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modern-day-bard · 3 months

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Other Duties as Assigned: A Joel Miller AU Fanficiton

Content Warning: 18+ Minors, do not interact. This story includes mature themes such as drinking, stalking, violence, and explicit smut.

Chapter 12: Harmony

word count: 4.7k

Joel

My shoulder blade feels as though it’s going to be cracked in half, and still, the door doesn’t budge. I scream her name repeatedly, though the response is always the same.

Silence.

Dull, aching, life-changing silence. Finally, with one final shove, the door is open, and I stumble in to find her, curled up on the floor. I know already, of course, because a sleeping person would have woken up by now. But still, I fall to my knees, and try to wake her. I keep screaming, telling her to wake up. Wake up, wake up, wake up, “WAKE UP!”

A sharp inhale enters my lungs, and I shoot up in my bed. I’m in my room, alone, covered in sweat.

Well, not my room, technically. My room in Gwen’s apartment. The light outside is almost a cobalt blue, showing just the beginning signs of morning. I fall back against my pillows, squeezing my eyes as though doing so can cleanse the memory out of me.

Six. That makes six nights in a row with the same dream. Certainly not the first time I’ve ever had it, but the first time in a few years. And definitely the first time I’ve had it this consistently.

It wouldn’t take a shrink for me to figure out it’s because of that scare with Gwen. It had been so long that I’d felt like that. Covering someone’s body with mine, knowing that I’m the only one who stands between them and harm’s way. Then the complete embarrassment after understanding that an older woman with a loose grip on her champagne glass was the threat I was so worried about. But that was the troubling thing. Even after I knew it was nothing, I didn’t feel like I overreacted. I never took my eyes off her for the rest of the night. Even though Gwen has cooled it with some of her revealing clothing to keep my eyes at bay, they still never falter. And they wouldn’t, should she choose to go back to lounging in the apartment in silky pajamas that could almost be classified as lingerie. It wouldn’t matter. I’m not letting her out of my sight.

I was afraid of something happening to her. And that fear woke me up.

I had reviewed over two hundred of Russell Corp’s employees, familiarizing myself particularly with those working on the radio side of things. I remembered the names that Gwen had called perverts, Ralph and Murphy. Thankfully, they worked in entertainment. So beyond night’s like tonight—Wednesday dinners—she shouldn’t have to see them. As for the others, if anyone unsuspected should show up, I’d be able to realize it before they become a threat.

It’s 5:30 in the morning. Normally I would head off for a workout, but I can’t risk Gwen sneaking out if I go up to the gym. I still feel like I should give Tommy a call and try to get my head screwed on tight, but it's even earlier back in Texas right now. Knowing Tommy, he’d be rolling out of bed five minutes before he had to leave for work. And that wouldn’t be for a few hours. I settle for some core strengthening workouts in the living room, doing my best to be quiet while moving through a few sets of pushups and crunches. Forty-five minutes later, I’ve worked up a sweat that wasn’t induced by a bad night’s sleep. Walking back down the hall, I’m wiping a bead of it off my brow with the bottom of my shirt when something collides with my chest.

“Ow,” Gwen grumbles, voice still raspy from sleep. Instinctively, my arms shoot out to steady her, but I drop them quickly afterwards.

“I’m sorry,” my voice is raw. I try to clear my throat a couple times. “Uh, are you on your way to the shower?”

Gwen blinks, taking a step back, her eyes flickering to my chest. The hem of my shirt is still pulled up from a moment ago, fully exposing my torso. I clear my throat for the third time, pulling it down to cover me again. Now Gwen can seemingly look anywhere except for me. She settles on one of the picture frames to my left.

“No, you can go ahead. Thanks.” She turns sideways, moving past me. That wasn’t the type of response I was expecting. Maybe she would have been nicer if I had always caught her earlier in the morning.

When my hand is on the handle of the bathroom, I turn to see her still standing in the hall, her back towards me. She shifts her weight back and forth, as she often does when she’s contemplating something. I wait, and sure enough, she turns around.

“Mr. Miller—” she calls, pausing to lower her voice when she realizes I haven’t closed the door yet.

“Yes?” I fold my arms across my chest, leaning against the doorframe.

“Did you…Have you been sleeping okay?” Gwen just about cringes as she asks it. My spine goes rigid. Is this girl psychic or something?

“Fine. I slept fine.”

She doesn't buy it. Not one bit. But her response lacks her usual bite. “We can make other accommodations if you need something different.”

I can’t hide the confusion on my face. “Everything is fine, Miss Russell.”

She nods, and for a moment I think we’re done. But it’s Gwen, so of course we’re not. “I thought I heard something the night before last. And this early morning too–”

“Miss Russell,” I say, more firmly than I’ve ever addressed her. “Thank you. But I’m fine, ma’am.”

Her eyes spark, but it’s not anger this time. We’re too far from each other to tell. But the way she’s drawing in breath, short and heavy…

I pull away from the doorframe, backing into the bathroom once more. It’s too early for this.

“Just as you said,” she adds, tapping a fingernail against the hallway, “Thin walls.” And then she leaves to enter the kitchen, and my stomach nearly drops out of my ass.

Had I made noise in my sleep? God forbid, had I yelled? Cried? The thought of it has me clenching my jaw hard enough to hear a pop. And could this be a ploy for her somehow? She looked genuinely concerned. I’d seen her interact with enough people to know that her hostility was mainly reserved for me, and occasionally Daniel or William. With her friends and the rest of the staff she was…lovely. Thoughtful. Shockingly down-to-earth for someone of her status. We may be on better terms than how we started, but that wasn’t saying much. I’m too suspicious to think that we have some sort of fresh start.

Luckily, I had an entire day of waiting outside of Gwen’s office to worry about it.

- - -

They cart her around for meetings occasionally, and I act simply as her shadow. We might catch each other’s eye throughout the day, but it’s brief. Just passing by, as if confirming the other is still there. I am grateful that it’s a passing glance over a glare at this point.

We don’t speak until we’re back in the car at seven o’clock, when she remembers, with a curse under her breath, that we’re on our way to her father’s house.

“Do you know the guest list?” It takes me a moment to realize she’s asking me.

“It’s the same as the week before.”

“Wonderful,” she drones, sinking low in her seat. I can’t help but watch her, even if all I can see is part of her legs in my periphery. My worries about what she did or didn’t hear transform into something else. I picture William’s unapologetic smirk when his daughter complained about the men he had allowed in their home, and I grip my leg through my jeans tight enough to cause pain. He hired someone to protect her yet he holds the door open for people who make her uncomfortable. I doubt she asks about the list purely out of curiosity.

As usual, Gwen doesn’t look distressed walking in. Her shiny hair mimics her silk shirt, swaying as she strides through the doors. Just like the last two times, Ezra looks at her like she is the messiah. Which to him, maybe she is.

“Miss Russell! Welcome. Mr. Miller, good to see you again.”

“Just Joel, please. Good to see you, too.” That’s the third time Ezra ignored my first-name-basis request, and I don’t think it’ll be the last.

I help Gwen out of her jacket, and to my surprise, she snatches it from me before I can put it on the hanger, and she does it herself.

“Ezra, can you be sure Mr. Miller gets a plate in the kitchen?”

Okay, now I’m even more surprised.

“Absolutely,” he gives me a glowing smile.

I position myself to be slightly in front of Gwen in the foyer, because right on cue…

“Gwenny! How was work?” Daniel has to peer around me to find her, but as he does, I move to her side, creating a barrier between her and one of his forced hugs. A hug that always leads to him with a hand resting on her lower back.

“Well, work isn’t over if I’m here, is it?” Gwen barely needs me to stand between the two of them. Her words and pococurante attitude build up a shield in no time.

He tries to remain quick-witted, shooting me a look. “Aw, is dinner coming between you and a little shopping?”

“If you can part with your hand for a few hours, I can part with my Amex all the same.”

I cough into my fist, hiding a laugh. I can feel Gwen’s curious eyes watching me, as well as the rage rolling off of Daniel’s tense shoulders.

“On second thought, Ezra,” she says, tossing a smile in his direction, “I’ll show Mr. Miller to the kitchen myself,” Gwen wraps her hand around the crook of my elbow, pulling us away from a dumbfounded Daniel. He doesn’t have anything to say as we leave him in the foyer.

We walk in silence down the long hallway to the bustling kitchen, and Gwen doesn’t let go of my arm until she escorts me to a barstool next to one of the two islands.

“Melissa is the head chef. She should be around here somewhere, but regardless, they’ll have an extra plate for you.” She pats her hand against the marble, like she wants to say something else. I’m just close to laughing again over the fact that this was an option the past few weeks. I would have happily eaten here instead of making a sandwich once we got home.

“Thank you,” I say instead.

“Don’t mention it,” she slides her hand across the back of the barstool now, hesitating. “Thanks for getting in Daniel’s way. He can be…”

“A jackass?” I shouldn’t have said it out loud. Especially not in the kitchen with half a dozen staff working nearby.

But her face brightens, making a smile tug at the corner of my mouth.

“A jackass on a good day.”

“Don’t mention it,” I repeat her words, smirking despite myself. “And you seem to handle him just fine.”

“Yeah, well, he’ll go tattle and I’ll pay for it later I’m sure,” she stares off through the doorway, down the hall for a minute before her features snap back into place, prepping for whatever awaits her in the dining room. “Enjoy your meal.”

“You too,” I say, knowing that enjoyment is way too big an expectation.

She huffs a soft laugh before leaving me behind. I catch myself taking a step after her, wishing I could go, too. I want to know where she’s going to sit, or rather, whom she’ll have to sit next to. I also want to know what they’re going to say to her, and I’d pay to hear what she’ll say back.

The clink of a plate pulls my attention back to the island, where a middle-aged woman is smiling at me.

“Mr. Miller?” she asks.

“Hey. Just Joel, please.” I extend my hand to her.

“Melissa, nice to meet you. I’m about to plate their starters but I wanted to introduce myself real quick. If you need anything else, let me know.” She gives me another smile, which I return, before she ventures off to another part of the kitchen. What I realize now is that there are two kitchens. I had memorized the blueprint layout in terms of exit points, but I didn’t recognize before that I was in the back kitchen, used for prep. The large doorway to my right led into the kitchen that would usually be used by the family, except I would bet a week’s salary that William had never stepped foot in there in his life. Judging by what I’d seen Gwen make for herself, and what I’d seen her personal shopper leave for her, I’m guessing she was rarely in there herself.

I’m thankful that the staff around me is busy, because I eat this meal like I’ve been stranded. It rivaled the one that I had at La Grenouille, and I was scarfing it down like crazy. I think it’s lamb maybe? It’s damn good, whatever it is.

The issue with finishing my meal so quickly is that I know I have some serious time to kill. Last time I was here I did a sweep of the basement, which was mainly storage and laundry. I may have spent some additional time down there doing more research on Murphy and Ralph. It was frustrating, even with Angus’ connections, how little we could find. Angus was able to look a little deeper than an average web search, and he found a few blind items from HR, and some whispers about Gwen calling them out several weeks ago at a charity event. Beyond that, there was nothing.

I take my time moving through the first floor of the house, ending up in the study for the second time. I peruse through their bookshelves, noting several first editions being displayed as if they were nothing more than cookbooks from the thrift store. After a few minutes, I find myself next to that locked door once again. Gwen had said that it was nearly impossible to get it open, yet I still try the handle. Maybe this wasn’t strange to people like William, to lock doors in your own home. There were, afterall, many staff members and a constant revolving door of guests. He could have valuables inside. But my suspicion grows when I think about the books I just saw sitting out in the open library. There could be valuables in a sentimental sense…but he doesn’t seem like the type.

I jiggle the handle again, noting that it requires both a passcode and a key to open. Part of me thinks that the reason for my suspicion is simply to pass time. Part of me thinks it’s odd to hide away your private office when everything around me looks expensive enough to pawn, and any electronics he had in there would likely be highly password protected. So, what’s the point?

I tap my finger on the passcode block, prompting it to illuminate. I think of possible combinations like his birth year or Gwen’s. My hand falters, unsure if I should simply ask to view the room as a safety precaution. But I don’t have an excuse here beyond curiosity and that weird, nagging feeling in my stomach. I start to type in William’s birth year and press the green checkmark before I can second-guess myself. The light around the block turns bright red, and three quick warning buzzes sound off, prompting me to yank my hand—

“Uh, Mr. Miller,” I’m startled, cursing myself for not remembering that I didn’t hear Gwen approach last time either. Ezra meets my surprised expression with one of equal apprehension.

“I’m sorry but no one is allowed in that room.”

“I was just curious…” I had no other excuse, I guess.

“I’m not allowed, um, I’m not supposed to let anyone in here alone, either.”

Interesting.

“No worries, Ezra.” I follow him out into the hall, and he promptly closes the door behind me. His unease makes me wonder how he faces William every day. He’s organized, attentive, clearly good at his job. But I would think that a boss like that could make things difficult.

“I’m just trying to pass the time,” I offer, hoping he can relax a little. “I like exploring when I can. It makes the job easier.”

“I understand. Have you been upstairs?”

“Yes, briefly to confirm the layout a few weeks ago.”

“Well, if you’re still trying to pass the time, you’re welcome to check out the swimming pool on this floor or any of the guest spaces upstairs. There’s a theater as well.”

I had known this, of course, from the blueprints. But hearing him say there is a swimming pool in a New York City townhouse so casually still makes me want to choke.

“Thank you, Ezra. I’ll do a lap.”

“Lovely. I’ll be in the foyer or the kitchen if you need anything.” He scurries off before I can reply, and I decide to take the back stairwell.

The second floor is just as ornate and regal as the first, if slightly more intimate. I take my time now where I hadn’t before. Looking at the paintings and photographs on the walls, stopping into the first two guest rooms to see how the decor differs from the rest of the house. The closer I get to the main staircase, the more personal the photos become. I recognize Isla now, smiling broadly at the camera while she guides a horse with a curly haired blonde girl on top. It must be Gwen. She’s smiling not at the camera, but at her mom. In the photo next to it, a younger version of William stands behind a preteen Gwen. Both of them are next to a burly man standing behind a young, brunette boy. From my research, I’m assuming it’s Daniel and his father, Edward. Arthur’s packet of information told me they had been partners for quite some time. Maybe that explains Daniel’s general asshole-ry. He doesn’t feel that he is as replaceable as the others.

I turn down one of the alcoves in the hallway to find two rooms opposite each other. From the floorplan, the one on the left is a bedroom, and the one on the right is an office. I open the bedroom door first, but I don’t dare cross the threshold when I realize that it’s Gwen’s. If I wouldn’t have known from the rack of clothes and mixture of modern and antique decor, I would know by the smell. Vanilla with a hint of the outdoors. The type of freshness that can sometimes be lost in the city. Also the type of freshness that can bring on the occasional bout of homesickness. It’s the same that I smell when she passes by me in the morning, or we stand next to each other in the elevator. I take one more deep inhale before turning to the door adjacent to it.

The office. An office that has no desk, no computer, no file cabinets. In its place is the most expensive grand piano I’ve ever seen. I’m drawn into the room just by the sight of it. On the wall behind the piano are more photos of Isla, but from her childhood. There’s an obvious difference in these pictures. Isla mostly on farmland in overalls, one picture from a piano recital, and another of her behind the counter of a diner. None of them posed, just curated by a natural progression of life instead of an aesthetic.

When I turn to look at the other wall, I notice the only chair in the room besides the piano bench. The chair is seated next to a lone guitar, propped up on a stand. My chest tightens. I glance quickly at the doorway, and listen. Nothing. I close the door somewhat, leaving it open only a crack, and take a seat next to the guitar.

After returning to the states, playing was the first thing I wanted to do. It was something I only ever wanted to do alone, and I rarely had alone time at the embassy. Much less a guitar. I hadn’t had nearly enough time at home to actually play, and damn, I miss it.

I handle it with care, assuming it probably costs more than my house. It needed some serious tuning, but after a few minutes, she sounds good as new. I strum quietly, mindlessly, long enough to close my eyes. Letting the soft sounds soothe me as they always had. I know that I could afford one now and leave it in the apartment, but it wouldn’t feel right. I felt the need to be strong around Gwen, hoping it would ground her in a sense. I don’t see anything grounding and tough about a security officer who plays music before bed.

Before I know it, I hum along with the forging melody. With my eyes closed, I can picture being at home, in the fresh air, the birds chirping in the distance. I can drown out the sound of footsteps.

Shit. The sound of footsteps.

I hastily place the guitar back on its stand, striding across the room to look once more at the photos. Honestly, I’m not sure if that’s any better.

The door creaks open behind me, and I turn to see Gwen.

I half-expected it to be Ezra, come to tell me that this area was also off-limits. I’m a little surprised that she would come up here at all. She never seems to want to visit, so I didn’t think she’d do much exploring on her own.

“Why’d you stop?” she asks, and my heart drops.

“Stop what?”

As if playing dumb will work. Great call, Miller.

Gwen arches a brow. “I haven’t heard music coming from this room in over a decade. Either I’m crazy, or I heard you playing something.”

“I was just looking at the pictures…” I gesture vaguely to the different photographs along the wall.

She just stares at me as I cross and uncross my arms, twice.

“Okay, yes. I apologize, I didn’t mean to overstep—”

“It’s fine,” Gwen’s face relaxes, speaking in a tone so gentle I didn’t know she was capable of. “You’re not overstepping. It’s…nice to hear something come out of here for once.”

Oh. Not what I expected from her at all.

“Did she play?” I incline my head toward one of her mom’s pictures, before that pit in my stomach returns. A pit that wonders why I’m asking, why I’m pushing the boundaries.

Gwen’s features look only somewhat shocked that I asked. Or maybe…excited? “She played piano. Beautifully. But guitar?” She lets out a small giggle that practically demands a laugh out of me even though I’m not a part of the joke, “She was absolutely horrible. She kept that one out of nostalgia. It was her dad’s. They used to play together.”

“Her dad’s? I shouldn’t have touched it. It’s an heirloom…”

Gwen’s eyes grow sad, glancing at that corner of the room. “Maybe. But it’s collecting dust.”

She continues to look at that empty chair in a way that is almost disappointed. In this light, surrounded by memories of her loved ones, her entire appearance seems more vulnerable. Maybe it’s that vulnerability that propels me forward, asking more questions I shouldn’t.

“Was she just as strong-willed as you?” My voice is almost a whisper.

At first, Gwen glances at me with genuine surprise, and possibly a little appreciation. Then, she looks towards the piano. A nostalgic smile spreads across her face, lighting up her eyes in a way I’ve never seen. “Not at all, actually. She was soft-spoken. Kind. She made everyone else soft around her, too,” Her gaze is relaxed, focused on something far off and intangible, “People always think the most powerful person in the room is the one who speaks the loudest or the harshest but…she was so inspiring. The way the entire room would quiet to hear her ideas, her jokes, her opinions…there was nothing more powerful than that.” Her voice cracks slightly, and for the second time tonight I feel the need to step closer to her. Only this time, I restrain it.

Something seems to pull her back into the present moment, and she looks at me again. “Sorry. It’s been a while since anyone has asked about her. I tend to…ramble.”

“I asked. Don’t be sorry. ” I want to kick myself for just reiterating what she said. Especially when I want to tell her that I’d like her to ramble more often, whenever she feels like it.

“How did you know she was gone?” It wasn’t accusatory, just curiosity.

“It’s my job to know your inner circle. To make sure I know the people you surround yourself with. Arthur provided me with the basics, and when those included your father and not your mother, I did some digging…” I drag a hand down my face, “It doesn’t feel right to say that after you know someone has passed.”

“Feels like you're a grave digger?” Humor sparks her eyes now, and I feel a bit of relief that the sadness has dissipated.

“A bit, yeah.”

She lets out a short laugh. “If anyone is being a bit of a grave digger, it’s not you.”

Gwen’s eyes widen a little, holding each other’s gaze for a minute as her smile drops. But she speaks before I can ask her what she meant.

“Well,” she clears her throat, “Dinner is over. In the spirit of…sharing, I suppose, I want to let you know in advance that we’ll be attending a wedding next weekend.”

“Oh,” Wouldn’t she have known about that sooner? “That seems last minute. Uh, thank you for telling me.”

“It is last minute. I wasn’t invited before, but my father is on a ‘smoothing it over’ streak, and thanks to these dinner parties, I have to go.”

“I see. Who’s wedding is it?”

“Murphy Schuyler. He’s marrying Annabelle…something. They’ve been dating for a long time.”

“Murphy Schuyler as in the man downstairs? The pervert?”

Again, she looks surprised. “You remember that? Yes, the pervert. One in the same.”

I didn’t know what he had done, and not that Gwen lacked hyperbole, but I remember her briefly hopeful face several weeks ago when I told her I could keep them away if she asked. That was all the confirmation I needed. And now her father is forcing her to attend his wedding?

“Of course I remember. I didn’t think you’d be expected to go.”

“Yeah, well, me neither. Annabelle certainly isn’t happy about it,” she picks at her nails, “Anyway, I thought you should know. You’ll have to pack a bag, it’s up in Vermont. We leave next Friday and the rehearsal dinner is that night. We’ll return on Sunday.”

“Copy that.”

She gives me a quick nod, pausing as she turns to leave, “Also, you’ll need to get a tux.”

“How do you know I don’t have one?”

The allure of a challenge pulls at the corner of her mouth as her eyes scan me up and down. Heat prickles my skin at the inspection.

“Your daily wardrobe would lead me to believe you’re lacking in formal attire,” she turns, whipping her hair behind her, “You’re welcome to try and prove me wrong.”

She was right. As usual.

I catch myself smiling at the doorway she’d just been inhabiting, before I essentially smack myself in the face to wipe it off. But maybe that’s not a bad thing. It would be okay to enjoy my work a little, right? To engage with my client?

Engaging in what way? I wouldn’t explore that now. Nor would I be exploring the instinctual desire that swirls in my stomach.

That can wait. Indefinitely.

Next Chapter

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Masterlist

#joel miller #joel tlou #tlou au #tlou fanfiction #tlou #joel miller x original character #joel miller x reader #the last of us #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller au #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #hbo the last of us #the last of us hbo #other duties as assigned

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missjoolee · 1 year

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Ray has always been a bit scatterbrained. It was honestly one of the traits that endeared his sweet Rose to him when they were dating, and teasing him as he searched for an item he just had was one of her favorite past times during their marriage. But after she died, it got worse. All thanks to the insomnia. As if suddenly being a single parent wasn’t difficult enough, suddenly he was misplacing his keys, resulting in being consistently late to things. He would forget to go grocery shopping and they ordered pizza way too often. He constantly had Victoria and other well meaning people asking if everything was okay? Did he need help?

He just needed some sleep. But each night he would lay down, toss and turn, doze for an hour or two and then be wide awake for hours. The only upside was he was awake when Carlos or Julie needed him, overwhelmed by their grief in the dark of night during those first months.

As time passed, as they healed together, things got easier. He learned to buy tomato sauce and spaghetti in bulk for the times he forgot to go grocery shopping, and he’d finally given in to Victoria’s offers of help with meals as well. He still misplaced things more often than before, but his kids, his beautiful kids, helped him out wearing the same teasing smirks his Rose used to give him. And slowly, he was sleeping longer, deeper, than he had in months.

It’s when Julie gets kicked out of the music program that he starts having sleepless nights again. It’s been difficult watching her struggle with music all this time, but he didn’t realize how much he was struggling watching it, not knowing how to help her, until the school made their decision.

It’s different from before. For starters, it’s not every night, it wasn’t even that first night after Julie had started cleaning out the garage. And even when he heard her play the next morning, and he felt more peace and relief than he had in forever, he still would find himself unable to fall asleep some nights. Victoria notices the bags under his eyes and he can tell she’s worried that he’s backsliding in his progress, so he is quick to assure her it’s not the same this time. It feels like when he was there for his kids, even though he’s alone. He will toss and turn until finally giving up and walking down into the kitchen or into the den to his home computer. He talks to Rose sometimes, other times just musing his thoughts aloud. And the strange thing is eventually, almost like a physical feeling, he knows he can go back to his bed and will sleep through the rest of the night.

It’s one such night as he has given in to make a middle of the night grilled cheese, narrating what he has learned the past year to do and not do to get the perfect sandwich, that he hears the gentle thumps of Julie’s footsteps coming down the stairs. He can tell because Carlos practically does a control fall down the stairs he moves so fast, while Julie usually isn’t in any rush.

“Everything okay, Julie?” he asks before she’s even rounded the banister. He slides the spatula under the grilled cheese and lifts it over to the plate he has waiting.

“Yeah. Just getting a glass of wa-” she cuts off as she rounds the corner, staring at the counter opposite the stove. Her gaze lingers for a long moment, before moving to the sandwich he was now cutting in half into triangles. “-ter. Everything okay here?”

“Yeah. Just felt like a late night snack. Want half?” he offers.

She smiles but shakes her head, gaze drifting back to the counter across from him, before she makes her way over to the sink to fill a glass with water. “No thanks. Just water for me tonight.”

Ray shrugs, taking a bite. He leans against the counter and watches his daughter, his heart swelling at the huge steps she’s taken these past weeks. As she turns back, he reaches out to intercept her, pulling her to his side with one arm. He places a kiss on the top of her head. “I am so proud of you, Mija.”

Her arm squeezes him back, not letting go as she drinks her water and he eats his sandwich, both looking forward across the stove and counter both lost in their own thoughts. Suddenly a giant smiles grows on her face and she looks up at him. “You’re a good dad. I’m lucky you’re mine.”

“I’m the lucky one to have such great kids. Where did that come from?” She steps out from his side and grabs the second half of his sandwich.

“It’s late, Papi. You should go to sleep.”

He opens his mouth to argue, but then that feeling overtakes him. The one that says he’ll be able to fall asleep. “I think you mean we should go to sleep. It’s a school night.”

She laughs at him as she bites into the sandwich and heads for the stairs.

#i had Ray thoughts #jatp #ray molina #julie and the phantoms #in case you were wondering #each time ray couldn't sleep after the guys fell out of the dark room #it was because #one of the guys was dealing with a new aspect of grief for their deaths and having Ray in the room with them helped #they didn't like summon him #but dad instincts #and the guys were telling julie how he his talking helped them #and he taught them how to make a killer grilled cheese #joolee attempts writing

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wrenreid · 2 years

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Off Limits

contents: angst, grieving, alcohol consumption

Part Twenty

I finally feel a little more normal after the night of wallowing in my sorrows. My emotions are still wonky and yesterday is still on my mind, but at least I feel better.

Spencer texted me when he got up this morning, but I haven’t responded. I’m not entirely in the mood to talk to anyone yet.

Even after (mostly) sleeping through the night, I can’t shake the feeling that he’s holding back because of me. That I’m the problem. That’s how it’s always been, hasn’t it? Guys didn’t want to date me because I’m a virgin. Or if they did it wasn’t because of my personality or who I am; it was because I’m a task, something to do then check off a list. Maybe Spencer thinks I’m not even good enough for the list.

I run a hand through my dark hair, sighing softly. I’m overthinking. I’m always overthinking. I can’t just assume something based off of one or two incidents. Maybe he just truly wants to take things slow because he’s not like the guys I’ve known before. I can’t let my own insecurities and self deprecating mind get in the way of something that could actually be good. I need the optimism I had right as we decided to do whatever this relationship is back.

On my way downstairs, I shoot Spencer a good morning response. Dad is currently tightening his tie and grabbing his brief case, which means he has to go into work. They both do.

There shouldn’t be a case today, but they’ll both be busy for the majority of the day, and Jack is currently having a play date with one of his friends until after noon. Time alone.

I decide to spend my time alone binge watching an old favorite tv show from my high school years and finishing up this week’s assignments. It’s Friday, and I only have two classes today. I get my work done pretty fast then start actually paying attention to the tv screen.

CeCe calls me when I’m a solid six episodes into the show. I press pause and pick up the phone, putting her on speaker. We talk for a bit, but I decide against telling her about what happened with me and Spencer.

It’s not that I don’t want to tell her, but I don’t think this is something she needs to know. Or maybe it’s something I don’t want anyone to know. How to I put into words that my whatever he is doesn’t want to sleep with me?

A very tired Jack is dropped off around 1pm. He looks exhausted. The kid really knows how to play until he drops.

I tuck him in for a nap then head back downstairs to grab a snack and continue binge watching. The rest of the weekend consists of family time, binge watching tv, and lazily laying around the apartment.

I miss college life. I miss parties and friends. I’m glad to be home with my family, but I miss the freedom. The life I had when I was in New York. When my mom was still alive.

“How’s your weekend been?” Spencer asks when I go over to his house Sunday evening. He’s probably leaving for a case tomorrow morning, so he wanted to see me before he left.

We haven’t texted much since Thursday night when he rejected me. God, I sound pathetic, but it’s still on my mind.

“It’s been alright. Very lazy,” I answer, only half mentally here. My mind isn’t quite in his apartment. It’s not quite anywhere.

“Are you okay?” His hand touches my knee gently as his soft words reach my ears. I almost flinch, just thinking about how it’s weird to be touched by him when he quite clearly isn’t interested in that.

I nod, half assed. “Yeah.”

“Jade.”

I’m finally snapped out of my distant, mopey daze when his hand reaches under my chin and forces me to look at him. My brown eyes meet his.

“I’m sorry,” I say with a soft sigh. “Things have just been weird.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Spencer asks, his eyes softening and his hand releasing my face.

I shake my head. Then nod. Then shrug. “It’s just… it’s been weird at home. And being at home. I’m craving for things to be the same, but they never will be again. A part of me still thinks that my mom’s death was just some fucked up dream. That I’ll see her again and she’ll tell me none of it was real. That it was just a nightmare.”

Spencer’s eyes flick down to the floor. I know he hates situations like this. Sad. Awkward. He doesn’t know what to say. I hate putting people in this situation. There isn’t a right thing to say. Nothing is going to repair the hole in my chest. Nothing is going to bring my mom back.

“I’m so sorry, Jade,” he says, his words soft and breathy.

I hate apologies. They just make me feel pitied.

“Don’t be,” I say, attempting to swallow down the lump in my throat.

He nods in understanding. “What can I do to make you feel better in this moment?”

“Be normal,” I say then laugh softly, realizing how it sounded. “I mean, just give me a normal night.”

“So no sacrificial rituals? Well, that defeats my plans,” Spencer jokes.

I shake my head but let out another soft laugh. He may be a dork, but I like it.

Spencer pulls me into him for a quick kiss. I smile up at him faintly.

What I really need right now is a distraction. A distraction from all of the shit weighing me down right now. I need him. Him to touch me. To tell me I’m pretty and make me feel good.

But I can’t ask. Not when he said what he said. He doesn’t want to have sex with me. For whatever reasons he’s holding back, I have to respect his wishes. I owe him that. And perhaps using him as a distraction isn’t a good idea anyway. I’m not sure how good it would make me feel after the matter.

My head finds its place on his shoulder as he turns on the tv. We watch whatever comes on, neither of us wanting to give our attention to a movie that we’d actually have to follow along with.

Spencer orders takeout, and we eat on his couch, talking about whatever in between bites. We don’t touch. Not in the way we have been. It’s not a bad thing really, but it just feels weird.

The next couple weeks go on per-usual. I do school work, miss my best friend, distract myself with any form of media that will clog my brain, and wait for Spencer to get home from cases or work so I can see him.

“I’m beginning to think you’re hiding something from me,” my dad says from his place on the couch. He’s reading. Something he hasn’t done too often in a long time.

I turn around to face him with a laugh. “Why?”

He shrugs, playfully, but not quite joking. “You’ve been leaving a lot. Do you have a secret family I don’t know about?”

“Ha. Ha,” I roll my eyes at his lazy attempt at a joke. “I’m just meeting up with some friends. Since CeCe’s in New York, and I’m not anymore, I’ve had to reconnect with old friends. You should be glad I’m not wallowing around the house.”

I didn’t mean it as a jab at him, but he takes it as one. He has every reason to wallow, even if he tries his best to hide it.

My dad nods, shooting me a faint smile. “Have fun. Be safe.”

I grab my bag and give him a thumbs up. “Will do.”

I hate lying to him. Especially since everything that’s happened. I was never a sneaky kid. I hardly ever disobeyed my parents.

But being honest with my father would cause a lot of drama none of us can handle right now. So he’s not in the know. And I’ll just have to get used to the knots in my stomach that form with every lie.

After walking into Spencer’s apartment, I plop down on his couch, laying my head in his lap.

“Hello to you too,” he laughs softly, looking down at me.

Things have finally gone back to normal between us. Or at least I think they have. We haven’t talked about what happened two weeks ago, and I’m very glad about that. I don’t want the awkwardness again. I like what we have right now.

We don’t take things too far. When we kiss or touch, we stay at a comfortable region for us both. We don’t try to venture out into the grey area.

“Hi,” I grin up at him.

His hands play with my hair absentmindedly, twirling some strands around his fingers. “How was your week?”

“Not too bad. It’s getting closer and closer to graduation. I’m almost officially not an undergrad student anymore.”

“They grow up so fast,” Spencer says playfully.

“Spencer?”

“Yeah?” He asks, looking down into my eyes.

“Do you feel weird lying about this? About us?”

Spencer’s lips press together for a brief moment. “I haven’t really had to lie.”

“Right,” I nod, sitting up. I situate myself to where I’m facing him, my legs crossed in a pretzel.

“Do you?”

“Kind of,” I admit. “I mean, I know I’m an adult and I don’t owe my dad any explanations, but he’s still my dad. He worries, and I think he’s catching on that I’m doing something.”

Even though technically we aren’t doing anything. Not that at least.

Spencer nods, his eyebrows pinching together. “Do you think he knows about us?”

I shake my head. “No. I don’t even think that would cross his mind. I just… I don’t know. I want things to be normal. My life has been too unnormal.”

“That’s not a word,” he says with a slight smile.

“Not the point,” I glare.

“Sorry. What would be normal for us to do?” Spencer asks, his head tilting as he looks at me.

I run a hand though my hair with a sigh. I think for a moment. I know what I need right now. “We could go to a totally normal college party?”

I look at him hopefully, but he’s already scowling. “I don’t know about that one, J.”

“C’mon, Spence. I’m 21. A party is the most normal thing I could do right now,” I tell him.

He sighs. He’s been defeated, and he knows it. “Fine. We can go to a party. And we can drink and dance, and whatever else you want to do.”

“Really?” My eyes light up.

“Mhm,” Spencer nods. “Under one condition.”

“Anything.”

“We’re not playing darts.”

A laugh takes ahold of me for a second. “Awh did I bruise your ego last time?”

“Lil bit,” he says with a grin, pinching his pointer finger and thumb together.

I roll my eyes and lean into him for a quick kiss. When I pull away, he’s still smiling. It makes me weak in a way I can’t explain.

“I’m sure you already know someone who’s throwing a party,” he says.

“It’s Saturday night. Of course I do.”

I hop up to my feet and slip my high tops back on. My outfit is already party acceptable: ripped baggy jeans, a cute top, and converse.

Spencer’s wearing too casual clothes (which I never expected to see him in in a million years), so I drag him into his room by his wrist.

I have him sit at the edge of the bed while I find clothes for him to wear.

“I’m not a Ken doll, Jade,” he says but I turn around and press my finger to his lips.

“Shh. You are one tonight.”

“That’s such a weird thing to say,” Spencer laughs softly.

I flash him a grin before finding a cream-colored sweater and dark jeans for him to wear. Usually, he’s in dress pants, but these jeans are almost black, so they’re still nice. Not too out of his comfort zone.

I turn around so he can change, not wanting to invade his privacy since we haven’t gotten to that part of our relationship yet.

When I turn to face him again, he’s pulling down the sweater. “Not too shabby, Dr. Reid. You look hot.”

A blush creeps up onto his cheeks. “Thank you. Can we go before I change my mind and beg you to let us stay?”

We head down to the parking lot, and I find the address for one of my friend’s friend’s parties. Instead of taking his car, we get an uber. I know he doesn’t plan to get wasted or anything, but he doesn’t want to drive even after just one or two drinks.

Spencer grabs my hand as we walk up to the front door. The host greets us and asks who I am. I tell him I’m friend with Preston, and that triggers his memory of me. It comes in handy knowing people.

Jade leads me into the house, and we immediately head for the kitchen to grab a drink. I need it if I’m going to be out with all of these strangers for most of the night.

“Try to have fun, okay?” She asks, shooting me a look.

I must’ve had the words “I already want to leave” written across my forehead. I hold up my hands in defense. “Yes ma’am.”

For the duration of the night, I feel like I’m her lap dog that’s following her around everywhere she goes. My entire college years, I didn’t go to parties, but now I’ve gone to two with Jade. I’m not good at them. I’m way too aware of my surroundings and how many people are sharing cups of beer, and with them so many germs.

She seems like she’s having fun, though, and I owe her that. I can’t even begin to imagine how things have been for her these past few months. Jade deserves something normal, and if this is her definition of normal, I’m glad to tag along.

Eventually, I find myself feeling slightly less awkward and out of place. The few drinks I’ve had are fueling me, and Jade notices me lighten up. She seems pleased.

“Having fun?” She asks, pulling me closer so we can hear each other better.

“I’m trying,” I say honestly, holding her hips.

Jade nods, laughing softly. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” I smile faintly, leaning my forehead onto hers.

We’re dancing right now, and I’m doing my best to ignore all the sounds and chaos around us. It’s just the two of us in my head.

I let her guide our movements in whatever way she wants. My heart is pounding from the dancing, alcohol, and loud music. I’m a little dizzy, but I don’t want to stop holding her. Being this close is the part I actually enjoy about these parties.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” She laughs, practically yelling at me involuntarily.

“Because you’re beautiful,” I say honestly.

Jade blushes, her lips forming into a soft smile. “Shut up.”

Instead of arguing with her, I kiss her. She tastes like fruity alcohol and vodka shots. She’s had a lot more to drink than I have, but she’s not throwing up drunk, so that’s good. My hands hold her hips protectively, keeping her against me.

Her fingers play with the hair on the nape of my neck, causing a soft sound of delight to release from my mouth and into hers. I don’t know if it’s the alcohol or her irresistibility, but I’m craving her right now. I want to touch her in ways I haven’t yet. In ways I’ve been refraining from doing for what feels like ages.

We kiss for a while, it’s sloppy and heated, but I don’t mind one bit. I love it.

Her lips draw away from mine, and a wine releases from my mouth. I look down at her. She looks just as hungry for me as I am for her. If that’s even possible.

Jade takes my hand. She’s headed for the stairs, pushing past the crowd of people. It takes my brain a moment to register what’s happening.

I stop in my tracks, shaking my head.

“Come on, Spence. Let’s go upstairs,” I whisper-yell, taking his hand and stumbling while I try to pull him up with me.

His entire demeanor has changed.

“Jade, you’re drunk,” he says, tugging on my arm, causing me to face him. I almost fall, so I steady myself with my hands on his shoulders.

“So are you.”

“One of us is clearly more sober. Let’s get you home,” Spencer suggests.

“No, my dad’s home. We should do it here.”

“We’re not…” His frustrated voice trails off.

I can feel the tears swelling in my eyes, and it burns. “Why won’t you fuck me?” The words spill out of me before I have time to think.

“Jade.”

The way he’s says my name… god, I need him to stop. He sounds sympathetic. Like I’m some charity case for him.

“I don’t understand what I’ve done, Spencer,” I tell him, my heart slamming against my chest.

“You haven’t done anything,” he says gently.

“Then what is it? What’s wrong with me?”

“Jade,” Spencer sighs. “Let’s just leave.”

“You leave,” I demand.

“What?” He blinks, looking down at me worriedly.

“I’m staying. If you want to leave, then go.”

His hand meets my elbow, gently trying to get me to leave with him. But I’m not so easily convinced.

“Just get away from me,” I yell, not meaning to be so harsh. I let out a breath. “Just go.”

The pained look on Spencer’s face makes it easier for the tears to spill from my eyes. He nods, then turns around and starts walking away from me.

I wipe my cheek free of tears and occupy myself with something other than watching him leave.

tags: @pauline5525mgg @theintimatewriter @lilibet261 @greysviolets @jazzymariexoxoc @one-sweet-gubler @thatsonezesty13 @necromaniackat @awhoreforspencerreid @sebs-oxygen @scarredelirium @bts-sugaplum @awesomeness1679 @preciousbabypeter @yazzyu @cynbx @r3idsp3ncer @1010lizz @tiredbut-here @skulzombiw @lena-1895 @eevee0722 @shakespear-picaso-lovechild @daydreamingqueen1 @regulus-black-223048 @virginmusicloverr36 @jazzerbelle14 @kylakins88 @f-me-reid <3

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josad-irl · 2 years

Text

My burden and well maybe first and last post

welp, worth a try

Hi, I'm "J", 23 yo.

Guess this might be worth a try since I'm running out of options.

Background info: I have heavy depression, and got diagnosed with multiple personality disorder with a strong tendency towards BPD (Borderline). I never had consistent suicidal thoughts. They came impulsive during high trigger situations a few times.

Just half a year ago I had the best time of my life. I was clean from my 1 1/2 year long addiction to drugs. I had the best gf I could have ever wished for. I had fun at Uni. I had good friends. I was happy. Or so I thought. My BPD kept making the relationship go into a crisis. My gf had ADHD and quiet-borderline was to be diagnosed. But I never found out til this day if she actually has it. Well, now I don't have a gf, lost most of my friends, my heavy depression is back and either my emotions aren't available for weeks or they come back like a train hitting me straight on and make me cry and brake down into panic attacks multiple times daily. I can't sleep. I don't feel happiness. I cannot enjoy a single thing. I either eat too much at once or not at all. After the break up I got sent into a prison-like psychiatric clinic for 3 nights. It was the worst time of my life. I never before have truly felt the way I did back then. That is almost 3 months ago now. Afterwards got a place in a clinic for mental health which was rlly nice tbh. I had a nice room. Nice ppl. Got a nice therapist. After a few weeks therapy finally started to help and I felt emotionally more stable after my 2 months stay. Now I am "free" again. Two weeks have passed. I can't stop thinking about my ex and the friends who were in the same circle. They all keep in contact with her, but they never once came to visit me or texted me during my stay in the clinic. Not once. In two months. I had to text them. Now they all barely answer to my texts. I do still have some rlly good friends left. But somehow I can't get over the things I have lost. And I am still desperately in love with my ex partner. She was the best person I have ever met. But she has blocked me everywhere. My emotions were gone for the last 2 weeks of my stay in the clinic. They came back a week ago. Well rather they came back on my birthday. When the hope had rissen up that my ex would text me. But no, nothing. During my stay in the clinic we had an on/off thing. We met, we slept with each other. But suddenly she cut me off completely saying it over for ever. She realised we weren't good for each other and that was it. Well, my opinion was that we could heal through therapeutic help and try it again. But she never answer to that. That was the moment I went into shock and kinda lost all my emotions. As I said, these came back on my bday. Especially the last hour of it. I had a huge panic attack and a gigantic borderline trigger, where it felt like i was going insane. I tried to desperately contact her. But she blocked me off even in the last possible way I had to get into contact. She saw my calls, but she cut them off. That was it. My emotions finally got broken. Now i am sitting here and contemplating if its worth living, when my only two choices are being emotionally unavailable and basically just acting under a facade or to be emotionally broken and depressed to an extent where I am pretty close to taking my own life. I tried before but got stopped. I think this might be the time where I'll get it over with. Well. If neither a clinic, nor meds, nor my mum and not even my good friends can stop me from feeling and thinking this way...who can? Will this ever stop? I have been depressive for years. 4, maybe 5 years. My BPD is hindering my emotional stability. I don't know what to do. I think live is beautiful. And I know people can heal. I know time can heal. I know I should just cut contact and concentrate on the things I have. I learned so much in the clinic. I know others would take this opportunity to heal. Other ppl are strong. But I don't think I can. I am scared of myself. I am scared of rejection. I am scared of what anyone says. I am scared of what anyone thinks. I am scared of what I think. I am scared of what I can do. I am scared of what I could become. I am scared. I am broken. My trust is broken. My emotions are broken. And I have seen better days in these dark times. But they were always overshadowed. I give up. Maybe. Well....

"X", I love you. I hope you are able to heal. I hope you got the help you needed. I hope you will find the happiness that you deserve. You were the first person in my life that I could be myself around completely. The first person I ever truly loved. You helped me through heavy depression, addiction and pain. Now I hope you get the help you need and never have to feel the way I did or now do. I wish you all the best.

To anyone reading this: I hope your are having it better than me. I know this sounds weird for me to say, but... if your are going through somethings, ask for help. Someone will help. There is nothing more important than your mental health. I wish you all the best of luck in whatever challenges your are facing <3

If this isn't my last post, then something must have happened and well..I'll post an update then.

Maybe goodbye, maybe not.

#last hope #burden #depression #mental health #last words #idk anymore #idk why i'm making this #;#are these even necessary

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sukirichi · 4 years

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home from war | sukuna x reader

Home from War | sukuna x reader

featuring: sukuna x reader (historical au) with small moments of megumi x reader

warnings: very mild suggestive content, mentions of manslaughter and slight yandere tendencies + a toxic sukuna + angst + not proofread :D

part two!

How does one soothe their lover who’s come from war?

You ponder about this carefully, eyes dark as you let your gaze travel from the opening door. Sukuna comes in, bare chest littered with cuts caked in mud, blood, and dirt, and you see the way the grip around his katana falters just a little bit. The room is dark – it is late at night, after all, and you had stirred awake in your accidental slumber from waiting too long for him to return home – but you see him under the darkness clearly. Way too clearly.

Those markings on his face you so dearly love don’t even seem threatening. You seriously question your sanity at this point because he is the Ryomen Sukuna; King of Curses. It’s no secret that he does as he pleases, taking someone’s life as if it was second nature to him, claiming territories, wealth, and even people as if they were his own.

You should be scared, and in a way, you are.

But not in that way.

You’re scared because his shoulders slump, those once burning red eyes fluttering close as he drops to his knees on the floor. Without wasting another second, you leap off the bed, your arms wrapping around his figure. He reeks of death, and before you know it, you wash his exhaustion away by peppering his face with the pads of your lips.

Sukuna hums, pulling you closer to him until there is no space between skin, his neck nuzzling in your face. “I’m home,” his lips brush the bare skin of your neck, his breath warm and ticklish. “I made it home to you, my love. Safely like you asked.”

Your heart clenches at his words. Immediately, you bite down your tongue and blink back the tears that threaten to fall. Safely? You want to snap back, your nails almost raking down his back. This is hardly considered “safely” when his knees wobble as you guide him inside the bath, nearly unable to keep his eyes open as you wipe away his cuts and the other remnants of war present on his body.

“I’m sorry,” his voice echoes in the confined walls. You don’t even realize the tears had fallen until his rough, calloused hands brush a tear away. He tilts your chin upwards to look him in the eye, lips trembling when those devilish eyes soften – reserved for you and only for you – and Sukuna sighs through his nose. “I wish I could stop the war, but — ”

“It’s not possible,” you finish for him, forcing a smile to help ease his worries. At this point, you’re conflicted between wanting to scold him to not leave the temple anymore and just stay with you, but you also know why Sukuna doesn’t do that.

It’s because he wants to keep you safe. As long as you were around, Sukuna would go the moon and back just to keep coming back home to you. Perhaps that was the most painful part – the fact that you knew he wouldn’t have done this if he hadn’t met you. Sukuna was the fearsome King of Curses, powerful and undefeated even after a thousand years, but he wasn’t omnipotent. Hundreds of jujutsu sorcerers have lost their lives trying to defeat them, and it took about a hundred more deaths before they backed off at the realization he couldn’t be defeated or exorcised.

Until you came.

You were Sukuna’s weakness, the chink in his armour, his Achilles heel.

The moment it was known that Sukuna kept a lover, they just kept coming. The war begun. Soon enough, your days of rolling around in bed with him, trapped under his arms and weekends spent in whines of each other’s names disappeared.

Sukuna has a temple to defend. A lover to protect. A woman to cherish. A soul to treasure.

It was all because of you, and you know better than anyone else that he was tired. But he’d never tell you that. He would still scoop you in his arms; pull you closer by the hip so he could lay his ears on your chest, eventually falling asleep with the sensation of your fingers massaging his scalp while you hum to soothe him. The sound of your heartbeat has Sukuna exhaling rhythmically minutes later.

The notorious King of Curses, bundled up in the arms of his lover, completely relaxes in the privacy of his shared bedroom with the woman he loves most. It was as if the war didn’t happen at all. He sleeps with a small smile on his face, sleepily mumbling your name and reaching up to kiss your smooth skin every now and then.

It was perfect. It was heaven.

But that wasn’t you.

Because you are not her; you are not even human. You listen to all this on the other side of the temple. If you were anyone else, someone like her, then Sukuna’s intimate moments with his lover would be private – something that would be kept and cherished only between the two of them. But you aren’t human.

You are a curse born from people’s heartbreak and grief. You don’t even remember how you came to life; your first memory hazy of nothing but endless pain and so much anger you lost yourself. Until he came.

Ryomen Sukuna; the King of Curses – he adored you.

Finally, he met his equal. A curse equally as powerful and blinded by darkness, hatred, and bloodlust – you were one of the rare curses whose presence he enjoyed, and it didn’t take long before he invited you to his temple and offered a seat next to him.

You are Ryomen Sukuna’s right hand warrior, his greatest partner when it comes to battle. If he was powerful before, people feared you both even more when you joined powers. He didn’t go to war without you. For days on end, you and Sukuna would traverse villages and slaughter kingdoms to fill the emptiness gaping in your hearts, but he changed when he met her.

That fragile, meak, little human that loved him and changed him.

Because of her, even you are forced to join this war against jujutsu sorcerers. It’s been a long war – consisting of ten days and waning red moons. You and Sukuna barely came out unscathed this time, the Gojo clan seems to have something else under their sleeves, and your yukata had been ripped open in pieces while blood washed over your body like water.

You and Sukuna came back tired, weak, almost defeated.

You lay your back flat against the wall, teeth attacking your bottom lip while you pour potions over your cuts. At the other side of the temple, Sukuna is already fast asleep, safe in the arms of his lover. And you? You couldn’t even let out a small noise of whimper. Sukuna’s heightened senses would pick up on it, mistake that it would be his precious little woman in his sleepy daze, and you don’t want him to be further agitated.

Besides, once he realizes that it was just you, he would only go back to sleep.

Because he knew you didn’t need him, not in that way. You were the Curse born from Heartbreak, possibly the only ever person who would know pain and suffering the same way he did, but that isn’t true. Sukuna wouldn’t understand that this is your suffering – to have him within grasp but out of reach, to know that he was always with you, that he loves you just the same, but not in the way you want him to, not in the way you need him to.

To him, you are his beloved friend and partner in crime.

You are not the one who soothes him when he comes from war. You are not the one that gets to feel his harsh tongue soften at the first contact of your lips, to have the privilege of having rough hands that easily tortured others to be gentle as he dips his hands in the dips and curves of your body. You are not the one who gets to see him when he wakes up and he smiles half-lidded. You are not the one who gets to kiss his pain and wounds away, to wipe his tears from his cheeks because looking at you makes him wonder how lucky he is to have you.

Instead, you are the one he brings to war with. You are the one he trusts to keep her safe, to watch his back and guard all possible blind spots during war. You are the one who jumps in front of him when a blast of fire is on his way, and you are the one who heals his wounds in the battlefield when he grows too weak. You are the one he laughs with when you’ve both decapitated the enemy, growing only stronger with each passing day under the belief maybe both of you could rule the world someday.

But does any of it matter?

You always believed that you were okay with it, that having him trust you with his whole life, enough to have you sleeping under the same roof as him, was everything you needed. But after she came, you watched him fall in love, and you felt pathetic.

You could never have him.

You could never have what they have.

Sometimes you wonder, what if you just said it? In those nights where nothing but the moonlight illuminated both of your blood-stained faces, chests rising up and down as it both rumbled with laughter, discarded glasses of alcohol thrown on the ground – it would’ve been the perfect moment, wouldn’t it?

Though deep down, you knew the answer.

Sukuna wouldn’t love you, couldn’t love you. He wanted someone to protect, not someone to fight wars with. He wanted someone to come home to, not someone he wrecked homes with. He wanted to listen to someone’s dreams and passions – all of the things you didn’t have because you were born out of pain, living in pain, and Sukuna was the only thing that soothed you for a bit.

Your breaths came out raspy as your wounds began to close up. The stench of blood remained on your body, the red liquid drying up.

Sukuna wouldn’t want an impure woman like you. It makes sense he loved her. She was as bright as the sky while you were as dark as day, and when she laughed, she lit up the whole room. You don’t laugh, you don’t even smile. The only times you ever got to feel that sort of happiness was when you were still a fresh-born curse, a wild Sukuna more than glad to teach you of his ways.

It’s okay, you lie to yourself, crawling back to your bed while ridding yourself of your clothes. You would shower later; sleep needed to come first. Curses like you don’t really need, but you were too exhausted – inside and outside – that for once, you want to submit to healing.

As you close your eyes, you hear Sukuna stir in their room again. The sounds of faint lip-locking echo in your ears, making you slap your palms on the sides of your head, but you hear it, you hear it, you hear it, you hear it.

“How is Y/N?” she asks worriedly, her dainty, small, and innocent fingers that could never harm a fly brushing against his skin. Warm.

“She’s fine,” Sukuna rasps tiredly, “She’s a little beaten up, but she’s in a better state than I am,” you hear him kiss her on the forehead, a contended sigh leaving her lips. “She’ll be fine, my love. You know Y/N. She is fierce, brave, and courageous. This war is nothing to her.”

“I still feel bad she joined the war just so both of you could protect me.”

Shut up, shut up, shut up!

“She knows I love you,” Sukuna mumbles on top of her head, his hands tracing patterns on her back. Tears flowed out your eyes, your body trembling as you bit your fist, drool flowing down. You couldn’t stop the way you felt your heart torn to pieces. Really, it shouldn’t be anything new to you. You are a curse manifested from heartbreak, after all, but why did it hurt so much this time? “Y/N is a long time friend and ally of mine. She cherishes everything I cherish.”

“But still...aren’t you going to check up on her? I couldn’t even welcome her back. I haven’t seen you both in days and I...”

“Shhh,” Sukuna lulls her worries. “I’ll check up on her right now, although I don’t think she needs it. She’s a strong warrior, after all.”

“Sukuna,” her voice was laced with warning this time, but it later softens, as it always does. “Even the strongest have their weak moments, like how you are with me. Just because someone is capable of enduring the pain, doesn’t mean they won’t appreciate an act of kindness. Y/N has been loyal to you far longer than I have, but you really need to show your gratitude more to her,” she sighs, “Go check on her, my love. See if she’s doing well. If she’s fully recovered by tomorrow, I’ll head out to the market and prepare you both a lovely meal. It’s the least I could do.”

Sukuna chuckles, “My love, we don’t need to eat.”

“No matter. She likes miso soup, doesn’t she?”

By now, you’re frozen in bed. The blood and dirt and your skin have stained your sheets, and your hair is knotted in tangles from endless fighting. Maybe this is the reason why you hated yourself more than you hate her – because deep down, she isn’t really someone you could hate.

It makes sense Sukuna loves her.

Unlike you, she is kind, caring, gentle and full of love. What did you have? Pent up anger, bloodlust, temperamental tendencies and a hobby of withdrawing as a form of isolation because you couldn’t cope with the heartbreak – this is your gift. Your curse.

She is a blessing.

You hear the bed dip feet away, and whispers of, “Be safe, I’ll wait for you,” before a door slides close. Sukuna’s footsteps pad nearer in your hallway, in a place that he had his servants build just for you years ago when you proved your loyalty to him. Back then, you were over the moon when you saw him telling his people he wanted you to have your own room, but now it was like a huge slap on your face that Sukuna cared for you, but he didn’t want you close to him in the way she was.

Your room was on the other side of the temple, at the back, to be specific. While she stays with him in his own chambers, he used his magic to build her a beautiful garden filled with her favourite flowers, while you were somewhat locked away behind it all.

A bitter smile makes it way to your face. Sukuna was coming, not because he wanted to, but because she asked him to.

You want to laugh. Instead, you run out the room in such speed that the sheets fly away from your bed, and the floorboards crack under the force of your movements. When Sukuna raps his knuckles on your door, asks if he could come in (as if he needed permission for that), and you don’t answer, he takes it upon himself to intrude.

He isn’t surprised at your discarded clothes, or how your room remains dark and empty, as if you’d never been there at all. This isn’t the first time you ran away, and this would not be the first time he ran after you either.

He knows you’ll come home.

After all, it was him you kept coming back to – although he didn’t know that.

Breakfast the next day wasn’t any better. She invited you to join them, fretting over the cuts on your cheeks and dabbing at them with a wet towel. She feels like a doting mother who wouldn’t stop worrying about her child who tripped, and again, you realize why he loves her.

The food was good. Like she promised, miso soup is placed in a bowl you painted years ago, and she beams at you expectantly while Sukuna caressed her thighs under the table. Your lips tremble as you take a spoonful of it, letting the warm soup soothe your exhausted body with a sigh. Sukuna peers at you in the same curiosity, head tilted to the side ever so slightly as if waiting how you’ll react.

It’s no secret you don’t open yourself up to anyone other than him. The moment she came to live with you both, he could tell you locked yourself up in your room and even disappeared for weeks under the lie that you were parading in the districts to “look for some fun.”

Sukuna knows you better than you know yourself. He knows it’s a lie, that you’re not someone who “looks for fun” and that you probably just stayed up in the mountains watching the sunrise. He knows you’re uncomfortable with her displays of affection, of how she easily adored you or how she cared for you like you were her sister or even a friend, but he doesn’t say anything about it.

If anything, he only hopes you would treat her the same way.

You don’t finish your bowl. It’s extremely difficult to enjoy the food when Sukuna compliments her on her cooking skills and she turns beet red beside him, nervously giggling that she just wanted to make you feel better. Sukuna bends down to steal a peck from her lips, teasing her that she was his “sweet angel” who had a heart of gold.

They don’t even eat.

They’re just giggling, laughing, kissing, and you understand – you really do. It isn’t every day that Sukuna gets to indulge in the presence of his beloved. But only you are there with him. It’s either he trusts you enough to let his guard down, or you’re unimportant enough that he doesn’t care if you see him completely baby her and spoil her rotten with how he grabs her onto his lap and starts kissing her nose and then her eyelids.

Their cheerful laughter is a great contrast to the sound of your heart shattering into pieces. They don’t notice that you’ve excused yourself, heading out the room and into the back part of the house, passing the servants on the way.

Similar to how they treat Sukuna, they quiver and bow before you, making sure to keep their eyes on the floor in fear you’d slice their heads off. You fight back a sigh. You wouldn’t do that – not when they welcomed you so warmly (or rather, fearfully) and accepted you as their master. You realize that they don’t act this way around Sukuna’s lover. In fact, they light up when she’s around and talk to her freely; everyone was just comfortable in her presence.

You know you’re not her.

You could never be her.

She was a human, and you’re nothing but a lonely, heartbroken curse.

Hours pass by, and no one looks for you. You dare not enter the garden Sukuna made for her even if you also like the flowers, simply because you don’t want Sukuna to be appalled at the thought that someone like you – a Curse who’d killed people and tortured others – would also be enamoured with something as innocent as daisies.

The lake is peaceful that night. It’s painful to bathe back at the temple because the servants won’t leave you alone. They insist on washing your body for you and that you should lay back, but you refuse to be coddled. The lake is on the other side of the mountain, deep in the forest with smaller curses lurking, so no one would find you here.

The moon shines down bright on you, and for the first time since you’d gotten home, you smile.

It looks so beautiful. So big and bright, yet so haunting and peaceful with secrets you could never uncover. You stare at it as you take off your robes layer by layer, feet dipping into the cold water before submerging completely. The ripples on the lake illuminated by the moonlight makes it even more soul-stirring.

You cup the water and wash your hair, finally getting rid of the invisible stains from the war. You felt clean, refreshed – but your heart still rumbled with hatred and darkness. Hatred that you couldn’t be good enough, hatred that you’re destined to be lonely and unloved.

One of the good things about bathing at midnight is that no one gets to see your tears when it mixes in with the water, and you throw your head back in laughter with your arms extended to the sky. This is who you are – a Curse with no future and no past.

Later, you choke as a sob begins, your fist clenching above your heart. It hurt everywhere.

You wanted Sukuna – so much that you felt like you were going to go insane.

If it wasn’t for him, you’d be trapped in an endless nightmare. But he saved you, cared for you, made you his equal. So why couldn’t he love you? You’ve always been there for him. When people turned against him or plotted a rebellion, you were the one who snuck into clan houses and slit their throats, making their descendants and followers witness the consequence of disrespecting Sukuna.

When he was nearly exorcised by an overpowered jujutsu sorcerer, you summoned an army of thousand lost souls to defeat them, nearly ending up with you losing your head in the aftermath. It was always you – you were always there from him since the beginning, so why didn’t he love you?

You cupped your eyes with your palms, unable to stop the tears from coming now. Your whole body shook with sobs, turning number and number at the cold water. Nothing mattered, nothing mattered, nothing did if you couldn’t have Sukuna.

“Sukuna,” you cried out, pushing your hair back as the ripples blurred in your tear-stained view. “Sukuna, help me, please...” Put an end to my suffering, you inwardly begged. Death is a better option than watching him fall deeper and deeper for her, knowing that could never be you. He’d never look at you that way. He’d never touch you that way. He would never be your lover, and your sobs grew more desperate because you know you are his lover.

God, you loved him so much more than you hated yourself.

This sort of madness had you gasping for air. Death – death is a better option. It is a much more peaceful way to go than to suffer each waking day to have what you want be explicitly stated to be reserved for anyone else but you.

You froze when a pair of arms encircled your waist, his grip strong and vice-like. He turned you around, his large hand coming at the small of your neck to bring you down to his shoulder where you could hide your tears. Until now, he knows you better than you know yourself, and he knows it would shatter you even more if he saw you crying.

“Y/N,” Sukuna begins, and your eyes widen when you see he’s still wearing his robe. He must’ve jumped in the water. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. What’s wrong?”

Your lips turned blue from the cold. Unable to help the shiver that ran down your spine, your teeth chattered, and Sukuna pulled you closer to the heat of his skin. He sighed worriedly. “You need to tell me what’s wrong, otherwise, I can’t help you.”

“I” You falter. Your heart drums loudly in your chest. He would reject you, break your heart into pieces all over again but – so what if he did? It almost made you laugh. You’re the Curse of Heartbroken Souls. It wouldn’t make a difference if he hurt you now. Instantly, you weaken in his hold, and Sukuna’s hands grip your waist to keep you upright.

“Fuck, Y/N, what’s wrong —”

“Kiss me.”

“What?”

“Kiss me,” you repeat, more confidently this time. You pull away from him in the slightest bit, eyes blown wide as you peer up at his appalled ones. His hands squeeze your waist subconsciously, his sharp nails piercing through your skin until it draws blood. It makes you gasp a little, but you’re used to the pain. Right now, you want to be selfish and free yourself from this pain. “I want you to kiss me, Sukuna.”

His eyebrows pinch together. “What the fuck are you saying? I love someone else, you know I won’t —”

“Won’t do what?” You challenge, eyes burning from the intensity and ferocity of each nerve humming to life. “This isn’t who you are, Sukuna. You’re the King of Curses. Or have you already forgotten those days you would accept those female offerings and you’d fuck them until they’re out of their mind, then discard them as if they were nothing but dirty laundry? You were strong back then, majestic, but now you’re fucking weak,” You spat out. You know you’re spurning him on and pushing all his buttons, but somehow saying those words gave you great relief.

Now, it was time to see his patience snap, which shouldn’t take long since his grip had turned bruising on your hips, and he growled under his breath. “Don’t do this, Y/N.”

“You’re the one who shouldn’t do this,” you growl back, “You haven’t been the same ever since that pathetic excuse of a woman came. Don’t you remember that she left her husband and children just because she was a whore for you? Because you pleased her better than her human spouse?” You push him away with enough force that it sends him a few feet back, and Sukuna scowls. “She doesn’t love you! She only stays by your side because she was nothing but a filthy rat before and now you treat her like a queen! She’s nothing but a lowly human who —”

“Enough!”

“ —made you believe you’re someone she could love! Don’t you get it, Sukuna? We’re Curses, she’s a human! She will never understand us! You’re lying to yourself if you believe she doesn’t cry herself to sleep at the thought she’s next to a monster —”

“I said, that’s enough!” In a flash, Sukuna was in front of you, clawed hands wrapped around your neck. It would be so easy for him to break you and kill you right then and there, your feet already above ground and your exposed breasts just within his sight. Nevertheless, you only laugh cruelly at his agitation. “You know nothing,” he squeezed your neck tighter, “about what it’s like to love someone. How dare you say that she does not love me?”

“I know, because if you let me, I could love you a lot more,” you choked out, clawing at his arm, but he is unfazed by your efforts.

Sukuna lets go of you. You drop in the water as you gasp and breathe for air, but Sukuna’s wide eyes bring you back to reality. It’s that face, the one that tells you he’s been unaware this whole time, and the sudden confession drops on him like a cannonball.

Like a switch has been flipped off, you revert back to your normal self. Using your arms to shield your body, you run away from him, about to make it to the bank when his voice stops you. “Do you truly mean it? Do you love me?”

You close your eyes. “Yes. I always have.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You wouldn’t have believed me,” you pull your hair to the side, squeezing the water out. “You barely believe me now, so why believe me if I said it earlier? It wouldn’t have changed anything.”

“Then why were you calling for me? I heard you crying. You said you wanted me to help you.”

You whip around, tears furiously flowing down. “I’m going to the jujutsu sorcerers myself tomorrow and let them exorcise me. There’s no point to my existence, Sukuna. I’m tired of all the wars. I’m tired of fighting for someone I don’t even care about. I’m tired of loving you and watching you look at her instead of me, when I’m the one who’s always been there for you. I’m tired of —” you hiccup, embarrassed that he was now watching you break down in front of him. You were a powerful curse, dammit, you shouldn’t even be crying about this. “—I’m tired of not being the one you love.”

Sukuna stands there gaping. You don’t give him another chance to speak as you walk away, seemingly a new habit of yours now. You haven’t always been this way. Patience was never one of your strongest points, but being around Sukuna for the past years taught you a thing or two. That all shatters now that you’ve grown tired, the shame of patheticness crawling between your legs as you retrieve your robes, not bothering to dry up.

He exhales through his nose, claws balled into a fist to restrain his anger. Now he wants to be gentle with you the way he is with her?

Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic – you keep chanting to yourself. You’re not there yet, but there have already been rumours that you’re the Queen of Curses, the only one who ever managed to be Sukuna’s equal. Although men feared you, they also lusted after you.

How could they not? You were a sexual prowess, and a fearsome figure in the battlefield. Men are confused whether they want to be with you, or if the mere utter of your name had them fainting. Sukuna, on the other hand? He didn’t care. He didn’t notice you. You’re nothing but a war tool to him, his friend and companion during his dark days when he grew bored and would randomly slaughter homes and enslave people.

He’s not the same anymore. The Sukuna you once knew was gone, and you turned back away from him bitterly, the blue flames licking up your skin as a symbol of anger, hatred, but most of all, humiliation.

That night, you didn’t go back to the temple.

And a small, quiet village who’d been loyal to both you and Sukuna had become the victims of your frustration.

The next day, silence echoes in the hallways of the temple. You couldn’t hear even the soft breathings or whispers of the servants. Your ears perk up once you cross the threshold, dropping your bloody katana and releasing your hair from its red tie. The temple servants must’ve already heard that their relatives died the night before – all thanks to your inability to handle your feelings.

It’s okay, you tell yourself, you’ve done this a thousand times before with Sukuna: killing people, enjoying their screams, basking in their surrender and painting the image of hope fading from their eyes into the back of your school.

You’ve done this a thousand times before with Sukuna, but this is the first time you’ve done it alone. You only ever took their lives because Sukuna asked you. Because he assured it was a way to keep gaining strength and to make a name for yourself; that being a powerful Curse was the best feeling in the world and no amount of woman or alcohol felt greater than power.

Sukuna lied.

To him, his heaven was in her arms.

And you? Utterly lost. Broken. With nowhere else to go. As you enter your room, you’re greeted by the sight of a made up bed and cleaned sheets. Even after slaughtering families, your servants still cleaned your room out of fear, and the previous blood from the other day had been wiped away with bleach.

Then, you see yourself from the floor length mirror. White yukata that might as well have been red from the amount of absorbed into the cloth draped over your curves, and your eyes lost what little light it once held. Blood drips from your fingertips and you swipe your thumb over your lip, a small gasp falling to your lips as you recall a little girl, barely five or six winters old, with the exact same lips trembling as she begs you not to kill her parents.

It’s the splitting image of you when you were younger, when you ran around cities unintentionally wreaking havoc out of confusion over your powers. You have no parents. No past. No memory. You just came into existence because of mankind’s grief, and it only made sense you carried that burden more than anyone else.

But you’re not this. You are not a killer. You didn’t enjoy it. You never enjoyed it. Even when Sukuna convinced you that you did, there was no forgetting the fact that you cried yourself to sleep when you were younger at the thought you grew more powerful because you added to the heartbreak of people.

The word heartbreak lights up a bulb in your head. That’s right...you’re the Curse of Heartbreaks – of pain, of grief, of mourning, of suffering.

If you couldn’t have what you want, then why should he? Isn’t it already written in your fate that your destiny is to carry those pain, inflict it onto others, and make them realize they’re wasting their lives believing a lie that love prevails all? That love prevails even someone as irredeemable as Sukuna?

You won’t allow it.

Without wasting another second, you dash to her room. Sukuna’s out to deal with some clan leaders for whatever ritual he wants to perform or out to get more healing potions. The girl never went anywhere else outside the temple because both jujutsu sorcerers and curses are always ready to prance, and she’s smart to not put herself in harm’s way.

But you are harm’s way.

You run so fast through the hallways that you keep bumping into corners, denting the wooden boards and the floor cracking beneath you. You don’t stop until you reach their room, swiping the doors open, and sliding on the doorframe when you see she’s still asleep.

She and Sukuna must’ve stayed up all night performing...activities. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have been this weak. She’s a lively and bubbly girl, she wouldn’t have – you freeze in your spot.

Tentatively, you reach over to where she softly snored, tilting her to face you by grabbing her shoulder. She only groans in her slumber before burying herself under the covers. “Sukuna...” her brows furrow as she twitches, probably dreaming about something, and she kicks the covers off with a whine. That’s when you see it. And then you see everything.

A small – barely there – bump on her tummy is half concealed by her lace gown that reveals her skin free from scars, a sign that she’d never really been in battle. But she’s carrying his child, and even though you’re not the one pregnant, you feel bile rise up in your throat.

Your knees wobble and you fall beside their bed, your palms shaky as you place it over her belly. First, you hear a baby cry, and then, a man’s scream.

Sukuna carries his daughter’s form, the little thing bundled up safely in towels while her father coos at her. She’s so small, vulnerable and exposed to the horrors of the world, but she didn’t need to worry about that. Sukuna would protect her, and so would you.

You stand outside the room, a small smile on your face with your arms crossed on your chest. Well, you’ll be damned. You’re not a fan of children and babies in general, but you do admit the infant’s cries sound like music to your ears. It means she’s alive and healthy, and even though her existence is nearly impossible considering her father is a curse, the girl was born perfectly fine and well.

Suddenly, a dark, ominous presence looms over the room. You stand on guard, hands drawing your blade to prepare for whatever or whoever attacked you. You’re not a fan of the kid and or her mother regardless, but Sukuna is left open and vulnerable for attack in this state. He’s too busy fawning over his kid to sense any incoming assault.

However, something doesn’t feel right with this one. That dark, suffocating feeling doesn’t travel. Instead, it’s stagnant and somewhat docile, as if it has no intention to attack, but its threat still remains. It doesn’t even seem like it came from anywhere or it’s about to arrive. Rather...it’s like it was always there to begin with.

Your eyes widen at the realization.

What would happen if a curse...fathered someone else? Would it be human? Or would it be something worse?

You slam the doors open, and everything happens in slow motion. The baby’s mother reaches out to a nearly sobbing Sukuna, eager to see her child, but just as her small, grubby hands wrap around her mother’s pointer finger, it falls. She stops breathing, her arm falling limp, and Sukuna stops cooing. The baby’s cries cease, staring up at her father and extending her small arms to cup his face.

It seems he realized it too, but it was too late.

“Sukuna, don’t!”

The child giggles, her knuckles brushing against her father’s jaw, and the King of Curses lose his grip on her. You watch as they both fall, a garbled scream leaving your lips. The midwife runs to save the child before she’s crushed under Sukuna’s weight, but she too has fallen victim the moment her skin made contact with the baby’s.

No...it’s not even a child or an infant. It’s not even human.

It’s the Curse of Death.

And at her birth, the world would grow dark, darker than what you and Sukuna have already caused the world to be. Her words would sound like a fork scraping against a plate; torturous, excruciatingly painful, and enough to have you begging for death. The simple brush of skin upon skin takes away the energy, power, and life even of the most powerful beings. After all, what is stronger than Death? It was the only absolute truth in the world – which all things must come to an end.

You retract your hand from her body, sweat dripping on your hairline. That thing growing inside her body...it must not be born. Sukuna would die.

With a silent scream, you whip out the dagger and force it upon her stomach. Or at least, you would’ve, if not for the blade that had peaked out your chest and nearly poking Sukuna’s lover’s back. Blood stained the silver blade, leaking into your lap.

You drop your dagger.

“I trusted you,” Sukuna begins calmly, pulling out the sword from your body in one swift movement. He ignores the way you cough out blood, your head shaking as if to deny his words. His face remains expressionless as he wipes your blood on his thigh, dropping the potions to aid her pregnancy beside her on the bed. Sukuna crouches down to your level and pulls you by the hair until he’s close enough that you could see his two other eyes also glare at you. “Have I not made it clear she is to be untouched? Just because you’re unable to handle your petty jealousy, does not give you a goddamn right to kill what’s mine.”

“What grows in her is a monster,” you sneer, struggling against his grip. You’ve forgotten that his sword is imbued with his special curses that would immediately exorcise any weaker Curse, but because you’re on the same level as him, you die slowly, and a lot more painfully.

“That child is mine. It was created out of love.”

“It is not a child!” You argue, “It will be born as the Curse of Death, one that will kill both you and your little lover!”

“And if you’re lying?”

You grit your teeth. “I would never lie to you, Sukuna.”

His brow shots upwards, a smirk creasing his lips. “Is that so?” he shoves you until you slam against the wall. Sukuna treads to you dangerously, his tongue peeking out to swipe at his lips. You know that darkness in his eyes better than most – it’s the look he always wore when he decides to go for the kill. “Then, since you’re always honest to me, tell me this: do you still love me?”

You don’t even think about it.

“Yes. That’s why I’m telling you to get rid of that thing before you and everyone else dies.”

“A concerned little lamb,” he hums in amusement. “That makes it clear then,” Before you could process what happens next, you take your last breath as Sukuna rips out your heart with his claws. It’s not an actual heart, but rather the core of your Curse manifestation and the gem-like object is crushed under his fists. “Queen of Curses, Curse of Heartbreak,” he drops the pieces of your heart into your lap, Sukuna growing more and more blurry in front of you. “Die the same way you came to life: with a terrible, terrible heartbreak.”

Sometimes, you can’t help but feel like you’d been an awful person in your past life. It’s not that you’d ever done anything illegal or rebellious. Your parents are quite proud of your immaculately clean school record, and your grades are even above average. The school’s faculty absolutely adores you for your preppy personality, always volunteering to help others and taking the lead when no one wants to budge.

You suppose you’re quite a role model, but what no one understands is that maybe you’re always going out of your way to be kind with someone because deep down, you have a nagging feeling you’ve once been a terrible person.

Sighing, you wrap your arms around your legs as you hug it to yourself, whacking your forehead in your knees to get rid of those impending thoughts. There’s really no reason behind it, more like an intuition that you’ve forgotten about something important.

You’re pulled out of your trance when warm, soft hands push your hair back, and a pair of even softer lips land at your shoulders. Immediately, you smile, turning your head to peer at the dark-haired beauty that shyly peeks up at you under his long lashes. He keeps peppering kisses all the way up to your neck until you laugh from being ticklish, and it doesn’t take long before Megumi has you smiling again.

He knows you better than you know yourself.

“What’s wrong?” he mumbles on your shoulder, his warm hand drawing comforting circles on your lower back. Again, the simple gesture ignites something within you, something about oddly familiar even if you don’t feel like you’ve experienced it firsthand. “You’ve been deep in thought lately.”

“Lately?”

“Hmm,” he moves up your face, pressing a long, solid kiss at your forehead. It makes you relax and sigh happily, unable to help your urge to crawl into his lap and bury yourself in his arms. “Ever since Itadori enrolled here, you’ve always looked at him...quite weirdly. Is he bothering you? You know if he does something weird, I won’t hesitate to feed him to the Divine Dogs.”

That elicits a laugh from you. Now that you think about it, you’ve been awfully quite ever since Gojo sensei came back with that overly excited kid. You don’t know why, you don’t even realize his presence affects you, but you don’t want Megumi to worry about it when you can’t understand it yourself. So you hug him closer until the scent of fresh laundry wafts your senses, and you brush his scalp tenderly.

Megumi purrs.

“It’s nothing you should worry about, I’m sure I’m just tired from exams.” Unlike Megumi, you’re not a jujutsu sorcerer. You came from a totally human family that lived a totally mundane humane life, unaware that curses exist and people actually die from it. If it wasn’t for Megumi saving you that one time in school when you unknowingly stayed behind the same night the Occult Club did and ran into some freaky monsters, you would continue living without any idea of it.

It wasn’t always easy accepting Megumi’s true identity, but you loved him more than anyone else, and so hiding in his dorms while lying to your parents you were going to sleep over a friend’s house has become somewhat a daily occurrence. You’ve even made friends with the lovely Nobara and Maki senpai who welcomes you with open arms – although maybe it’s because you never fail to bring them food from the city and some fashionable items for Nobara.

Megumi senses your hesitance to talk about it, so he drops it and enjoys the feeling of your skin on him instead, your breaths falling in the same rhythm. Tonight, he and his classmates would go out on a mission again because the idiotic Gojo-sensei was away overseas, and as always, you’d stay up late in Megumi’s room, waiting for him to come back right after he promises you you’ll come back safely.

You close your eyes and wrap yourself around him like a koala, and Megumi laughs at how small you are. He doesn’t brush you off, though. He knows you fear for his life despite the fact you trust him with his abilities, but you can’t help it. It’s only natural to worry about your loved one, after all.

For now, he’ll have to keep cuddling and kissing you for as long as he could before he leaves.

How does one soothe their lover who’s come from battles?

You scramble away from Megumi’s bed the moment you’re waken up by the sound of steady knocks. The first aid kit lays on his study desk, which you swipe with sleepy eyes as his baggy clothes crinkle in your smaller figure. It’s rare that Megumi lets you see his state during after battles, but today, tonight, he allowed you to stay even after his mission.

Your steps are nothing but hurried when you slide the door open, his name about to fall from your lips until you’re greeted by a young man with strawberry blonde hair and black marks on his face. It’s Itadori Yuuji, but at the same time, it’s not him...

His cheerfulness and airheaded self is gone, replaced with a much sinister entity residing within it. The man before you sighs, frowning in distaste at your clothes – your boyfriend’s clothes – before he invites himself in and shuts the door behind him.

Sukuna hums, pulling you closer to him until there is no space between your skin and his, his face nuzzling in your neck. “I’m home,” his lips brush the bare skin of your neck, his breath warm and ticklish. “I made it home to you, my Queen. Safely like you asked.”

“Wha-?”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers so quietly you wonder if you heard it at all. “For not believing you, for not seeing you. It took me thousands of years to realize where I fucked it all up, but I know the truth now. And you were right – you were always right. I hope in this life I no longer break your heart in the same way you soothe mine.”

- - - - -

A/N: Sounds like a pretty confusing ending, which it is, and I was gonna leave it at that but because I don’t want anyone to go “HUH?” after reading this, I’m just gonna explain :D Sukuna eventually realized how toxic he was to the reader in her past life, how he convinced her to be a bad person with him then emotionally abandoning her the moment he found his happiness. She was the Curse of Heartbreak, and her powers remained even after she was “exorcised.”

She broke his heart by showing him how he lost everything after her exorcism and his lover’s death (because he also saw the future that the child was the Curse of Death) and all those years of suffering eventually made him realize that the power of heartbreak was the one that destroyed him. So in the present, when the reader was reincarnated as a human girl, he finally found her and tries to make up for his mistakes because she was actually his first love, he just didn’t realize it because both of them were somewhat barbaric and psychotic. Lmk what you think, I hope you liked it!

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vannybarber · 4 years

Text

The Prenup

Summary: After four years of being together and finally being engaged, Chris wants you to sign a prenup.

Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: angst, swearing, chris getting his ass handed to him, a lot of pain.

Part Two Part Three Part Four Final Chapter

Scrounging through the little desk in the corner of Chris and you's bedroom, you hear him let out a boisterous laugh.

He was watching some movie and there was a certain part that he found so hilarious. After 4 years of watching it with him constantly, you still don't get what's so funny. But it makes him happy so that's what matters.

You were searching for the wine opener so Scott could get his middle-aged-4-kids-divorcee vibe on. You cleaned the other day and stuck it in there after a nightly dose of freakydeaky from Chris, which consisted of wine, whipped cream, and a many different forms of chocolate.

After what seemed like forever, you find the corkscrew and grin at your accomplishment. You take one more look in the drawer out of habit and you spot a big orange envelope with Chris' name on it. Being the nosy curious person you are, you take the envelope out and get a good look at it. You see the words Prenuptial Agreement in bold and your heart drops.

Chris had proposed to you 9 months ago and you were happy beyond words. After being together for 4 years, he finally put away his commitment troubles and made you his fianceé. And now you find out he's going to get you to sign a prenup. A fucking prenup.

You look around the room at loss for words. You were angry, hurt and confused. After 4 years of being together, he doesn't have faith in his own judgment that you guys would be together forever? You both have been through literally everything. There isn't one thing you don't know about each other. Your relationship was rare and it was special.

After moments of contemplation, you decide you would confront him on it. There's no way you could carry on the night and sleep after this. Not until you get your answers. Closing the drawer, you take a sharp breath and exhale before walking out the room. You get back to the dining table where Lisa and his siblings surrounded.

"Here you go Scott" you say slamming the corkscrew on the table in front of him. He looks up at you, puzzled. You glance at him then at Chris and he's looking at you just the same. Evidently your tone matched your movements because everyone went silent. You draw back and put both hands behind your back and huff.

"Babe, are you alright?" It was Christopher talking to you now. Your attention goes to him and your lips are in a thin line. Refraining from blowing up at him, you force smile on your face and change your tone of voice.

"What do you mean, honey? I'm fine." You should leave the acting to Chris honestly. That's definitely not your field of expertise. Shifting on your right foot, you stare at him. He shuffles and tilts his head with a knowing look.

"Spill it Y/N. What's up?"

"The flames when I burn this damn house down." So much for not blowing up. You snatch the envelope in front of you and chuck it on the table. Everyone watches the exchange and the envelope fly to the table. All their faces change from confusion to shock and even more confusion.

Chris didn't even need to look down to know it was the prenup. His eyes went from you to the wall. Guilt written all over it, you almost wish you gave a shit. You wonder how long he was going to keep this hidden from you. No need to wonder now.

"You want to explain to me why you have a prenup?" You place your hand on your hip and roll your neck at him.

"I got that for us."

You swear to everything you wanted to lunge at him right then and there. 'I got that for us'. Why do people always use that excuse for everything? They weren't thinking about you, just themselves and expected you to go along with it.

"You got it for us? I know you didn't do this on your own. Who put you up to it?" You look around the room. Scott has his hands up shaking his head. Carly and Shanna both let out a quiet "not me". You look at Lisa who had this look of hurt.

"Chris, you tell me everything. How did I not know about this? Why didn't you tell me?" Well now you know she didn't suggest it. You feel slightly guilty for letting it cross your mind, but you had your reasons.

"Ma, I had my reasons. I kept it hidden because I didn't know how I felt about it myself" he says rubbing his face and fixing his hair under his cap. Still didn't answer your question.

"Christopher, who put you up to this? Tell me now!" You're getting fired up by the minute. You have an idea who it could be too.

"Megan. She thought that it would be smart to consider. Just to protect me."

"Megan." Your voice is laced with absolute venom. "You know Chris, she does a good job keeping you out of trouble and bullshit so you're not all over the tabloids, but sometimes, her ass is too much!"

Chris is never in the news for anything negative. He's always minding his business and moving quietly. Megan is a great publicist, but she can be pretty overbearing about his personal life. She gave you side eye for like the entire first year of you guys' relationship.

"Baby, she was just looking out for me. You know how it is, women getting with you for your money. Guys loose half of everything they have when getting divorces."

You can't even believe it.

"I am not 'women'. I'm your fianceé. We've been together 4 years, Chris! After all this time your material things come before me?" Tears are puddled at your eyes now and your voice is cracking. This catches his attention.

"I told you from the start Chris, that I never cared about your money! Never have and never will. I am used to not having much. I'm not money hungry or concerned for having top tier everything. I've learned to settle."

"Y/N, I didn't mea-" you slam your hand on the table, making everyone jump. Chris shuts his mouth.

"I'm. Not. Finished. I am not marrying your bank account. I'm not marrying your cars. I'm not marrying your house. I don't give a damn about any of that shit. And you literally are still concerned about all of that?" Your face is wet and your nose is runny. You wipe your nose and cross your arms.

"It's not even like that!" Now he's getting upset. For literally nothing. This is his fault. "It's just in case it doesn't work out, we don't need to deal with all the extra mess."

That completely shattered you. In case it doesn't work out. He actually has thoughts that your marriage couldn't work. What would even cause that? You guys don't even argue. You don't even remember the last time you did. You've learned to understand what each other needs and mastered that. What is he on about?

"You know what the sad part is? Us not working out crossed my mind in, like, the first year of our relationship. And I decided that if we did get married, and God forbid we divorced, I wouldn't take anything from you."

He looked at you like he just found out he wasn't the father of your baby.

"Yeah, Chris. That's your money. You made it, not me, so why would I ask for any of it from you? You gave me an amazing relationship and thats enough for me."

"Oh my goodness." Everyone directs their attention to Scott. "So you wouldn't want anything from the divorce?"

"Of course not! I came in this relationship for him. Plus a make my own money. I don't need anyone else's."

You had your own business. Many employees at different buildings in Boston. You didn't have much growing up and you were proud of yourself for not having to worry about financial issues. Chris liked that you had your own thing going and didn't have to adapt to his life and depend on him financially. And he still got a prenup.

Feeling like you were gonna cry again, you rub your temples and take deep breaths to prevent it. But you failed and started crying more. Chris got up and moved to stand in front of you.

"Baby, I'm sorry I upset you. I thought you would be okay with this. Like you said, you don't care about my money so what's wrong with the prenup?" His hands were on your sides, but not for long as you shook them off of you.

"What's wrong with it? What this is telling me is three things. You have doubt that our marriage won't work out, you think I might change my mind and ask for alimony, and that your money comes before me."

"I..." he struggles to form words. You take this chance to get out of there.

"I really don't want to be here right now." Chris looks up and grabs your arm.

"Babe, you don't need to go. Where the hell are you gonna go?" You turn and grab the envelope from the table. You open it and pull the papers out, shoving it in his face.

"I'll go to a hotel or something, but I'm not staying here if this is the shit you're trying to pull with me." You turn the paper to you and look in disgust. You scan over it and your eyes fall on the dotted line where you need to sign. Beside it is where he needed to sign his.

Well not anymore.

You read over his signature on the line. Chris Evans.

He signed the prenup already. Now he was just waiting for your signature. He really was leaving you zero choice.

"You signed it already??" Everyone at the table head snapped up. Shanna gasped and covered her mouth. Lisa mumbles an "oh no" under her breath.

"So you were just going to bring it to me and expect me to sign it with no fight, huh?"

Chris says nothing, but his face is red. You don't wait for a response and walk to your shoes and your bag. Already having everything in there, you slip your shoes on and walk back to Chris.

"Just a heads up, you brought this on yourself."

You whip around and walk to the fireplace. You chuck the papers and envelope in the blaze and turn back to him.

"You can forget about that damn prenup, cause I'm not signing it. As a matter a fact, you don't even have to worry about that because there won't be a chance of us divorcing." You force a smile and clasp your hands together. Lisa and Scott rise from the table panicking.

"Babe, no-"

"Forget the wedding, this engagement and all of it. You can take this fucking ring too." You pry the ring off your fingers and throw it at him. It hits his chest and falls at his feet.

"I'm not marrying you."

You turn on your heel, grab your purse and jacket, walking out the door, leaving the Evans' speechless.

Was this too dramatic? I have my own opinions on a prenup, but maybe it's not as big as it seems? Idk🥴.

masterlist

#cevans #chris evans #avengers #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #andy barber smut #steve rogers smut #captain america #chris evans fluff #chris evans smut

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twjournals · 3 years

Text

What's Wrong is Right

This is the sequel to So Wrong It's Right.

The finale: The Right Place

Warning: dark!Peter Parker x reader, age gap BUT BOTH CHARACTERS ARE OF AGE, DUB-NON, pregnancy, mentions of abortion

PLEASE READ MY WARNING BEFORE CONTINUING. I am not responsible for your media consumption. Any and ALL negativity will be blocked. The majority of my content is 18+.

Word Count: 7k

Summary: You’re an old troubled friend of May’s. Your life consists of being a workaholic, a party animal, and bringing home the shittest of guys for a one-hit-wonder. Just when you get your life in order, you’re knocked right back into your old habits. Peter has watched you suffer long enough. He can make it all better.

Taglist: @discoverwhattheworldhastooffer

Things could not have felt any better than they did right now. You were still sound asleep beside him on the bed. You were so peaceful when you sleep, so perfect. Even with your hair a mess and what was left of your make-up on your face Peter still thought you were the most beautiful girl in the world.

As much as he could sleep, he did not want to miss a second of you. He longed to touch you again, to kiss you awake and go another round or two. He could stay the whole day in bed with you if you would let him. The thought of you coming undone underneath him replayed in his mind and his cock twitched in response. He needed to calm himself down, but that felt nearly impossible around you. The only thing stopping him was the fact he knew you needed the rest.

Peter laid on his side, taking in the sight of you. He could not understand how guys would use you the way they do, how they could hurt you and be okay with it. He could not understand the type of guys you went after either. They were all the same. It was almost like you were signing yourself up to get hurt. Peter just wanted to take all that pain away. He wanted to be the guy you needed. He was the guy you needed.

He let a sigh before pressing a warm kiss to your head. Sleep had finally won the battle. He let his eyes fall shut as his arms held your sleeping figure close. If only he could fall asleep like this every night.

When you awoke, the sun was shining bright the small cracks in your blinds, and seemed even brighter than usual considering your hangover. You rub your head as it ached. If there was one thing you did not miss about drinking, it was this.

You froze still when you felt the grasp around your body grow a little snugger. You were scared to see who was in bed with you. You tried to think for a moment, thinking back to last night. It was such a faint memory, a blur. Could it have been your ex? There was no way. Even drunk, you would not have fallen into that trap. You peaked over your shoulder, instant regrets washing over you. What had you done? You were in fact naked so there was no doubt what you had done last night.

May was going to kill you.

Your phone buzzed on the nightstand beside you as if on queue and you glanced over at it. Oh my god, May! You were dead. Your heart was beating so hard it could have beat out of your chest. You were panicking. You carefully eased out of Peter's grasp to keep from waking him, resting his arm back on the bed. You grabbed a big shirt you had still laying on your floor and a pair of underwear from your dresser before hurrying out the door, closing it behind you.

You tugged your shirt in a hurry before you answered it on the final ring. "Hello?" You tried to play it cool, holding your phone against your ear with your shoulder as you pulled your panties up your legs.

"Good morning sunshine. How are you feeling?" She greeted you.

You started down the hallway to the kitchen. You would feel the aching of your core with every step you took. "Tired." You admitted, moving behind the counter to start a pot of coffee.

"I bet. You needed last night though with everything going on." You bit your bottom lip.

You could not agree more, but you wondered to yourself just much of it as actually needed. You leaned against the counter, watching the drip of the coffee as it filled the pot. "You're not wrong."

She laughed slightly. "I'm just glad Peter could take you home. I always get nervous when you go home with random strangers." Your teeth sunk further into your bottom lip. "Speaking of Peter, do you know where he is?" Your heart was beating so out of control, you were surprised it wasn’t a heart attack in the making. The thought of losing May as your friend after these years, especially over something as big as this, it pained you.

You had to think and think fast. "I think he mentioned something about going to Ned's. I’m not entirely sure though.” You reached into the cupboard to retrieve a mug. "He probably stayed the night." You lied, trying to control your breathing as you poured yourself a cup of coffee. You prayed to yourself in hopes that your lie would be enough. Or what if she already knew Peter was still at your apartment? No, no, she could not have, not sounding this collected.

"I should have guessed that. I'll try to call him again later." She sighed. "I just worry about him sometimes."

"I'm sure he's fine. He's not a kid anymore, May." You reminded her, though a part of you felt like it was a reminder to you as well. If he had not have been who he was, maybe this all would have been a different situation but not when your friendship was on the line.

"I know, I know. It's just the Aunt in me I suppose"

You mixed in your cream and sugar and stirred. "It's Peter and Ned we're talking about, May. They were probably up playing video games all night."

"You're right." She finally admitted. "Well, I'm sorry for waking you. I just wanted to check on you."

"No worries. Let me know when you hear from him." She agreed before you ended the phone call with a goodbye.

You finally let out a deep breath of air. It felt like you had been holding it the entire time you were on the phone. It would not have surprised you if you had. You did not know where to start or how to make it all make sense. Maybe that was because none of this made sense. Peter could not be anymore more than a friend, especially when he was your best friend's nephew.

How had this even got this far? You had never thought of Peter like this and yet you ended up in bed with him. You held the mug, letting it warm your hands as you stared down at your coffee in thought. Peter had been nothing but good to you, but this had been more than you could have asked for. There was a hole in your heart from another man and you had pushed yourself on Peter last night to try and heal it. That’s what you had made yourself believe. You took had taken advantage of his kindness, took things too far and now you had to get things back in one piece.

This was nothing like the hookups you had in the past. This was Peter. It was not like you would never see him around again. It was not like you could just throw him out and be done with it.

You jumped instantly when Peter's voice pulled you from your thoughts. You pushed yourself off of the counter, taking in the sight of him as he moved across the kitchen over to you.

“Good morning.” He smiled and you glanced at his messy hair sticking up in different directions. It was the perfect mix of bed head and sex hair.

“Hi.” You said shyly. How would you break the news to him? God, how could you get yourself in this situation?

“I was looking forward to waking up to you.” He moved over to you, his arms wrapping around your waist as if this were all normal and pressing a kiss to your jaw. Your eyes met his curiously. What was he thinking this was?

“Peter, I think- I think we need to talk.”

Your breathing was shuttered as he held onto your waist, nudging his nose against your neck.

“Oh? What about?” He looks down at you.

Your free hand was pressed against his chest with a sigh. “Did you want some coffee?” You offered.

His eyes lingered on you for a moment as if he was trying to figure out what you were thinking before letting go of your waist. “No, thank you. Is everything okay?” He tilted his head slightly. You seemed nervous.

You took a hold of his hand, placing your mug down on the counter before leading him into the living room. You brought him over to the couch, sitting down. “So last night… can you tell me what happened? I know we had, ya know, but how?”

His face grew pink with a slight blush. “How?” He repeated your question.

“I mean, did I make you? I know I can be a bit much when I drink.”

“What? No.” He shook his head. “I mean it surprised me, but of course, I wanted you. I’ve always wanted you.”

You grew quiet, trying to process what he was saying. You sighed. "Peter, I-" I tried to gather your thoughts together. "It should have never happened and I'm sorry that it did."

Peter's eyes grew wide as he tried to take in what you were saying, but he could not bring himself around to believe you.

"No. You don't mean that." He shook his head.

You frowned. "I do mean that."

He shook his head again. "You don't. You told me I was good to you. You even said before you hope you meet someone even half amazing as me."

"Peter-"

"You kissed me! How can you say this should have never happened?"

You run your fingers through your knotted hair and pushing it back out of your face with a sigh. "Peter, I was drunk. I wasn't thinking clearly."

"Drunk words are sober thoughts. Even if you hadn't meant to say it, I know you have been thinking about it." He frowned, taking a hold of your chin and tilting your head to look at him. "Why can't you let just accept how you feel? You deserve to be happy."

You turned your head out of his grasp. "That's just it, Peter. I don't know what I'm feeling about anything. I just had my heart broken a week ago by a guy who I thought was my soulmate. I wasn't ready for any of this to happen. I'm sorry I kissed you and confused you."

He could not believe you were saying this. You could not mean this. Not after last night. Not after the word you clung to him. Not after everything you said. It hurt his feelings. He opened his mouth to say something, but the words would not come. He was not sure what to say. He did not want to overstep, but he could not understand how you could easily fall for assholes like Chris and never a good guy like him.

"You are good to me." You admit. "You have taken good care of me in the past, but we can't be anything more than friends. We can't do this again. I feel like I have overstepped a line with May. She wouldn't want this."

"It's not about what she wants." He snaps. "I can make my decisions for myself now. I'm not a kid anymore, Y/N."

"Peter, you will always be a kid to me. You can do so much better than me. Someone closer to your age. Someone who has their life together. You are such a great guy. I know you will make some girl very happy." You smiled reassuringly, though to him none of this was reassuring.

There was no "better than you", even when he was committed to you. He tried to understand that feeling was new to you considering you always felt in competition with other girls. Truth be told, no one came close to comparing to you in his eyes. He wished he could make you see that, make you understand just how much you really meant to him.

He could feel his phone vibrating again and he sighed, standing up from the couch. He knew it was May. "I should go before Happy sends out a search party."

You stared up at him, nodding slightly. "I understand."

He threw his hand up in an awkward wave before making his way to the door.

You stood up from the couch, hugging yourself. "Hey, Peter?"

He stopped at the door, holding it open and looking over his shoulder at you.

"I don't want this to ruin our friendship." It could never. You just needed time, he thought to himself.

"It won't." He smiled at you. "I promise."

---

Even though you did not want it to affect your friendship with Peter, you both knew that it had, for better or for worse. You did not see much of Peter after he left your apartment that day, even when you would go see May, the house was already quiet. Neither of you had mentioned a word to May. Peter was always out or on his way out when you showed up. You would only really had time for a quick "hey" before he was on his way. You figured college had him pretty busy for the most part, or Ned, maybe even a girl.

He had properly busied him in hopes to give you space. In hopes, you would realize things on your own and do the right thing. He may have been between college and keeping an eye on the neighborhood, but he never strayed far from you. He never failed to keep an eye out on you. Peter knew how much you needed him, but it was your turn to realize that for yourself.

Peter wasn't the only one keeping himself busy. After some time you had taken off, you finally had gone back to work. In a way, you were glad you had because it kept you distracted. You had decided it was time to focus on yourself.

You had stopped drinking since the night at the club after realizing the trouble it putting you in and the pain it was actually causing you. Drinking did not stop the heartbreak. It might have slowed it down, but when you were sober again, the ache was still there. Drinking kept you from dealing with it. As much as you wished you did not have to, you knew it was the only way for you to move on.

It had been a month since you split with Chris. Thankfully, you were starting to get back in the groove of things fairly quickly.

You sat at your desk, typing away on your computer when your phone buzzed on your desk. You did not look away from your work until a knock on the window of your office door caught your attention.

Your eyes widened at the sight of Chris on the other side. He lifted his phone, mouthing for you to check it.

You lifted your phone over to check, reading the text from him.

Can we talk?

You blinked, glancing at him before turning back to your computer to keep working.

Your phone buzzed again.

Please.

You looked up at him again. He had his hands together in a plead while he mouthed "please". You sighed, getting up from your desk to answer the door. You pulled the door open and he smiled slightly though you had not attempted to return it.

"I don't know if you've noticed, but I am working." You blunted pointed out.

"I know. I'm sorry for bothering you. I just knew you wouldn't answer my messages. That's the only reason I'm here. I feel like I've had a lot of time to think and I want to talk to you about things."

"Once again, I'm at work." You reminded him.

"When is your lunch then?" He questioned.

You held onto the door. "I don't think I'm gonna take one. I have a lot I need to get done."

He sighed, looking down at you. "Come on. I know you've gotta be hungry." He glanced at his phone to check the time. "Don't you usually take your lunch around this time?"

You tried to stand your ground even though your stomach growled in hunger. You hated when he was right. You hated to give him anything he wanted after how he did you. It amazed you he had remembered what time you took your lunch. Maybe he did pay attention to you after all.

"I'll pay." He insisted. You sighed.

"Fine. Let me get my bag."

You had agreed on a sandwich shop just down the street. You were not in the mood for anything big. You settled down at a table by the window with a wrap and iced water. You took a bite of your wrap, staring out the window at all the traffic on the road.

He was the first to break the silence. "How have you been?"

"Fine. You?" You continued eating, taking another bite.

He had yet to touch his own food. "I've been alright. Can I say something or do you think I am wasting my time?"

"Depends."

"Can you hear me out? Just this once, that’s all I ask."

You sighed, finally agreeing to listen since he had after all bought you food. You sat the rest of your wrap down washing it down with some water while listening.

He sat in silence for a moment to gather his thoughts, trying to figure out where he should start. “I’m sorry for what I did to you and for how I treated you. Nothing I say is gonna take back what I did, but I do regret it all. I know I said some ugly stuff at the club that day. Once again, I know I can’t justify it but I had been drinking and I was coping with losing you. I get that I ruined things. I messed up and you have every right to be mad at me. I was selfish and I never took your feelings into consideration. I didn't think to help you with the wedding because I thought of it as your big day. When it should have been our big day." He leaned against the table, crossing his arms. You pulled your gaze from the window, looking at him for a moment before looking down at your lap. "I missed how spontaneous we use to be. Every day was a surprise. You amazed me every day, but we fell into a routine and I was worried about marriage might be like that." It shocked you that he was even apologizing right now.

"You were so calm when you did it though. Like it was okay for me to see that like you wanted to hurt me." You broke your silence, your eyes finding his and he frowned.

He exhaled a deep breath. "I didn't wanna hurt you. I guess I had convinced myself I had done nothing wrong, but I realize now how bad of a thing I did."

"You could have just talked to me about this before you went and made me feel like I couldn't be enough. We could have put the wedding on hold and fixed this. Sometimes I get carried away with things. I just- I wanted everything to be perfect. I didn't know what you wanted and so I was working twice as hard to get everything to be how I thought you might like it." You wrapped your wrap back up when you lost your appetite. "I think the realization of everything hurt more than walking in on you. Realizing how much I was doing and how little you did-"

"I know and I want to fix that. I want to do more for you and for us. I want to prove to you I can change. We've invested so many years in this. I don't want to throw it all away. I didn't realize how much I needed you until I didn't have you." He reached across the table, taking a hold of your hand and he rubbed his thumb across the back of your hand. It surprised him how didn't pull your hand away and that's how he knew he might have convinced you. He might have a shot again. "If you really are through with me, I do not blame you. I deserve that. Just tell me when and I'll come to get my stuff."

You sat in silence for a moment, thinking to yourself. You were not sure what to say. You never thought he would get this far with his apology. You did not expect him to apologize considering he seemed pretty pleased with himself.

"I don't know what to say right now." You mumbled, looking down at his hand holding onto yours.

He held your smaller hand in between his. "You don't have to say anything. Just think about it. I respect whatever you decide. I just want to know if I have really lost you for good."

"I don't know." You finally admitted, biting your bottom lip slightly and gently taking your hand back from his hold. "I need time."

"Take all the time you need." He ensured.

"We'll see." You glanced at your phone, checking the time. "Thank you for lunch, but I should really be headed back."

He nodded his head, gathering his still wrapped sandwich and drink as you both get up from the table. "I'll walk you back."

The rest of your workday felt like a waste considering you could not focus on anything. You did not get done much of anything you had planned to get done. Why did guys have to make things so complicated? If he had just communicated about it before, maybe you would still be together.

You tried to focus on the computer screen in front of you, letting your fingers hover over the keyboard. Focus, Y/n.

You knew you should not want him back. You did not owe him a thing. You knew there would always be the risk he had not actually changed, but he was all you knew. You grew to him. Your life had changed for your future with him. You had been so wrapped up in the wedding, you had not been paying attention to him. But then again, if he had helped, participated in his own wedding plans then so much would not have been on you.

You rubbed your temple, saving your progress and shutting off the computer screen. You were just gonna call it a night. You had a girls' night planned with May and you did not want this to get in the way of your friendship with May again.

You reached into your pocket to collect yourself, shooting May a quick text.

We're still on for tonight, right?

You gathered your papers off of your desk, shuffling them up neatly before pulling them back in its folder and putting them in the drawer of your desk.

Don't be late.

You smiled at her message before pulling open the door to your office.

You had kept your word to May and showed at a decent time. She was setting up for movie night when you arrived. She tsked when she saw how overdressed you were.

"If I had stopped for a change of clothes, I would have been late." You reminded her with a laugh as she entered the living room again with a bottle of wine and a bowl of popcorn. She placed them on the coffee table in front of her.

"You're welcome to grab some clothes of mine." She offered as she sat down on the couch, tucking her legs underneath her and covering herself with a blanket.

You had already stripped yourself from your blazer as you walked down the hallway to May's room. You grabbed a pair of shorts and a shirt from her dresser before going to the bathroom to change out of your pencil skirt and blouse.

You stared at yourself in the mirror as you changed the set of clothes. Your eyes were glued to your stomach, noticing how bloated you looked and frowning slightly. You knew your period would be any day now, but usually, you did not bloat this bad. Your clothes had seemed a little snug today. You shook the thought as you fold your clothes and set them up on the bathroom counter. Your head spinning from everything going. Just when you had thought things were calm, it picked right back up. You left the bathroom, walking towards the living room where May was.

"Hey, Aunt Ma-" Peter called out as he came out of his bedroom, knocking into you in the process. He quickly grabbed a hold of your waist to keep you falling. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-" He started to rumble.

"It's fine. I'm okay." You laughed quietly, making him smile suddenly when his eyes finally met yours. "You wouldn't happen to be avoiding me, would you?" You tease. You understand even if he was, but you had hoped that he was not avoiding you. You did not want to be the reason driving him out of his own home.

He blushed slightly. "Just giving you some space." He told the truth. You hadn't realized how close you two still were.

"I don't need space, Peter. We're okay." Your eyes flickered across his face for a moment, biting down on your bottom lip when you noticed how close he was still holding you. "Peter-"

"Y/n, are you coming? The movie is about to start!" May called out from her spot on the couch. She had already poured you both a glass of wine.

"Did you want to join us?" You question absentmindedly. He smiled at your words. Maybe you were coming around after all.

"I might later. I have some work I need to finish up." He answered, letting go of his grasp on your waist. You nodded before giving him one last look and continuing down the hallway back to May.

You were halfway through the movie when you turned to May, snacking on a few pieces of popcorn from the bowl that sat between the two of you. "So the weirdest thing happened at work today." You started, pulling her attention from the movie. "Chris showed up."

May turned down the movie a little in order to hear you better. Her eyes were slightly wide and you laughed a little at her reaction. "That was my reaction as well." You pointed out.

"Well? What happened? What did he say?" She encouraged you to continue.

Peter had just come out of his room just in time to get a snack along with something to drink. He had been finishing an assignment. He took his earbuds out one by one, hearing you in the living room as he walked through the kitchen.

"Well, he took me to lunch, and basically he apologized for everything. He wants a second chance."

Peter's eyes grew wide, listening to you talk. You did not have to say his name to know who you were talking about. He peaked in the living room at you and Aunt May on the couch, leaning against the wall as he listened in.

"And?"

You shrugged.

"I'm surprised you even let him take you out." May pointed out as she took a sip of her wine.

"Honestly, it surprised me too but I was hungry and he offered to pay so I gave in." You rubbed your arm slightly as you leaned back on the couch.

"So what's the plan?"

You looked over at May, raising an eyebrow curiously. "Plan?"

"Well I mean, what did you say to him?"

You got quiet for a moment. Peter felt as if he was holding his breath just to make sure he heard your answer correctly.

"I told him I would think about it."

May seemed surprised by your answer. Peter, on the other hand, was less than pleased.

"He's all I know. I'm comfortable with him. I don't know how to start over and at this point, it seems pointless." You explained as you picked at the blanket over your lap. "He said he didn't wanna give up when we have invested so much time and that he was willing to prove himself."

"Maybe he needed this. Ya know, like a reality check." May suggested and you nodded your head.

Peter could not believe you were going back. You were giving up. After everything he put through, everything he said, and how worthless he had you feel, you were going back. Had you not learned anything? His fists clenched at his side, trying to keep himself calm. He could not listen to another second of this.

He stormed past you and May. "Hey, Pete-" May started, but Peter swiftly interrupted her.

"I'm going out. Don't wait up." He mumbled. Your heart skipped, realizing that Peter had heard everything. You were so sure he had been in his room. He glanced at you before pulling the door closed harder than usual, making the both of you jump. You frowned, looking down.

Peter sat on top of a roof, leaning against a brick wall as he looked down over the city. He did not know what else he could do to prove himself to you. He finally had his chance and you only pushed him away. Chris had years to prove himself and he had. He made his intentions pretty clear, but even that wasn't enough to steer you away.

He was convinced you were scared to be happy. Scared to find that happiness with him when his Aunt was your best friend. Sure you were a little older, but none of that mattered to him. You were the only girl who could ever make him feel the way he did. It could not just be him feeling this way.

The streets were not as busy due to it being so late. Peter closed his eyes with a sigh from the built-up frustration, letting his leg hang over the side of the building. You were so stubborn.

His eyes snapped open at the roar of laughter beneath him. He glanced at the group of men before quickly having to do a double-take when he realized who it was.

"Come on, Chris. Admit it, you have Y/n wrapped your finger." The men shared a laugh, giving Chris's shoulder a playful push.

"Not like I use to, but I know she'll take me back." He chuckled. "She's waited long enough for that ring. She's not gonna give up now."

"You really think you're ready for marriage? What about the other girl?"

"Guess we'll see about that," Chris smirked and Peter's nose flared in anger. "Women like Y/n just need a ring and they're content. Besides, she's the perfect little housewife."

Peter tried to restrain him, but he could only hold himself back so much. He shot a web at Chris which hitting him over the mouth, sending him and his group in a panic trying to pull it off of his face with no luck.

"Dick." He muttered, shooting a web at another building and pulling himself onto the next building. He had enough. Chris didn't deserve someone like you. You deserved someone to take care of you, to cherish you, not just the other way around.

You stared down at the test in your hand. You never expected to find yourself here this soon. It was not long after Peter stormed out that you decided you should go home. You were upset with yourself and with everything going on. This was just the icing on the cake. You mindlessly walked by the calendar in the kitchen on your way to the bedroom, counting the days since your last period. You were late and at this point in your life, you could not ignore it.

The positive plus sign stared back at you and your eyes watered. You had not had sex with Chris in months so you knew it was Peter's. You covered your mouth, letting out a sob into your hand. This was not how you pictured yourself getting pregnant. This was not where you wanted to be in life when you planned on getting pregnant. You were barely making it taking care of yourself. You could not take care of a baby too.

Your body shook as you cried at the foot of your bed. You knew with the baby being Peter's, Chris would never want to be with you. Peter was just starting his life, barely even out of college along with being the Amazing Spiderman. You could not interfere with a baby.

A knock on your bedroom window startled you, making you drop the test. You looked the window to find Spiderman kneeled down on your fire escape, motioning for you to let him in.

You wiped your face of your tears and walked over to the window, unlocking it before pushing it up.

"Now isn't a good time, Peter." You stated bluntly, taking in the sight of him in his suit.

"I really need to talk to you, Y/N. It's important."

"Can we not talk about this another day?"

"No, it can't wait." He slipped under your arm into your bedroom, pulling his mask from over his face. "It's about Chris."

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms over your chest. "What about him?"

"He doesn't love you, Y/n. He will never care about you like you have cared about him. He is just using him as a housewife and that's all you'll be to him. Just someone to take care of him. You deserve so much than him." Peter paced back and forth as he ranted.

You stared at him as he paced. "That's what you came here to tell me? I know you heard me talking to May. I should have known you would come up with some way to make me feel like shit for thinking about going back."

"Y/n, I didn-"

"You did! You don't get it! It's my heart that was broken. I have loved him for years. You don't understand how hard this is for me."

"I don't understand?" His mouth parted at your words. You didn't know half of it. "How do I not when I have loved you years longer than he's been in your life? Even when you loved everyone but me! You fall for assholes like him and the good guys like me go overlooked!" He exclaimed, throwing his hand up as he shifted back, his foot stepping on the test you had dropped on the floor.

He glanced down to see what he had stepped on.

Your eyes got wide, trying to get his attention. "Peter." You stepped toward him but it was too late. He stared down at the pregnancy test, wiping his thumb over the plus sign as if checking to see if it was real.

He looked up at you. "You're pregnant?"

It was too late to lie about it. It would have required too much energy to keep it going if you had, and you did not have any fight left in you.

"How far?" He simply questioned. He was so sure it was his, but he wanted to hear it from you.

"If you're asking if it's yours, I can assure you it is. I haven't slept with Chris in months. I don't know how far I am. A few weeks is my guess."

He stared at the test a little while longer, a smiling forming on his lips. "We're gonna have a baby." He smiled at the test. He couldn't help himself. This had to be the best news he had heard in his life aside from becoming an Avenger.

"No." You shook your head.

He furrowed his eyebrows, looking up at you. "What?"

You moved over to him, taking the test from him and tossing it on your dresser with a sigh. "I can't keep the baby."

He frowned at your words. "Sure you can. What do you mean?"

You shook your head again, your eyes already getting watery again. "I can't, Peter. I'm not ready to be a mom. My life is a fucking train wreck and you're just now starting yours. I can't ruin that for you."

"Ruin? No, no." His frown deepened, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his arms for comfort. "This is the best news I've heard. This could never ruin my life."

You cried against his shoulder, clenching onto his suit as he held you close in a hug. He pressed a kiss to your temple, stroking your hair down. "I'll do everything I can to keep you and our baby happy. You will never have to worry about another woman because no matter what, I will always choose you. I'll take care of you." He let his hand slide underneath your shirt, rubbing his hand over rounding stomach. "I'll take care of our baby."

You push his hand away out of your shirt, pushing yourself away from him. "I-I can't. I'm not keeping the baby. I'm gonna go to the clinic tomorrow. It'll be better this way."

Peter's mouth fell open slightly as his eyes filled with tears. "Y-You can't be serious."

"I am and nothing is going to change my mind."

"Y/n..." He reached up to cup your face, but you grabbed his wrist. "That's our baby. Don't do this."

You stared at him with tear-filled eyes, some falling down your face, but you didn't speak a word.

He was getting heated by the second. If he thought he was hurt before, he was really hurting now. He didn't understand why you wouldn't take this as your fate and run with it. Run with him. Tears fell down his cheeks. He didn't bother to wipe them, only continued to look at you. He wanted the truth.

"Why? So you can go back to him?"

"This isn't about him."

"Then what is it about, Y/n? You want to get rid of a part of both of us! Can't you see how much I care about you? I would never hurt you like him. You don't have to change yourself to please me. You will never have to worry about not being enough." He moved closer to you, cupping your face in his hands and making you look at him. "You are so perfect, just the way you are. You are more than enough for me."

You try to turn your head to look away, but he leans in, capturing you in a firm passionate kiss. You melted into his kiss, gripping onto his suit. You wanted so badly to push him away, but you couldn't bring yourself to do it. You didn't want him to change your mind. You needed to do this.

He backed you up until your back of your knees hit the bed, letting you fall back on the comforter and falling with you. He supported himself above you, kissing your swollen lips softly as he wipes your face with a swipe of his thumbs.

"You are everything I have ever wanted." He mumbled against your lips, pressing warm kisses over your face and letting them trail down your neck. His hands began to push your shirt up and you quickly regained some focus, trying to catch his hands.

"Peter, we shouldn't..." He caught your hands and pushing them over your head, shooting a web against your wrists to hold them in place against the headboard. You cried as you looked up at him with frightened eyes.

"You don't have to do anything for me. Just let me show you how much I love you. Let me take care of you."

He pressed on his chest, letting his suit go limp on his body and sliding it off as he continued to work his way down your chest. He was left in his boxers. He had pressed your shirt up above your chest, kissing over your breasts and swirling his tongue over your aching nipples.

You whined at the feeling of his tongue, pulling on the webbed restraints. Your nipples were more sensitive than they had ever been before. His hands feel to the shorts you still wear of May's, pulling them down your legs with your panties.

"Peter, stop..." You tried to close your legs but Peter only held them open at the sight of your slick folds. You knew no matter how much you lied to him, your body could never lie to him. Your body only told the truth.

"I want to make you so happy." His lips brushing over your lower bloated stomach, kissing over it and mumbling against it. "You're going to make such an amazing mother."

You shook your head as you wiggled underneath his body. He pushed off his boxers before returning to his place between your legs.

He nodded even when you shook your head. "You will be."

Peter dragged the tip of his cock through your glistening folds, biting his bottom lip as your juices coated it. He let the tip of his cock push against your entrance, pushing his hips forward to slide inside of you and your head rolled back with a whimper.

You hated how much control he really had over you. You hated feeling so weak.

"Peter-" You choked a sob as your walls clenched onto his thick length. You were embarrassed how quickly your pussy pulled him back in when he would thrust.

"Oh," He groaned as his cock pushing in and out of you, hitting you in all the right places as he held your hips in his hands. "I love you. I love you so much." He mumbled against your lips as they brushed together every thrust. His breathing was staggered against them.

You could not fight the lust that clouded your mind. He knew it would take time to steer you in the right direction, but he was willing to spend all the time he needed. You knew how wrong it was to be underneath him, even if you were stuck there, that did not stop what was wrong from feeling so right.

#dark!peter parker #dark!peter x reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker #spiderman x reader #dark!spiderman x reader #dark!spiderman #dark!tom holland #tom holland x reader #peter parker one shot #dub con #peter parker smut #dark peter x reader

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ahopelessromantic · 3 years

Text

Children of Sun and Darkness (M)

Part two of A Child of Sun and Darkness

Pairing: The Darkling x Sun Summoner! female reader

Word count: 8,7k (oh boy)

Warnings: once again, spoiler of the Darkling’s name, SMUT, Aleksander being a SIMP, fluff, so much fluff, villainous behavior

A/N: I really, really got carried away with this one. Especially since I didn’t even intend to have any smut in here. But alas, the apology letters to Ben Barnes and Leigh Bardugo are sent once more and I wish you all a happy reading experience. I really do must warn you again of the Darkling as a father though, I don’t think you’re ready.

A gorgeous ray of sunshine was tickling your barely awake self. There were things to do, certainly, but your bed felt far too heavenly to be left already. The air had recently begun to smell like the promise of summer, and it paired so nicely with the flowers Aleksander always brought to your bedside table. Aleksander, you thought sleepily and slowly opened your eyes. You would have loved to curl into his lean body for a few more minutes before getting up, but it seemed like he had already so cruelly abandoned you. You were about to pout like a little baby when a soft morning wind carried the sound of laughter through your window. Aleksander must have opened it before leaving your shared chambers. Wanting to know the source of these joyous sounds, you slipped into your morning robe and stepped in front of the big window. After your marriage to the infamous Darkling, the two of you had moved your chambers to be closer to the Little Palace’s beautiful gardens. From where you stood now, your position on the second floor gave you the perfect view over them.

“There she is.” Your husband beamed with his lovely deep voice. He was looking up to you with nothing but adoration in his eyes, and you couldn’t help but smile yourself. Your daughter, barely even four, shrieked happily at your sight and sent another ray of sunshine your way. “Good morning, my love!” You called out to her. She ran up to her father, who picked her up so she could see you better. Your chest warmed at the sight of the two people you loved most in the world, the serenity in their expressions. “Good morning Mama!” She giggled back. You blew her a kiss, which she caught enthusiastically. “You should have awoken me!” You chided your husband. He smiled. “How could I, when you were sleeping so peacefully? Besides, we wanted to try if Ilona could get her sun rays all the way through to our bed. Did she manage it?” The proudest smile grew across your lips. “She did. You did amazing, honey. So amazing, that when I get down there, I’m gonna have to smooch you all over!” “NOOO!” She screamed and skipped away to the pond to look at her beloved fish. “Are you coming down for breakfast? I already had the servants set out a table.” You sighed happily and just looked at your husband for a moment. “You really do think of everything, don’t you?” The grin he sent you in response caused your knees to weaken. “Who would I be if I didn’t.” To hide your blush, you scrunched your nose and disappeared from the window to get dressed for the day. Only a short while later you had finally made it to the gardens, clad in the same colour as your husband: deep black. Upon seeing you, your daughter began to happily run towards you. Suddenly then she seemed to remember your threat of extra smooches and turned around, but it was too late. You caught up with her and gathered her into your arms, tickling and kissing her all over. She laughed loudly, only half trying to escape. “Good morning, little sunshine.” You finally properly greeted her once you were done, pressing a long kiss to the top of her head. She turned around in your arms and buried her face in your neck. “Did I do good with the sunray, mama?” You smiled and pulled her even closer. “You did so well, Ilona. I love you.” She leaned away to look at you, the brightest smile on her adorable little face. “I love you!” She responded and kissed your cheek. Saints, she was everything good and soft in the world come to life. “Can I go feed the fishies?” She asked enthusiastically. You grinned at her, forever enchanted by the little human that was so you and so Aleksander. “Of course you can. Go ask the servants, they’ll give you some food for them.” The Darkling, who had watched the interaction between you and your daughter, stepped forward with a happy smile. You were about to ask what specifically he was smiling about when he placed his lips on yours in a passionate kiss. There was barely anyone around, but the kiss’ immodesty still caused your cheeks to flush. “My sun.” He whispered, only for you to hear. “I swear you look lovelier by the day.” You sighed, still phased by the kiss, and slid your arms around his waist. “And I swear you get more charming by the day. Is it a thing of darkness, your cheek? I think I see some of it in Ilona.” He chuckled and pressed a kiss to your temple. “I think that’s all you actually.” He nodded to where she was knelt on the edge of the pond, apparently talking to its inhabitants. “I only know one other being that can be so kind and yet so fierce.” For a moment, his words rendered you speechless, but then you pinched the fabric of his kefta. “Alright, Mr Darkling, now you’re overdoing it. Where is this breakfast you’ve promised me? I’m starving.”

Giggling like the two lovestruck Grisha you had been years ago, you set off to the little table laden with delicious breakfast foods. It gave you a perfect view of your daughter, close enough to see her, yet far away enough to allow her the space even she as a little person was owed. You and your little family spent most mornings like this: Breaking the fast together, you and your husband watching your daughter play, talking court politics while eating. There were unrests in Ravka again, unrests the old king didn’t seem capable of dealing with. “He’s a fool, and I wished I could see him gone.” You hummed at your husband’s words, staring at your tea in deep thought. If he had only been just a fool, you thought. He wouldn’t be any danger to anyone, then, but his empty-brained attempts at displays of dominance were costing the second army precious lives every time. But he was still the king, and the two of you were still just the second army’s general and his wife. “Careful with the treason talk so early in the morning, my love. I don’t think it’s all that becoming with my sweet roll.” He smiled and took your hand from across the table. You squeezed it and sent him a meaningful glance. “Besides, you never know who might be listening. You know I couldn’t bear it if the Lantsov family were to imprison you.” Aleksander sighed, now, and wistfully looked across the Little Palace’s grounds. Some Grisha were training in the far distance, Inferni, by the looks of it. His gaze was pensive, a look you well knew by now- he was planning something. But apparently, it was too early to let you in on his schemes yet. He just pressed a kiss to your knuckles and looked at you in earnest. “I promise you, my sun. One day, we won’t have to bow to anyone. Our world will only consist of our family and Grisha, and it will be safe. I promise.” An unexpectedly reverent feeling spread across the breakfast table. You nodded solemnly. “One day.” You whispered back. That seemed to please him because his face returned to the kind smiles he usually wore around you, and he pressed another kiss to the back of your hand. “I love you.” He mouthed at you, and you mouthed it right back. Then, as it tended to happen with a toddler child, the two of you were interrupted by Ilona climbing into her father’s lap. “Papa, can I have a dagger?” Both you and Aleksander snorted out a laugh at the determination in your daughter’s voice. She really was a force of nature, your little one- quite literally. Not fully in control of her powers yet, she seemed eternally surrounded half by darkness, half by light. No one had thought it possible, but so far it seemed she had inherited both yours and your beloved’s powers. Ballads were being sung about her in taverns ever since word of her powers had left the Palace walls and witch hunters trying to get to her ever since that, too. Now, Aleksander Morozova had always been concerned with the safety of all Grisha. But more and more often these days you found him pacing in his war room at night, or watching your daughter with far more than fatherly sorrow. It was an all-consuming fear and sorrow for her safety- one you shared. There was nothing you wouldn’t do to know her safe. Once you had been driven by ambition, then by love for your husband. But now such a fierce protectiveness spurred you on that caused you to think yourself capable of far greater evils than your husband had ever committed.

“Do you think the Second Army would follow us? If we were to split from the king?” Aleksander’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, his deep brown eyes finding yours. The two of you had been dealing with some late-night paperwork, General’s duties. As the sun summoner and, in addition, the Darkling’s wife, you almost held as much power and responsibility as him these days. Your husband put down his pen and pensively sank back into his chair. “I don’t know.” He uttered finally. “I wish they would, of course. But some Grisha are as loyal to Ravka as Otkazat'sya. Some of them do wish to serve their country. And some of them do love their king.” He grimaced at that, and you had to bite back a laugh. “Ravka’s eagle is double-headed for a reason, you know.” He continued, and you turned serious once more. The sentiment of Ravka’s duality was a nice one- but one that was destined to fail, in your opinion. The Grisha already lived so separated from the country’s regular citizens that it was almost ridiculous to even count them as part of them. Most Otkazat'sya seemed to condemn Grisha for their powers, and most Grisha seemed to look down on the Otkazat'sya. They both had their good reasons, you figured. But how much contempt, how much annoyance or even hatred separated non-Grisha from Drüskelle? You inwardly shuddered at the thought of Fjerda’s Army, with their repeating rifles and their ruthlessness. Aleksander’s hand on your shoulder caused you to return to reality. “What’s on your mind, my sun?” He asked, his voice ever so soft. Sometimes, with how much love he showed you every day, you forgot about how evil he could be, how hated he was by so many. “I-“ You began, then sighed. “I’m thinking about what you said the other day, at breakfast. About not having to bow to anyone. I’ve been thinking about it a lot, actually. What would happen if we were to take one of the eagle’s heads? Leave the people and their Lantsovs to themselves and found our own sovereign nation of Grisha power. It would be of the tsar family’s interest to stay in our good natures, we could trade their foods and goods for our protection. But on our own terms. And we would be safe, in a city of our own, protected by Fabrikator walls and your Darkness. Ilona would be safe.” Your husband had that look on his face again. That look of deep contemplation. “A safe place for all Grisha. Most importantly, Ilona. That’s all I’ve ever wanted in life.” He said quietly. You stroked his cheek, ran a hand through his hair. “I know.” You hummed. For a moment, you spotted a glimpse of the man he had been when your daughter had been born. He had been so eager to do everything right. So happy, yet so frightened and worried at the same time. His first words upon seeing the little bundle that was your newborn daughter had been “She’s so small”, accompanied by tearful eyes. She had been small indeed, so very little. During the first weeks after her birth, whenever you hadn’t been holding her, he had been. There hadn’t been a nanny, a wet nurse even. The both of you had been far too afraid to let your precious daughter out of your sight. Still were. She was your everything. You felt guilty for steering your nightly conversation down such a dark path, so you took his hand and lovingly squeezed it. “I trust you, Aleksander. I trust you to do what’s right for us as Grisha, and for us as a family. And believe me when I say I will be by your side for anything you ever decide on doing.” The smallest of smiles began to tug at his lips. “Come on now.” You said softly and breathed a kiss against his jaw. “It’s late, and it’s my matrimonial duty to distract my betrothed from any worries that might plague him.” He was fully smiling now, a familiar playful glint in his eyes. He tilted his head and looked at you with one raised eyebrow. “How would you think to go about doing that?” You returned his playful smile and got up to settle yourself right into his lap. Something dark flashed across his eyes, something that told you you wouldn’t yet sleep for many more hours. “What about this?” You whispered and experimentally ground down on him. A devious smile was on your lips. For a moment, he let you have the upper hand. Leaned his head back, breathed deeply. Sometimes, you were allowed to see him like this. To have him like this. Feeling bashful, you leaned forward to place a myriad of kisses against his neck. You could almost hear his heartbeat speeding up, his breathing growing heavier. His hands wandered to your waist, then to your hips. He used his strength to press you down on him, and it was then that you were done for. Your moment had ended, it was his turn now. Aleksander looked up at you with dark eyes, his pupils were blown wide and barely noticeable in the low lighting. “I wish you could see yourself the way I see you sometimes.” His voice had dropped at least an octave deeper. “My perfect, perfect wife. My perfect sun, with a body so powerful. A body strong enough to bear life.” Feeling very vulnerable all of a sudden, you had to make an effort to bite back the tears that had risen to your eyes. Your husband truly always knew what exactly to say- even to a mother who sometimes found herself quite insecure in her new curves. “I love you.” You marvelled, kissing him softly. He smiled into the kiss and deepened it until you were both gasping for air. “Shall we retreat for the night, my sun?” You were about to respond when he lifted you up and placed you on the table the two of you had been sitting at. “Or do you want to taint this place forevermore? Curse it, so I think of being inside of you whenever I hold council here?” You innocently looked up at him through your lashes. Then, you smirked. That seemed to have been answer enough, because he was on you again in seconds, devouring every inch of skin he came across. “Do you remember our first night?” You gasped out between moans. Aleksander stopped in his tracks for a moment to look at you, lifted your chin with his fingers. He looked unravelled. Like he was merely dangling by a thread anymore. “You mean when I almost had you in the hallway, of all places?” You grinned and felt your eyes light up. “Exactly.” You whispered and leaned forward to capture his lips again. He groaned into the kiss. “Saints.” He panted. He seldomly addressed saints, if ever. It sent a wave of cocky satisfaction through you. “All this time with you, and you still find ways to catch me off guard.” Chuckling, you pulled him impossibly closer by his collar, crossing your legs behind his waist and grinding up against him. “I think it’s included in those matrimonial duties of mine.” “You’re going to have to- ah.” He took a deep breath. “-Send me a list of those.” You wanted to respond something, anything, but you didn’t get the chance to. Not while your kefta was being unclasped, not while his hands bunched up your skirts around your hips. “Do you want to go slower?” He asked, breathing heavily, his forehead leaned against yours. You closed your eyes for a moment, then smiled. You felt surrounded by your husband, by his scent, his presence, his arms. Most of all, you felt safe. A kind of safety only Aleksander had ever been able to provide for you. After a moment, you shook your head. “No.” You answered, nipping at his neck. “No.” You said again, sliding his kefta off his shoulders. “I want you. I need you. Now.” Suddenly, time seemed to speed up. You helped the Darkling unbuckle his pants, shrugged off your own coat, allowed him to rip most of your blouse open. The thoughts of witch hunters and civil unrests were still heavy on your mind, and you wanted him hard and fast, so he could take away all of your worries. Normally you weren’t as impatient as this. The two of you loved drawing things out in the bedroom, all teasing kisses and devilish grins. But today, things were different. Today you wanted to forget. Today you wanted to be overpowered by him. You didn’t even have the proper time to admire his length, for as soon as it had been exposed, it was already teasing along your folds. You sighed out shakily. “How badly do you want it?” Aleksander asked, one hand playing with your breast. “So badly, Aleksander.” He sighed at that, too. His name from your words would maybe never lose its effect. “If you were taken from me, I would kill. I would destroy entire cities to have you again. To have this again.” Your words almost felt as intimate as your wedding vows. They sent you both forward again, lips colliding in a clash of teeth. His tongue touched yours and sent a bolt of electricity down to your nether regions. “Nothing. Do you hear me? Nothing will ever take me from you.” He vowed back. With that, he entered you, and you both moaned out loudly. “Fuck!” He almost yelled. “How are you still so tight?” It was clearly a rhetorical question he didn’t want an answer for, for his hands were clasped around your neck. You allowed your head to drop back in pleasure and voluntarily clenched around him. “All for you.” You rasped out through his grip. He started fucking into you at that, the both of you losing your ability to form proper sentences once the so familiar fire started to spread between you. Somewhere, the edge of a book was pricking into your side, but it only spurred you on further. You always felt like the queen of the world like this- desired, full of pleasure, the most powerful man in the kingdom losing himself in you. You thought of how he would never be able to look at this table normally again, how he would twitch in that adorable way of his whenever people weren’t paying attention to him. Saints, you loved him. You loved him. Your heart felt warm and full, but so did you. At some point he hoisted you even further onto the table, his pace relentless now. But you didn’t care, you needed more, more, more. “Aleksander!” You gasped out when he brushed up against that place inside of you. “I love you.” You panted, tightening your legs around him. He looked at you like there was nothing else ever worth being looked at. Like you were a painting he could neither understand nor get enough of. With shaky hands he moved a few wayward strands of hair out of your face, then he cupped it in his hands tightly. “I love you.” He answered, stressing each word with a thrust of his hips. “Oh fucking saints, I love you. I’m so close.” “Let go.” You encouraged him seductively, tugging at the hair in the nape of his neck. “Give it to me, Aleksander.” His pace seemed to grow impossibly faster until it grew erratic. “My sun. My love, my goddess, I’m going to-“ With a loud moan, he came, his pulsating member spilling his seed into you. You helped him ride out his high, pulled him closer, clenched and unclenched in his rhythm. He shuddered at that; head buried in your neck. It was your moment once again. He was all yours to have. “I love you.” The two of you whispered at almost the same time and broke out into laughter. But the laughter caused you to clench again, and Aleksander winced from the hypersensitivity. “You’re just too tight, my love.” He almost teased and moved to remove himself from you. He wasn’t really in a state to tease again, yet. You pouted. “But I don’t want you to leave me. I always feel so empty afterwards.” He breathed a kiss to your cheek that could have well been a concealed laugh. Sometimes the two of you would stay connected like that for ages, neither of you willing to end this incredibly pleasurable state of warmth and satiation. But while that was easy to do on a bed, it wasn’t so much on a desk. “Besides.” You continued. “We’re going to make a mess.” Your husband looked at you, his lower lip caught between his teeth. “I like the mess.”, he said decidedly. “Leave it to the servants to be cleaned up. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? For someone to know what cursed, unholy things their Saint does for her evil husband?” You barely even blushed at his words. Saints, he had ruined you- in the best way possible. “Now come on, my sun.” He uttered. “If I remember correctly, you still need taking care of.” You shuddered at the thought of what was to come. His fingers inside of you, his lips on your most sensitive spot. Oh, how good you had it. Smiling and holding his hand, you followed your husband back to your chambers. He stayed true to his promise there- two times. Afterwards, you sleepily held him in your arms, your fingers drawing abstract, invisible designs onto the skin of his back. Through the connection the two of you shared you could feel his peacefulness as if it was your own, a sense of pride filling you. You were the one in whose presence he could relax, let his guards down- no one else. You pressed a gentle kiss to his hair, a silent ‘I love you’. “My love?” He murmured and pressed an equally soft kiss to your shoulder. “Hm?” You hummed in response and watched your husband straighten up so he was able to look you in the eyes. He sighed, visibly struggling to find the right words. “I want more children, as many you’d be willing to have. Brothers and sisters for Ilona, so she will never be alone. More time for us to experience holding a newborn babe again. But I fear for our daughter so much, every day. I fear for any future children of ours, even. And I think we’ve lived in fear for long enough. I’ve lived in fear long enough. I thought if we just waited for the king to die, waited for him to live out his pathetic mortal life, we could seize control one day. But I’ve been patient for centuries, and I’m tired of it. I think the time for action has come.” Aleksander’s words caused you to sit up, too, your heartbeat uncontrollably speeding up. “Will you fight with me, my love?” You pensively moved a strand of his hair away from his gorgeous features, then lifted your chin. “Always.” You breathed. The smallest of smiles lit up his face. Your husband leaned up to kiss you, then pulled you into his embrace. “We’ll change the world. For us. For our family.” You squeezed his arm in response. You truly would.

The next few months were spent meticulously planning the beheading of the ravkan eagle. Your mornings were spent in softness, laughing with your daughter, cuddling with her in bed, and then that softness was exchanged for the coldness of daily council meetings. Spies were seeking out the intelligence of the opinions of Grisha on a potential Grisha state, letters were being sent, fighting styles being trained. The king and queen would pose the smallest problems for your cause- they would either cooperate with the second army’s leaving or leave their lives. Angry mobs were your bigger worry- there was a smart way to go about the splitting off of the kingdom, and you were eager to take it, with as few casualties as possible. Then there was the question of your new country’s location. You didn’t need lands the size of Ravka, but you still needed space for houses, training facilities, farmlands. Surprisingly many Grisha were open to leading a simple life of caring for crops and animals, having long tired of the so-called ‘war effort’. Your council meetings grew with each week, more and more Grisha eager to take part in the founding of a home of their own. Fresh faces kept on turning up every week- a Suli Fabrikator here, a Shu Healer there. The once so spacious halls of the Little Palace were beginning to feel cosy, filled with the hope of new alliances forming. It was getting harder by the day to keep your efforts hidden from the king, and the time to strike seemed to be nearing. Ilona seemed to be feeling it, too. Her new favourite pastime was to make friends with as many of the new Grisha as possible. You and Aleksander had both felt apprehensive about it at first, but once you deemed her safe you realized how much power of her own she truly held. She was a symbol. A symbol of you and your husband’s strength, of a new generation of Grisha. A generation that would grow up in safety, without being trained to be used in fights their entire lives. The people in the Little Palace loved her, they had taken to calling her the ‘Grisha princess’. It made you partly proud, partly uncomfortable. You didn’t want her to be an instrument in your fight for freedom, just another weapon to be used, but you couldn’t hide her away, either. She was still small, and young, but she still deserved a life in the light. Late at night, when he was feeling particularly safe and vulnerable, Aleksander sometimes told you stories from his childhood, his youth. How his mother had eternally urged him to stay hidden in the shadows. It wasn’t a way to live, he had once said. And he was right. Ilona deserved her fishpond, her Grisha friends, her chance to openly use her powers. One day, you and your husband already deep into planning your coup, you watched her play with a young Squaller boy. They were both laughing loudly, their happiness more than contagious. You found yourself smiling, heart and body warmed by the afternoon sun. This was what you were fighting for. What you were always going to fight for. Freedom. Only a few weeks later, the time had come. The king was holding a ball, and it was the perfect opportunity for a show of strength. Countless honorary representatives had been invited, the perfect audience for what you were planning to do. You, your husband, and your legion were hoping for a peaceful encounter. The second army was going to show in its full strength, crowd into the ballroom and declare its conditions. You all hoped the sense of unity you had all started to feel would make itself noticeable, pose a threat. The council meetings with your fellow Grisha had long ceased to feel like generals talking to their subordinates. You were equals in your cause, and as the objectively most powerful Grisha, you and your husband were treated with the respect of such. Almost everyone doubtlessly acknowledged you as the heads of your operation, the rulers of Little Palace. The king, of course, was going to be appalled, yes enraged even over your actions. He would spew harmless threats at first, feeling ashamed and belittled for having missed out on developments of such a grand scale right under his eyes. But his power was by far no match for yours. It had come just as you had hoped it would. The king of Ravka had begrudgingly signed your declaration of independence after hours of discussions, angry tantrums and finally quiet pleads. The Grisha would have their own eagle from now on- no shared heads. You would claim lands west of the fold, protected from each side by mountains, the true sea and the world of shadows your husband had created so long ago. The people already living there would have the choice of continuing to stay there, or move somewhere else for a compensation. Grisha from all over the world would be welcome in this sanctuary- you had space and power enough to keep them all safe. Once the coup was over and done with, you sought out a moment alone with your husband. It was a few days after, and both of you had been stuck in nonstop meetings and conversations with fellow Grisha. There was the name of your nation to be decided on, the flag, the layout of your new city. You had been so busy even, that your victory still hadn’t fully registered with you. “Are you alright?” You nervously asked Aleksander in his private office. It was nicely cool and dark there, a welcome change from the Little Palace’s crowded halls. His eyes met yours at that, a smile reflected in them. He looked the healthiest you had ever seen him, a new vigour in the way he moved. Sometimes you forgot that, while you shared the same cause, it already had been his before that for centuries. His years of pain and solitude had finally paid off. “I am not just alright, my love. I’m overcome with joy. Don’t you see it? We’ve changed the world.” You bit your lip, suddenly feeling overcome with emotion and fairly vulnerable. Carefully stepping into his embrace, you took in his scent, sought out his ever so calming touch. Just like he had done in the very early days of your relationship, he wrapped the two of you in comforting darkness. “I’m a bit scared.” You admitted quietly, choked up with tears. “It feels surreal that we’ve won.” Aleksander sighed and pulled you closer to his body. He knew what you meant- he had felt it too. This fear of everything being ripped away as soon as you’d held it in your grasp. “I know.” He murmured and pressed a kiss to your temple. “But it is done. Our declaration has been signed by the king, his ministers. The first army will allow us to leave- or be met with our collected strength. You’ve seen the halls outside, the gardens. I don’t think as many Grisha as this have ever been in one place, in all of history.” You looked up at his face, the beauty of his finely chiselled cheekbones. He was pure strength, safety. As if to remind you of your own power, you filled the room with a golden glow. You were the legendary shadow and sun summoner, the two strongest Grisha who had ever lived- nothing was going to come into your way. You got onto your tiptoes and hugged him tightly, buried your head in his neck. He reached his arms around your waist, and his so familiar certainty flooded your bloodstream. “We’ll have everything.” You murmured, half incredulously. Your husband chuckled at that and playfully squeezed you tight. “I promised that, didn’t I? I think it’s part of my matrimonial duties.” You both laughed, pulling away to look into each other’s eyes. Aleksander caressed the side of your face, nothing but devotion in his gaze. “I know that this new reality is frightening. We have more to lose than ever. But we can carry this fear together. Turn it into something beautiful, something to last for centuries. We’re not alone as long as we have each other.” At that, you leaned up to kiss him lovingly. You both sighed against the other’s lips. It had been ages since the two of you had last had the time to lose yourselves in each other’s embraces. “We’ll have all the time in the world for this, soon.” You realized suddenly, happily. The darkling smiled. “We will. We will my love.”

A few months later, your husband stormed into your chambers. He exuded a wild sort of happiness, his eyes restless. First, he pressed a kiss to Ilona's head, then he picked her up and twirled her around. She shrieked with laughter, and you lowered the book you had been reading while your daughter had played into your lap. Aleksander’s eyes met yours, untamed joy written in his features. “It is finished.” He spoked, and as if struck by lightning, you got up from your seat. Your book clattered to the floor, and the loud sound sent your heart racing. “Is it really?” You quietly asked, eyes wide and incredulous. He nodded reverently, hugging Ilona close to his chest. “The head of the Durasts received the word just this morning. The Fabrikators have finished our city, based on the drawings we’ve both seen. It’s marvellous, according to their reports.” Your hand wandered to your heart, as if to will it to go slower. You breathed heavily, taking a moment to let the realization sink in. You would be safe, on your own terms. Not the king’s. Both you and your husband had been overseeing the construction of your new city from within the Little Palace’s walls, not wanting to leave until it seemed completely safe. For months, assorted groups of Grisha soldiers, healers and most importantly, Durasts, had been crossing the fold to make your shared dream of a Grisha nation come true. The Darkling stepped closer to you, put his arms around both you and your daughter. A giggle escaped your lips. “It’s done.” You breathed; happy tears in your eyes. Aleksander returned your look with equal happiness and leaned forward to press a kiss between your eyes. Ilona giggled, sensing the happiness of her parents. “We can start the moving nothing shorter than this week if you want to. They’ll need your powers for the fold.” Sending smaller groups through the fold was alright. But for the massive move you were planning, you would accompany the myriad of coaches and carts, to keep the Grisha and their belongings safe. “The two of you will be alright here, for a while?” You poked Ilona’s side, and both her and your husband laughed. “We’ll have loads of fun. We’ll have a parade to say goodbye to all the fish, and we’ll tour the Little Palace to pick out all the paintings Ilona wants to take with her.” You grinned happily. They’d truly be alright.

The move was exhausting but fulfilling. You crossed the fold several times a week, accompanied by carts stacked with furniture, livestock and necessary equipment. Once an Alkemi cart almost eradicated a group of Inferni, a sign of how nervous and eager everyone was to escape into a country of their own. Your favourite part was listening in on the other Grisha’s conversations while guiding them through the fold. There was a group of young tidemakers gushing about the prospect of seeing the true sea for the first time and playing with it, two Alkemi discussing how to maximize carrot harvests with the right mixture of sun and Grisha fertilizer. You hadn’t been to the new capital yet, only seen its buildings gleaming in the far-off distance. You wanted it to be a surprise, to set foot in it for the first time with your husband and daughter.

“Enjoying the view one last time?” You asked gently and leaned against the doorframe. Aleksander turned to look at you in surprise, looking a bit lost in the empty room. The time to leave had come, and he had been quietly saying his goodbyes to the Little Palace for the past week. The two of you stood in what had once been his office, now nothing but an empty room with a pretty view. Your husband sighed, something in his expression calling out to you. You walked up to him and allowed him to put his arms around you. “Where’s Ilona?” He asked softly. You smiled. “With the other children. I think they’re playing one last epic round of hide and seek.” That answer seemed to calm him, free his thoughts for other topics. The two of you stared out of the window in silence for a while. Eventually, he sighed. His chin leaned on your shoulder, and you could feel his apprehensiveness. “I’ve wanted to leave this godforsaken place for decades. To never have to see the Grand Palace again. But despite all of that leaving is…” He trailed off, his gaze wandering into the distance. “It’s harder than I expected.” You placed your hands on his arms around you, squeezed them gently. “You’ve built this place. It’s only understandable you find it difficult to leave behind.” He scoffed, and you knew that sound. He made it whenever he was feeling something he hadn’t expected to feel. “This was the first place I’ve ever felt safe in. The first at least relatively safe place for Grisha there’s ever been.” You gulped down a ball of tears. “You should be proud of that.” You whispered. At that, he finally smiled. “You’re right. This is a first draft- a product of the past. We’re moving into the future now.” Grasping one of his hands, you held it up to your lips to press a kiss against it. “Are there any things you still want to take with you? Any last thing you still want to do?” He turned you around in his embrace and pressed your back against the wall right next to the window. A playful glint was in his eyes now, and you were overwhelmed by the sheer happiness he exuded. “I could think of a few things.” He placed a naughty kiss against the side of your neck, and you giggled. “You’re insatiable.” He straightened back up to look at you again and took an impossible step closer to you. “For you? Always.” He breathed, and the time for laughter was over.

The move to your new home took about three days. You wanted to take your time, show Ilona the parts of Ravka she had never seen. But of all things, the Shadow Fold seemed to have awoken her interest the most. While the other children and many adults, too, huddled close for protection, she skipped ahead. Her head was continuously tilted upwards in an attempt to take everything in. “I think she’s sensing your power. It feels familiar to her.” You smiled, taking your husband’s arm. His gaze was fixed to your daughter’s small figure, and his eyes glistened suspiciously. It was only then it dawned upon you- the Fold had been his biggest mistake, his very own monster- an abomination. Seeing his own daughter treat it with so much innocent fascination must have stirred hurt parts of his soul you couldn’t even begin to imagine. Your smile died down into a face of quiet adoration. You took a step back and left Aleksander to have this moment by himself. After centuries, he probably had been starving for one like it. After a few minutes, he turned around, his gaze seeking yours. There weren’t many Grisha around, most of them had moved already, so he allowed himself to keep his guards a bit lower than he usually did in the presence of other people. You sent him an encouraging smile and caught up with him to take his hand. “Do you want to catch up with her? We should probably get back to the coach if we want to make it out of the fold by noon.” He returned your smile, then took off towards your daughter in quick strides. “I’m coming to get you, Ilona!” She put up quite the fight, but in the end, she curled into her father’s arms, still giggling. She had always loved playing catch with him, even when her legs had barely carried her for more than a few steps. You didn’t miss the way Aleksander first glanced at the Fold around him, kept at bay by your powers, and then buried his face in Ilona’s hair. He was cherishing every moment of this. The next day, Nostova’s walls finally appeared on the horizon. The name you had ended up deciding on for your new country meant home, and you already felt a fierce kind of pride for it. “It’s just like the drawings.” You marvelled while finally riding through the gates. The bright Fabrikator made walls gleamed in the afternoon walls, and behind every corner, something new took your breath away. Eventually, you finally arrived at the most important building- your new home. It slightly resembled the Little Palace but looked… homier. There was enough space for administrative offices, meeting rooms, ballrooms for celebrations and a great hall to receive visitors. Emissaries from Ravka or Grisha with petitions, things of that sort. Walking through it, an eternal look of astonishment seemed to take hold of your face. It took you everything not to openly gape at the beautiful furnishings, the symbol of your nation etched into the entrance hall’s stone. An eagle, half shrouded by shadows, half dipped in light. It looked proud, grim, protective. And not like the Ravkan eagle at all. But what you liked most of it all were your new private chambers. There was space enough for at least four more toddlers, a library of your favourite books, a sitting room with a painting of you and your husband. It felt regal and comfortable at the same time. There was a private little staircase from your and Ilona’s bedrooms to the garden, something Aleksander had specifically requested. The Fabrikators had outdone themselves, and you only hoped they would feel the same pride in their work as you felt looking at it. The compensation they had received for their work would allow them more than comfortable lives in Nostova, lives they would hopefully enjoy. Your heart almost bursting with happiness, you watched Ilona and your husband take your new living quarters by storm, your little princess loudly counting down everything she approved of. With an inward sigh, you realized how spoiled she was going to be here. But whenever you talked to Aleksander about that he never seemed to quite understand the problem. ‘Let her be spoiled’, he only always said. Sometimes you forgot just how wrapped around Ilona’s little fingers he was. An odd thought struck you at the sight of your little family. This, Nostova, would be the first time in so long Grisha families would be able to stay together. Children would have their mothers and fathers again, would be allowed to train their powers with them by their side. “You look a little choked up, my love.” Your husband said teasingly, coming to a halt in front of you. His breathing was heavy from all the running around with your girl, and his hair was a mess. The darkling you had first met at the Fold years ago would claw his eyes out at the sight. You grinned at him, completely at ease with your husband seeing your emotions. “I’m just beginning to realize what all of this means. It’s incredible.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek, at which Ilona demanded he return to her so they could explore the rest of your rooms. You and your husband shared a laugh, taking a moment to revel in your happiness. “I have a surprise for you later.” He whispered into your ear, and then he was gone, back to playing with your daughter. You had to refrain from fanning your face. Your cheeks felt very hot all of a sudden.

“Where are we going?” You whisper shouted, tightly holding onto your husband’s hand. This definitely wasn’t the kind of surprise you had expected. Aleksander chuckled and just kept dragging you in the direction of Nostova Castle’s main wing. After many halls and double doors, he finally came to a halt in front of a set of gilded doors. He positioned himself between you and them, an impish smile on his face. “I know I told you you’ve already seen most of the castle, but I wanted to keep this as a surprise for you. Show it to you when it’s just us two.” You lifted your eyebrows, your excitement starting to match with his. “What is it?” He bit his lips, seemingly conflicted. “Close your eyes.” He finally commanded. You breathed out a laugh in surprise but complied. “For someone who’s centuries-old, you really do behave childishly sometimes.” Your husband chuckled. “Now, dearest wife. Don’t stab where it hurts. Besides, you have centuries ahead of you yourself.” At that, you smiled. You did. Centuries by your husband’s side, centuries to watch your children grow up in peace and find love themselves. Your husband had already led you into the room behind the golden doors. Your steps echoed loudly, a sign of its probable grandeur. The two of you stopped and you felt Aleksander step behind you. “Would you give us a little light, my sun?” Smiling, eyes still closed, you called upon enough light to dip your surroundings in a light glow. “This…” He started, then sighed. “This is the most important room in the castle. We’ll receive guests here, announce decisions… open your eyes. This is our throne room.” Your eyes snapped open, and you couldn’t help the gasp that escaped your lips. Just in front of you, on top of a few stairs, two breath-taking chairs overlooked the room. To your feet, a stunning mosaic of a sun in eclipse was let into the floor. One of the chairs was made of part gold, part glass, the glass reflecting your light beautifully and sending it through the room in tiny specks. The other one was made of the darkest wood, silver stars worked into the back- and armrests. But that wasn’t even the most beautiful aspect of them. The chairs stood a few inches apart, but where they were closest to each other they bled into the colour of the other. The golden one’s side was dipped in black, the black one’s side in gold. They were undeniably yours. Still rendered speechless, you climbed the stairs and sat down in the golden chair. It was surprisingly comfortable, and from it, you could oversee the throne room in its entirety. It was beautiful and regal enough to put Ravka’s Palace’s rooms to shame. The Darkling looked at you nervously, awaiting a reaction. You smiled at him and beckoned him to join you. “It’s beautiful.” You said happily, a smile growing across your husband’s face in return. He sat down in his place next to you, and for a moment the two of you just sat there and took in the view. This was your status now. Sovereigns of your very own nation, with thrones to call your own. You got up from your seat, enjoying the Darkling’s eyes on you. You stepped in front of him and slowly curtsied, conjuring your best demure expression. “Moi soverennyi.” You breathed out, looking at him from beneath your lashes. He chuckled, but you didn’t miss the hunger flashing in his eyes. You had decided to stick with his old title and have people address you as such, too. Nostova felt like it had outgrown the concept of Kings and Queens, but you and your husband both still undeniably held the power over the state. Feeling bold in the dark of the night, you sank into your husband’s lap. He was quick to pull you close, put his arms around you. “How improper you are, my lady.” You stifled a laugh. “I had to see if yours is comfortable, too, didn’t I?” He chuckled and littered kisses against your jaw, your cheek, your neck. “I can’t even tell you with how much joy it fills me to see you so happy here. Ilona, too.” Still smiling, you played with fingers. “I am happy.” You confirmed. “Happy we finally have made our place in the world. Made it ours. At the perfect timing, too.” You felt Aleksander start at that, and he turned you in his lap so he could look at your face. “What do you mean?” He looked confused, and a bit scared. Deciding he could stay like that for a moment, you just took him in, smoothed his hair back. He was beautiful. Powerful, dangerous, yours. “Don’t you feel it?” It wouldn’t hurt him to tease him a bit more. Just like he always did when he wanted to feel what you felt he sought out the touch of your skin on his- and shuddered. “Oh my.” He whispered and touched you again as if to make sure. “My love!” His gaze locked with yours, wide with surprise. Then, the most brilliant smile split his sometimes eternal frown. “Is it really-?” You nodded and placed a hand on your belly. “Ilona will have her first sibling soon.” With that, Aleksander started frantically talking. “I must have been so distracted by all the planning that I haven’t even noticed it, I can’t believe it! Our second child! For how long! We must make preparations at once, call a Healer-” Tears of joy in your eyes, you shut him up with a kiss on the lips. “I’ve already talked to Asa, the same healer as last time. He figures I’m about four moons along. So there’s still plenty of time for us to prepare.” Aleksander just looked at you completely starstruck for a moment. “I love you.” He finally murmured. You smiled, placing your hand on top of his on your belly. “I love you more.”

Soon after, your first son would be born. Your lovely little boy, named Kiran. Ilona was completely smitten with him, just like you and your husband. After him, four more children followed. Some were sun summoners like you, some shadow summoners like your beloved husband, some both, like Ilona. But all of them would gain legendary status throughout the centuries. They would travel the world, help settle conflicts between the neighbouring countries that rose and fell as if in the blink of an eye. Nostova, on the contrary, remained eternal. Like you and your husband. Its peace had allowed Grisha to grow stronger than ever, and your nation now counted many thousand people as its citizens. Sometimes, your children would visit you in your capital. Some of them had settled down there, too, like Ilona. She had married a heartrender, and their children came to play with you and your husband on Sundays. Your life had become gentle, and kind. You could see it in your husband’s face, too, every day. Only the boldest of kings and queens dared threaten your home, and it barely happened for any of them to follow through with their threats. Neither you nor your husband had any regular fighting or defending to do. You had been allowed to devote yourselves to ruling justly and fair, raise a healthy nation. In the mornings, you stood by your bedroom’s window and watched young Grisha train the use of their powers. In the evenings, you fell asleep side by side, still giggling about the day’s happenings just like when you had both been young and restless. Grisha from all over the world had found peace. And so had you.

#shadow and bone #shadow and bone netflix #darkling #general kirigan #darkling x reader #general kirigan x reader #ben barnes #ben barnes supremacy #ben barnes x reader #aleksander morozova #aleksander morozova x reader #sun summoner #grishaverse #leigh Bardugo #smut #villain reader

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erwinsvow · 3 years

Text

𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞.

summary: he wasn't always alone. in fact, there was a time when levi had you.

warnings: angst, fluff, mentions/description of injury and patching up, levi needs sleep

author's note: been in the works for a while because i couldn't figure out what i wanted to do, but this takes place after levi & zeke's conversation and there will be an angsty part two, i hope everyone likes it! it doesn't really make much sense but bear with me :)

listening to: don't let me go

“I bet you’re not popular with the ladies. Don’t act like you know about someone’s feelings.”

He pauses, feeling his heart skip a beat.

“I know. And I was… popular enough.”

He lets his mind take him back, back a time before everything in the world was so messed up. When he knew what his responsibilities were, and when there were clear orders to follow. He can’t seem to recall when everything went straight to shit. It feels like it’s been a long time coming.

He knew he was screwed years ago, when he was trying to stitch up the deep gash on his shoulder by himself, sitting in his quarters with a bowl of warm water and bloody bandages. You had been helping the others, a traumatized recruit with a concussion and broken leg, courtesy of the fifteen meter that had overwhelmed him.

There were a few others too, especially a familiar face that seemingly always needed your assistance after a mission. He wondered just how many times the boy—because that’s all he is, a boy, and that’s all you are, a girl—could get away with the same old ruse.

Regardless, he wouldn’t be visiting you tonight. Never mind that the cut he’s trying to nurse by himself is nearly impossible to properly reach, and that he feels dizzy from consistent bleeding and lack of energy in his body. The alcohol he ingested to calm his nerves doesn’t really do anything, either, since there isn’t nearly enough of the stuff in his room to actually have an impact.

He’s going to crash soon, he knows, and even though sleep always evades him, he just wanted to get this wrapped up and lay down without making a bloody mess everywhere. He releases a deep breath he didn’t know he was holding. The very thought of you is enough to tense up every muscle in his body, and the idea of you being alone with that idiotic, improper recruit makes his fist tighten around the needle. Sewing himself up tonight is a lost cause. He finally decides a bandage, no matter how bloody it might become, will have to do.

He stands up, slowly because he doesn’t want to pass out from a head rush, when there’s a knock on the door. He groans a little too loudly at the sound of it. He doesn’t feel like talking to anyone tonight, especially in this condition, wearing a torn scrap of a shirt and blood trapped underneath his nails.

“Who is it?” he calls out harshly, wondering if maybe they’ll just leave if he sounds scary. The other scouts knew he didn’t like to be bothered, and wouldn’t have come unless there was an emergency. If it was Hange she would have barged in already, and he would have recognized Erwin’s heavy footsteps from down the hall. No, he knows who it is. He just wishes that he’s wrong.

“It- It’s me. Petra said you were hurt earlier and that it looked bad. I just wanted to make sure it was okay…” Your soft, hesitant voice trails off, and he knows how much courage it took for you to knock on his door.

What he doesn’t know is that there was no way you were falling asleep tonight without making sure Levi was okay, no matter how angry he would get at you for bothering him at night.

You’re bracing for that reaction when the door opens, but when your wide eyes meet his tired grey ones, you feel yourself melt and all the words in your head disappear. There’s only one fragment of a thought left, the fact that Levi’s bleeding, and a lot, at that. You don’t even wait for his permission to step inside, suddenly energized by anger and mumbling to yourself as you set down your supplies and rummage through them.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?” he questions quietly. He tries to line his voice with steel like he always does, but the facade is fading with every passing minute.

“I have to clean out your wound, captain, before something festers. If you had told me about this, say, right when we got back, it would have been fine by now, but now I have to rush because you’re too proud to ask for help-” You still and silence yourself.

It was out of line to enter without permission, but this is something else all together. Caring too much is one thing, you know, but insubordination is not tolerated, especially not by Levi.

You pick up a clean needle and thin silk thread that you need to patch up the wound, while searching for the jar of boiled water you need to clean it out first. Alcohol would work too, and you can smell it in the air, but you can’t find the words to ask for it.

Levi’s hands are unusually still, you know because you always notice them, and it’s a stark contrast to the way you’re shaking right now. It’s strange, because you stitched up a handful of others earlier today, and you were completely fine. Even Gunther, who you had always thought was handsome and could make you blush with an off-hand smile, never incited this kind of reaction from you.

You’re silently praying that Levi doesn’t comment on the tremor, but since you’re about to dig a sharp point into his shoulder to tie the skin back together, it would be idiotic if he didn’t say something. You turn to look at him, but it feels like he’s not even there.

His head is hanging down, propped up by the single functional arm, as the other one continues to bleed. You know it’s painful and that he should be saying something, something that makes you stutter and stumble over your words like he always makes you, but he’s just silent.

“Well, get on with it then. If that’s really why you came here this late.” His voice makes you tremble even harder.

There’s so much you try hard at. You try to be the best soldier you can be, even though both you and your superiors know you weren’t meant for this. Sometimes you can fool your fellow soldiers, and the handful of people you can call your friends, and with a few years under your belt, it seems like it’s getting easier to live this life. But you know deep down that it’s not. The one person who always sees right through it is Levi, though.

It’s part of the reason why you’re such a damn mess around him, because there’s no reason to present a false veneer if he knows the truth. You’re not a real soldier, not a real fighter, and you’re more useful as a medic stitching people up than anything else.

And yet, it’s always him who saves you. Him, who makes sure that any threat in between you and the scout you’re trying to rescue from the brink of death is eliminated. Him, that keeps one eye on the target and one eye on your back just in case. And every time, every goddamn time you need to be rescued, he rescues you.

But now, with his head hanging low and any semblance of not knowing why he always saves you gone, it feels your chance to repay him has finally arrived. The shaking stops when you go to sit down near him. Maybe it’s the sudden rush of energy in your body, but you find yourself unbuttoning his shirt to remove whatever remains of the cloth.

His body tenses further, but he doesn’t stop you, and he doesn’t say anything. You’re as gentle and careful as you can be, and once you’re successful, you drop the mangled shirt on the floor. Taking the water, you pour it over the wound as Levi releases a soft hiss at the feeling, for which you’re apologizing before you can even realize the words have left your mouth. He doesn’t say anything, but his shoulder relaxing encourages you to keep going.

You take your time, trying to clean off all the blood you can. You think he’ll protest when you pick up his hands, and wash those too, but he doesn’t. It’s not until you run your own hand over his softly, squeezing the top of it because you don’t have any words to express the thoughts going through your mind, that he finally speaks up.

“Thank you.”

It’s so quiet, you could swear that you had imagined it. He doesn’t look up to meet your eyes like you wish he would, but a smile forces its way onto your face regardless. You focus on the hard part now; stitching up your captain and making sure your work doesn’t leave him with any scars. You focus on your technique, fingers working nimbly and mind focused on this, and for a short time, it doesn’t feel like you’re with your captain, your superior. It just feels like being there with Levi.

All the while, his brain is working overtime to figure out why you’re like this. Why you’re treating him so carefully and gently, when you have no reason to. He doesn’t pick favorites, and even if he did, you wouldn’t be anywhere near that list. You’re not the fastest, you’re not the most lethal, and in fact, he could count on one hand your titan kills and assists. You help people. You save people. But most of the time, you’re just recovering a half-dead soldier so that their body can be buried at home and not forced to remain out there, alone. You’re just there so that parents can have a grave to mourn at, instead of an empty tomb.

He doesn’t treat you better than anyone else, and most of the time assigns you more cleaning duties than the others. You always take it and never complain, something else that he always wonders about. He had come to the conclusion it was because he’s saved your life countless times, and the fact that he isn’t going to let up soon. So you take everything he gives you with a polite smile. And for some goddamn reason, he can’t get that smile out of his head, no matter how hard he tries. You don’t even know how you make him feel; like he’s special and that he deserves these attentions.

A particularly painful turn of the needle makes him flinch, and brings him back to reality. You’re apologizing again, murmuring how you’re almost done, but he doesn’t want you to leave yet. He lets his mind flicker over how you’re always apologizing, and how much he just wants to tell you that you don’t have to, not for anything. Not for having to come and save you, not for stitching him up, not for trying to fix him.

You let out a sharp breath once you finish, getting back up to fetch a dressing, but his hand grabs yours before you can get too far. Levi looks up, grey eyes full of an emotion you can’t exactly pinpoint, one you have never seen before from him.

“Will you stay a little longer?” And just like that, everything in the world seems to fall into place.

“Of course. Let me just wrap it up, first. I’ll stay as long as you want.” You’re surprised at yourself for finding the words so quickly, because your heart has never pounded so fast in your life. You fumble around, trying to find the right thing, hands shaking again, and you can’t seem to get them to stop.

You go back to Levi, wrapping the cloth around his shoulder and securing it around his arm, suddenly hyper aware of the feel of his skin. It’s softer than you had imagined it would be. Both of you sit in the silence for a while, your hand finding a place over his and rubbing soft circles on his knuckles with your thumb.

You want to say something, anything, but there aren’t any words that seem right. His fingers deftly work their way around yours, and you honestly wonder if he can hear your heartbeat or the blood rushing to your cheeks. It’s past midnight now, and you have a feeling dawn will be approaching before long.

“You should really sleep now. It won’t get better until you rest a little.” You’re speaking because his actions gave you a little bit of confidence, but he interprets it wrong almost immediately.

“Of course. You’d like to go now?”

“N-no! No, I just thought that, that you would be tired now. I can go if you want, I-”

“I don’t get much sleep anyways.” He doesn’t even mean to sound so dejected, but it comes out before he can stop himself. He’s spent too, too many nights laying awake, sleep ever-evading him, wondering how it might be to sleep besides you. Would he get some rest? Would he be able to close his eyes and not open them an hour later with a pounding chest? He can’t remember the last time he was able to fall asleep, and stay asleep. You don’t make any movement to get away, and he notices your hand twitch and wonders why.

You have to fight yourself internally to keep your hand down, and not wrap your arms around your captain as you process his words. Your heart feels strangely heavy at the thought of Levi laying awake, all alone, exhausted but unable to succumb to the ease of rest. He’s on guard, all the time, every minute of every day, and half the time he’s expending his energy on saving you.

You’re not confident, like some of the others. You never have been. But in this moment, you feel something rushing into your body and coursing through your veins, something close to confidence but slightly different. The feeling makes you release Levi’s hand and shed your sweater, and crawl into his bed. It’s almost exactly as you expected, and not nearly as soft or warm as your own. But you think about Levi sleeping soundly beside you, him peaceful and content, and it doesn’t matter how comfortable his bed is. You just want him to fall asleep.

He looks at you with a mix of emotions, surprise being mixed in with them. He hadn’t been expecting that, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t appreciate it.

You’re sitting under the covers now, waiting expectedly for something. A part of you fears that this wasn’t what he meant, or wanted, but your racing heart calms down a little at the sight of him coming in to get settled beside you. He releases a sigh when his shoulder hits the mattress, at ease finally, and so exhausted that every muscle in his body is about to give out.

He sleeps on his back, you note, before shifting your gaze to the ceiling quickly. You certainly don’t want him to notice that you’re staring, or that you keep fingering the soft sheets between your fingers to remind yourself this is real and really happening.

“Stop fidgeting.” His voice is quiet, and even, and stills you instantly. You finally lift your head to look at him, letting out a breath at how he looks. Eyes closed, almost peaceful, laying on his back with his hand resting right near you.

You’re not sure if it’s the confidence from earlier, or something new entirely, but you adjust the sheets to cover him more, pulling them and letting them rest on his chest. He doesn’t open his eyes, but you notice the way he jerks a little at the motion.

“Sorry, Levi,” you whisper, trying to remain as quiet as possible. You lay your hand on top of his, intertwining your fingers and letting your own eyes close. You can hear his every breath, the scent of his skin taking over and clouding your mind as every sense slowly focused on one thing; him. “Let’s sleep now.”

#this is probably the first thing i've posted that is in canon and it makes no sense but i really liked writing this #me: i wanna write dark content #also me: writes angst with fluff and calls it a day #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman imagine #attack on titan #aot #levi x reader #shingeki no kyojin

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kellinrk800 · 4 years

Text

my thoughts on episode 11 of wonder egg priority

tw// neglect, possible abuse, murder, human experimentation

holy SHIT is there a lot to unpack.

first of all, everyone except ai and neiru have now experienced the truth of what happens when you complete the total amount of people to save. at the end of episode ten we saw momoe’s breakdown and panic’s death and at the beginning today’s episode we saw rika find out and mannen’s death. (i previously wrote that neiru and pinky had experienced it but after someone kindly let me know after a rewatch that it was in fact momoe, not neiru. sorry for the error)

however, ai is now the only one who knows about frill and what happened to her. speaking of, there are a RIDICULOUS amount of parallels between the two. i’ll be reblogging some posts that explain it a lot better than i ever could right after i post this.

what i really want to focus on is frill. despite her fairly questionable and downright evil actions, i can’t help but feel a shred of pity for her.

born out of quite literal boredom and under strict surveillance, she was almost destined to be unloved. she was not made to be a human, but simply something for acca and ura acca to love. in the way you might buy a doll for a small child. their mistake was adding such severe jealousy and stubbornness to something they had created to be perfection.

stuck at the age of 14 permanently, it’s no surprise her mental state was damaged. imagine the jealousy, the intense emotions, everything you go through at that age.

she is at least somewhat aware that she is artificial intelligence considering how open those who are around her seem to be about it. however, she does not seem to be keen on accepting it or believing it. after all, she is not programmed to. she is programmed to sense things in the way a human would. and that opens a whole world of other doors about how anyone could be an ai and not know it but i doubt wonder egg priority would get that meta this close to the end.

time to tie up all these loose ends. around midway through the episode we are introduced to a love interest (who i have forgotten the name of, apologies) who causes a split in acca and ura acca’s relationship (marriage), and she soon becomes pregnant with a child. a human child.

frill was programmed to be able to understand her parents in the way a daughter would. she begins to taunt ura acca about his husband cheating on him with the woman he loves and once she finally finds out that the baby is a girl, she decides to kill the mother.

the motivation behind frill’s mental deterioration is slowly becoming clearer and clearer. i strongly suspect that she felt she was being replaced with a human child and realised the inherent inferiority she was going to have once the child was born, and became overcome with jealousy. not only would she now have to take on the role to be a big sister (which she was not programmed to accept or do. she was programmed to be stubborn and jealous in the way a 14 year old girl would be) but she would lose the ability she had to be perceived as a human daughter by the parents who raised her.

imagine being created for the sole purpose of being the perfect daughter for somebody to love, and then being replaced. i am by no means excusing murder, but it’s hard not to see her motivation.

as punishment and as relief of acca’s grief, frill was then locked away with nothing but her ai machinery for anywhere between 12 and 15 years*.

enter himari, the child that survived despite frill’s attempt at murder of both mother and child. she is described as having “saved” ura acca and acca from their state after the mother’s murder and the abandonment of their artificial daughter. when we see her able to talk, she is shown asking ura acca to marry her once she is older to make up for the pain of the loss of her mother. she is stated as being in junior high at the time (*my timespan reasoning for the time frill was locked away). while this scene made me greatly uncomfortable, it might be to show frill’s impact and influence on himari. if they had come into contact, frill would arguably do anything in her power to gain back control of her parents.

perhaps himari asked this purposefully to anger frill, which is supported further by the fact himari was found dead (cause of death suicide) the night later.

suicide. what’s the entire theme OF the eggs? i don’t know about you but i can hear lightbulbs beginning to flicker.

ura acca and acca began research into girls suicides at that age, and found a steady surge around the same time as himari’s death.

acca and ura acca are trying to bring back himari, possibly their wife, and maybe, maybe just maybe frill as well. i think that is the real purpose of the wonder egg project.

we also finally have our answer as to why girls and boys suicides are different with wonder eggs! acca and ura acca are indeed sexists, just not about suicide.

i’ll let you do the rest of the theorising.

now for the loose ends that i don’t think can be tied up.

why are hyphen and dot named after punctuation? is their goal to bring frill back to life?

what was neiru’s family’s involvement in the wonder eggs? in fact, where is neiru?

is frill alive or dead? is there even a way to distinguish with someone in her state?

what happened to acca and ura acca to make them.. well, to make them like that? last i checked, turning into mannequins isn’t a symptom of grief. are they even alive?

MOMOE. WHERE THE FUCK IS MOMOE. GIVE ME MOMOE OR GIVE ME DEATH.

there are a shit ton of new, unspecified entities we’re learning about. what actually are hyphen and dot? are they AIs like frill? perhaps not fully formed? and thanatos and eros?

where do the girls go once they’ve been freed? is “freed” even the right term?

what did mr sawaki say to ai about koito? why did koito die? is mr sawaki going to have a bigger role than a consistently fucking annoying red herring after all?

rika’s father? why have that as a big factor in an episode conflict if it’s never going to be addressed again?

the sketchy lesbian representation compared to the consistent positive trans ftm and gay representation? why have the only canonically wlw character be a product of a harmful stereotype after treating everything else so respectfully?

and most importantly, how the FUCK is this going to get cleared up in one episode?

i don’t even think that’s possible. if it is, i’m really disappointed. after consistent excellent pacing, writing, storytelling, and everything else, cramming everything into the last couple of episodes is just cheap and annoying. if i wanted to drone on for an entire series before an explosion of poor plot points for shock factor, i’d just go watch the second season of the promised neverland (/hj).

the only somewhat reasonable explanation would be a second season, but it is a terrible media decision and i can’t imagine much, if any, good coming from it.

in conclusion, what the fuck. how the hell is this going to salvage itself in one episode?

also i wrote this entire thing while on my sleep meds. if there’s logical, grammatical, spelling or just general errors i apologise and i’ll fix them when i’m not half conscious.

#wonder egg priority #how the fuck are they going to salvage this #wonder egg priority spoilers #wep project #wep #i really don’t know how to feel about frill #wep frill #a moment of silence for mannen and panic

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messrmoonyy · 3 years

Note

Hay, could you do number 44 for Remadora plz...😘

Some happy fluffy post deathly hallows fluff because they deserve it.

Also psa to people who have sent requests, i don’t write them in the order I receive them so if yours is taking it while it’s simply because others have given me more motivation. But it’ll show eventually :)

Prompt: sitting on the other’s lap

Pairing: Remus lupin x Nymphadora Tonks

Warnings: none

You can find all my other writing on my masterlist and remember my ask box is always open, so drop me a request! Check my masterlist for who I write for!

Remus couldn’t sleep, the same as most nights just lately. He rolled around in bed for a few hours but eventually got up, not wanting to wake Dora. She was easily woken still, her motherly instincts still on high alert even if Teddy was past the age of waking up screaming in the night for food. And there were still old habits from the war, never truly letting yourself fall into a deep sleep. Always on edge and ready to jump out of bed and fight at a moments notice. He’d still wake up some mornings to see she had her wand clutched in her hand, still fast asleep.

She still had nights filled with nightmares too, as did he. She often asked him when they’d go away. He dare not tell her that hadn’t even gotten over his from the first war yet, Never mind the second, and that they would never truly leave her. He simply gave her the same answers every time

‘Soon my love’

‘You’re getting better everyday’

‘They won’t be with you forever’

He didn’t like to lie to her, but he couldnt bare the truth.

Thankfully him getting out of bed hadn’t seemed to have woken her from her rarely undisturbed sleep and he’d placed himself in his armchair by the fire. Christmas was coming around and the only light in the room came from the tree and the fire burning in the hearth. It felt wonderfully cosy. And homely. And domestic. And he adored it.

He finally had the family that he’d always wanted and dreamed of. He’d popped his head into Teddy’s room before making his way downstairs, the 3 year old sleeping soundly splayed out in his bed. Much like his mother he liked to take up as much room as possible, far more than a person so small should be capable of. He’d dodged the two creaky steps on the stairs and was now quite peaceful with his mug of tea and the fire.

They’d moved into the small house in hogsmeade not long after the war had ended, Remus has graciously taken back his position of dark arts professor, so it made sense for them be close to the school. Dora had been given her job back at the ministry with a hefty promotion too. Things were…. Good. They were all still in that sweet post war period where every seemed to get on, the darkness seemingly having been permanently shut out by the light. He didn’t know how long it would last. It hadn’t lasted particularly long the first time around. But then again this did feel different, because maybe the first time around the darkness had never really left. But it felt like it had now.

His days were constantly filled with light now, the bright faces of his students, the familiar feel of belonging in the hogwarts halls, then coming home to the smell of Dora attempting another one of Mollys recipes, Teddy charging around the house on his tiny broomstick that Harry had gifted him the Christmas before. Just waking up to his family, going to a job he adored and then returning home to his wife. His child. Some might call it an unbelievably dull existence, but he couldn’t think of anything he’d want more.

Even his monthly transitions weren’t as dreaded as they used to be. Wolfsbane potion was within easy access of every man, woman or child that needed it from the ministry. And no stigma was attached to collecting it either. Of course the overall acceptance of Lycanthropes was still a work in progress. But it was the best it had been in forever. His full moons no longer consisted of having to lock himself securely away, writhing and screaming for hours and hours as his bones broke and re set themselves. No, now he spent them curled up by the fire with Dora at his side simply napping the night away.

Occasionally he’d let himself think of the people he’d lost, all members of both the original and the second order that had lost their lives had gained portraits in hogwarts. Alongside all the other brave individuals that had died. He visited Sirius, James and Lily often. It got easier every time. Though James did like to throw the occasional jibe at his age, the James in the frame forever stuck in his twenties whilst Remus was in his forties now. Not that he minded. He didn’t think he’d ever reach that age so he was happily embracing it.

“ cant sleep? “ he startled slightly as a voice broke him from his daydreaming and he turned his head. Dora was stood at the bottom of the stairs, a sleepy smile on her face and rubbing at her eyes.

“ Sorry Darling did I wake you? “ she shook her head and yawned. He smiled warmly at her and placed his mug onto the coffee table before opening his arms. She returned the smile, grabbing a blanket from the back of the sofa before shuffling sleepily over and climbing into his lap. She wrapped the blanket around them both and his arms looped around her, holding her close “ Teddy alright? “

“ snoring just like his father “ his heart still did little flutters when he was reminded of the fact he was in fact a father. A proud one too “ nothing could wake that kid. You could go in there and hold a private Weird sisters concert and he’d sleep through the lot “ she played idly with a thread on his pyjama shirt and yawned again.

He ran his hand gently though her hair, pressing a kiss to her forehead and looking towards the Christmas tree. This would be the first Christmas Teddy would understand more. He was holding almost coherent conversations with his parents now and was understanding what Christmas meant- his Christmas list had been a hefty one.

“ what’re you smiling at? “ Dora asked quietly, brushing the backs of her fingers against his chin. He hadn’t even realised he had been smiling.

“ Christmas with Teddy “ Dora smiled too and laughed slightly.

“ poor kids gonna be upset when he realises we couldn’t get him a real pet hippogriff “

“ he’ll love the stuffed one just as much “ it had been a nightmare to wrap, it was bigger than Teddy himself “ he’ll understand things a little more this year and not just throw his mashed potatoes at your mother “ Dora snorted a laugh at the memory. She’d been in tears she’d found the situation that hilarious.

“ it’s a good job she loves him. Only grandchild perks? “ Remus smiled and pondered on what thing his son would do this Christmas to cause chaos, morphing into random things or deciding he wanted to climb everything within reach. He quite liked the chaos though, he’d loved boring and ‘normal’ for far too long. And you couldn’t get any less normal than a werewolf with his metamorphmagus wife and their half werewolf morphing son.

They stayed down stairs for a while longer, Dora still sat in his lap and a comfortable silence surrounding them. She dropped off again after a few minutes, her breathing become slower and her full weight leaning on him. He debated attempting to carry her up to bed, but wasn’t sure his aged bones could carry her. He struggled sometimes just lifting Teddy. So he simply stayed in the chair, rested his chin onto his wife’s head and closed his eyes, getting a little more sleep himself in the dying light of the fire.

#messrmoonyy writes #remus lupin #nymphadora tonks #remadora #harry potter #remus x tonks #ronks #the marauders #lupin #tonks x lupin #tonks #remadora one shot #pro remadora #remus x nymphadora #hp #teddy lupin #Remus lupin lives #Nymphadora tonks lives

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detroitbecomeyandere · 3 years

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You still remember where you were when the news that mermaids were real broke, you were sitting in the library trying to catch up on homework when the person next to you suddenly gasps and turns on a video. More annoyed than anything you tried to ignore his commotion and focus, midterms were coming up and nothing could be more important than that. When you got home and turned on the news you had to double check the date to make sure the headline wasn't a prank.

"That's right folks, the existence of mermaids has been confirmed. Mermaids are real."

That was three years ago and now you had a degree in behavioral psychology and were ready to get out there. You had put in applications at every marine research center you could to try and work with a merperson. Just as you were losing hope the Sunshine Rehabilitation Center reached out to you, requesting your help in dealing with a temperamental merman. You accepted it without a second thought and booked the first flight out and today was the day you were finally going to meet your first merperson.

The night before you got the report of who you would be working with, a shark merman by the name of Cyrus. He had beached himself after some fishermen tore up his tail because he started hunting in their fishing grounds. Apparently he is aggressive and distrusts humans to the point he is hindering his own rehabilitation, the people in charge of the center were hoping you could come in and help them with him. You thought you were ready to meet him but you were not prepared to stand in front of a six million gallon tank and a merman over nine foot.

You had seen a tank like this before at Sea World though unlike those tanks this one was set up to look like the ocean. The sand on the bottom of the tank was almost as tall as you, there was a cave built into the tank to give the merman some privacy. Said merman was currently swimming through the tank as best as he could, the wounds on his tail still looked red and painful. From what you can tell he was a Bull Shark meaning he was already aggressive to start with and his injury only added to it, it was no wonder they needed extra help.

Since it was feeding time you would get to see Cyrus up close and personal and while you were excited you were also nervous, Cyrus could very easily snatch you up and drag you into the tank with him if he felt like it. So you decided to watch him from a distance standing as far back on the platform as you could.

"Okay Ms. y/l/n Cyrus gets a little messy when he eats, you don't get sick from a bit of blood do you?" One of the biologists cracked a smile as she teased you, trying to get you to relax a little. It only made you more tense. A couple of the biologists tossed massive chunks of fish into the tank to get Cyrus's attention, he surfaced causing water to flow over onto the observation deck. You've seen some pictures of mermaids online but none of them looked like him, his jawline was so sharp it could cut glass, his eyes are such a deep brown they're almost black. Opening his mouth he reveals sharp teeth that easily shred the flesh of his meal.

Seeing the other people so close to him made you feel a bit more at ease and as you approached him, Cyrus shot a glare at you as he pulled his food into the pool.

~~~~~~~

It's been almost a month since you started working with Cyrus and slowly things were looking up. The first two weeks had been rough, one time he tried to bite your hand off but after you popped his nose out of reflex he straightened up. Since then Cyrus had seemed to become attached to you, always coming to the surface when you climbed the platform, he'd take things from you very gently as opposed to the almost violent way he would take things from other people. It seemed Cyrus had taken to you so much he started bringing you little things inside his habitat which mainly consisted of things he had taken from the other employees or little pieces of his meal. He seemed to be responding well to your time with him and was starting to let the biologists help him. Today however he was acting aggressive again and you didn't know what set him off, his routine hadn't changed at all and he was even ignoring you today.

By the time five rolled around you were fed up with his behavior and ready to go home, almost everyone else had already left so it was just you and two other biologists. You kick your flats off and walk to the edge of the platform to say goodnight to Cyrus it was something you started as a way to build trust but soon turned into second nature for you, once you had rushed out and forgot to tell him good night and it was all you could think about till you came back in. Before you even get to the edge Cyrus is already waiting for you, only his eyes above the water as he watches you approach.

"Goodnight Cyrus, hopefully tomorrow you'll be in a better mood, okay bud? Get some rest!" As you turn to leave a clawed hand shoots out and wraps around you ankle and pulls you to the floor causing you to hit your head stunning you. Cool water engulfs you as Cyrus pulls you to his large chest and swims away from the platform and into the middle of the pool. Once there he rolls onto his back and places you onto his stomach he watches as you cough up the water in your lungs, you place your hands on his hard abs as you steady yourself. Trying to stay calm you talk to him through your hacking "Cyrus *cough* I know you are having a hard day but this isn't appropriate. Now please *cough* take me back to the platform."

The look on his eyes was so intense you start to feel uncomfortable you open your mouth to ask again but Cyrus's hand wraps around your waist as he hoists above his face, and in a swift motion his thumb he pushes your pencil skirt up to your hips and catches your panties and rips them off. You bang your small fists against his hand and he moves you over his mouth, panic shoots through you as you start screaming for the biologists to help you but they just stood there stunned. Logically you knew there wasn't anything they could do but emotionally you were upset that they were about to watch you get eaten. Tears are streaming down your face by the time his tounge slithers out of his mouth and starts to prod at your cunt and before you can react to his actions he plunges it into your tight hole, pushing past your tight muscles. The sudden intrusion burns and you try and push his hand off of your waist but your struggling makes his hold your tighter as he starts to fuck you on his tongue. The painful burn starts to fade into a pleasurable one as his rough appendage rubs against the bundle of nerves inside you, your hips start to grind down against him and he loosens his grip to let you.

Just before the knot in your stomach can snap Cyrus pulls his tongue out of you making a whine escape you, your eyes meet his now almost black eyes. Never breaking eye contact with you Cyrus places you on his waist just below his genital slits. From the cornor of your eyes you see the biologists frantically moving around, in the back of your mind you were hoping they were figuring out how to save you but your hopes were dashed when you saw they were setting up a camera and taking notes. Feeling utterly humilated and betrayed you turn back around to find two erect penises in front of you. They were white and stripped with the same shade of gray on his tail, the penises had to be at least 14 inches. Panic sets in again when he wraps his hand back around your waist and aligns your cunt with the blunt head of one of his cocks.

Trying one last time you try and talk some sense into the horny merman. "Cyrus please it won't fit inside me! You are gonna rip me in half, stop please!" He pauses for a moment and huffs out in annoyance, you breathe a sigh of relief thinking he listened to you, but before your eyes his cock starts to shrink. By the time it stopped he was around ten inches and already pushing inside you. Once again you try to claw at his hand or close your legs anything to stop him from violating you any farther but with a little more pressure from his hand you legs spread open and slams his cock up into you filling you up all at once.

Your head snaps back in both pain as the breath is forces from your body, Cyrus moves you up and down his cock like a fleshlight as he fucks you. His other dick rubs against your clit everytime he brings you down on him the friction sends jolts of pleasure up your spine and soon your slick starts to leak down your thighs as the knot in your stomach starts to build again. Suddenly his member starts to grow inside you and every thought leaves your brain and all you can focus on is how full you can feel. He finally stop when you go ridged in his grip and starts thrusting even faster into you, going so deep inside you could swear he was fucking your womb. Finally the knot snaps and you unravel on top of him, your cunt tightens around him in a vice like grip and with a growl Cyrus cums deep inside you. The cock in front of you erupts as wells and showers you with ropes of hot cum, his grip loosens around you and you slump down onto his body. His cocks softening and retracting from you, Cyrus lays a hand across your back as you come back down to earth. On the brink of consciousness you are vaguely aware of the fact that there are more than two biologists on the platform now. To tired to feel ashamed you close your eyes and let sleep take you.

#detroit become human #yandere #mermay 2021 #mermay #dbh cyrus #sharkman cyrus #two dick cyrus #monster fucking #mod beau is a monster fucker #mod beau

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chemicalpink · 3 years

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대취타 (DAECHWITA) | EMPEROR!YOONGI X READER | FINAL

Pairing: Emperor!Yoongi x Assassin!Reader

Words: 3.5k

Genre: Emperor AU, Historical AU (kinda), smut, angsty

Warnings: mentions of death, mentions of historical public execution, oral sex (male receiving), lowkey breath play, unprotected sex

A/N: FINALLY IT’S HERE. I hope you enjoy, I had a hard time trying to make this not seem lame so here it is! please let me know what you think!

Summary: You used to be an assassin, got caught and works at the palace as a servant up until you are escorted to the main palace, either to meet your inevitable destiny or for a change of plans.

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

Forehead resting against your own as you found yourselves panting, him sliding out as your spasming cunt dripped with both of your releases onto the floor, placing one more soft kiss on your lips with his eyes closed “Marry me”

You almost sat up with a start. Suddenly the world was bright and hazy. Yoongi had opened his eyes and they were digging like daggers into yours, an unusual look on him. You looked at the emperor apologetically before turning your gaze to the end of the room where there was a pile of books, silently detangling yourself from him.

The silence was deafening.

Then again, who in their right mind proposed marriage while having their cock buried deep inside some assassin turned royal slave. All the same, Min Yoongi wasn’t exactly known for having a right mind. But it wasn’t just the fact that he had proposed seemingly out of the blue, more than it was everything that came with it. The words seemed to tangle themselves inside your brain as you hear him say them over and over again. That he couldn’t think of himself marrying some woman that was inferior to him in mind and spirit. That he had wanted to marry to someone he loved. To think that Min Yoongi had proposed you marriage not in the heat of the moment but fully conscious of his actions would not only mean that he was in it for the great sexual escaped you two regularly went on, but because due to some fucked up mindset the royal had, he believed he could love you.

Yoongi reached for your hand in an attempt to get your attention, face soft with post orgasmic bliss as he repeated the ill fated words “Marry me, Y/N”

You snapped out of his hold. “Yoongi I don’t think you understand the situation”

“What is it then, please do enlighten me, Y/N cause from what I understand is me asking for your hand in marriage, twice now” he blinks a few times, looking at you expectantly, crossing his arms like a petulant child

“FUCKING READ THE ROOM MIN YOONGI ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND”

“Well I’m not, but you seem to be”

“I’m a fucking assassin, my hands? they will forever be tainted red” you look down at your hands and the blond man comes near to hold both of them inside his

“Y/N I couldn’t care less about that, it’s not like I’m a saint either”

“You just don’t understand”

“Then help me out” somehow his ever consistent and aloof tone gave you more chills thana you could’ve imagined if he were to raise his voice at you “Y/N I’m serious with my proposal, the sex is amazing, but you’ve proven to be an excellent addition not only to my court, but to my life”

You are shaking, voice trembling and just above a mere whisper “I was the one that killed your mother on that freezing December night”

He freezes in place.

He seemed oddly composed for someone who had just been told the responsible of his mother's death was none other than the woman he thought he wanted to marry

You remember how a few years ago, he had gone on a killing rampage, exposing heads outside his palace as if they were homemade decorations, swearing to find the person responsible for his mother’s death and get revenge. It had been months of bloodbath. Some had considered the emperor’s son to have gone completely out of his mind.

You storm off. Not before accepting the responsibility of your actions, perhaps Yoongi had also been a good addition to your life “I’m fine with you deciding to execute me for my crimes, I understand whatever sentence is best fitted for me, your majesty” for the first time since you had arrived at the palace, you don’t dare to look him in the ye, opting to follow court protocol and bow deeply before taking your leave, attempting to detangle yourself from your messed up robes and even more messed up string of thoughts.

The following days to that conversation were a blur and for the most part, uneventful, the emperor had opted not to gravitate your way unless strictly necessary, oddly enough, the air wasn’t awkward at all, it was as if nothing had ever happened between the two of you in the first place. Yoongi had retreated to being an aloof ruler, along with regular trips to meet his once very occupied and spoiled rotten concubines, all the while you were kept apart from. Sometimes, you would receive jobs outside the palace and were expected to fulfill them according to instructions. More times than not, you were left wondering if you would make it back to the palace or if it was one hell of an excuse to execute you.

Hearing approaching footsteps, you couldn’t help but hide the best that you could behind one of the hostel’s walls. Hooded and well muffled with the cape, as you did your best to camouflage yourself into the shadows and become a mere wisp of darkness. A maid from the hostel trudged to the open window and closed it, grumbling. Lightning illuminated the landing. You took a deep breath and reviewed the plans that you had so painstakingly memorized throughout the three days you had been guarding that building on the outskirts of the kingdom. Five doors on each side. The target’s bedroom was behind the third one on the left.

Stealthy as a specter, you walked down the landing. You pushed the target's bedroom door, which opened with an almost imperceptible squeak; waiting for another thunder to rumble to close it carefully. A second flash of lightning illuminated the two figures sleeping on the canopy bed. Young Hee must not have been over thirty-five. His son, small and beautiful, slept soundly in his arms.

“I’m not murdering a poor kid’s mother”

“So you’ve gone soft”

“No I haven’t gone soft” “What could a poor merchant woman have done to you for her to deserve such an end to her life”

He sits down on his throne “You didn’t even hesitate when killing my mother, though”

“Yoongi I-” he turns his head to you, a sharp gaze following your every move, as if he was a predator waiting for the precise moment his prey took a wrong turn to jump on them. You turn your gaze to the floor immediately “Your Majesty”

“Listen Y/N- I’m a very busy man, so I’ll make it easier for you” he stood up from where he was sitting, and although you weren’t looking directly at him, you could hear him move around the room until you were able to see him stop right in front of you, a hand you were so familiar with once caresses your cheek as he grabs your chin and forces you to look at him face to face “It’s either her life, or your life. Easy choice, Y/N”

You can feel your heart wanting to burst out of your ribcage at that exact moment, finally understanding the importance behind such a horrifying task, the mirroring in the situation. And the choice was as simple as it could get. “Kill me instead”

You could see the rage inside his eyes, even as he stood still for a few second, steady as ever, unfaltering as he called over one of the palace’s servants to get him the royal seal, the infamous red ink that decorated the skin of those in line to be executed by the royal himself, an utmost sign of rage, of personally wronging the monarch. A sense of longing crossed his gaze for half a second as he locked eyes with you before he took your wrist in his hand and stamped the cold ink on it; you couldn’t keep your body from reacting to the action, whether it was having him touching you again, the almost imperceptible stuttering of his movements when he did so, or the knowledge that you’d have to face an execution, making you shake lightly as adrenaline filled your veins.

Preparations were something the emperor certainly didn’t scattered in, back when he became known as the cold hearted borderline psychopath he had a vaste fame of, ikt was mostly do to the whole antiques that surrounded his personal executions, the way that they seemed to mimic a kingdom’s festivity was almost breathtaking, were it not for the fact that the main entertainment of the day would be having you publicly executed. You had been waiting for that night for a whole week. Sitting in the wooden corridor nestled to one side of the golden dome of Min Yoongi’s personal library, remembering how the last time you had been there, things were so different from how they were now, where the emperor had asked you to marry you in the worst way possible and you had confessed the greatest murder of the dynasty; you let yourself be carried away by the music that rose through the amphitheater. With your legs dangling under the railing, you leaned forward and rested your cheek on your crossed arms. One could almost swear the palace was preparing for a wedding, if the way you were constantly dressed up and down during the week, the way the palace’s servants were constantly bustling around the building to ensure the greatest quality for the evening, the greatest night for the kingdom. The execution of the Empress’ murderer.

“You seem oddly calm for someone who's about to be executed” Jungkook mentions as he approaches where you were currently hanging out, a few minutes to spare before a small group of designated maids were to call you to get you ready for the night.

You look up at him tiredly, without separating your head from where it was laying, catching him taking a seat by your side in the most infantile way you had ever seen the royal guard do, shrugging to no one in particular, you add “You know, accountability and stuff”

“Oh and she grew a moral compass during her time here” if he was expecting a bickering comeback, the way you used to do back when he was designated to look after you, he was certainly not getting anything other than be met by an extended silence that seemed to rise the tension and seriousness of the whole interaction between the two “Why are you letting this happen to you?”

“What are you talking about” this time, you do turn to face him, confused as to where he was expecting the conversation to go.

“You didn’t kill his mother”

“I did”

He huffed out air, sounding a bit exasperated at your response; you could have even sworn you saw him roll his eyes faintly “No you didn’t, you were a mere 15 year old” there was a bit of laughter behind his sentence before he regained his composure and went back to his former self from a few minutes ago, looking at your face quizzically as if there was something hidden in there that held the answer to his question “So why are you doing this”

You try and miserably fail to convey a nonchalant look on your face as memories of your time with the emperor fill your mind, not just the carnal ones, but those where you would watch him work for his place in the royal hierarchy, the soft sides around the rough edges that were publicly hidden on purpose, turning away from the guard you say softly “Yoongi’s a great man”

“Okay sure, he could do with a more...tame temperament, but what does that have anything to do with you chopping your own head off”

You try your best to ignore the way your heart seems to physically ache at the thought behind the answer; you almost don’t get enough strength from within to mutter “I’m hoping to get him some closure, be an even better ruler”

“That’s- definitely not how it’s supposed to work Y/N” Jungkook says incredulously

“I was technically part of the killing so, it’s all the same”

He huffs before going to stand up, dusting off his uniform and already facing away from you, before you can hear him call for you one last time “Yoongi’s in his room, you know, he was looking for you a few hours ago, in case that information helps in any way”

So perhaps you were naive for thinking that he would answer his door, he would have no reason to do so, especially given the circumstances, if it were you, opening the door to the person that had confessed of murdering your mother, and having them come up at your room, you wouldn’t even need to think it once to decide not to further interact with them, but Jungkook had said Yoongi had been looking for you before, so the chance of him wanting to see you alive one last time were there. Unless you were reading it all wrong. You turned your back on the huge wooden door you had come to know as the emperor’s bedroom a few months back, resigned, when you heard the creaking of a door opening and a calm steady voice.

“So you’re going to just knock on my door and run away the same way you entered my life and are now leaving it forever?” his frozen tone still having an effect on your body as you turned to face him properly for the first time in what seemed like an eternity “Came to discuss a bargain for your life?”

“Not at all” you lock eyes with him when approaching him, until you were practically inside the room, his judgemental gaze still on you “I wanted to say my goodbyes properly, your majesty”

“Then don’t waste my time and come in already, Y/N”

The royal wasted no time in cornering you against the door, face so close to yours you could feel his breath on your skin, the tip of his nose nuzzling the side of your face and you knew him enough to know he had his eyes closed to keep his composure as he talked “I’m going to miss you like a fucking mad man”

It felt like falling back into routine, the way he kissed you, down to your neck up to your collarbone, pushing past the robes that covered your skin, in preparation for the ritual, his hands roaming freely in a familiar way, grabbing all the right places as he draws little sounds from your throat, all while he worked the both of you to where his bed was placed, although he was giving your body and pleasure a decent amount of attention, you couldn’t brush off the fact that he irradiated an angry aura, words left unspoken as he got his anger out by pleasuring both of you. Maybe himself more than you, as he removes himself from caressing your body as he usually did and positioned himself above you, his member laying flat on your already expecting tongue,as soon as you realised what his intentions were when he started undressing himself, his hips thrusting a few times in an experimental manner, soon enough finding a pace at the same time as you bobbed your head up to capture as much of his length as you could inside your mouth, your hands captured under Yoongi’s weight, unable to help you work him further, the way you’d done before.

You feel him start to thrust further into your throat at one particular kitten lick of yours to the tip of his cock, your head starting to hang from the edge of the mattress you two were on as he picked up the pace, his cock filling you up all the way until it hit the back of your throat a few times, you trying to whine around him, only further encouraging him to take a handful of your hair and push you further against him, your gag reflex taking the best of you as he held you there, nose close to his navel, deep grunts ripped from his lips, the air leaving your lungs and becoming slightly light headed after a few seconds of you tapping his thigh in a motion to let him know to let you breathe, at which Yoongi locked eyes with you, a mix of anger and longing in his yes as he thrusts a few more times as saliva started dripping from your mouth, tears decorating your pink stained cheeks before he removed himself from you, giving you a few seconds to gain air before he repositioned both of you. A deafening silence taking over both of you, as you were still catching your breath and he positioned his cock at your entrance, his tip, wet with your saliva, playing with your folds for a few seconds, as you take a sharp intake of air when he enters you and immediately sets a slow deep pace. You can feel his member filling you up perfectly, mind racing with flashbacks to all those other nights before where the emperor and you shared endless nights all over the palace.

The knowledge that this would be the last time creeping up in the back of your mind. You feel an unfamiliar wetness hit your neck where Yoongi was kissing your skin, rolling down as you identified it as tears, as he was still passionately thrusting into you.

“I don’t want to lose you” his voice barely above a whisper, trying to conceal the way his chest was tightened with sadness

“You have to let me go, Yoongi” one of your hands comes up to caress his locks as he pushes up to stare at your face, anger long gone and replaced with utter sadness before one last thrust has him filling you up with his seed, warmth enveloping you, a soft whimper leaving your lips as his cock leaves your cunt, a briskly wind coming from the window causing your body to shiver for a second at the loss of body heat on top of you.

“I guess this was it then” his cold and unnerved facade was on again, making the cold shivers in your body that much worse as you watched him adjust his clothes and walk out of the room, leaving you to dress yourself and ultimately face your fated destiny at the end of the day.

The palace’s front plaza is filled to the brim with spectators as the news got out that the Emperor was finally getting revenge for his mother’s killing, people from the kingdom and even some people from neighbouring ones all lined up in the outer sides of the fire marks that decorated the space to illuminate the middle path where you were placed in the end of it to walk your way up, two unknown guards on each side of you as each grabbed your elbows to push you forward, the rope certainly leaving marks on your skin as it was wrapped tightly around your wrists.

You could only catch a glimpse of Yoongi’s blond hair, wrapped in his infamous black and golden hanbok, drums roaring in unison, people screaming as you watched him take the sword from the swordsman that had prepared the ritual beforehand, as someone wrapped a cloth around your eyes and you were promptly pushed forward, legs buckling every few seconds as you came to realise what you were about to face, it hadn’t been clear before, mere seconds away, finally falling to your knees, head bowed down in resignation as you could barely hear the sharp sword cutting the air around you, gasps from the crowd filling the air along with the constant sound of the drums around you. You could only hope your death would bring much needed peace to the monarch and his kingdom. Your heart seemed to want to burst out of your chest, if anything, Yoongi was known for being an espectacular swordsman, which hopefully made the whole execution that much easier. You could hear cheers and a metal cutting the air before your body fell limp to the ground.

But your consciousness never left, the drums couldn’t be heard anymore, cheers were replaced with confusion as a pair of hands helped you up to your knees, fumbling with the cloth around your eyes to come face to face with Min Yoongi kneeling before you, a subtle smile on his face as one of his hands caressed your cheek before helping you up beside him.

“I’m sure you all must be confused right now” he announced to his subjects “This woman right here, has got more courage in her than anyone that has ever worked for me, any of us, for that matter. Which is why I’m asking once again, publicly, for the first time, for her hand in marriage” he turned to face you, as you were still dazed by the whole ordeal, his hand in yours being the only thing holding you down “Marry me, Y/N”

#kwritersworldnet #thebtswritersclub #bangtanarmynet #hyunglinenetwork #networkbangtan #bangtanuniversity #yoongi smut #bts smut #bts imagines #min yoongi imagine #yoongi fanfic #min yoongi smut #bts fanfics #bts fanfic #yoongi fic #yoongi scenario #bts scenarios

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enviedear · 4 years

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liability → draco malfoy

DESCRIPTION ⌙ in which y/n slips herself weak love potion daily to get through the wretched sadness she feels she can’t escape. in her mind, she’s a liability. and unbeknownst to her, draco malfoy feels the same.

PAIRING ⌙ draco x fem!reader

WORD COUNT ⌙ 3.2k

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

tw for depression ; something i have so please know i understand if you’re going through it. my messages are always open if you need a friend. be good to yourself and if this may trigger you pls don’t read it. all the love, olivia <3

pls enjoy this angst, and also please ignore the science behind love potions in this fic.

after cedric had been killed, life for you wasn’t the same. the two of you were the best of friends. you did absolutely everything together. cedric helped you be the very best you.

after him, life seemed grey, dull, and monotonous. you didn’t have anyone to talk to.

your friends pulled back from you and said they made a mistake thinking they could take you on, and you understood. some days you could be so happy and carefree and the very next minute you drifted into the dark abyss that was your mind. you were a little much, for everyone.

over the summer you began reading to take your mind off of cedric. well, not him, just what happened. you forced yourself to read every book in your home. from books about the stars, to poetry, to books on theories, and finally your textbooks.

it was one of the hottest days of summer when you came across the chapter on love potions. it gave you an idea. the chapter clearly stated that the drinker of the love potion would become infatuated with the person who gave it to them. who’s to say you couldn’t become infatuated with yourself.

of course you didn’t want to become a narcissus, so you brewed a very weak version.

it worked. for a whole day you were happy. you ate, laughed, and were so good to yourself. you were in love with the girl you were. you found yourself slow dancing alone, stroking your own cheek, being there for yourself.

of course, it didn’t last and by night time you were back to feeling all too much. the type of feeling where you’re silent and unmoving, the world a blur but your thoughts in a deathly focus.

it was that night you decided that you’d take a weak love potion everyday until your bad feelings went away on their own. you were tired of being the girl people pushed away because they didn’t understand.

so you did exactly that. your entire fifth year consisted of flying under umbridge’s radar. thanks to harry potter and the order, that proved easier than expected. no one suspected you.

now, you’re in sixth year. everyone is convinced you’re happy again and they don’t treat you like some sort of liability. of course, they don’t know that every night you cry and feel exactly like you did in fourth year. but that’s ok, you can handle the nights as long as the days are good. you find it to be a cycle now. in the mornings you take the potion and it’s almost like the best part of yourself fights the whole day to take care of you, but by night, she looses to the worst part of yourself.

“y/n would you like to go to hogsmeade today?” your friend, cece asks.

“i would love to, but i have to study for transfiguration.” you sigh, giving your friend a sorry look.

“ah it’s ok, you’re taking advanced this year. you’re right to study. mara and i will make sure to bring you back some things from honeydukes.”

you smile and thank your friend before making your way to the astronomy tower. cedric was the one to introduce you to studying here, and you never stopped.

you take a seat on the steps and begin studying multicorfors.

just as you were getting up to practice the spell, a body runs into you, causing the both of you to tumble to the floor.

you look to your side and spot draco malfoy, who, besides being herbology partners one year, you didn’t really talk to.

“are you okay, draco?” you ask, helping the boy off the floor.

he smoothes out his suit jacket, “yes, l/n.”

you scoff a bit and raise your eyebrows at him, “are you sure because it’s unlike you to stumble about. you’re just too good for that.”

draco glowers at you.

“okay i’m sorry. i didn’t want to be here anyway,” you gesture around the room, “the astronomy tower is now yours.”

he doesn’t say anything as you exit the room and you shrug it off.

‘as if draco malfoy could be pleasant’, you think to yourself, annoyed.

once you approach the hufflepuff common room you feel the effects of your potion begin to wear off. you curse yourself a little for not drinking enough potion to last you until dinner and decide to run by the kitchens to grab something before bed. there’s no way you can sit through dinner like this.

by the time you make it to your dorm room you feel heavy with thoughts. you curl into your bed crying and stare at the stone wall until you fall into a dreamless sleep. like most nights.

the next morning is a saturday and you wake up early, before your dorm mates, and grab the bottle of love potion under your bed, hidden in a locked trunk. you down the small bottle and watch it refill thanks to the spell you placed on it, and put it back, hidden away.

you decide to head to breakfast early and grab a muffin to take with you to the astronomy tower. you need to master multicorfors before your test on tuesday.

a half hour into your practice, you’re doing the spell almost perfectly. though, changing your skirt into pants proves to be your downfall. you just can’t get it.

“i need the astronomy tower.” a voice says from behind you.

you turn to see draco malfoy, again wearing a fitted suit.

“you can study while i’m here draco.” you say pointedly.

“i don’t want to.” he scowls.

you roll your eyes, “then study elsewhere.”

“no. you can leave.”

“listen draco, i can argue with you all day, but i’m not moving until i’ve mastered multicorfors. so either you stay here with me or you go somewhere else.” you groan.

he doesn’t reply but takes a seat on the steps, taking out his wand and transfiguration book.

you smile to yourself, happy to win the argument, and go back to trying to change your skirt into a pair of pants.

“you’re too rigid with your movements, l/n.” draco tells you.

“can you show me then? i can’t figure it out.” you ask.

“no. just flick your wand more. it’s not that hard.” he says.

you give him a deadpan look, “please. this is the last part of the lesson i need to get. if you show me i can leave sooner.”

draco groans but gets up and walks over to you.

“give me your hand.” he instructs.

you do as you’re told and he grabs your hand, showing you the correct way to move your wand. his hand is warmer compared to yours and you like the way he warms you up. it’s also extremely soft, almost as if he’s never had a single callous.

“you have soft hands.” you tell him, grinning.

surprisingly draco lets out a small smile, “you’re supposed to be paying attention.”

“i can’t. you have baby soft hands.” you joke looking up at him.

“i just use lotion. you should try it sometime, your hands feel like a house elves’.” he teases.

you let out a deep laugh, “who knew draco malfoy was such a comedian?”

he feigns shock, “i made those hilarious ‘potter sticks’ badges back in fourth year for nothing then?”

you suck in a unnoticed breathe at the mention of fourth year before smiling,“okay i suppose that should have been a hint. but it was mean.”

draco and you continue to talk and practice transfiguration up until dinner. the time flying while the two of you are together.

“would you like to eat dinner up here? i can grab us some things from the kitchen.” you ask him, packing your bag up.

“i actually have something to do, but maybe some other time. let’s meet here again tomorrow though, i can help you with transfiguration.” he says.

“draco malfoy fraternizing with a muggle-born hufflepuff. tsk tsk.” you joke before agreeing and heading to dinner.

you don’t miss the eyeroll he gives you for that remark.

“where were you all day, y/n?” mara questions as you sit down beside her.

“astronomy tower. i was practicing transfiguration. you’ll never guess who ended up helping me either.” you beam, grabbing a plate for yourself.

“who helped you? i’m guessing cormac mclaggen, he seems to have a crush on you.” cece says.

your face contorts in disgust, “no, definitely not. that guy is a creep. it was malfoy actually, and he’s surprisingly funny.”

mara and cece give each other a look before mara speaks, “you do know people are saying he’s a deatheater, right?”

you roll your eyes, “malfoy is not a deatheater. i think a deatheater would oppose to helping a mudblood.”

your friends shrug and dinner continues on with normal conversation.

“cece and i are going to study in the library before bed if you want to join us.” mara says, grabbing her books.

“i’m okay, plus i’m super tired. i’ll see you at the dorm.” you smile, before parting with your friends.

slipping into your bed you begin to feel the come down of your potion. tonight your pain hurts even more than usual. you feel so trapped and can’t seem to catch your breath. you keep thinking back to the last time you had spoken to your best friend.

it was a week before the maze and he was sitting with you by black lake.

“y/n i promise you once i win, i’m taking you and cho to the fanciest restaurant i can find and we’ll all celebrate.” he had grinned, leaning against a tree.

you giggled and shoved him playfully before saying, “if you don’t win i’m still expecting that dinner.”

“i’ll win. i’ve been practicing so much.”

“i know, you barely ever have time to see me now.” you had sighed.

“y/n i’m sorry. i promise that after all of this is over, you and i are going to see each other everyday. i can’t live without you, kid. you’re my best friend.” he soothed, giving you a hug.

you had leaned into him, “forever?”

he laughed, “of course.”

that memory was etched in your brain. you knew it would never leave your mind.

you laid silently crying in your bed as your dorm mates entered to room, ready for bed. they said goodnight to each other before getting into their own beds, assuming you to be drifted off by now, and after a few minutes, their snores are the only sound in the room.

the emptiness of your being feels too much and you’re desperate to escape. you need air. you need something to remind you that you’re alive.

you quietly sneak out of your room, out of the common room, and up the stairs to the astronomy tower.

as you quickly enter the doorway of the tower, a body collides into yours, knocking you back a bit.

when you look up, tears falling out of your eyes, you’re greeted by teary grey ones. draco’s.

he sniffles and steadies himself before asking, “what’s wrong, l/n?”

you can’t seem to find the words. no one has asked you this question in years, and so much is wrong.

all you can do is cry harder.

“you have to breathe l/n. you’re going to upset yourself more, just breathe.” he says, voice breaking.

you try to calm down but nothing is helping. nothing feels real. cedric should still be here. you shouldn’t be this broken. life should be how it was. now it’s just too much.

“i hate it, draco.” you finally cry out.

he wipes the tears from his own eyes, “what do you hate, l/n. talk to me.”

“i hate that i haven’t been the same since fourth year. i hate that my best friend is gone. i hate that i have to worry that everyone around me is going to die, just because of some evil dark wizard. and i hate that i take fucking love potions everyday just to feel okay. i hate it all.” you breathe, finally.

draco raises his eyebrows, “you’ve been taking love potions?”

you nod, weary of your confession.

“i’m sorry y/n.” he mumbles.

your eyes meet his at the mention of your first name. coming from him it seems so genuine. he’s never called you by your first name before.

“you won’t tell anyone will you?” you ask, eyes searching his.

“no, i won’t,” he pauses. “but you should get back to your dorm, i’ll walk you back. a walk might help you calm down.”

you nod and let the boy lead you through the dark castle, lit only by the moon. draco’s steps are lighter than yours, and it causes you to wonder how he learned how to be so quiet. it’s unlike him.

when the two of you reach the hufflepuff entrance you whisper to him, “thank you for calming me down, draco. it means a lot that you would help me.”

in the shadows you see him smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. you bid the boy goodnight, and walk back to your dorm. of course you’re still sad but the sadness is somewhat diluted, thanks to none other than draco malfoy.

you continue to meet with draco daily throughout the months of your sixth year. the two of you finding comfort in each other.

by now, you’re becoming far less dependent on love potions. having someone to confide in proving immensely helpful.

but although you’re getting better, draco only grows worse. you never ask him what’s troubling him. maybe because you’re scared he won’t tell you or maybe because you’re scared to loose the person helping you the most. either way, you still try to help him as much as possible.

today, may the eighth, draco and you have plans to go to hogsmeade to look for a new notebook for you, since your old one is completely used up. you really loved mcgonagall, but the woman sure stressed you out with all the notes she commanded your class to take.

you’ve been waiting patiently for twenty minutes, but he doesn’t seem to be anywhere in sight.

maybe he’s still at breakfast? you think to yourself, before heading into the castle to search for your friend.

you peer around the dining hall, coming up short. so you decide to go to the astronomy tower. if you needed draco you could usually find him there.

when you enter the sixth floor, ready to head further up, you hear shouting. curious, you walk toward the noise, which is coming from the boys’ bathroom.

you hesitate going in but once you hear a defensive spell being cast, you draw your wand and bound into the bathroom.

in front of you stands harry potter. he’s crouched behind a wall, clutching his wand and panting. you furrow your brows, and go to question what he’s doing before you see draco emerge and cast the cruciatus curse at him.

before you can tell them both to stop, harry yells out a curse you’ve never heard of before.

“sectumsempra!”

almost instantly, draco falls to the floor, blood pouring out of him.

you’re shocked, and don’t even feel yourself run to him. you don’t hear harry’s apologies. you don’t hear when professor snape rushes in. you don’t hear a thing other than draco’s pained cries.

it reminds you all too much of the chaos of cedric’s death. everything happening too fast.

when snape finally stops the bleeding he instructs you to get back to your common room and keep quiet. you don’t try to fight him on it, and do as you’re told.

after a few hours of worried overthinking, you leave the hufflepuff common room and head to the hospital wing. when you enter the large room, you notice draco immediately. he’s the only one.

“draco?” you call his name, standing beside his bed.

the boy opens his eyes and stares right at you, causing you to cry.

“i was so scared draco.” you cry, placing your hand on your friends chest, feeling his heartbeat. it’s comforting.

“i have to tell you something, y/n, before it’s too late. you just have to promise you won’t tell a soul.” he tells you, voice weak.

“draco you’ve kept my secret over these months. i would never hurt you by telling anyone.” you say.

your friend gives you a weak smile before sitting up in the bed and pulling up his left sleeve, exposing a black ink that contrasts so much from his pale white skin.

“they’re coming here in june. i don’t know the day yet but when i find out i’ll tell you. you have to stay safe, y/n. i’m sorry i didn’t tell you sooner.” draco advises.

“you’re a deatheater.” you breathe out, eyes locked to the dark mark on his arm.

you can’t believe the scene in front of you. your draco, a villain that you’ve been so deathly afraid of for years.

“i’m so sorry y/n. it wasn’t my choice. but please promise me that you’ll stay safe. i need you here with me, not gone by the hands of a dark wizard.” the boy pleads, grasping your hand.

you look him in the eyes, “i promise draco.”

he doesn’t let go of your hand and brings it back to his heart.

“i care so deeply for you, y/n. you’re so good. thank you for everything.” he says, faltering.

your eyes are teary when you say, “i love you draco.”

with that you slip your hand out of his and walk back to your dorm. your thoughts seem to be invasive that night. you contemplate grabbing the bottle of love potion you haven’t taken in a month, but decide against it.

you feel cheated. everything had been so perfect. all the excitement you had from running through the nights with the boy you love begin to eat you alive.

it’s not fair for it to turn out like this. the two of you so dependent on each other, but on two separate sides of a war. there’s no way this can end well.

you realize you love draco, as more than a friend. that scares you and so you’re back to thinking that you’re better off on your own.

draco still sits with you in the astronomy tower daily, but the two of you don’t speak much. you, scared of falling deeper in love. and him, too focused on his task.

of course you find yourself loving the boy more and more everyday. the two of you are always embraced when together, and even though it’s unspoken, you know draco loves you too.

it’s the thirtieth day of june, you’re in the astronomy tower alone when draco comes rushing in.

“y/n you have to go, they’re here.” he warns, checking the stairs behind him.

you freeze at his statement. you knew the day would come but you still weren’t prepared.

“y/n! are you listening to me? you have to go.” he shouts.

this is it. this is the final time you’ll see draco before the war officially starts, after this there’s no more innocent days spent together. here you are again, loosing your best friend.

you get up from the floor and walk to draco. you cup his face gently, “take care of yourself. i love you.”

he eases a little and places his hand on yours, “i love you more. i hope you know that.”

and you do. of course you do.

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