clan elders into submission by taking in another concubine from an influential clan. he insists to you that it is no more than a political formality. who are you to meddle into imperial affairs?

emperor!gojo who can’t help himself and ends up falling for another girl who his clan elders demand he must wed. she is much younger than you, beautiful and is well bred; a perfect match for the emperor. 

emperor!gojo whose frequent visits to you come to an end, forcing you to move from his chambers and back to the consorts’ pavilion.

There was a time when you had everything. A place to call home in the Inner Court, a beautiful palace with anything you could have ever dreamed of. Servants, admirers, riches; you had it all. But what was most dear to you was your lover– a man so divine, many thought he was directly blessed by the hand of God. It was too good to be true. A woman of lowly birth like you, paid as homage for the sins of her clan against the new reigning family of Japan, becoming a concubine of the Heavenly Emperor. 

You remembered it all too well.

His brilliant mind that once strategized the downfall of the previous imperial family, calculating its next move in a game of Go against you. You can still remember the shock on his face upon his first defeat. The way he would keep you from leaving to fulfill your other duties until he was satisfied, eyebrows furrowing as he struggled to keep up with you. No matter how hard he tried, you remained victorious. It drove him mad.

You remembered the stolen kisses while you made your rounds in the Inner Palace with your ladies in waiting. It took you quite a while to learn to tune out their giggles every time the Emperor dips you down to taste your lips in broad daylight. The grin that he wore after was enough to leave your legs weak.

Above all, you'll always remember how safe you felt in his strong, reassuring embrace. You’ve seen him train, and it was no wonder the Gojo clan rose to power so quickly as a result of one man. The way he wields the katana is unlike any man on the face of the earth. Those arms were your sanctuary. You can still vividly recall the attempt on your life, orchestrated by a traditionalist incensed by the Gojo clan's swift ascent to power. The emperor, outraged by the assassination plot, personally saw to the man's execution. 

However, the damage was done and it caused great strain in the Imperial Palace.

To appease the old geezers that were forced out of power, Emperor Gojo had taken in another concubine from one of the Big Three families of Japan— a beautiful Zenin girl. Her flowing, silky hair and saccharine voice enchanted everyone in the Inner Palace, captivating the Emperor, most of all. She was younger than you, with perkier breasts and soft skin that was enough to capture the attention of any man. 

You don’t blame her for taking the Emperor’s attention away. Though you would be a liar if you said it did not hurt you. Deep down, you cannot deny the agony that sears your soul, realizing that the only semblance of love you've ever tasted remains unrequited. With a heavy heart, you resign yourself to the bitter truth of your existence, knowing all too well the cruel confines of your place in this world.

You were merely a pawn, and the Emperor did not want you anymore.

That was made clear months later when you received a scroll from the Emperor’s advisor, a man you were once well acquainted with, Geto Suguru. 

“What is this?” You asked him quietly, your heart silently begging the Heavens it was not what you had suspected it to be. The black haired man in front of you does not respond, and you feel something pierce into your heart. Despite being a part of the Emperor’s court, it was rare that you received letters directly.

Your suspicions were confirmed when your shaky hands finally opened the scroll to read the familiar kanji written by your beloved.

“The Emperor decrees the termination of your role as concubine." Geto spares you the trouble of deciphering the characters neatly written in ink. “In his mercy, you are to be moved as a servant in the Outer Court. You are to serve the Imperial Physician.”

What you remember most was the silence. The Emperor’s silence after the stressful months you had to endure alone. The silence shared between you and Geto when you were forced out of the Imperial Court. All that was left was the sound of your heart breaking and the wood creaking underneath Geto’s feet as he walked away. Satoru never bothered to see you off.

Seasons change and by the next spring, you’re busying your hands with collecting herbs for the Imperial Physician, a man by the name of Yaga Masamichi. He is a kind man, pitying you enough to fill your days with laborious tasks to prevent your mind from wandering to thoughts of the unfortunate turn your life has taken. He is even generous enough to supply you with a new wardrobe of clothing full of light fabrics, a luxury you thought you would lose in the Outer Palace. Though the initial humiliation has worn off with the passing of time, you are still constantly reminded of your fall from grace.

Looks by the mix of condolences and disgust are shared when you roam the walls of the Outer Palace. You hear whispers of how the Emperor is infatuated with his newer, shinier toy. It is enough for you to swallow the bile that makes its way up your throat. 

“It is no wonder the Emperor tossed away a wildflower like her in exchange for a cherry blossom. He needed someone to rival his own greatness.” A particular comment stopped you in your tracks. Your grip tightens on the woven basket in your hand filled with medicinal herbs you had collected earlier that morning. 

“Have some pity on her.” Another eunuch whispers. Your breath falters, but you continue your walk with your head held up. You’ve heard the rumors. The beautiful Zenin Himiko has charmed the Emperor enough that there are rumors of a royal marriage to come. It doesn’t help that the Emperor has remained monogamous to her since he had banished you from his court.

A comforting hand links itself with your arm, “Ignore them. I saw Yaga shooing away a crowd of suitors that were lined up for your hand.” Ieiri Shoko scoffs, secretly sending you a wink. She has been studying medicine under Yaga for nearly a decade, eagerly accepting you as a companion upon your arrival. You feel your cheeks heat up at her flattery. You know she’s just trying to make you feel better.

Although your beauty never faded, it seems as though you are no longer sought after in the marriage market. Not that it matters, considering the new life that you’re living. You’re now a personal servant to the Imperial Physician, leaving no time to worry about suitors and such. Your days are filled with good work— tending to Yaga’s cherished garden that he has sowed for decades rather than frivolous games and attending the Emperor. It may not be glorious compared to your former life, but it was the best a woman of your status could receive. 

When you and Shoko return to Yaga’s estate, you’re surprised to see the somber look that has settled on his aging features. Shoko makes an offhand comment that he will age faster if he keeps scowling. She receives a scolding.

“Is something the matter?” You gently place down your basket full of herbs. 

Yaga sighs, calloused hands rolling up a scroll with the Imperial Seal. “It appears the Emperor’s consort has fallen ill and His Majesty commands my presence in the Imperial Palace.” 

The Royal Consort. The woman that dethroned you: Zenin Himiko.

“I understand.” You nod, maintaining your composure while two sets of eyes scrutinize you with keen observation. It was only natural the emperor wanted the best doctor in the country for his object of affection. “Shall I close up the shop while you journey into the Inner Palace?” 

Yaga shakes his head, “That won’t be necessary. I will have Shoko act as my stand-in.” He remarks with a quick glance in her direction “You, on the other hand, will accompany me.” 

Your eyes widen. 

“You cannot be serious.”

“Typically, one of my apprentices would accompany me on such journeys. However, now that I have acquired a personal attendant,” He gestures towards you with a flick of his hand, “It shall no longer be necessary.” As he speaks, he runs his hand absentmindedly through his well trimmed beard, gaging your reaction.

"I—" Your words falter and fade away. "Yes, sir," you respond, inclining your head in deference, a stark reminder of your place. While you may have concealed it, you were seething with humiliation. Returning to the Imperial Palace after a year of exile to serve the woman who took your spot was mortifying beyond measure.

“Very well. Pack enough for one week’s time. I doubt the Emperor would have called me if this was a light ailment.” He says gruffly. “We leave at dawn.” His gaze shifted to the horizon outside.

1 YEAR AGO

“Your Grace,” You purr at the feeling of his large hands scratching your head. 

The smile that rests on his face is almost ravenous. “Yes, my love?”

“I think—“ A soft sigh escapes your lips when he presses on your weak points. “I should g-go.”

His ministrations stop almost immediately. 

“Go?” His eyes peer down at you in his lap. It is now that you realize the weight of his piercing gaze. “Have I commanded you to leave yet?”

“No, but—”

“Then you have nowhere else to be.” He huffs, unintentionally puffing his cheeks out. You stifle the giggle that nearly escapes from your lips. He vaguely resembles a pufferfish– or so you think. Though you’ve never seen the round creature with your very own eyes, you’ve heard that the delicacy was something only members of the aristocratic class would feast on. 

Your mouth waters at the thought.

“What are you thinking about that could possibly be so important? Keep your eyes on me,” A strong hand squishes your cheeks together and firmly guides your face back upon him. 

You should be embarrassed; ashamed at the intimate position His Majesty has trapped you in. The way your head is tucked away in his lap as he peers down at you, nothing to shield you away from him. It was incredibly scandalous, considering that you were an unmarried woman! But it seemed like the Emperor had taken no mind towards it. You would even dare to say that he was enjoying it, with the way his lips quirk upward at the sight of you squirming. 

“Your Grace,” You repeat, determined to free yourself from his hold. His eyebrows furrow.

“Satoru,” He reminds you. You purse your lips. The position you hold in his court is simply not high enough to grant you the privilege of calling him by his given name.

“Your Grace,” You try again, the title rolling off of your tongue naturally. A man like him did not deserve any title less than.

“You’re breaking my heart, sweetheart. Indulge a man, won’t you?” He pouts down at you. As stubborn as ever, you don’t relent.

“I would be overstepping my boundaries as your consort to call you as such. That privilege is reserved for your future bride.” You take advantage of his guard let down to sit up and escape his hold. If he could have caught you, he made no effort.

“I am a simple man.” He follows you to your vanity. A giggle escapes your mouth. He is anything but. “I want my love to call me by my name.” 

You turn around to cup his cheek. He eagerly leans into your touch, sighing happily at the contact.

“I wonder how Lord Kento and Geto would react to you like this.” You tease, a smile unknowingly painting itself on your lips. 

Satoru’s face falls, features morphing into an appalled expression. You watch him close the distance between you through the mirror.

“Kento?” His voice had a dangerous lilt in it. You blink, unsure what spurred on the sudden tension in the room. “Since when were you so comfortable around him? He cannot satisfy you like I can.” He reminds you of the man’s castrated state as an eunuch. You wince.

“I have not gotten comfortable,” You’re careful to pick your words. Gojo’s possessiveness was something that was not easily tamed. “He simply provides good conversation while you are away.The palace is far too big and lonely while you’re away dealing with clan matters.” 

The only response you get is a quiet grumble. “You’re lucky that you’re pretty.” His large hand creeps its way into your hair again, undoing the hairstyle your ladies in waiting had spent a copious amount of time on earlier that morning. Gojo carefully plucks the extravagant silver hairpin from your hair, the dangling pearls clicking softly at the sudden movement.  His hands slowly make their way down to the kimono that you are wearing, hands ready to undo the obi.

Your hands softly hover his, “I fear that our roles have been reversed. Should it not be me who gets you unready, Your Grace?”

He chuckles and through the mirror you can see a smirk make his way to his lips, “I’d let you undress me any day. Just say the word, beloved.” 

You roll your eyes, but allow him to continue. It was moments like these with the Emperor that led you on to believe that there was a semblance of love between the two of you. 

How wrong you were.

PRESENT DAY

The sun has yet to meet the horizon when you arrive at the Inner Palace. The horse-drawn carriage that you and Yaga had taken is the only sound at the scene, clopping down the stone road and back to the Inner Court. You miss the serenity of the beautiful palace you once resided in, knowing that it will be bustling with life in just a few short hours.

In front of the large doors of the primary ceremonial hall where the Emperor spends most of his time, stands Lord Nanami, a counsellor to the Emperor himself. Time has only made his face sterner, but his neatly styled hair and blue and yellow dyed court attire remained the same. He waits patiently while you and Yaga make your way up the flight up stairs that lead up to the hall.

“I am glad to see you in good health, Yaga.” Nanami bows. 

The man next to you promptly waves his politeness off, thanking him for his hospitality. You stand silently while the two men engage in conversation regally.

Lord Nanami sighs, “His Majesty has been plagued by stress lately. To say I am relieved by your presence would be an understatement.” His statement is a subtle reminder that you must harden your heart upon entering the palace walls. The meticulously built walls were no longer a sanctuary for you, rather, a painful testament that you were no longer wanted. 

Yaga lets out a hearty laugh and it reveals a rare sight, Lord Nanami’s lips curving upwards by a slight. “I highly doubt the boy would be glad to see me. The appearance of the Imperial Physician is portentous.” He scratches his beard. You tilt your head in confusion at how he referred to the Emperor.

“I suppose, yet I am intrigued to find out how he will react upon seeing his object of affection flourishing anew despite the sting of frost.” Nanami audibly wonders. Even a fool could understand his eloquent comparison. The Emperor would be thrilled to see his consort in full bloom once again. You pray that the Heavens would grant you some mercy from witnessing such a scene.

“Youth,” Yaga shakes his head, chuckling to himself before regaining composure. “I mustn't keep the Emperor waiting. [Name], please gather the herbal ingredients to treat the young Consort as you seem fit. I shall confer with His Majesty and meet you in her chambers to declare a proper diagnosis.”

You bow, “Yes sir.”

While Yaga prepares to enter the doors where The Heavenly Emperor resides, your eyes couldn’t help but gaze longingly at the large bronze doors. 

“You seem well,” Nanami addresses you for the first time in over a year. Your eyes trail from the Emperor’s door to the blonde man in front of you. “Allow me to guide you to our herbal stock.” Nanami offers you his arm as you start to make your way down the stairs. 

You take it, lightly holding his arm.  “Thank you, Lord Nanami. Time away from the Inner Palace has been like a breath of fresh air,” You respond, ensuring your voice carries no malice. You hear the large palace doors from behind you open, the metal creaking loudly in the quiet dawn. 

“I must ask you to call me Kento,” He leads you down the stone steps. “We are old friends, it is strange to hear anything but.” 

You focus on your steps down the stairs, only responding once your feet meet the solid ground, “I fear that our social statuses have changed since then. It would be the cause of a scandal should anyone hear I am calling the Imperial Counselor by his given name. Your admirers would have my head on a stick.”

“Your imagination is amusing as always, [Name].” He gives you a closed eyes smile. You huff.

“I am only speaking the truth!” You insist. He chuckles.

“It is quite refreshing to see both you and Yaga again. I’m not sure how long it has been since I have been at the imperial physician.” 

You gape at his confession. “You mustn't skip your annual visits to the physician, Kento. It is in the best interest of your health!” You lightly scold him, lifting your hand to flick his forehead. It was a force of habit. “Perhaps if I have time after treating the Consort, I shall do a check up on you.”

Nanami clears his throat at your comment, the twinkle in his eyes dissipating as if your direct touch had burned him. 

“I would rather not lose my head.” He mumbles, eyes scanning the courtyard around the two of you. You knit your eyebrows, confused.

Nanami leaves you to fulfill his duties once you arrive at the Royal Kitchens to retrieve all the necessary items to treat Consort Himiko. You are glad that he did not accompany you into the kitchens to prepare Consort Himiko’s herbal soup. 

The memory of it still irks you.

“You’re late,” One of Consort Himiko’s ladies in waiting snaps just as you enter the kitchen. You look up to see a young girl, dressed in a light purple kimono. It must be Himiko’s signature, you note. It was strange to see someone outside of the Imperial family donning the color, but you suppose it was only a grand display of Himiko’s influence.

“You’re a lot more plain than I anticipated,” The other lady in waiting quirks an eyebrow, eyeing your appearance. You furrow your eyebrows, shocked by their rudeness.Their undying loyalty to their Lady was enough to fuel an unspoken hatred for you. Though you’re not sure that the two coincide, you don’t blame them.

The two are mixing a concoction that you don’t recognize to be used to treat the sick. The taller one adds some aromatics and herbs in and you see the other one unwrap a cloth to reveal a rare delicacy from the West. Cocoa, you believed they called it. 

Then it hits you– the two are not making a medicinal soup for their Lady, rather they are making an aphrodisiac! The image that conjures in your head makes you blanch. Back in the Outer Palace, Shoko had shown you the effects of the stimulant (you shiver at the memory of her shoving a treat laced with it into your mouth). It was certainly a night to remember.

“How pathetic,” You mutter underneath your breath, quickly rushing to obtain the ingredients you needed without making conversation with the two girls.

Fortunately, they pay you no further attention for the time you’re in the kitchen.

“Please excuse me,” You bow upon entering the Emperor’s chambers. Despite the Consort’s Pavilion being similar in size to a small town, you remember spending most of your time in the Emperor’s chambers rather than your own. It was probably the same case with Consort Himiko. You slowly place the tray carrying broth and medicinal herbs to treat the Consort down on the circular wooden table in the middle of the room.

Out of curiosity, your eyes can’t help but soak in the Emperor’s room. Not much has changed since you’ve left. His Majesty’s preference for minimalist decorations have stayed the same, along with his natural musk that fills your nose. You feel your face heat up at your own thoughts. How could you think of such a thing when you are about to meet his new lover?

Your gaze moves to his bed, where Consort Himiko resides– only to find nothing.

“Huh?” 

You observe his bed, silk sheets neatly made, seemingly untouched. The sounds of your sock clad feet patter on the wooden floor as you make your way to feel the bedsheets for any signs of warmth, but you are met with nothing.

“Don’t you know that entering the Emperor’s chambers can be punishable by death?” A deep voice from behind you causes you to jump in your spot. 

Your guard is immediately raised, head whipping to the sound. In hindsight, you should have never agreed to accompany Yaga on his trip. It was a foolish idea all along, you think as all of the air in your lungs dissipates upon seeing your former lover. 

Standing at the entrance of his own sleeping quarters is Gojo Satoru, his frame big enough to tower over the doorway. His arms are crossed over each other, electric blue eyes focused on nothing else but you. You press your thighs together tightly to avoid squirming anymore than you are.  He has loosened his dark blue kimono to expose some of his hardened chest, a sight any woman in the nation would die to catch a glimpse.  Even underneath all of the fabric, anyone can see his divinely sculpted physique.

“Your Grace,” You waste no time to dip your body deeply, praying that he will allow you to keep your head by sunset. “I apologize for the intrusion, I was under the pretense that Consort Himiko resided in your quarters–” Your voice loses itself in your throat when you see his shadow quickly encroaching.

“Himiko stays in her Pavilion,” He towers over you, eyes gazing down on you. “But one might suspect that you already knew that.”

Your eyes frantically meet his feet, desperate to salvage what was left of your dignity, “I assure you that I speak of the truth, Your Majesty.”

When he doesn’t respond, you slowly lift your head.

The flustered look on your face must have been amusing to him, as he makes his way closer to you, bending down to interrogate you further.

“Is that so?” He hums, enjoying every second of cornering you into his chambers. The back of your legs have met his bed, trapping you. You inhale sharply, trying to keep your breaths even, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing the effect he had on you.

He continues, “You’re awfully skittish for someone who was happily skipping around my territory in the arms of another man just earlier.” His predatory gaze seems to darken. 

“Kento?” When his name leaves your lips, the man in front of you grits his teeth. You turn your head to the side, deliberately avoiding him. “With all due respect, Your Majesty, but I don’t see how Kento and I’s relationship is any of your concern,” He does not take your actions well, his gaze searing into you.

“It certainly is when the woman in question is you,” Gojo’s voice loses its feral lilt, distress flashing across his face. There’s a newfound desperation in it that chips away at your resolve. His hand raises to your face so slowly, as if he did not want to startle you.

“This is wrong. I– I saw a couple of servants earlier making aphrodisiacs, perhaps you could have unknowingly consumed them.” You tell him, frantic eyes meeting him. It is not unusual for couples to use aphrodisiacs, you know that after under Yaga. The Emperor must have mistaken the laced dessert for his usual. 

He shakes his head, running a hand through his white hair.

“You are mistaken. This is solely your effect on me.” He promises. You could barely believe his words, stuck between feeling offended or shocked.

“How could you stand to be so cruel?” Your voice is barely above a whisper. There are no tears in your eyes this time.  “I am not a courtesan you can buy for the night,” You snap, pointing a harsh finger to his chest. 

“What do you mean?” He sounds breathless.

“Whatever do I mean?” You scoff, a dry laugh escaping your mouth. “For a year, all I have gotten is pity from the world, because you decided I was no longer entertaining. You could have at least banished me away yourself. Instead, you sent Suguru who couldn’t even look me in the eye! Don’t you know how humiliating that is?” With every word that left your lips, more venom seemed to drip. Anger was prickling you all over, taking control of the rational part of you.

Gojo seemed to be taken aback by your outburst. It was far too late to take anything back now. If you lose your head by nightfall, so be it.

You dig a deeper grave for yourself when you take advantage of his moment of weakness to flee. He’s quick to react, attempting to grip your wrist.

“Wait, [Name], beloved–” He uses that all too familiar term of endearment, but it doesn't deter you.

You accidentally bump into the circular wooden table placed in the middle of the room. What an awful place to keep it, watching in horror as the Consort’s medicine shatters on the floor. To add salt to the wound, a vase you recognize to be specially gifted to the Emperor from a foreign nation tips off too before you can catch it. The sound of porcelain shattering fills the room.

“[Name]! Are you alright?” You hear Gojo ask from behind you, but you run over the broken shards before he can catch you.

Had you bothered to pay closer attention, you would have noticed articles of your clothing and a couple of your missing belongings littered all over the room– creating a faux impression that you never really left the palace.

Days passed by after the incident, and luckily, your head was still attached to your body despite offending and nearly endangering the Emperor. Yaga’s disappointment when you had told him what happened was made evident when he sent you home early after hearing the events that transpired, insisting that he can handle the Consort on his own. Normally you would have argued, but you knew better than to inflict Yaga’s wrath.

“Now you’ve really done it,” Shoko whistles lowly, walking in from the front of Yaga’s shop. 

You hide your face in your hands, “I made an absolute fool of myself, didn’t I?”

“A fool? No. A conspirator against the Emperor? Perhaps.” She dangles a scroll with a familiar seal on it. The Gojo Clan’s familiar emblem reflects off of the sunlight spilling into the room. Your heart drops.

“Oh, they’ll have my head.” You moan, hands instinctively lifting to shield your neck.

“Though I’m quite impressed that Yaga only sent you back here. He used to have worse punishments.” She shudders before impatiently unraveling the scroll. You watch her eyes gradually widen as they read the contents of the letter. The scroll falls from her hand.

You rush to it, desperate to read your fate.

To [Last Name] [First Name],

Greetings and prosperity unto you.

By the mandate of the heavens and the authority vested in Us, We hereby extend Our solemn words to you, [Last Name] [First Name], servant of the realm, in acknowledgement of your debt to the Empire.

In response to your unmeritorious deeds, The Emperor bestows upon you His imperial pardon from capital punishment. In consideration of your obligations and the harmony of the realm, it is hereby decreed that you shall serve as an indentured servant to the Imperial Household for a period commensurate with your debt. During this time, you shall labor faithfully and diligently under the supervision of Our Heavenly Emperor, performing duties essential to the welfare of the Empire.

By fulfilling your obligations with diligence and humility, you may yet earn favor and esteem in Our sight.

The Imperial Court

A loud gasp escapes your mouth.

You feel your legs weaken, your emotions running wild. Shoko’s eyes meet yours, mirroring your frantic gaze. In that moment, you are met with the same suffocating sense of hopelessness.

extra!

gojo was kicking his feet happily as he watched suguru draft out his letter to you. suguru thought it rather cruel, while the white haired male was too busy purring happily as he fantasized about having you back into his grasp.

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