#he learns to live with it. but then Soul brings him back and the warmth is almost painful | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nanamiskentos · 6 months ago

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CHERI CHERI LADY — choso kamo minors dni

prologue. → its hard not to be endlessly fond of your sweet boyfriend. he's quiet, unassuming but sweet, oddly so for a half-curse. but god, you want to jump his bones so bad.

pairing. boyfriend!choso kamo x afab!reader

warnings+. nothing really wild, just soft and sweet sèx with choso. first times, kissing and making out, heaps of touching, mild awkwardness but its sincere, creàmpiè...? choso is lowkey a súb, but there's switch in him too. choso calls reader 'my lady' near the start. established but new relationship.

word count. 2.7k song inspiration. cheri cheri lady — modern talking (1985)

a/n. gifs look so ugly on mobile im maddddd i promise its hd on desktop 😓 choso is suchhh a cutie. but this is lowkey mid but im too tired 😭

mp3. cheri, cheri lady, living in devotion, it's always like the first time. let me take a part...

you've been running your fingers gently through choso's hair, the soft strands slipping between your fingers as his head rests on your lap. his feathery black locks fall loosely around his face, and he's quite a vision, sharp and sorrowful features framed with a rare and private softness.

but now choso shifts a bit, drawing in a slow breath and you catch a glimpse of those haunting hazel eyes ringed by dark shadows, and clearly something is on his mind. it's sweet, you think, how shy he is — how his gaze flickers away before he speaks.

its a soft murmur of your name, low and husky; clearly satisfised like a large cat curled up on your lap and it makes you laugh, pressing a breathy kiss to his warm temple.

"my lady..." and it is said so softly that you don't almost hear it, but the reverence in his tone makes your heart shake, and it bewilders you at how he's so capable of the gentlest violence that unravels you in such a tender way.

you pause, surprised by the sudden tenderness of his words. he’s usually reserved, even guarded while fond, but now, calling you his lady, there’s a vulnerability in his expression that feels like he’s handing you something precious. you smile gently, watching him with a quiet love that makes his face flush, the faintest hint of colour blooming under that dark mark across his nose.

"choso…" you say his name softly, running a hand through his hair once more.

he looks away, smiling a bit sheepishly, his rough, calloused hand reaching for yours and intertwining your fingers, though his grip remains gentle. he hesitates, as though choosing his words carefully, and then his thumb brushes over your knuckles, slow and deliberate.

"i just never thought…" he trails off, swallowing as he looks up at you, “that someone like you would…" choso stops, embarrassed, but his gaze is so earnest it makes your heart skip a beat.

"i think you should get used to it," you say softly, squeezing his hand back.

his pink lips turn up slightly in a rare, almost boyish smile, and he leans a little closer, letting his guard fall just enough for you to see a warmth and devotion behind those tired, haunted eyes.

he’s such an old soul, carrying with him the age of over a century. but still, being locked as a death painting isn't quite the right step for emotional development and romance is something new and vulnerable for him, something he’s still learning to give and accept.

the thought brings a smile to your lips as you gaze at him, his eyes closed in a rare moment of peace. gently, you lean forward, brushing a soft, feather-light kiss against his lips, but the moment your lips touch, his hand finds your jaw, his fingers rough but tender as they cradle your face.

you quietly gasp as choso deepens the kiss, pulling you closer, his lips warm and firm against yours. he often has this effect on you, this feeling of intolerable longing and devotion and you part your lips slightly. his other thick arm wraps around you, holding you securely, his grip strong but his movements are careful, so utterly mindful of you.

the kiss lingers, and when you finally pull away, his hazel eyes meet yours, slightly dazed but filled with a depth of emotion that leaves you breathless. and aching.

intimacy is something that is...new to choso. when you first pressed your lips to cheeks, you thought that every blood cell in his body would explode, so flushed was he. and to your great amusement, he had mildly jumped. and so, you've never broached the topic of anything closer.

but god, you want him so bad.

"cho -," and your breathy purr of the nickname has the half-curse shifting up so he's no longer in your lap, but now chasing after your lips, leaning down so you're caged in his arms, and you run your hands up choso's arms, feeling solid and defined muscle beneath your clenched fingertips.

there's a slight roughness to his skin, and as your hands trail upwards, you notice how his muscles shift beneath your touch, taut yet responsive.

choso pulls away reluctantly from you, even half-curses need air, of course. but his lips are glossed, and slightly parted, in a deeper shade of blood-red. and a faint flush colours his pallid features, tousled and so beautifully undone that you bite your lips, hands fisted in the soft, woven fabric of his robes.

but now your boyfriend's large hands are moving with surprising gentleness as they fiddle with the hem of your own top, the roughness of his fingers curling into thin cotton, and each electric brush of his fingers against the light hair dusting your stomach sends bolts curling lower between your thighs.

"may i?" his voice is soft, laced with a quiet shyness but the rasp gives away the want that he must feel. and so, you nod and hope that he can't perceive how you tremble, hoping that he can't sense the way his hazel gaze pulls at you.

but he looks at you as if everything has fallen away, and you are no longer of this realm, but rather hanging the stars in the night sky for him.

and choso is now peeling the top away from your skin, and his eyes come to rest on your chest. at the sight of your perked nipples, his mouth parts slowly and softly, and you giggle at his awe. and so, you reach for his large hand and pull it closer to you, letting one hand cup your breast, "it's okay, baby. you can touch."

he releases a breathy "thank you," pressing his rose-bud lips gently to the tender skin of your chest. his kisses are insistent, and you sigh as he dips his mouth in between the shadow of your chest, "you're doing so well, choso." you don't miss at how your boyfriend's brows furrow in concentration, a tremor in his broad figure.

"hmmph," and choso separates his mouth from your sensitive breasts to speak clearer, "you're so beautiful." there is no pretense in his tone, no hesitation, "more than i could ever have imagined."

you curl your fingers in choppy mahogany hair, pulling him closer as he continues his ministrations, "yeah, have you imagined this?" and your tone is teasing, letting him release a wet laugh into your torso.

"do i have to say?" and choso looks up at you with hazy eyes, sharp canines peeking out from the corners of his mouth.

"mhmm, fuck!" turns out he's quite the biter.

hes leaving small bite marks on your neck and his teeth are surprisingly honed in on letting small bruises bloom on thin skin, marking you. small indentations and pressure on your chest and stomach leaving behind petals and flowers of stinging pink and cherry red.

"i have thought about it," and he's now soothing his tongue over the offended marks, "thought about you so much." and now his eyes are wider as he meets your gaze again, "is that wrong?"

you laugh, and a foggy burn and ache is settling between the apex of your thighs by now. but you want him to feel good first, to show him what it feels like to be pleasured. you press a single finger to his lips, watching as his disheveled gape reels in the surprise of being interrupted, "lean back, cho."

and he does, giving you the perfect opportunity to flip positions once more, switching so you are no longer caged by his arms, but rather straddling thick thighs that tense under his soft robes. his arms hover at his sides for a moment, and you can tell he's aching to run his hands over your topless torso once more, but they settle instead on your waist, fingers digging into the flesh above the crux of your spine.

he's fidgeting, shifting and you don't miss the quiet "please," that falls from his mouth in that low, gravel-hewn tone.

you poke a single fingernail into his neck, right above his bobbing adam's apple, letting the nail prick mildly and gently into his skin, "be patient."

your hands are in the waistband of his wide, loose pants and your hand moves past the soft brush of dark curls over his groin. for a while, you probe around his muscled thighs, running and flicking your fingertips over sensitive skin as he whines into your kisses.

"oh my god - i don't think i can...it feels so good -," and you think your boyfriend has never looked more tempting. choso's tearing down on his lower lip, pulling it between his teeth, and soon he's pulling on your lips, harshly kissing you.

you laugh, "you can, we've barely just begun." your hands find his cock, and you duck your face into his veined neck to hide your expression of surprise.

frankly putting it, it's massive. it's thick and girthy, and its practically throbbing in your fist. and choso's stuttering, jolting in your hold, "my love," and he draws out the name with such a shallow cry that you take pity on him, pulling on the silky, damp skin until its out of his pants, and hitting the cold air of the night.

"mhm," you lean down, ignoring the twinge in your back from the awkward position, "what do you want me to do, cho?" and you run your thumb over the fat head, "do you want me to do this?"

you press a soft, innocent kiss to the pulsing tip, before parting your lips ever so slightly to take the first inch into your mouth, drawing your lips back with a smack.

"haah - i...i didn't know you could do that, ah!" choso huffs, and you marvel at how he looks like a deity carved out of stone, one of perfection.

"i can do many things. like this," and you press the flat of your tongue in broad strokes to his cock, taking pride in how he's practically shuddering from your work.

truth be told, you just wanted to jump his bones and have him in you, like right now. but one look at the size, at the several girthy inches had you reeling. and you ignore the coiling tension, lifting your mouth away from his cock and he whimpers, a question dancing on his tongue.

you shift your weight back, leaning further against his bent knees as your boyfriend's gaze is...shaky. like he isn't sure where to look. how to take and drink you in. whether his eyes need to rest on your jostling chest, or....lower.

lower to where you've parted your legs, spreading your thighs while you straddle him. moving the laced edges of your underwear to the side, and you watch as choso's mouth falls open ever so slightly with a soft "oh!" like the air has been punched out of him.

"wan' you cho. want you so bad," and your right hands finds its way in between your thighs, brushing over hot slick, "but you're too big, you're gonna have to do something for me first," and you wonder, when did you start begging?

choso swallows thickly, eyes not moving from your drooling slit that glimmered with a faint sheen in the dim light, his tone dulcet, "what do you want me to do?"

you giggle again, pressing a kiss to his forehead briefly, "you're so helpful, baby. and here -," you take your index finger, tapping it briefly, once or twice on your clit, jolting from the stimulation, before running it through your sticky folds, "you just gotta do this for a while, just gotta keep this up, and then!"

you cut off your own sentence with a gasp, making sure choso's eyes are trained on you, as you dip your finger right past your walls, curling it upwards. not enough to hit that spongy patch, but enough to have you clenching down, "you just gotta do this too, cho. can add more fingers if you - hnngh, like!"

you need not say more, for the minute you retract your hand, his fingertips have already replaced yours, and you're suddenly twisting on him from the sudden contact. choso's good, fuck, he's good.

his touch is searing, as he explores the translucent gloss of your cunt, rolling his fingers through your folds and pressing his thumb down on your clit that makes you squeal, "ngh, cho. right there, fuck, that feels so good," and you're rolling your hips into him, at a steady pace.

"am i doing this right, pretty?" and choso's tone is petulant, achy, "is this right, is this, ohh, this good enough for you?" and how could you ever claim it wasn't? not when a thick finger is breaching your gummy walls, and then another — and his digits are pressing right into your pussy. if you were already this full, how would you take his cock?

"cho - cho!" you shake him out of his reverie, pulling his fingers out and away and he glowers up at you, apparently offended that you were the one depriving him of such bliss.

"you didn't finish. did i do something wrong?"

"felt so fuckin' good, baby. but i think i'll die if you're not in me, like right now," and you cock your own hips back and run your slick, weeping cunt over the hot skin of his cock as choso suddenly throws his head back, and he mutters something that you don't catch, a curse in an older dialect.

each inch, each press of his veiny cock working through your pussy has the two of you keening, and you're suddenly letting his arms wrap around you, hold you stable as you let him sheathe himself in to the hilt.

choso's hands bruise at your hips once more, and you're not quite sure what has shifted in your sweet, shy boyfriend, but now he's suddenly cockier, and a cunt-struck twisted grin is plastered on his face, as he bucks his hips up, giving you little time to adjust to his sheer size, "if i had known it was this good, hnngh, ah! would have - would have done this ages ago. so long ago..."

you hiccup, tittering as you run your hands through dark strands, "yeah, that good, huh cho? got you pussy whipped like this?"

"so much," choso nods, and his pink mouth is parted as he whines out, right after you squeeze down on his length, letting him knock and jostle around in your pussy, as his swollen tip kisses your cervix, "maybe i just am, hahh, whipped," and his fingers are still running obedient taps and swirls around your clit, big hands squirming to fit in between the space of your mound and his groin, "cherish you, you know? love you, love you so much."

you kiss him, deeply, letting his mouth ghost upwards trying to catch the faint trail of spit as you separate, "love you too, cho."

he's now set a more desparate rhythm that leaves you quaking in his hold, and the feeling of his cock massaging your inner walls has you seeing stars.

and it hits you like a knife, the sharp feeling of your walls fluttering around his cock, milking the thick, white seed right out of him. you marvel at how choso's eyes roll back into his head and the most delicious groan is ripped out of him, one that you go to capture with your mouth, swallowing it up.

your own back arches as a wave of pleasure overtakes you, and leaves you shaking as you're pushed over the edge, and your heart is pounding so loudly, you can hear it in your eyes.

but choso makes no moves to shift you away from his cock, and instead he's letting out a rare laugh, one of joy, as you feel the sticky strings of his pearly cum coat the skin that presses into you.

"you're cute, cho."

his fingers are trailing faint little shapes on your chest, and you realise they're small hearts, and you bite back a grin at how your aged, half-curse, beautiful boyfriend finds romantic gestures with such ease.

"i think you're the most beautiful person in the entire world."

you mock-huff, smashing your lips against his once more, "wanna be on top this time?" surely, he can go another round?

#choso kamo #choso kamo x reader #choso #choso x reader #choso smut #choso kamo smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #works #🙂‍↔️#daphworks

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imjustreadinglmao · 11 months ago

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BLUE

Paring: Azriel x Reader, Lucien x platonic!Reader

Summary: After Azriel and Elain‘s courtship is revealed, their mates, Lucien and Y/N, are left to deal with the consequences. While fighting against Koschei and for Prythian‘s freedom, Y/N has to navigate her emotions and learn how to live with the heartbreak of a one sided mating bond. But what happens when long kept secrets are revealed and everything turns out differently than they thought?

PART I

word count: 3k

A/N: this is part 1 of BLUE. I changed the beginning a bit to fit the storyline. Please be nice this is my first fic :)

Warnings: light angst, unrequited love, mention of childhood trauma/ mention of ãbuse (not described)

part 2

I stir my black tea as Rhysand files through the report I handed him just seconds ago.

The steam from the tea rises, curling in delicate tendrils, carrying with it a sense of fleeting warmth that I desperately cling to.

Rhysand’s office is both grand and simple.

Bookshelves line the walls, filled with volumes on history, strategy, and magic. A fireplace to the right. Above it, a large portrait of Velaris shows the city bathed in a soft, ethereal glow. Feyre gifted it to him last starfall.

Heavy velvet drapes in shades of midnight blue frame the windows, ready to be drawn shut for privacy.

In the distance I can make out the mountains with their snow-capped peaks and the Sidra winding through the valley below.

“I have to say, I’m impressed you were able to convince Devlon so fast.”

I look up at Rhys and chuckle, the sound hollow to my own ears. “It does help if you threaten to cut his balls off and stake them to the wall for everyone to see.”

Rhys lifts a brow and barks out a laugh. “I see.”

I rarely go on missions anymore, choosing to work as an advisor for Rhysand.

Missions used to be exciting, but nowadays I prefer the comfort my room provides. The sense of security it brings is a balm to my soul, now more than ever.

I take this as a sign to stand up and lift my bag from the floor. I sling it over my shoulder and make my way to the door.

“Don’t forget tonight’s family dinner,” Rhysand calls after me. I don’t look back, just give him a thumbs-up and close his office door behind me.

As I make my way downstairs and through the foyer, I spot Lucien strapping on his sword. Presumably getting ready for training, he has always been an early riser.

“How did the mission go?” Lucien doesn’t need to look up to see that it’s me approaching.

I let out a sigh and rub my temples. “Good.” I stop beside him and flop onto the recamier right next to the front door. “Well, as good as paying the camps a visit can get.”

Lucien cracks a smile at that, his amber eyes twinkle with amusement. He knows exactly how difficult it is to convince Devlon of something he isn’t particularly fond of.

“Are you coming to the family dinner tonight?” I ask, my voice betraying a hint of reluctance.

Lucien sheaths his blade and nods. “Feyre will have my head if I don’t show up. I already missed the last one.”

I cringe at the mention of the last family dinner. The memory alone sends a sharp pang through my chest.

———————

I walk into the dining room, ready to face yet another family dinner. I spot Mor right away, radiant in her blood-red gown. The sight of her is always one of familiarity and comfort.

“Hey, got another one of those?” I point to the wine glass in her hand. She arches a brow and hands me one filled to the brim.

“Are we so exhausting that you need liquid encouragement to get through the night?” she muses. I just roll my eyes, trying to hide my amusement.

Right as she opens her mouth to say something, the back of my head begins to tickle. He is here.

I turn around to see Azriel walk through the door, and he is not alone. Elain is beside him, their hands intertwined.

Even though I was expecting it to happen soon, the sight still hits me like a physical blow. It was always just a matter of time till Azriel and Elain decided to go against Rhys‘s order and make their love official.

I‘m glad, Lucien isn’t here to witness this. I can’t imagine how it would be for him.

Since only my side of the bond snapped into place, seeing how in love they are, is somehow… manageable. For Lucien it would be almost deadly.

I look back at Mor, her expression as shocked as mine. “I didn’t know,” she whispers, her face now bearing a look of worry and pity.

To say the dinner is awkward would be an understatement. Nobody really knows what to say after Elain and Azriel walked in holding hands.

I just shove the potatoes on my plate around, too nauseous to eat anything. The lump in my throat makes swallowing impossible.

Cassian clears his throat and points to Azriel and Elain. “So how long has this been going on?” Nesta jabs her elbow into his ribs, which earns her an “oww”, and throws me an apologetic look.

Besides Mor, only Lucien and Nesta know about the bond between me and Azriel. Their concern a constant reminder of the bond I try so hard to ignore.

“Well…” Azriel coughs, noticeably uncomfortable with being put on the spot. “It all happened very quickly. We spent a lot of our nights up and talking and realized we didn’t want to hold back anymore.”

He gazes down at her, smiling. I recognize that look. The realization twists the knife in my heart.

That’s how I look at him.

—————————

“Are you even listening?” Lucien waves a hand in front of my face to snap me out of my haze. His voice pulls me back to the present, but the ache remains.

I rub my eyes. “Uh… sorry. What exactly were you saying?”

He crosses his arms and looks down at me. “I was asking if you wanted to go training with me. But it seems what you really need is some sleep.”

I roll my eyes and stand up. “You know me so well, Lu.” I pat his shoulder and walk out the door. “See you at dinner tonight.”

Velaris is most beautiful at night, but nothing can beat the quiet and peace of the early mornings.

I walk down the high street, greeting some of my favorite vendors with a smile, until I reach the familiar townhouse.

After I officially became part of Rhysand’s inner circle, he offered me to stay at his townhouse.

It had many perks: no rent, right in the heart of Velaris, and an endless wine supply thanks to Rhysand’s "secret" wine cellar.

There is really only one downside.

“I didn’t think you would be back so soon.” Azriel sits at the dinner table eating breakfast. He has his fighting leathers on, probably on his way to the House of Wind for Valkyrie training.

Cassian and Azriel still train the Valkyries every morning. Sometimes I join, but only when Nesta drags me up there.

“Well, sorry to disappoint.” I laugh awkwardly. “I’m going to head upstairs to rest. Say hello to Nesta for me.” The words taste bitter, a poor attempt to mask the hurt.

I turn around before he has the chance to say something else, the lump in my throat threatening to choke me.

Yes, that is the downside. The constant reminder of what I had lost and could never have.

Him.

——————

The dining room buzzes with conversation as everyone settles in for dinner.

Azriel and Elain sit together, a vision of contentment that sends a pang through my heart.

Across the table, Lucien’s jaw is tight, his gaze fixed on his plate.

“Thank you all for coming,” Rhysand begins, standing at the head of the table. “I have an important announcement to make.”

He glances at Lucien and me, a hint of apology in his eyes. “We’ve decided to support Eris in overthrowing Beron.

Lucien and you,” he points at me, “will lead the mission to the Autumn Court.”

A murmur runs through the room. Lucien looks up, his eyes meet mine.

There is a mixture of determination and vulnerability in his gaze that makes my heart ache.

The Autumn Court doesn’t hold great memories for either of us.

But before I can fully process Rhysand’s words, Azriel stands abruptly, his expression dark and tense.

“Why them?” Azriel’s voice is sharp, a stark contrast to his usual calm demeanor. “Why not send someone else?”

Rhysand frowns slightly, clearly not expecting this reaction.

“Both of them have a unique advantage given their history with Eris and the Autumn Court. It’s a strategic decision.”

Azriel’s eyes flicker to me, a storm of emotions swirling within them. “I don’t like it. It’s too dangerous.”

I feel a surge of frustration. Azriel’s protectiveness, though touching, is misplaced and completely out of character.

“What’s your problem, Azriel?” I snap, unable to hold back.

“I’m more than capable of leading this mission. Or do you think I’m not good enough to do my job?”

His eyes narrow, the tension between us thickening. “That’s not what I meant,” he retorts, his voice lower but no less intense.

“I just don’t think it’s wise to send specifically you two into such a volatile situation. You can’t just throw yourself into danger like that.”

My heart pounds in my chest. “That’s rich coming from you. You’re always in danger, always risking everything. How is that different from this mission?”

“It’s different because—” Azriel stops himself, glancing at Elain, who is watching us with wide eyes. He seems to struggle for a moment before finishing, “It doesn’t matter, just let someone else do the mission. You’re an important asset to this court.”

Before I could respond with something I’d surely regret, Elain’s voice cuts through the tension.

“Azriel, stop.” Her voice is calm but firm, a hint of desperation in her eyes. “This isn’t helping.”

Azriel turned to Elain, his expression softens slightly, but the tension remains. He takes a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. “I’m sorry. I just… I worry.”

Lucien’s gaze hardens, “We’ve faced worse,” he says, a challenge in his tone. “We are capable enough to lead this mission, we don’t need your approval, Shadowsinger.”

Azriel’s jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek. “It’s not about capability. It’s about safety. I don’t want to see anyone get hurt.”

“Anyone?” I echo, my voice rises. “Or just Elain’s mate?”

The words hang in the air, charged with emotion. Azriel flinches slightly.

“This has nothing to do with Lucien being Elain‘s mate,” he says, though the slight tremor in his voice betrays him.

“But it does, doesn’t it?” My words laced with venom. “If Lucien were to get hurt, it would cause Elain distress, that’s how a mating bond works. And we can’t have that, can we?”

Elain looks down, her face unreadable, while Lucien’s gaze flickers between Azriel and me.

“We all know the risks,” Lucien says more calmly this time, “And we’re prepared to face them.”

Rhysand interjects, his voice low but authoritative. “Enough. We’re all on the same side here. This is a mission we need to undertake for the greater good. Personal feelings need to be set aside.”

I take a deep breath and try to steady the storm of emotions within me. Rhysand is right, the last thing we need is Azriel and me fighting.

Rhysand sits down, his tone final. “This mission is vital. We need to trust each other and stay focused. We’ll discuss this further tomorrow. For now, let’s try to enjoy the evening.”

The atmosphere is strained as we resume our meal. I can feel Azriel’s gaze on me.

Lucien reaches over, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze. It was a small gesture, but it meant everything in that moment.

I don’t say a word throughout the whole dinner. Choosing to stay quiet instead of lashing out.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that this mission would change everything.

---

The garden of the River House is a haven of tranquility. Blooming flowers and lush greenery everywhere Elain truly is a talented gardener.

I find Lucien leaning against a stone pillar, his gaze lost in the Sidra's gentle flow.

I approach him quietly, the cool evening air brushing against my skin. “Mind if I join you?” I ask softly.

Lucien looks up, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Of course not. I was just enjoying the peace before the storm.”

I halt beside him, the tension from the dinner still coils tightly in my chest. “Quite the announcement, wasn’t it?”

He nods, his expression thoughtful. “I knew something like this was coming, but hearing it confirmed… it’s different.

Eris must be desperate if he reached out to Rhysand.”

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “Yes, it’s a lot. I wish Rhys would have told us separately. This topic is already very emotional I really didn’t need Azriel’s… concern too.”

Lucien’s eyes darken at the mention of Azriel. “He’s protective, that’s clear. But he doesn’t have the right to undermine your abilities.”

“It’s not just that,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. “His words, his actions… they confuse me. One moment he’s distant, the next he’s overly concerned. I don’t understand him.”

Lucien’s gaze softens, a flicker of understanding in his eyes. “He cares about you. He might not be aware of it but you’re his mate, bond snapping into place or not, it’s his priority to keep you safe. That can’t be changed, even if he’s in love with someone else.”

I look away, the garden blurring before my eyes. “It hurts, Lucien. Seeing him with Elain, pretending to be something they’re not. I don’t know how to deal with it.”

Lucien reaches out, his hand covering mine. “You’re not alone in this. We’ve all got our battles to fight, and sometimes the hardest ones are with our own hearts.”

A moment of silence stretches between us, the night air filled with the scent of blooming flowers.

“And what about you?” I ask, turning to look at him. “How are you handling all of this? Eris, the Autumn Court… it can’t be easy for you.”

Lucien’s expression grows somber. “It’s not. But I’ve come to terms with my past and everything my father did to me. I knew this was going to happen. Eris has the chance to change things, to make the Autumn Court a better place. I can’t turn my back on that.”

He smiles at that. “And maybe, when all of this is over, we’ll find some semblance of peace.”

As we stand there, the garden enveloping us in its quiet embrace, I feel a sense of calm settle over me. Whatever challenges lay ahead, I know we have each other’s backs.

—————————

The war room in the House of Wind is filled with dread as we gather around the large oak table.

Rhysand stands at the head, his usual easy demeanor replaced by a grave seriousness.

To his right, Amren sits with her usual enigmatic expression, while Cassian leans against the wall, arms crossed and a stern look on his face.

Azriel is on my left, his gaze unreadable, and Lucien sits across from me, his eyes focused and determined.

Rhysand unfurls a detailed map of the Autumn Court, its forests and strongholds marked with meticulous detail.

“Eris has provided us with information about Beron’s movements and the layout of his court. Our objective is to infiltrate the main stronghold, gather intelligence, and support Eris in his efforts to dethrone Beron.”

Lucien nods, his jaw set. Rhys continues. “We’ll enter through the southern border. Eris has arranged for a distraction that will draw most of Beron’s guards away from the main stronghold. This will give us the opportunity to slip in and meet with Eris.”

Amren leans forward, her sharp eyes assessing the map. “And what about Koschei? He’s been a wild card in all of this. His alliance with Beron could complicate things.”

Rhysand nods in agreement. “Koschei is a concern. According to Eris, Koschei has been providing Beron with dark magic. We need to be prepared for any magical traps or barriers.”

Azriel’s voice cuts through the discussion. “I’ll handle the reconnaissance. I’ll fly ahead and ensure the path is clear before they move in.”

I glance at him, he hasn’t looked at me or said a single thing to me since yesterday. If I didn’t know better I would say he was sulking.

Rhysand continues, “Once inside, our main goal is to secure the throne room and neutralize Beron’s guards. Eris will confront Beron directly. You,” he gestures to Lucien and me, “need to be ready to support him.”

Lucien nods again, his eyes meeting mine across the table. “We’ll be ready.”

Rhysand’s gaze softens slightly as he looked at us. “This mission is dangerous, but it’s necessary. Any questions?”

I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the responsibility settle on my shoulders. “What if things go wrong? Do we have an extraction plan?”

Amren smirks. “We have a plan. Azriel and I will be your backup. If things go south, we’ll get you out, girl.”

Azriel nods, his eyes meeting mine. “You won’t be alone out there. We’ll be watching.”

There is a moment of silence as everyone absorbs the gravity of this mission.

Finally, Rhysand speaks again, his voice resolute. “We leave at dawn. Get some rest and prepare yourselves.”

As we all stand to leave, Azriel catches my arm. “Can I talk to you for a moment?” he asks, his voice low.

I nod, following him to a quieter corner of the room. “What is it, Azriel?”

He hesitates, searching for the right words. “I know you’re capable. But this mission… it’s dangerous, and I can’t shake the feeling that something might go wrong. Just promise me you’ll be careful.”

His concern should touch me, but I can’t help and feel angry. “I know the risks, Azriel. And I’ll be careful. But you need to trust me to do my part.”

He sighs, running a scarred hand through his hair. “It’s not that I don’t trust you or your abilities. I just… I can’t lose you.”

Before I can respond, Lucien approaches.“Ready?” Lucien asks, his eyes flicker between Azriel and me. I nod, giving Azriel one last look.

“Ready.”

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milkbobatyun · 7 months ago

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anyone but you

pairing: wanderer/scaramouche x gn!reader

genre: angstober, events

summary: everyone else had abandoned him, but you always stuck true to him.

word count: 1k

a/n: proud to be a scaramouche simp AND wanderer haver !! dont question the lore aspect of this fic, idk myself asw LMAO

the two of you were but mere pipsqueaks when you met.

your older brother, morax, had just ascended to godhood and was too busy with the affairs of his new nation to be able to carefully look after his baby sister. likewise, ei was too caught up in her pursuit for eternity to care for her newly made puppet.

so, what better option was there for them than to let the two of you fend for yourselves together? being lumped together from a young age, and being innocent and naive meant that the two of you relied on each other, the two of you against the world.

you were there when his mother, no, creator, had discarded him. he had no strength, only a pure soul, one that had not yet been tainted by the cruelty of the world. his tender heart had been broken.

like a pet thrown out onto the street, kunikuzushi found himself always making his way back home, tracing the familiar steps to the shrine, sitting outside, pitifully waiting in the rain.

beside him, you sat quietly, offering him silent company. despite the bone-chilling cold, you offered him a hug, the warmth of your love engulfing him, a shield against the uncaring world.

as the both of you awaited for some sliver of hope to shine in the dark clouds of despair, you would pet his head and sing quiet lullabies as it lay on your lap, salty tears leaking from his eyes. he didn’t know puppets could cry.

hope never came. the almighty shogun had abandoned her creation forever, condemning him to live among mortals, whose short lives meant death, a premature one when compared to his immortal lifespan.

the bitterness of betrayal consumed a portion of his heart.

kunikuzushi had trusted him. his friend, katsuragi.

they had promised to be family, a happy little family. tiny kuni, katsuragi and small [name].

so why? why did he tremble in fear now, when he saw kunikuzushi approach him?

it used to be cheers of happiness.

“little kuni!” he would greet, waving his arm in greeting, looking like a comical sight. a wide grin would mirror onto kunikuzushi’s face. someone had finally accepted him and [name] for who they were, looking past the non-human features and seeing their fragile hearts and souls.

katsuragi didn’t hate him for his porcelain skin and ball joints. he didn’t hate [name] for her strange, draconic horns. they were loved, remembered, as the blacksmith and his friends presented them with a beautifully decorated cake.

“to commemorate our year of memories together.” he had declared.

how cruel. how heartless of him, to take the hearts they had trustingly bestowed upon him, crushing it in his grip.

the crystalline pieces fractured, shards of a puzzle that could never be pieced together again.

his betrayal had taken a toll on kunikuzushi’s soul. tears rained down onto the ground as he clutched at your clothing with tight fists.

with warm words and soothing lullabies, your gentle touch and the feeling of home lulled the worn out puppet into sleep.

kunikuzushi was heartbroken. he was scared of this ugly nature of humans. no. he wasn’t scared. he was angry. angry at this cruel world.

he was falling into a dark abyss. curse this wretched world, for carelessly throwing his heart around.

the little boy. oh how naive and innocent he was, a fledgling chick, learning to fly.

kunikuzushi and [name] had found the sickly boy sheltering in your small, rundown, forgotten house on one of the many islands of inazuma. he was plagued with illness, not even your knowledge of medicine could cure him.

yet, you still pressed on, nourishing the little boy with lavender melons and a banquet of dishes. kuni often volunteered to go forage for different fruits, proudly bringing back the herbs he had picked in the wilderness.

once, you were even lucky enough to buy a small doll that resembled kuni.

that day had been the little boy’s birthday. you were on your daily trip to the local market when you caught sight of it. with care, you nestled the doll between the ingredients you had bought for the cake.

as the little boy blew out the candles on the sad, slightly lopsided birthday cake, he wished that he could stay with the two of you.

“we’re family now.” he had grinned at you, his two missing front teeth all the more prominent. “we’re going to be together forever and ever.”

how naive and innocent you were.

in the night, you tried to ignore the bone-chilling, hacking coughs that resonated in the empty manor. the worsening coughs that raked through his body, leaving him pale and shaking.

every night, you questioned the gods. if they were so benevolent and kind, why? why rip this young fledgling from his nest and toss him into the harsh world? what twisted sense of joy did it bring?

once again, the two of you foolishly bared your newly-mended hearts to humans, only for it to be crushed underfoot.

humans can’t be trusted. it took three betrayals before you finally understood.

a soft, porcelain heart, in this unjust world would only lead to pain and suffering. only by hardening his heart into stone, could the puppet withstand the test of human nature.

“you can’t leave me like him, [name],” kuni’s hoarse voice pleaded, gripping you as though you would disappear. “promise me.”

a link of your pinkies and you promised him, but a flicker of hesitation flitted through your eyes.

from that day on, scaramouche clung tight to you, you were his lifeline in this ugly world. the only thing pure and deserving of his love. he cast away his vulnerable and foolish younger self, burying his heart with his own two hands.

good riddance to the rest of the world, the world that he would curse at and denounce. but you, you would always have to stay by his side, in life and in death.

he would do anything to keep you near him. chain you, shackle you beside him, go to hell and back, anything so you wouldn’t abandon him, like all the others did.

his heart was cold and black, impenetrable like rock. but even a stone could retire under the erosion of time, becoming pure like the most exquisite of gems.

∧,,,∧ ( ̳• · • ̳) © curated with love by milkbobatyun 2024 / づ ♡

#genshin angst #genshin x reader #genshin x reader angst #wanderer x reader #wanderer angst #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x reader #scara x reader #scaramouche angst #scara x you #scara x y/n #scara angst #genshin scara #scaramouche x reader angst #angst #angstober #angst oneshot

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peakyswritings · 1 month ago

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Heart, Body and Soul || Act Two

Tommy Shelby x Nina Ferrante Shelby (OC)

Where The Shadow Is Cast

CHAPTER 1 ~ Secrets

Summary: Tommy’s secretive behaviour puts Nina on edge.

Warnings: arranged marriage, age-gap (Tommy’s in his early 30s, Nina is in her early 20s), talks of past sexual harassment, English is not my first language.

A/N: The second act takes place during season 2*. You can read it even if you haven’t read the previous one, although you might miss some information here and there. What you need to know for context, is that Nina Ferrante is Tommy’s Sicilian wife, and their marriage put an end to the war between the two families. They join forces against Sabini. *This specific chapter takes place a few months before season 2.

ACT ONE MASTERLIST || ACT TWO MASTERLIST

SERIES MASTERLIST

Nina watched Tommy sleeping next to her, his lips slightly parted, eyebrows lowered in a subtle frown.

She didn’t have the heart to wake him.

The previous night had been horrible for him. He had woken up again and again, covered in sweat, shaking, slurring incoherent words she could not understand. Then he held on to her, arms wrapped tightly around her waist as she tried her best to ground him, only for it to start all over again. It took him hours to finally fall into a somewhat peaceful sleep.

It wasn’t the first time it happened. She had learned about his nightmares a few days after moving into their new house, on Watery Lane. Although Tommy had warned her about them, she’d be lying if she said it hadn’t unsettled her to see him so scared. To get a glimpse of the monsters that lived inside his head. Monsters she couldn’t protect him from.

The awareness she couldn’t take his pain away was crushing. Even when he seemed happy, even on the rare times a laugh escaped his lips, the heavy veil of sadness was always there, draped over his shoulders like a coat, weighing him down. She wished there was a way to take a bit of that burden upon herself and carry it with him, if only to bring him some semblance of relief.

“You’re staring.”

Tommy’s raspy voice broke the silence, pulling her from her thoughts. Warmth flushed to her face, and she was thankful he still had his eyes closed. Two months into their marriage, and she still blushed like a schoolgirl when he caught her looking at him. Pushing back the embarrassment, she took on a playful tone. “Does it bother you?” she taunted, quirking an eyebrow.

Tommy’s lips curved upwards. “No.”

His eyelids fluttered opened, sleepy blue eyes looking back at her. “Good morning, love.”

“Morning.” She reached out her hand to smooth a stray lock of hair off his forehead. Her fingers travelled down to his cheek, knuckles tenderly brushing against his freckled skin.

Taking ahold of her hand, Tommy brought it to his lips, placing a sweet kiss on it. “I’m sorry for last night,” he murmured, his gaze filling with regret.

“You have nothing to be sorry about.”

“I told you already, I can sleep on the sofa-”

“No,” she interrupted him, unwilling to listen to the umpteenth attempt on his part to convince her that it would be better for her if they slept separately.

“Nina-”

“Not a chance,” she said firmly. “You will not keep me away.”

Tommy pursed his lips, and for a moment he seemed about to say something. Then resignation flashed across his eyes, and no word left his mouth. He knew better than her he had already lost that battle.

With a soft grunt, he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close to him, nuzzling his face into her neck. “I wanna stay in bed with you.”

“Then do it.”

“I can’t,” he mumbled, a hint of frustration in his voice. “There’s things I need to get done.”

“They can wait.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

Oh, tempting you is my precise intention.

It had been so long since they had spent a day together, just the two of them. She knew he had business to attend to, but she missed him. And she could tell his habit of overworking himself was taking a toll on him.

She inhaled deeply, pondering her words. “You can take a day off. It’s not like you have to answer to anyone.”

“This time I do,” he shook his head. “I’m going to London to meet your uncle.”

Oh.

Uncle Antonio would not be pleased if Tommy didn’t show up to the meeting. And with the circumstances of their marriage still being a sore spot for everyone, it was better to be careful. Although Antonio and his sons were not involved with what had happened back in Italy, word had traveled, and he had found himself in the painful position to take a side in the quarrel between his two brothers. Vincenzo’s side, to be exact. For the sake of peace. It wouldn’t be wise to inconvenience him further.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“No,” he said, a bit too quickly for her taste. Then, as if reading the suspicion on her face, he added, “It’s business as usual, nothing to worry about.”

Nina furrowed her brows, studying his face. There was something in his expression that told her he wasn’t being completely truthful. That there was something he wasn’t telling her.

She decided to leave it, at least for the moment. The truth would come out anyway.

“If you say so.”

As she washed the breakfast dishes, Nina looked onto the grey streets, muddy from the rain. Autumn had arisen in all its might, bringing storm and a pungent cold she wasn’t sure she had ever known. It was probably still sunny, back home. In Sicily summer was always reluctant to leave.

Home. She wondered what her family was doing, if they missed her, or if some part of them was secretly relieved she wasn’t a nuisance anymore. What she had done to all of them was not something that could be easily forgotten, or forgiven. The shame she had brought upon them was a stain that could never be washed away. She wouldn’t blame them if they still harboured resentment towards her.

As for Agnese, Nina wasn’t so foolish to think she could ever have her forgiveness, nor her uncle and aunt’s. In their eyes, she had viciously stabbed her cousin in the back, and robbed her of a suitable marriage out of sheer selfishness. She just hoped uncle Mario would forgive her father for acting behind his back. It was for the best, anyway. Had it been up to her uncle, their peace with the Shelbys would’ve gone up in smoke, and they would’ve been alone in the war against Sabini. Instead, since the two families had joined their forces, Sabini’s attacks at the Ferrante’s restaurants had ceased.

However, it wasn’t her parents’ resentment she should’ve been scared of, nor her brothers’ anger, and not even her uncle’s fury. They were no actual danger to her. What she should fear was the wrath of someone far more vengeful. Someone she had scorned. Because there was nothing more dangerous than a humiliated man.

A chill ran down her spine. She thought leaving Sicily would mean leaving Stefano behind. That what he had done to her would pass, that the mark he had left on her would fade, that his nasty gaze wouldn’t burn her anymore. She couldn’t have been more wrong. He was always lurking in the shadows, watching her every step. He was everywhere, because she was carrying him inside herself. She’d have to learn how to carve him out.

A loud meow put an end to her musings. Curled up on a chair, Winston was staring at her with his yellow eyes, impatiently waiting for her to acknowledge him. He had been seeking her attention more, since they had left. The big change had bewildered him, too. There were no gardens in Small Heath, no tree branches upon which he could climb, no sunny spots to sleep in. She felt guilty, for taking him away from that. But no one in her family would take care of him, not like she did.

He’d get used to it in time. Hopefully, she would too.

She never thought she would miss home. It was rather funny. She had spent her whole life wishing she could escape from that place, and now that she had, she was searching for it in every corner.

A sense of uneasiness began to grow in her chest. A feeling she was all too familiar with, one she thought she’d left behind once she had stepped on the boat for England.

No…

No. She shook her head, snapping herself out of the spiral she was on the verge of falling in. She couldn’t let it happen. She wouldn’t let it happen. She wouldn’t let her restless mind ruin what she was trying to build.

But as she scrubbed the plate with more energy, she could have sworn she saw her mother’s face in the reflection in the window.

The betting shop was still deserted when Nina walked in. It looked so different in the early morning, without the hustle and bustle of the men at work, and the rowdy gamblers cramming in to place their bets. That was why she preferred to arrive early, and plan the day before the shouting and the smoke made it too difficult for her to fully concentrate.

She’d be lying if she said she didn’t quite like the betting shop, though. It was different from anything she had ever known. A small world of its own, made of bets, numbers, and strategies. It was stimulating, to say the least. In that chaotic place, she could escape the stillness she had despised all her life.

She sat at one of the desks, then proceeded to set out the things she’d need. The betting book, the agenda Tommy had left her, her notebook, and a small calendar. Tommy would be away for a week, at least, and if she had to cover his work as well, she’d have to make a schedule. She took in a deep breath, staring to parcel out the tasks to be done in the next few days.

Ten minutes or so into her work, she was distracted by the sound of heels clicking across the wooden floor. The figure of a woman walked in front of her with quick steps, leaving a trail of cigarette smoke as she passed.

There she was. Polly Gray.

Nina knew immediately she was in for a long, long day.

Ever since the matriarch had laid her watchful gaze on Nina for the first time, she had been nothing but stern to her. She observed her, studied her. She cut her into tiny pieces to figure out what she was made of. It was unnerving, sometimes.

Polly dropped her bag on one of the desks on the opposite side of the room. “Tommy went to London,” she said, finally turning to acknowledge Nina’s presence.

Good morning to you, too.

“Yes. He said something about a meeting with my uncle.”

“Did he say anything else?”

“Is there anything else to know?”

Polly sighed, stomping her cigarette before taking a seat. “I was hoping you could tell me.”

God, it was serious, if even his aunt knew nothing about it.

Nina shook her head. “He’s been acting strange, lately.”

“Sounds like Tommy.”

“More than usual,” she clarified. “He says he’s just worried about business, but I can tell there’s more to it.”

Polly’s head shot up to look at her. She visibly pondered her words, until something clicked behind her dark eyes. A look of realisation flashed across her expression. “You have no idea, do you?”

Her statement left Nina confused. “Of what?”

The shadow of a smirk grew on Polly’s face. She pursed her lips in an attempt to hide it, but Nina didn’t miss the mixture of smugness and amusement filtering through her features. “It’s not my place to tell you, love. Tommy entrusted me with this information long ago.”

What information?

Nina clenched her jaw, careful not to show how much Polly’s demeanour was actually getting to her. The condescending note in her voice was what made her blood boil the most.

It wasn’t the first time she needled her with the implication that her husband kept secrets from her, and it surely wouldn’t be the last. Polly made no secret of her determination to maintain her primacy as Tommy’s most loyal confidant. But Nina knew it was also her way of assessing her, of knowing just how much she could pull before the string snapped.

She’d have to pull, and pull. And even then, she’d end up disappointed. Nina was way too good at letting certain things roll off her back.

Polly Gray’s little jabs were nothing compared to her aunts’ and cousins’ nasty jokes and judgmental glances. If she thought a few subtle taunts would be enough to make her step back, she couldn’t be more wrong. And truth be told, Nina drew a bit of satisfaction from the knowledge her presence made the older woman feel threatened.

Before either of them could say anything else, the double doors that separated the kitchen from the shop swung open, and Arthur’s boisterous voice resounded in the room. Nina didn’t understand a single word that left his mouth, but from the look on Polly’s face, it was safe to say it was for the best. His accent was so thick it often took her a while to pick up on what he said. Sometimes she got the impression he accentuated it on purpose, when he spoke to her.

Another way of Tommy’s family of reminding her she was a stranger. The daughter of a foreign enemy.

“Nina, do me a favour and check me addin’ up, eh.” Arthur dropped a heavy book on her desk.

“This is the Garrison’s book,” she frowned.

“Yeah, I brought it ‘ere so ye could take a look at it.”

“I already checked it two days ago.”

His heavy hand came to pat her on the shoulder, nearly knocking her over. “Money’s flowing in, sister.”

“And flowing out, I see,” she noted, scanning through one of the most recent pages. She squinted her eyes, pursing her lips as her a specific figure caught her attention. “There’s something wrong here.”

“That’s why I came to ya’, luv,” he brushed her off.

Of course.

She couldn’t understand why the Shelbys kept on relying on Arthur for keeping the pub’s book. It wasn’t like they couldn’t afford to pay someone to do that for him. He didn’t even try. And she was the one who ended up fixing his mess.

Arthur’s steps echoed in the almost empty shop as he started to walk towards the door, making her snap her head in his direction. She leaned back in her chair, calling after him. “What’s the magic word, Arthur?”

He stopped in his tracks, keeping his back turned. “I ain’t got no time for this,” he said gruffly.

She raised her eyebrows, crossing her arms over her chest. “You can check your numbers on your own, then.”

Arthur’s fists clenched by his side. His shoulders raised as he inhaled deeply, visibly pondering his next move. When he turned to her, his lips were pressed together in a fake smile. “Please,” he stressed, exaggerating a deferential gesture with his hand.

Nina tilted her head, unable to hold back a satisfied grin. “See? It wasn’t that hard.”

A snarling sound was the only answer her provocation received before Arthur left, slamming the door behind him. It seemed like his mood had been ruined by their little altercation.

Serves him right, she thought. She wasn’t going to tolerate disrespect.

Out of the corner of her eye, Nina saw Polly’s piercing gaze looking up and down at her, and she could swear she was trying to hide the hint of a grin.

Shaking off that impression, she began to examine the book in front of her. If she wanted to get it done by the end of the morning, she’d have to start right away.

“More like ‘do the adding up all over again’,” she murmured to herself, flipping through the pages.

That was going to be a long day, indeed.

Sitting on the sofa, Nina tried to concentrate on the novel in front of her, but her brain apparently had no intention of cooperating. Polly’s words were still haunting her.

You have no idea, do you?

She was right, at last. Tommy kept secrets from her. Two days had passed since he had come back from London, and still no word had left his mouth about what business he was taking care of, exactly. All she could get out of him were half-truths and non-answers.

The whole situation was beginning to get on her nerves. She had been patient, she had waited for him to be ready to open up to her, but nothing had come out of it. Absolutely nothing. And as if being kept in the dark wasn’t enough, she had to deal with Polly’s habit of adding insult to injury.

She was living in a country she didn’t know, speaking a language that wasn’t hers, surrounded by people who never missed the chance to remind her she didn’t belong there, and she didn’t even have her husband on her side. She couldn’t trust him to tell her the truth. She felt completely, utterly alone.

She was so deep in thought she almost jumped when the front door opened and shut. “Love?” Tommy called from the entrance.

A wave of irritation surged through her. The unspoken words that had been plaguing her mind had made her anger bigger, heavier, and she wasn’t sure she could pretend everything was fine for another night. When he walked into the living room, she didn’t even raise her head from the page in front of her.

“Hi, love,” he greeted her, leaning in to kiss her, only to be left hanging when she turned her head the other way.

“Dinner’s in the oven,” she said coldly.

Tommy froze in his place, his mind working behind his orbs as he processed her reaction. “What’s wrong?” he asked, jerking his chin. When she refused to even look at him, he rested his hand on the back of the sofa, caging her with his body. “Eh?” He raised his eyebrows.

Nina gritted her teeth. “Why don’t you tell me?”

A flare of awareness cracked through Tommy’s imperturbable façade, but went away as quickly as it came. He stood straight, taking a step back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Hell no.

Nina slammed the book shut, finally raising her gaze on him. “Don’t give me that shit,” she snapped, getting up from the sofa. “Don’t fucking give me that shit,” she approached him with a long stride, pointing her finger at him. “I’ve given you time, and space, and plenty of chances to tell me what you’ve been up to. And now I’m tired.” Her voice trembled, but she didn’t waver, pinning him with her fierce stare. “So what is it?”

Tommy’s eyes traveled over her face, his mask cracking once again. His throat bobbed as he swallowed harshly, searching for his next words. “I’m planning an expansion,” he said carefully, testing the waters.

“Where?”

“London.”

It didn’t take long for Nina to understand what he was implying. But if her immediate instinct was to shake him and ask him if he had gone mad, the last shreds of patience she had left prevented her from possibly making him close up again. “Go on.”

“It was one of the reasons why I came to Sicily,” he admitted, his shoulders slumping slightly. “The deal was, I helped your family against Sabini, and in turn your family would help me take him over.”

She stayed silent, digesting the information. She wasn’t stupid, she knew Tommy had his own interests besides simple survival when he proposed to join the families. But he had kept it from her for months. It had been his plan all along, and he never told her. “And the thought of telling me never crossed your mind?”

He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “It’s… it’s complicated, Nina.”

“It always is,” she scoffed, shaking her head.

Tommy tentatively placed his hands on her shoulders. “Listen, I knew you wouldn’t like it-”

“Of course I don’t like it!” She furiously shrugged his hands off, her voice raising again.

Tommy raised his hands in surrender, backing away as his own frustration became evident.

“There’s no need to start another war, Tommy!”

He cursed under his breath, pacing a few steps. “For fuck’s sake,” his voice rose. “Your family’s already at war with Sabini.”

“He has stopped his attacks.”

“For now. But what happens next, eh?”

Nina had no reply to that question. As much as she hated to admit it, Tommy right. There was no way of telling whether Sabini had surrendered or simply taken a step back before striking again. It was a standoff situation which had everyone holding their breath.

A heavy sigh left Tommy’s lips. “It’s decided, love,” he said lowly, regaining his composure. “It’s just a matter of time.”

“When?”

“In February.”

February.

So everything was ready. Mapped out. And she was finding out about it just now.

She felt so stupid.

She nodded, feeling all energy drain out of her. “Alright,” she murmured.

Her sudden lack of resistance caught Tommy off guard. He blinked in confusion. “Alright?”

“Yeah. Alright.”

She didn’t want to fight anymore; there was no point in it. And she was tired. Turning her back on him, she headed toward the hallway. “I’m going to bed.”

“Nina, wait…”

Tommy’s words fell on deaf ears. Without sparing him another glance, Nina left the room.

The mattress sank under Tommy’s weight as he slid into bed. Nina stared at the wall in front of her, a faint sense of relief filling her at the realisation he’d be home, that night. When his strong arm wrapped around her from behind, she was tempted to move away, to remind him once again of how much he had messed up. But even the most stubborn part of her couldn’t help but surrender to him.

Tommy’s chest vibrated against her back when he spoke. “Still angry?”

“No,” she shook her head.

It was true. She was upset, and disappointed. But she wasn’t angry anymore. As good as she was at holding a grudge, she could never stay angry at him for too long. And she needed him more than she needed her anger, in that moment. Her hand found Tommy’s, and she intertwined their fingers together. She felt him relax behind her at her gesture. His arm flexed as he held her tighter, pressing his lips on the top of her head.

“Tommy?” she called him after a while.

“What?”

“No more secrets.”

“Yeah.”

She spun around to face him, the warm light of the bedside lamp allowing her to look him in the eyes. “I’m serious, Tommy.”

“I know-”

“I don’t need you to know, I need you to understand.” She took his face in her hands, thumbs rubbing up and down his skin. “I have no one but you here. If you can’t be honest with me, then I have nothing.”

Tommy’s ice-cold features softened, and something quite similar to guilt made its way on his face. His knuckles reached to delicately stroke her cheek. “I’m sorry, love,” he whispered, a deep sincerity seeping out of his words.

Nina closed her eyes, fighting against the tears threatening to spill out. “Don’t keep me away.” She couldn’t help the pleading note in her shaking voice. She hated to feel so vulnerable, so weak. And she hated to make him see her like that. But she couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“Hey, c’mere,” Tommy pulled her closer, cradling the back of her head with his hand. “C’mere.”

Nina buried her face in his chest, the last one of her defences crumbling at his show of affection.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, gently threading his fingers through her hair.

She snuggled closer to him, letting his reassuring smell comfort her, and the regular beating of his heart lull her.

It was going to be alright. They were going to be alright.

“No more secrets. I promise.”

Heart, Body and Sould tag list

@zablife @queenofshinigamis @raincoffeeandfandoms / @justrainandcoffee @call-sign-shark

@kmc1989 @babayaga67 @kmhappybunny240 @diorrfairy @mariaelizabeth21-blog1

@gaslysainz @brummiereader @loverhymeswith @fairypitou @prettywhenicry4

@mysticalbouquetwolf-posts @woofgocows @girlwith-thepearlearring @goblinjnr @outlanderuniverse

@citylights31 @neonpurplestars89-blog @outlanderuniverse @red-riding-wood @evita-shelby

@look-at-the-soul @gathania93 @wonderlanddreamer @thelastemzy @meadows5

@littlepeakydevil @seedlings-stuff @misslittlegetou @strangeobsessed

General Tag list: @iamngoclinh08 @lilywinchesterlove @fandom-puff @capitanostella @caelys @lucillethings @peakyxtommy @queenofkings1212 @lyarr24 @kmc1989 @call-sign-shark @jomarch-wannabe @ce1iat @areyenotfondofmelobster @red-riding-wood @optimisticsandwichgladiator @lunarubra @rangerelik

Tommy Shelby tag list: @50svibes @bellabarnes1378 @jbrownta

If you want to be removed from the taglist, feel free to let me know!

#peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fics #peaky blinder imagine #tommy shelby fic #tommy shelby x oc #heart body and soul #nina ferrante #nina x tommy #where the shadow is cast

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gojos-thot-patrol · 2 years ago

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nah because giving birth to sukuna’s son, a little baby boy who looks like him, and watching you love and adore the little bean with all your heart and soul; you sing and hum to the little bean, celebrate every accomplishment no matter how small it is (big burp? what a good boy! ate so much!), carrying him snuggly in your arms as you talk about every flower you spot in the gardens (even when he’s asleep). nicknaming your son your little miracle, your little twinkling star and sukuna understanding maybe it wasn’t him, an innocent child back then, but awful circumstances and the wrong people around him.

Nonny, your brain is so big, and so sexy, and so electric and AHH-

He wasn't sure at first when you got pregnant. He knew what his childhood was like, and the notion of bringing another person in this world was sickening because of it.

When his son was born, he was crushed. The small child looked exactly like Ryomen, just as Ryomen had looked like his father. It was a face that was historically unlovable, a face that was historically cursed. And it crushed him because he already wanted nothing but the best for him.

His worries were quickly brushed aside as he saw you reach for you son. The love in your eyes as you doted on him, smiling with pride at your strange creation. You already held so much more warmth than his mother ever did. Maybe this kid had a chance.

His son is like him in more than looks. His son is exactly like him in behavior too. Meaning he's not the easiest kid to handle. He's fussy in the night, demanding during the day. A tike in need of constant attention. Sukuna was sure you would grow to resent the rug rat, and in turn him for giving you the child.

Yeah, that never happened. You never raised an unloving hand to your child, you rarely even raised your voice. You treated him with the same love and care you always had. Your gentle sweetness never faded. It left Ryomen floored.

Because if you could forgive his son, assure him that "that's just how babies are!" And that it would never be your "little miracles" fault, then shit why didn't his mom ever forgive him? Why was it always his fault? He was just doing what babies do.

The realization that Ryomen wasn't actually a burden, just a small child that didn't ask to be born, and that his parents were actually the villian hits him like a truck. It went against everything he had ever been taught, but it made such clear sense. In a weird way it felt like a weight was lifted off his shoulders. He didn't have to carry around the guilt anymore.

Slowly, Ryomen learns to heal his trauma while raising his own son. A son that he hopes to one day be a better man than he ever was. A son who knows love, and caring. With a mother who never faltered in her adoration of her family.

Ryomen was worried a child would ruin what you two had built, but in reality the baby only made everything stronger. He lived and cherished his family, more than he'd ever be able to express. He's so grateful for his son, his son who helped him in ways he'd never understand, that he's not even entirely opposed to the idea when you suggest child number two.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna fluff #sukuna x reader fluff #ryomen sukuna x reader fluff #sukuna #sukuna ryomen #dad sukuna #dadkuna #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #whats up nonny?

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nyctoaerah · 1 year ago

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TWTWTWTWTWTW: GORE TWTWTWTWTW

Hi, I love the Yandere Gojo series! I'd like to make a request. My request: Yandere Gojo gives his non-sorcerer lover the worst punishment he's ever seen in his life because she keeps trying to run away… he makes her unable to move or run again. either amputation or broken bones. But in the end, he regrets it very much.

⋆♱⋆REMINISCENT

⋆♱⋆SYPNOSIS: Satoru loves Suguru deeply and he misses the latter so much, so how could he let go off you? How could he let a pretty little thing like you slip through his fingers when you’re literally just like suguru?

⋆♱⋆WARNINGS: Yandere (duh) bone breaking, Surgery stuff, Satoru himself is already a warning, Satoru has Capgras delusion disorder, Both Reader and Satoru ended up having shared psychosis disorder. Satosugu.

⋆♱⋆PAIRINGS: Yandere! Gojo Satoru x Fem! Non-sorcerer reader. Satosugu.

⋆♱⋆NOTE: okokok, i know that you didn’t requested satosugu anon, but there’s a reason why there’s satosugu in here, and it’s important in the plot. Hope you understand<3. Broken bones is already a bad punishment, but i’ll add a twist on it;) Hearts and Reblogs are greatly appreciated<3. Please do support me in wattpad and quotev too<3 i suck at doing angst, sooo.... Idk.. might make a part 2 though.

MASTERLIST

HE WASN’T THE MAN that you once knew, no longer the gentle soul who showered you with affection. The bond you shared over four years had been pure, filled with love and warmth, until that cursed night , Twenty fourth of December in 2017.

Satoru’s mental state appeared to deteriorate drastically ever since that day. The once warm and affectionate gaze he used to cast on you had now transformed into a cold and distant stare, devoid of any tender emotions.

Sometimes he would blame non-sorcerers like yourself too, grumbling things under his breath like

“You non-sorcerers are the reason why suguru went spiraling”

You didn’t grasp the true meaning of this statement until you did a little digging into Satoru’s past. It was then that you realized you had been living in a state of blissful ignorance.

And after learning about his troubles, instead of scolding him for his erratic behavior and pushing him away, you chose to approach him with kindness and understanding—You felt bad, for you would mostly just yell at him for acting like that, when you didn’t knew the reason why he was like that.

You made every effort to comfort him and show him that you cared deeply for him, to show him how apologetic you are for being so ignorant. However, at times, you also confronted him with harsh truths in order to bring him back to reality.

In these moments of brutal honesty, Satoru took notice of the uncanny similarities between you and Suguru. From the way you conducted yourself to the gestures you made, tie your hair up, everything seemed to echo Suguru’s presence.

The way you spoke, moved, the way your lips would curl up into a smile, the way you would laugh and interacted with others all carried a trace of Suguru’s aura.

And your voice, fuck, the softness of your voice was reminiscent of the way suguru’s voice would soften whenever he talks to satoru.

Despite lacking a clear physical resemblance, the essence of Suguru seemed to radiate from you in all aspects of your actions.

And perhaps, it’s the way that you managed to make him see suguru in you was what made him so obsessed with you. He saw echoes of his beloved friend in your every gesture, your every word. Sometimes, in a strange mixture of jest and earnestness, he would playfully dub you and Suguru, as if to merge the two of you into one entity. Sometimes he would joke about you being suguru’s genderbend.

You found it peculiar yet endearing at first, dismissing it as a harmless quirk borne from grief, as you had always seen it as his coping mechanism. Little did you know, this oversight would prove to be your gravest mistake.

Despite the warning signs he showed, his redflags, you somehow chose to endure it all.

And that was your biggest mistake.

His once-charming gestures now morphed into suffocating constraints, possessiveness, obsessiveness. Slowly but surely, he isolated you from the outside world, severing even the most basic ties of communication with your own family.

Your past talking stage and lovers would be either found dead or missing without any trace. The friends who once stood by your side now regarded you with wary glances, distancing themselves.

Of course, you felt a deep sense of sadness, believing there was a flaw within yourself. And seeking solace and understanding, you opened up to Satoru, shedding tears as you shared the studf that you were facing in your life. In your moments of vulnerability, he offered you comfort, reassuring you that he was all you needed and that you should distance yourself from other individuals. He warned you that these individuals posed a threat to your well-being, emphasizing that their intentions were harmful—and insisting that he was the only one that you need.

As much as you wanted to believe Satoru and trust him completely, your innate intuition stopped you from fully buying into his facade. Because despite his convincing demeanor, a lingering sense of unease tugged at the back of your mind, suggesting that something wasn’t quite right.

Moreover, Satoru showed a tendency to involve himself in even the most mundane of tasks, such as brushing your hair, typically tasks you would manage alone. It seemed as though he viewed you as some kind of doll, someone he could manipulate and control at his own whim. He made sure to always be in close proximity to you, refusing to give you any moments of solitude. The only instances where he allowed you some privacy were during bathing or changing, and even then, he seemed reluctant to leave your side.

His obsession became so intense that he became insistent on your constant presence by his side, whether he was on a mission, teaching, or interacting with colleagues. His students and coworkers all recognized the unhealthy attachment, with Shoko and even Megumi expressing pity towards you for being caught in Satoru’s suffocating love. Despite the visible discomfort from all parties involved, Satoru remained unmoved, justifying his actions to keep you close at all times.

Even when Shoko attempted to reason with him and knock some sense into his fucked up mind, Satoru would manipulate the situation to shift blame onto them, for separating him with suguru—and that they’re the reason why he only has you now.

Nanami also tried to intervene by trying to convince the higher ups to arrange dangerous solo missions for Satoru in hopes of separating you two, but his stubbornness prevailed.

Maki and Nobara also attempted to intervene, even organizing girls’ nights as a means of providing you with a break from Satoru, yet their efforts were futile.

Ultimately, the support from those aware of the situation—Nanami, Megumi, Nobara, Shoko, Maki, and others—proved futile in alleviating the troubling dynamic with Satoru. Despite their best intentions and efforts, your circumstances remained unchanged due to Satoru's unyielding obsession on keeping you with him.

Everyone knew how fucked up he was, but what can they do?

Satoru is the strongest after all.

Your parents weren’t even aware of your situation, as you were not allowed to talk or visit them.

One instance stands out in your memory, when you attempted to say that you want to speak with your parents, and he adamantly refused, claiming it was too perilous. Despite feeling frustrated at the time, you ultimately acquiesced to his wishes. The following day though, a horrifying discovery awaited you— the lifeless bodies of your parents. It was at this moment that you began connecting the dots, reflecting on the untimely death and murder of your previous partners, the gradual alienation of your friends, the look of pity his students and colleagues gives you, the persistent reasoning of people trying to separate you from satoru, his increasing control over your actions, and the coincidental deaths of those you sought to interact with.

The realization dawned on you that all of these events were orchestrated by Satoru himself, with the sole intention of keeping you entirely under his influence. And an overwhelming sense of fear crept into your chest, prompting you to devise a plan to escape while he was on a mission.

----𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐄, 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐁𝐎𝐘 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆

Your entire body was engulfed in pain and weariness, each muscles contracting in pain, your breaths labored and shallow as if your lungs were about to give out—About to rupture, and a searing sensation in your chest as it tightens, heaving with each labored breath you took.

Your feet were raw and bloody, multiple cuts on it from the jagged edges of rocks you have stepped on, perspiration was all over your body in rivulets, and a dry, scratchy feeling in your throat due to lack of moisture and oxygen.

Everything burned, yet you persisted in moving forward, walking a fine line between imminent collapse and the urgent need to evade getting caught by Satoru—your boyfriend.

Rather than face capture, you were willing to risk death in your desperate attempt to escape.

You’d rather die trying to escape than live without trying to fight for your freedom.

The exhaustion consuming you mattered little, all that occupied your mind was the need to break free from his grasp and his control over you.

The passage of time was a blur, perhaps an hour had passed since you began running, your energy waning as your vision blurred with fatigue.

Lost in the vast unknown surroundings, it seemed as though you were trapped in a never-ending loop. Uncertain of your location in Japan, the isolated landscape consisted only of a sprawling mansion, trees, and barren land devoid of any signs of human life. It felt as though you had been completely cut off from civilization.

As you continued running, tears streaming down your face, your mind were spinning and every hair on your body stood on end at the sound of his voice suddenly booming.

“Hm? Is that you that i see there, [Name]?”

You froze.

“What have I told you about leaving without my permission?”

The sound of Satoru's voice sent a shiver down your spine, freezing you in your tracks. Every fiber of your being screamed at you to keep moving, to escape his reach, but the fear of his wrath paralyzed you in place.

“S-satoru.. what are you doing here...?”

You couldn’t comprehend how he had managed to be here when he was supposed to be on a mission. Your mind raced with confusion and disbelief.

“No, what are you doing here?” He asks, staring down at you coldly.

“Are you.. trying to run away?” He questioned you as he stepped closer to you.

Your breath hitched, throat constricting as you looked up at him with wide eyes, not knowing what to say.

“I-i..”

“I-i wasn’t i swear—”

You were left speechless as you were suddenly shoved you down, causing your head to hit the ground with a sickening thud. Blood trickled down your forehead as a cry of pain escaped your throat.

His gaze bore down on you with a chilling intensity, sending shivers down your spine.

“You’re trying to leave me..”

“I trusted you,” he whispered shakily.

“How could you? I made sure to go back as soon as possible after my mission was finished so that you won’t be in danger... And now you’re running away and putting yourself in danger?”

Out of nowhere, his hand tightly gripped your throat, squeezing with such force that it became difficult to breathe, leading to a sensation of suffocation and a blurred vision.

“S-satoru n-nnh! L-let go!”

Struggling to break free, you frantically attempted to pry his fingers off your neck, letting out choked screams in the process. Your body thrashed around violently, desperately trying to fend him off by kicking in all directions.

“You’re really just like suguru... always trying to resist..”

“I trusted you,” he whispered unsteadily, his voice cracking.

“But what have you done?” he asked shakily.

His pupils trembled like leaves in a fierce wind, his entire frame quivering with an unsettling intensity. Those piercing sapphire eyes bore into you, sending shivers down your spine in the dim, eerie stillness of the forest.

“L-let go p-please satoru!” You begged.

“P-please. A-ahn.. let g-go, ‘Toru, please,”

“T-toru, haaah, i-i c-can’t breathe”

He seemed to pause at that when you called him “Toru.”

And slowly, his grasp slackened, leaving you gasping for precious breath as your lungs desperately clawed for every molecule of air.

You coughed, again and again and again, and he just watched you.

When you finally managed to catch your breath, you turned to look at him, your face contorted in anger abd fear.

“Y-you’re crazy satoru,” Your voice emerged hoarse and jagged.

“You’re crazy, i swear” You rasped as you dragged yourself away from him, only for him to close the distance.

“Crazy?” he repeated.

“Yes, crazy for love.” His fervor seemed to border on mania.

“Yes I’m Enamored, Suguru.” he professed with an almost unsettling zeal, his voice now carrying a hauntingly romantic lilt as though the torment he inflicted on you was an act of devotion.

Your breath hitched.

“What...?” your eyes widened.

“I’m not... Suguru...” Your voice faltered, delicate lips quivering. Pain pulsed through every fiber of your being, urging you to run away, yet how could you escape from one so consumed by his own distorted reality? Satoru appeared to be in a haze, his eyes vacant and unseeing—He was in his delusional state.

“Suguru, let’s go home..” Satoru mumbled.

You swallowed thickly. You were about to make a dumb move, but fuck, he really needed to snap out of it.

Gently, you cupped his face between trembling hands, hoping your tender touch might pierce the delirium and make him snap out of it.

“Please, ‘Toru, focus on the sound of my voice. It’s not suguru, it’s me”

But he remained ensnared in his twisted visions, oblivious to reality.

“...Satoru... ‘Toru, listen to me. I’m not suguru.”

“I’m not him. I’m [Name], your girlfriend...”

Again, and again and again, you tried to convince him that you’re not suguru.

“I’m [Name], the one that you met at the bakery that you liked so much... And i’m not suguru ”

You phrased it in different words.

And yet...

He was still lost in it.

“What are you saying suguru?”

Dread constricted your heart, each moment bringing you closer to the brink. To flee would surely send him into a frenzy but to stay would probably result in suffering.

“Don’t say things like that... Suguru”

he whispered.

“I still haven’t forgave you for running away.” He uttered, and a pit formed on your stomach.

“I’m [Name], not suguru—Toru... Please, fuck, snap out of it”

He ignored you as he gently caressed your cheek before guiding your head towards his for a kiss. Your heart pounded as your lips met, the sharp sting of his teeth on yours making you whimper.

“S’toru... Stop...”

When he didn’t stop, you reacted by biting his tongue hard, making it bleed. Surprisingly, this did not deter him; instead, he released a soft moan of pleasure.

“Oh fuck... You’re still the same as always, suguru.”

You gasped as he finally pulled away from the kiss.

“Sa-Satoru... What the fuck..?” You shrieked. Why the hell did he said that? Does this meant that... He was in a previous relationship with Suguru? Did he used you as a rebound? No, fuck, he sees suguru in you.

You understand it now.

“I’ll make sure you don’t do it again,” He whispered.

“Huh?”

“Make sure that you don’t massacre a whole ass village again so that they won’t separate you from me...”

Slowly, deliberately, his other hand drifted downward toward your ankle. Your heart drops as you felt him do that.

Oh fuck, he’s not planning on snapping your ankles, is he?

“Satoru, no, no, no, no, no!”

You strained against his crushing hold, but could only witness in horror as his fist closed around the delicate bones.

“If you do that, i’ll never forgive you— AHHH!”

A strangled scream caught in your throat as you felt the unmistakable snap of your ankle splintering beneath his strength.

White-hot pain lanced up your leg and your vision blurred with tears of misery. Before you could process the pain of the first break, his hand was upon your other ankle. You knew what was coming yet were powerless to prevent it. Another sickening crack reverberated through your shattered nerves as satoru callously contorted the joint beyond its limits. Bone fragmented, muscle tore, and ligaments ripped apart, leaving your legs crippled and limp.

----𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐏𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍

His fingers pressed insistently beneath your chin, a mixture of gentle caress and firm control as he meticulously groomed your hair, each stroke designed to emulate the exact style of Suguru’s locks.

Tying it back partially, he sought to replicate every minute detail, ensuring you bore an eerie resemblance to his obsession—Suguru. But the true horror lay in his pervasive fixation upon you as Suguru incarnate. He paid face surgeons to sculpt and mold your face until the reflection in the mirror bore a warped semblance to Suguru’s features, he would drape you in Suguru’s attire and bestowing upon you the very essence of his fucking bestfriend.

And the worst of it all? he managed to find suguru’s daughters and practically forced you to take care of them—like the way suguru would take care of them. Even suguru’s daughters were horrified — yet they were too scared to even refuse.

All of the horrors that he had made you go through broke you completely.

“Perfect,” he murmured with a self-satisfied hum, stepping back to survey his handiwork.

You just sat there, disoriented, and feeling hollow as an empty shell.

Stripped of your true identity and coerced into being someone else you weren’t. The drugs he administered clouded your mind, the brainwashing eroding your sense of self until you could no longer discern who you are. The only thing you knew is that you’re suguru.

It was a bad punishment, real, real bad punishment.

Your identity was snatched, and you were no longer yourself.

He furrows his brow, observing the silence that hangs between you.

“C’mon speak, suguru.” he urges, his gaze piercing into yours.

“Isn’t it perfect?”

Suddenly, a flicker of realization dances in his eyes as they narrow, scrutinizing the subtle yet noticable difference between your eyes and suguru. The shift is imperceptible to most, but to him, it is a glaring anomaly that demands attention.

A smirk curls onto his lips

“Seems like we need to adjust those eyes of yours as well, huh? Don’t you agree, suguru ?”

Satoru sighed as his calloused fingers tangled themselves in thick ebony locks, pulling your motionless form taut against his chest. An ichor-cold sense of wrongness had settled itself deep in his marrow, its barbs tearing at his insides.

His beloved Suguru was already here... But... Where is his [Name]?

“Nanako and Mimiko would be upset to see you like this suguru...”

RING

Satoru blinked at the sudden shrill clamor emanating from his phone—and he realized that someone was calling him, still cradling your form against his chest with a singular hand. He took the device from his trousers one-handed, calloused fingers opening his phone.

When at last the lock screen dissolved into view, an icy shiver seized his marrowed bones.

It was you—in your normal self, kissing him in the cheek, and you two looked very happy.

Why did suddenly felt wrong?

...

... It felt wrong...

So, so wrong.

Why did nostalgia for your genuine self now claw so vehemently at the fissures in his heart, when only Suguru had the right to reside there?

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wuwapetal1s · 11 months ago

Note

write anything abt geshu lin or calcharo im begging on my hands and knees ill give u my first born or a kidney whichever u want

I don't need any organs can I have a pair of knees maybe (ty for the request anon :3)

Love languages

content: sfw, rambling-ish format, not entirely proofread (it's midnight currently), swearing used, etc.

reqs open!

— Calcharo.

Calcharo is an ‘acts of service man’ through and through. To me, he doesn't seem the best at giving affection verbally though he thinks he's *very* good at it personally. As in, you will ask him for comfort or reassurance and he'll give it to you readily… But it will sound so stern coming from him.

“I feel uncomfortable with [such and such]..”

“I understand. I will rectify/fix that.”

Communication KING, though I imagine it can still feel very intimidating to bring stuff up to him. It will always be met with understanding, and he certainly would try his hardest to accommodate what language/tone you'd rather hear in those moments (autistic.)

Getting back to the original point, he will do just about anything for you. There's hardly any limits or rules to that fact. He will kill for you, he will fight for you, he will get in trouble with the law for you, etc etc. He'll also grab extra of your snacks the moment he's back in town and stops at the market before he goes to visit you.

Tired from a long day at work or studying? He'll clean up as quietly as he can while you sleep. You'll wake up to all the dishes done and your living space looks pretty much spotless.

He's the kind of man to learn how you organize things pretty easily, even if you're a very messy person. He's very clued in on anything that involves you (smitten, much?) and he's also just got a keen eye on him.

"Ugh, I can't find where I left my-”

“Bottom drawer of the nightstand.”

“Oh.. Thank you!”

He loves holding and kissing you as well, it's his favorite thing to be welcomed home to. Just the ability to sink into your arms is like heaven to him. Receiving, he probably likes physical touch a lot more, but he feels 100x more satisfied doing something for you to show he cares :).

— Genshu Lin.

Genshu Lin is a possessive man. It's subtle, but it's definitely there. Above all else, he adores you. He's a deeply devoted person when in a relationship, though I don't feel like he's had a lot of experience to pinpoint that exactly, but it's his nature. I believe he enjoys gifting you things he gets his hands on, trinkets or otherwise.

He mostly enjoys giving you things you can make use of or wear. He always gets a warmth in his chest when he sees you in the bracelet he got you (one that matches his that he keeps tucked away for safekeeping) or using pens he gave you after you kept losing your last ones. As long as it works, suits you, and it means a lot to you, he's snatching it up.

I also believe he's a sucker for stealing kisses in private. He may not seem it to anyone else, but he's a softie. Just for you though. Cooking something or simply sitting around? Funny how his lips just found their way to your cheek!

He's a bit more apprehensive about receiving it unless it's the time you two lay in bed together, then he'd let you rub his back or play with his hair. In return, he most enjoys quality time.

Even if it's something as mundane as running an errand or having to pick something up from the pharmacy he wants you there. He'd tell you “I don't need your presence, I just prefer it” if questioned, but he does need it. More than he knows or even lets on, he wants you and needs you there. He hates having to be away from you. It drives him up a wall almost. Like nearly insane.

After long hours working or even days/weeks of it he wants nothing more than to just lay with you and bathe in your presence as if it's a balm for his soul :’).

I love these men they're so fine

#calcharo #wuthering waves #kuro games #wuwa #wuwa calcharo #genshu lin #wuwa genshu lin #wuwa x reader #wuwa x you #wuthering waves x reader #wuthering waves x you #calcharo x reader #calcharo x you #genshu lin x reader #genshu lin x you #x reader #request

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daxisyzz · 2 months ago

Note

Heyy!Saw that your requests are open,soo if you're feeling up to it,I have an idea🥺🥺

Bucky taking care and comforting a reader that is coming out of a depressive episode.Like supporting them through trying to get their life back..

I kinda go through this atm🥺🥺

Put you together

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings and tags: talks of depression, recovering through it, supportive Bucky, healing.

You wake up to the soft hum of morning light filtering through thin curtains, and though your body feels heavy, you sense something different today—a small stirring of hope. Over the past few weeks, the weight of depression has held you captive, but today, you’ve chosen to fight back.

As you slowly rise, you feel a gentle presence behind you. Bucky stands there, his familiar gaze filled with quiet compassion, like a promise that you’re not alone in this battle.

“Hey,” he says softly, his voice a low rumble that seems to cradle your heart. “I’m here.” His hand rests lightly on your shoulder, a steady warmth that reassures you. In that simple moment, you feel the grip of despair ease, replaced by a cautious trust that maybe, just maybe, things can change.

Throughout the day, Bucky moves quietly around your small apartment. He’s prepared your favorite breakfast—something simple and nourishing—and sits with you at the table as you both eat in comfortable silence. When you speak, your words are slow and measured, heavy with the burden of your recent struggles. Bucky listens without judgment, his eyes never leaving yours, conveying an understanding deeper than words. His presence is a silent promise: that even when life feels unbearable, there is always someone who cares.

As the hours pass, you find yourself recounting moments from your darkest days. With each confession, the raw pain of isolation resurfaces, yet Bucky is there, steady and unyielding. “I know it hurts,” he says, his voice gentle. “It’s okay to feel this way. But I believe in you. Every step you take, even the smallest one, is a victory.”

His words are not grand or overly optimistic; they are honest and tender, acknowledging the depth of your struggle while illuminating the path forward.

You take a walk together in the cool embrace of the afternoon. The world outside is alive with the rustle of leaves and distant chatter of everyday life—a stark contrast to the silence that once engulfed your days. With every step, Bucky walks beside you, his steady pace matching your own. He doesn’t rush you or push you to move faster.

Instead, he shares little anecdotes from his own life, stories of battles fought and scars hidden beneath layers of strength. “I’ve been broken too,” he confesses quietly, “but I’ve learned that broken pieces can be mended, even if it takes time.” His vulnerability, so rarely seen by others, creates a bridge between your pain and his resilience, reminding you that healing is a journey meant to be shared.

In moments of doubt, when the dark thoughts creep in like unwelcome shadows, Bucky is there to hold your hand, both literally and metaphorically. “It’s alright to be scared,” he murmurs as you pause on a bench beneath a sprawling oak. “We all have our moments of weakness, but it doesn’t define you. You’re not that darkness—you’re the light fighting to break through.” His words resonate deeply, stirring something inside you. It’s as if, with his every affirmation, the layers of sorrow begin to peel away, revealing the parts of you that have always been brave, even when you couldn’t see it.

The evening brings with it a soft, indigo twilight. Together, you return to your apartment where the world is hushed, and the only sound is the beating of your heart, now a little steadier. Bucky helps you prepare a light dinner, a simple meal that nourishes your body and soul.

As you both settle into the living room, he offers you a worn, well-loved book—a collection of poetry that has seen him through his own dark nights. “Sometimes words can be a reminder that we’re not alone,” he says, and you understand that his gesture is more than just sharing literature; it’s a way to connect with the shared human experience of pain and hope.

In the quiet hours, as you both sit with a gentle glow from a nearby lamp, Bucky reads aloud. His deep, resonant voice carries the cadence of each carefully chosen word, transforming the verses into a lullaby for your troubled heart. With every line, you feel a warmth spreading through you—a reminder that beauty can be found even in the midst of chaos. His voice is a steady rock against the turbulent tides of your thoughts, guiding you gently toward a place of calm and acceptance.

Later, as the night deepens, you find yourself in the safe space of your room. Bucky doesn’t leave your side; instead, he simply sits by you, offering his presence as the most powerful form of support. “I’m here,” he repeats softly, a mantra that you cling to as you drift between wakefulness and sleep. In that fragile moment, you begin to believe that healing isn’t about forgetting the pain—it’s about accepting it, learning from it, and allowing it to transform you into someone stronger.

The following morning, the world outside greets you with the gentle promise of a new day. The memories of yesterday’s darkness still linger, but they no longer overwhelm you. Bucky’s quiet encouragement has sown the seeds of hope, and you feel a new determination to keep moving forward, one day at a time. “You’ve come so far,” he whispers as you both stand by the window, watching the sunrise. “And every day is a step toward reclaiming your life.”

With Bucky’s steady support, you begin to rebuild the parts of your life that were once shrouded in despair. You set small goals—getting out of bed at a reasonable hour, taking walks in the park, reconnecting with old friends—and each achievement, no matter how minor, is celebrated as a victory. In the gentle cadence of everyday moments, you learn that life is not defined by a single episode of pain, but by the myriad instances of resilience and recovery.

Bucky’s unwavering presence becomes a constant reminder that you are not alone. His care is patient and enduring, echoing in every shared smile and quiet conversation. Even on days when the darkness threatens to return, you know that you have someone who believes in you, someone who will stand by you through every storm. And slowly, imperceptibly, you begin to see that the light within you has never truly vanished—it was always there, waiting for a chance to shine again.

In this new chapter of your life, you learn that healing is a continuous process, filled with ups and downs, triumphs and setbacks. But with every day that you rise, with every moment that you allow yourself to feel, you are taking back a piece of your life. And Bucky, with his gentle strength and unwavering love, is there to help you through it all—reminding you that you are worthy, you are loved, and you are never alone.

As the night falls once more, you settle into bed with a heart that, while still tender, feels hopeful. You drift off knowing that tomorrow is another chance—a chance to heal, to love, and to live. And in that promise, you find the courage to dream again.

A/n: I hope you feel better and just know that there are people who love and care about you. Hope you liked it. I'm so proud of you <3

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #james buchanan barnes #sebastian stan x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fluff #request #reqs open #send reqs #mental health #healing

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the-kr8tor · 2 years ago

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Hobie Brown Night-time headcanons.

Pairing: Spider-Punk x GN! Reader/ Hobie Brown x GN! Reader

Word count: 1k

Tags: Established relationship, fluff, No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (except having piercings), smut only implied. SFW

* I don't consent to having my work translated/ published on other platforms*

Hobie almost always goes home really late and you'll be waiting for him, snoring away on the couch. Everytime he sees that you've fallen asleep waiting for him to come home guilt eats at him, so he always carries you to bed and tucks you in, to satiate the emotion.

But on rare occasions where he comes home at the same time you do or earlier than you've expected, he always greets you with a bear hug.

Whenever he had a bad day wrangling the villain of the week, when he thought he wouldn't come back home to you that day, he hugs you tighter, lifts you up, and twirls you around the living room just to hear you laugh. (Of course he wouldn't tell you that) Slowly Hobie's smile spreads across his face, lifting the day's hardships away from him.

If he ever comes home injured, you're always there ready to patch him up. You even learned how to properly stitch a wound ( from a youtube video no less) for him.

Of course there's always a time where you suggest going to the hospital whenever he has an injury you can't treat with just a simple first aid kit, but Hobie stubborn as he is just says-

"Your hands are just softer love, and you give me kisses right after, let's see the NHS do that"

You can't help but roll your eyes at his quip, but your true feelings show through with how your breath hitches. You focus on patching him up instead of thinking about how much pain he's experiencing. It's safe to say you don't sleep properly every time Hobie comes home injured, you always wake up in the middle of the night to check up on him. Thanks to his enhanced healing, he always gets back up in the morning.

When the planets align with Hobie coming home early and uninjured, you heal his soul by making him his favorite meal. Hobie helps a lot, no matter how many times you kick him out of the kitchen so he could relax for once. He couldn't help himself by helping you cook. Whenever you two are in the kitchen, laughter and warmth fills your modest flat.

"Hobie, you're gonna make the soup all clumpy!" You say with wide eyes as he straight up pours all the cornstarch without mixing it properly.

"I don't believe in consistency" Hobie tells you straight faced.

"What does that even mean!" You push him away with your hips, so you could fix the soup. He grabs you by the waist and lifts you up easily.

"Hobie, where are you taking me?!" You feign anger with your voice, but you failed when a giggle escaped your throat.

"I like it chewy!" Hobie replies with a smile.

"It's soup, it's not supposed to be chewy!" You struggle in his arms as he brings you to the couch. He drops you on the couch with an oof coming from you

"No Chewy soup for you then" he leans down on top of you for a kiss.

After a warm bath, you do your skincare routine or you try to at least, you keep stopping with your routine though. With Hobie sitting with one leg up on your counter, wearing a pair of fresh pajama pants that have a bunch of guitars printed on them, (You bought them for him years ago as a joke, he claims he hates them but he keeps wearing them the moment they come out of the washing machine) He's wearing one of his homemade band shirts, with its sleeves cut off by Hobie himself, his arms in full display. So you can't help but get distracted.

"Y'know you could always ask me to put some on you" you turn to him, eyes gleaming with hope that he finally takes you up on your offer.

"Like I'll ever need them" he winks at you. "And y'know how I don't like consumerism"

Knowing that he's won again, you shake your head at him with a small smile.

A few weeks later you find out why he's been watching you so intensely every time you do your skincare routine. You're out one night drinking with your friends at a local pub.

You get home drunk off your ass, This time Hobie's the one waiting for you on the couch. He shoots up from the couch the second he hears your keys jingle.

"Had fun, love?" He's waiting for you nonchalantly acting as if he wasn't snoring away on the couch.

"Heyyo baby" You greet him by hugging his middle. "Had soo much funn" your slurred speech making him smile.

"You also look like it" He tells your disheveled state.

"You're meannn" You say as he leads you to your shared bathroom.

He perches you on top of the counter with ease. And grabs all your skincare from the medicine cabinet.

"Whatcha doin" you asked with your head tilted, focusing really hard on Hobie's hands while he opens up your micellar water.

"Cleaning you up, so you don't break out" he says as he puts the soaked cotton ball on your face, softly cleaning it. "You're gonna thank me in the morning"

"Aha! So you do listen, you big softie you!" You playfully jab his face. In retaliation he rubs at your eyelids with the cotton ball without telling you.

"Whoops" he smirks. You give him your best angry face you could muster up while in your state, which ended up with Hobie laughing at your face.

If Hobie still has piercings that aren't fully healed yet, you offer your help in cleaning the hard to reach areas. If you have piercings that still need to be taken care of, Hobie always instigates to clean it for you since you always forget or are too tired to do it yourself.

Hobie's cleaning your new helix piercing with a cotton swab and saline. You're sitting on his lap, your back facing him.

" You're not a worm stop squirming" Hobie says, frustrated with you moving away from his lap.

"It tickles Hobie" You say with a laugh.

"Keep moving like that, and you'll get tickled a different way" Hobie teases, as he loops his legs on top of yours, locking you in place.

"Hobie!" You gasp at his implication.

At the end of the night you both finally lay down on your shared bed, you snuggle up to Hobie, as he tucks you both in the comforter. You cuddle and talk about your day until you both passout.

A/n: Hope you enjoyed reading! Sorry if it looks weird on pc, since I'm posting this on mobile. Feel free to like and reblog! ♥️

#hobie brown x reader #spider man across the spider verse #spider punk x gn! reader #spider punk x reader #hobie brown x gn!reader #atsv fanfiction #atsv x reader #x reader #established relationship #hobie brown #spider punk #hobie brown headcanons #spider punk headcanons

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pseudowho · 1 year ago

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Jus in Bello: A Judicious Domain

Hiromi Higuruma is thrown out by his wife, the reader, rejected and broken after developing his Cursed power. Can she bring him home when he becomes embroiled in the Culling Game?

Warnings: Very angsty smut, dubcon at points

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"I declare my intent to participate in the Culling Game."

Your words ring through the chamber, your eyes meeting with Yuuji and Megumi, and you swallow your terror with quiet determination. You would enter Tokyo Colony One together.

Their aim? To hunt Hiromi Higuruma, to strike a bargain, or to eradicate him.

Your aim? To find your husband...to warn him, or bring him home.

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Sorcerers with non-Sorcerer spouses were known to be notoriously secretive about their private lives. While most of these non-Sorcerer spouses knew about the unique profession of their husband or wife, it was an academic knowledge at best; without the possession of Cursed sight, or a Cursed technique, their ability to comprehend the job was as remote to them as Heaven from Earth.

This was how it always had been, between you and Hiromi, passing, often, like ships in the night, as you tried to balance your work and home lives. Your love was so often enacted in the dark warmth of the night, rolling slowly towards his cool body as his weight crept into bed, hands and mouths seeking each other for comfort; gentle touches between legs, desperate kisses on necks. The love between Hiromi and you ran deep like still waters; decisive, steadfast, white-hot adoration.

Until Hiromi began to crack under the weight of supporting justice in an unwinnable system. Until Kenjaku had crept through the cracks, rooting Hiromi with such fierce Cursed energy as you had ever beheld. Until Hiromi became gripped by violent righteousness, becoming a hungry monster, fervent and jaded.

You fought to save Hiromi from himself, trying to claw him back from his own transgressions, down a path so contrary to what he really believed in. His resentment of you grew; how had you held so much power for so long, and not used it to help him win fights? And why were you trying to keep him from his own power, now?

In bitter tears, and rejected protection, Hiromi's ship drifted from yours. You remained steadfast in deep waters as always, a lighthouse. Until, one night, in pure hot contention, you threw Hiromi away from you, out of your home, demanding that he never return; he left, black eyes flat and unreadable, and you stayed, feeling the world crumble beneath your feet, your love unwavering, unfulfilled.

In the rising of the sun, you had returned from Shibuya, broken and grieving, part of your soul left behind with the bodies of your friends, colleagues and students. You got home, numb. You showered, numb. You looked into the fridge, starving, with no appetite. You went to bed, and waited for the gentle weight of Hiromi...which never came. You went through the motions with the other Sorcerers, who had no knowledge of your husband or his name. You watched as Kenjaku enacted a sickening new 'game', to usher in a new Golden Era of Jujutsu Sorcery.

When you learned of Hiromi's involvement in The Culling Game, you remained outwardly unaffected to your colleagues and students. Swiftly excusing yourself at the first opportunity, you staggered outside, scattered and vomiting in the bushes as you shook and wept, initially resigned to the cruel fate your husband now had to face. Initially.

As talk of entering the Culling Game to recruit top-scoring players to the cause began, you began to formulate your own plan. Your loyalty was, first and foremost, to your husband. You would save Hiromi, or die trying. You knew you would have to convince him to surrender, run with him, or fight him yourself. You had grimly considered each option as likely. You had grimly considered that your husband had left you, incensed by your rejection, and may now very well exceed you in terms of strength.

You were prepared to find yourself at Hiromi Higuruma's mercy.

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He had found you so much faster than you thought he would.

Hiromi's power was overwhelming, and in Tokyo's first colony, you followed the trail of his murder and destruction, hunting him down in a way that only someone who knew him could do. Your stomach twisted at the thought of betraying Megumi and Yuuji, lying with a smile as you sent them off to the fight.

You were fresh from Shibuya, nerves raw and frayed, crackling with potential like split live cables. You found that the unavoidable murder of a few weak links who targeted you, was surprisingly easy. You were blinkered by your aim, heart pounding with excitement and dread in equal measures, desperate to hold Hiromi again.

As you stood alone in a darkened theatre, the lush red seats hauntingly empty as you tried to get your bearings, your stomach twisted to hear a familiar voice above you.

"Domain expansion-- deadly sentencing."

You felt a hook behind your navel, a swooping, dragging pull as you lost your Cursed energy and dropped into an empty courtroom all at once.

Almost empty.

"I didn't think our marriage was so dreadful that you'd hunt me down to murder me, darling." Your knees wobbled as you took to the stand, a familiar warm hand gripping your elbow to stabilise you, dropping you unceremoniously against the wooden podium. You looked up to those familiar unruly spikes of black hair walking away from you to his side of the court.

"Hiromi," you gasped, his touch still searing on your skin, "you need to listen to me--" You blinked, monologue interrupted as Hiromi stood before you, his face straining to remain impassive, flanked by a bizarre, black-winged, masked creature. Hiromi's thick eyebrows connected in a deep scowl, his lips drawn up in disgust as he surveyed you.

"You need to know your place," he snarled, "you're not in charge here." Hiromi flipped a brown paper envelope in his hands, tapping it against his palm. "You have some charges to answer to...my love." You gulped, Hiromi's voice softening for a moment, sounding almost sorry.

You trembled, fully aware that you were powerless in his domain, and tears stung in your nose. You moved to step down and walk towards Hiromi, but his scowl only deepened, chin dipped, as Hiromi radiated fury and a wicked Cursed energy. You released a dry sob and leaned forwards on the podium on your elbows, your head in your hands, gut-churningly overwhelmed by him; wanting him home, wanting him safe, wanting him back to the Hiromi you knew.

You couldn't deny what an intimidating figure he posed now; slim, suited, hook-nosed and wrathful, you felt a familiar want for him stir in your gut, certain that you could escape together even if you couldn't convince him to join the others. You even preferred the former, captivated by the power coiling off him.

You swallowed, speaking, shaking; "What are the charges against me?"

Something hot and vengeful burned in Hiromi's eyes; "Spousal abandonment." Another sob wracked from your chest, appalled by the accusation, deeply wounded.

"I never walked away from you, Hiromi," you cried, voice breaking as you impeached him, "I--"

"Our evidence," Hiromi continued, eyes scorching into you as you stared each other down in bitter contention, "items one to ten, prepared for the defendant's examination." Hiromi spun the brown envelope to you, and it scattered items to your podium as it burst its contents on impact.

You picked up the items with trembling hands, agonised by them all, your heart sinking into your stomach as you beheld the varied contents of your marriage to Hiromi; your marriage certificate. A photograph, of your first kiss as man and wife, youthful joy on both of your faces. Your wedding vows, two neatly written pieces of paper, feeling Hiromi's intense, determined commitment to you rise up from the paper as you had when he had first spoken his vows to you. A short love letter from him, to you. A short love letter from you, to him. A stack of post-it notes you had left on the fridge, and in each others' lunch boxes. A bloodied dishcloth, from where Hiromi had accidentally cut his hand on a kitchen knife during your first fight about his new powers. A frantically handwritten apology note from Hiromi, to you. And a single, solitary hotel-room receipt, from the night you had thrown him from your home.

You knelt behind the podium, crying your heart out as you gathered these treasures, putting them back in the envelope and clutching them to your chest. Hiromi's stomach roiled with the fury and agony of your rejection, torn between wanting you to feel his pain, and wanting to comfort you in yours. He felt nauseous, unable to stop this courtroom charade now he had started it. He gulped back his feelings for you, eyes flinty and dark once more.

"How does the defendant plead?"

"Hiromi, I--"

"How does the defendant plead?"

"Stop it, I would never--"

A voice rising, deep, commanding, "How does the defendant plead?"

"I will always want you."

Silence fell again in the courtroom, only punctuated by the quiet, heaving sobs coming from behind your podium. Hiromi stared at the floor, flat and disconnected, "The defendant pleads...not guilty."

You heard a soft sigh from Hiromi as he continued, "Our second piece of evidence--"

You hung on bated breath, listening, waiting...until nothing came. Still clutching the envelope to your chest, tear-stained and shaking, you stood. Hiromi stood directly in front of your podium now, looking up to you from the floor. He said nothing, and his eyes glistened with reproach, his arms slightly raised to his sides, palms facing you as if in crucifixion.

"Your...your second piece of evidence?" you asked, weary, drained.

"Me. Being here. Right now." You blinked, not understanding for a moment.

"I...Hiromi, I don't--"

"I'm here," he pressed, heated and furious as he climbed your steps towards you, "and why would I be here, in this godforsaken pit, if you hadn't forsaken me first?" An accusatory finger stabbed the air between you, Hiromi hissing in rage, tears brimming in his lovely dark eyes. You reached up to take his hand, silently pleading, and he let you for a moment, torn, before ripping his hand away from you, spinning on his heels to walk back down the steps.

You flung your arms round his neck from behind, "Hiromi, don't--" His strong hands grasped yours, peeling them from his body and fixing them behind your back, pinning your body against the podium with his own. You couldn't move as you gasped, weeping, and Hiromi gripped you in place, white-knuckled and trembling.

"Why don't you want me anymore?" He raged at you, his mouth hot against your ear, "After everything we've been through, and I needed you to help me, and instead I end up thrown out like a dog--"

"-- I've tried to help you, to keep you away from the Jujutsu world, this miserable life--"

"-- I had no choice, this was forced on me, there's no way out of this now--"

"-- you've killed people, Hiromi."

Silence again, Hiromi panting against you, body hot and thrumming. He sniffed, squeezing your wrists as he pressed his face into your shoulder.

"They were...ugly. Ruthless monsters. Not people." Hiromi was silent again. You were lost in the bliss of his wiry body and sharp strength against yours. The raw emotion of the fight burned in your belly, seeking release.

"You were...my one constant. Soft, and beautiful and strong, and I-- I could always come home to you, until you-- you--"

Your face crumpled again, overwhelmed all of a sudden as your righteousness left you and you were wracked with guilt at having given up on him. You turned your head, stroking his hair with your cheek, tears dampening the black strands, dishevelled now. Soft and vulnerable for a moment, you felt Hiromi's shoulders tense against you, set in a hard line, and he bit into your shoulder with barely restrained aggression.

"But you lied," he urged, voice low and hushed against your neck as you whimpered into the pain, pressing yourself back against him, "you do want me, don't you?" Hiromi's nose and lips brushed against your neck, one hand remaining cuffed around your wrists, and the other creeping up to grip your throat and jaw. You coughed, alarmed, quivering.

"I don't know what punishment my domain will condemn you to," Hiromi whispered, trailing a long, languid lick up the side of your neck, tasting your sweat, fear, and regret, "and I don't know how this will end for me."

Hiromi's whole body was pressed against you, and you could feel the outline of his cock, solid against your back, as his hand slipped down from your throat, slipping under your shirt and bra to idly roll your nipple between his fingers as you keened at him.

"And even though whatever we had is soiled now," he croaked, his lips and nose still buried deep in your hair, his grieving face twisted with despair, "we should enjoy each other one last time, as husband and wife."

You hiccuped, breath catching on the lump in your throat, swallowing painfully, "Come back home, Hiromi. Or let me come with you, anything, as long as we--"

"-- as long as we're...together?" Hiromi scoffed lightly, terse and bitter, still tenderly squeezing your breast as he kept you pinned, his ministrations belying the anger you still felt brimming below the surface. He was grimly satisfied to feel you tremble under his hands, punishing you before your judgement had been passed.

"See, I used to think that," his hand left your breast to your noises of protest, but you shivered as it slipped down across your belly, deftly undoing your trousers, "and then, well...you know the rest. It was up to you, after all." Your face burned with shame at having your rejection thrown back at you.

You cried out as Hiromi shoved his hand roughly down the front of your trousers, cupping your sex with a possessive squeeze. He swiped your underwear to the sides, pressing two fingers harshly against your clit, groaning at your wetness as you bucked, whimpering. Your hands twisted in anguish, seeking freedom, and Hiromi denied you, pressing your upper body flat on the podium, lifting you so your toes brushed against the floor.

You sobbed your pleasure as Hiromi worked practiced strokes between your puffy lips, softly pinching your clit and rolling it between his forefinger and thumb as you bucked, overstimulating without being allowed to cum, drawn to tears with sharp pangs of pleasure and pain.

Hiromi punctuated his words with barely-restrained pinches of your clit, leaving your toes curling as you twisted and writhed under him, crying out and begging him for release; "You always wanted me," pinch, "you still want me," pinch, "and you've broken it beyond repair," pinch, "but I'm fucking sure you're completely ruined for anyone other than me," he growled, rubbing tight circles on you now, his hand wet with your arousal settling in his palm, and you mewled, high-pitched and desperate, pinned and shaking under his hands.

As he leaned into you, bucking his clothed erection against the swell of your arse, he shuddered in satisfaction as your thighs clenched together, your struggling fading as he brought you to orgasm, softly whimpering through a haze of pleasure and regret. Hiromi continued to rub slow circles, hushing you gently, bringing you down from your orgasm as he undid his trousers, grasping his twitching cock and pulling it free.

As you came down from your high and your vision cleared, your eyes met the impassive blank gaze of Hiromi's bizarre Cursed creature, and you hid your face in the podium, flushing with shame, feeling Hiromi yank your trousers and underwear down behind you.

"Hiromi," you shook, breathless and weak for him, "let me kiss you, please--" Hiromi chuckled again, humourless and gravelly. You jumped as felt him stroke the hot, leaking head of his cock up and down between your folds, jolting with sensitivity every time it brushed over your clit.

"I don't think so. We shouldn't stay too attached, should we?" You cried out, aching pussy filled instantly as Hiromi rammed into it, squeaking and squirming with blinding pleasure as Hiromi grunted behind you, his spare hand shaking as it dug into the plush of your hips, holding you in place against the cool wood of the podium.

The blinding pleasure was overwhelming as Hiromi pounded into you, wet slaps and his groans of ecstasy echoing through the dull silence of the courtroom. Your knees buckled, the podium taking your full weight as you felt his swollen tip slam repeatedly into your cervix, feeling sharp pangs in your belly every time it struck. Hiromi's grip on your wrists was painfully tight, your breasts crushed to your chest, nipples rubbing hard against the podium with the force of Hiromi's thrusts, and you felt his rage with every snap of his hips, praying you would be forgiven for your crimes against him after he had finished.

Feeling your core, hot, wet and pulsing around him, Hiromi slammed into you, trying to dull the odd duality of wanting to pull you desperately into his arms, and wanting deeply to hurt you as you had hurt him with your betrayal. His nose and eyes stinging with tears, and blood roaring through his ears, Hiromi spat out his rage and heartbreak as he came with a shout, holding himself into you deeply, feeling himself empty, heart throbbing and numbed by his release.

Hiromi shook, still seething, blinking back tears of rage as he pulled harshly out of you, stepping back, leaving you cold and empty on the podium, your overstimulated pussy fluttering around nothing. Hiromi stared at you, shaking and tear-stained and still ready to take him back, but still wanting to tame him, watching his seed trickle, white and thick, down the lips of your pussy, dripping to the floor of his domain. Loosening his tie with one quick pull, he unbuttoned the top of his shirt, overheating.

"Let's make sure we do this properly, hmm? For old time's sake," chimed Hiromi as he turned you around to face him, lifting you by the waist to sit on the edge of the podium. You raised your hands to his face, clasping his cheeks as you gazed into his eyes trying to find your Hiromi still in there. You saw him, lost behind a veil of someone darker, much more broken than he had been before you had thrown him out of your home, and your lips puckered, drawing together as you tried to hold back tears again.

Hiromi sighed as you held his cheeks, feeling the day-old stubble growing there. You leaned in to kiss him, and he ducked to avoid you, latching sharply onto one freed nipple as his hand squeezed the other breast, tearing your shirt open at the buttons. You gasped, sinking your hands into his hair and gripping your thighs around him to hold him close.

Hiromi reached up, firmly untangling your hands from his hair, his jaw clenched; "Hands to yourself. Or we'll have to tie them out of the way." You cringed, reluctantly putting your hands to your sides as Hiromi gradually nosed his way down your body, stopping to nip at the sensitive skin of your belly, not once kissing you.

You fell into the little touch Hiromi was giving you so easily, a part of you still cold and empty by his enforced penalty of withholding affection and intimacy. The longing made you all the more eager, grasping at whatever he would give you. You shivered as his mouth reached your thighs, nipping and sucking gently on the soft skin grazing the edge of your pussy. Lost in the delight of his mouth on you, a hand slipped down again to sink into Hiromi's hair.

He stopped immediately and you gasped, apologising in a babbling rush. Hiromi rose, hooded eyes looking at you in disgust, lips curled and nose wrinkled.

"Please-- I'm sorry, Hiromi...please--" Hiromi hesitated briefly, before raising his hands to slowly grip yours together again, not breaking eye contact.

"Final warning," he snipped, brittle and threatening. You gulped, nodding quickly. Hiromi's mouth returned to your thighs. When his nose and tongue finally slipped between your folds, experienced in his role as the only man who pleasured you, he tasted you with the fervour of a man determined to commit you to memory.

Hiromi heard you crying out above him, your sweet sounds soaked up and stored away in his mind, and he ground his nose against your clit, dipping a tongue into you to taste how the two of you were together, groaning as he felt himself begin to harden again.

Hypersensitive from the rough treatment of Hiromi's hands, you begged and pleaded to Hiromi, fingers clawing at the wooden podium, your whole pussy aching with all it had received and all that was yet to come.

Something in your belly snapped as you came, hard, calling Hiromi's name as he continued to nuzzle into you, lost, desperate to soak up your affections one last time. Barely stopping to let you come down from your high, Hiromi rose up, lifting you to kick your trousers and underwear away, and wrap your legs around his waist.

Hiromi threw his suit jacket to the floor of the stand, laying you down on it with such warmth that you could have wept again, and Hiromi laid himself flat to you, raising your thighs to cradle his hips, encouraging you to squeeze him as he slipped his cock easily into you again, slippery from the cum he had already left behind. You mewled, full and ecstatic.

Nose to nose, Hiromi plaited his fingers with yours and gripped them, your forearm flush with his as he leaned over your head. Moving within you, slow and thorough, the head of his cock examining every inch of you, Hiromi sunk his face into your neck, kissing you, promising you.

"I never stopped loving you," he urged, panting softly as you raised your hips in tandem with his thrusts, "I never-- I never did-- never will..." You gasped, pressing your lips to his, as sweet and optimistic as your first kiss...but haunted now, by something dark and tainted.

You and Hiromi moved together, gentle and quiet, as if alone in your bedroom in the dead of night again, and you felt the familiar deep warmth spread through your belly and thighs as you approached your peak again. Hiromi knew, knowing your body by flesh-memory now, and he tilted your hips against him, hitting deeper now, barely pulling out.

"Together," he insisted, pink-cheeked and euphoric. He felt you clench around him, drinking down your moans as he kissed you, ecstasy bursting through him as he came again, knees to the floor, weakened, his anguish and turmoil released in solemn finality.

He stayed for just a few seconds. With a soft sigh, he pulled out of you with a groan, standing and tucking himself back into his trousers, adjusting his suit, pulling his tie back on with practiced hands. You dressed, quiet and full of dread, desperate for an answer- you knew Hiromi had already made up his mind.

"We're done." His voice, quiet and considered, the Hiromi you knew, pierced you like a knife. You shook, picking up the envelope with the remnants of your life together.

"Come with m--"

"I won't come with you. You made your decision. I...have had mine made for me. All that's left for us to do, is to stand by them." Hiromi turned his back on you, "The prosecution rests. All charges have been dropped."

You reeled at Hiromi's final rejection, cold and weeping. His domain collapsed around you, and you found yourself sat in the dusty chill of the old theatre. Hiromi stepped away from you, ignoring you as you called out to him.

As he reached the door, he stopped, gripping the doorframe with a shaking hand; "I'd like to say I'll come home, if I win this. But whatever we had...it's gone. I can't-- I can't trust you anymore." Hiromi left into the night, the door swinging shut behind him.

By the time you had reached the door, sprinting out into the night, Hiromi Higuruma was gone, and you were alone once more, his conviction of you passed and enacted with a final kiss goodbye

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This so nearly had a different ending, but I did what I felt was true to his character.

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nixoon-again · 10 months ago

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Miles loves looking at the stars.

For most of his life, it was the only form of comfort available to him. On those dark nights when he'd bolt up from a night terror, breathless, trembling and drenched in his own sweat, he'd crawl out of his current resting place and find a tall tree to sit in so he could get a clear view of the night sky above him. He'd sit there, up on the highest branch of that tree — the rough and quick climbing would tear at the seams of his old shirt that felt more like a rag than an article of clothing — spending hours upon hours with his head turned upwards to look at the night sky. He'd worry not for the pain his neck would be in later nor the hours spent sleepless, gazing upon the twinkling little lights against the ethereal blanket of the universe providing a substantial alternative to slumber.

When he couldn't sleep, too tired of tossing and turning on the cold grounds of the forest just outside the village, or when he was hurt badly enough that he couldn't muffle his cries of pain to stay hidden, he'd find a higher place to spend the night stargazing and the night sky was the only thing he could have had to himself, making sure to find a secluded and quiet place where no soul could find him under the endless sea of the stars.

Although climbing the trees always proved to be a bit of a difficult task for him, the tradition continued for what felt like ages.

Miles loves the stars.

He enjoyed climbing taller places to see them too.

But Miles doesn't like his hands.

His hands always make climbing difficult — they make everything difficult.

He preferred using his twin tails to fly up to higher places instead but the villagers left those appendages unmovable more often than not. It hurt too much to fly with them. His wings were out of the question — having lost most of their function at such a young age, he couldn't fly with them. He considered himself lucky when he could move them just enough to cover himself on colder nights when his tails couldn't provide enough warmth for him, too malnourished to develop a winter coat.

That left him with his hands to climb as his last option — his hands that are marred with little scars, his hands that can't let life survive, can't hold on to anything or anyone alive, his hands that took away all forms of life on contact and—

He never had gloves, he could hold nothing.

(He would be gifted some later by his saviour and he'd learn they do little to help.)

He still remembers when he tried to put a little baby flicky that had fallen from its nest back. Its mother came back to find it dead.

Needless to say, climbing higher places when he couldn't let his hands touch them directly was hard, it hurt.

But Miles loves the stars.

He can handle being a little hurt to get the things he loves.

(And, Chaos, will those words come back for him.)

He shifts so he can wrap his tails around his body a bit more comfortably — looking at the crackling campfire, Miles thinks that regardless of it all he hadn't needed climbing any high places in a while now. He's content with how the stars look from the ground. He's in no rush to find comfort, they're gonna be here longer than he will be so it's all good.

Besides Miles has been granted other forms of comfort too, something he never even fathoms would be true for him one day.

Something is softly deposited atop his head with a playful ruffle accompanying it, drawing a short lived giggle out of the fox kit before he swats the mischievous hands away with no ill intent. Miles doesn't need to look to see that the flower crown given to him by his companion is as perfect and beautiful a craft as always.

The hedgehog sits beside him on the log with a hum, eyes closed as he stretches his limbs with his signature cheeky grin.

Miles goes back to looking at the fire, bringing his knees close to his chest and hugging them tightly.

“Tails?”

Ah.

That's right, his name isn't Miles anymore.

“Mhm?”

“Whatcha thinking about, bud?”

“Nothin’,” He replies with a smile and Sonic doesn't ask him further.

Instead, the hedgehog simply opts to loop an arm around the fox and pull him in for a one sided hug several moments later.

Miles— no, Tails rests his head on the other's shoulder and uncurls a tail to wrap it around Sonic's torso instead.

Sonic never really needed any words to know when Tails is thinking about Miles.

And surely, it has been a while since Tails last thought about Miles — about that near feral little abandoned fox kit who was too terrified at the idea of touching anything alive. Hurt, scared, malnourished and all alone hiding in that forest around his old village where kids liked hunting him for sport. Tails is quite a bit different from Miles, however, seeing as Tails happens to be healthy, not nearly as afraid of every shadow at the corner of his vision, not nearly as alone, rarely ever hurt but that's on his own clumsiness and not some kind of harm done to him by another person and he's most definitely not alone anymore.

Sonic is here.

And thanks to him, he's not nearly as afraid of his hands as he used to be. Not around his big brother at least.

Tails thinks about that last bit and, almost on autopilot, he grabs Sonic's free hand in his own and the hedgehog gently gives his smaller hand a squeeze in return. A gesture they've shared since they've known each other, one that leaves no place for words. It serves as a silent reminder, a hushed sign, a quiet indication for the fox that Sonic isn't going anywhere, that Sonic won't be hurt by simply having the fox around, that somehow Sonic beats all odds against the curse Miles bore and passed onto Tails and remains unaffected under his fingertips. Gloves or not, unlike Miles, Tails won't hurt Sonic. Somehow Sonic makes sure of it always.

Miles loved the stars.

Tails does too.

But he's just fine with this one.

The stars may crumble in his hands but he'll always have his brother.

And he's grateful for that.

_____

Sonic is sick.

Tails doesn't know what went wrong.

He was perfectly fine, perfectly healthy. Sonic always made sure they both had more than enough to eat, they both got plenty of sleep (mostly) and they haven't travelled to any places where Sonic could have picked up a virus or anything from either. Sonic's not hurt, there are no injuries on his body and yet he looks so, so horribly pained that it's starting to hurt Tails as well.

It looks bad, Tails isn't any doctor and neither does he do as much as recognize Sonic's condition as something he knows of or has read in some book, and yet it looks bad.

It scares him.

(He's not ready to accept how the hollow lifeless look in those emerald eyes mimic those of a flicky he once tried to help.)

Sonic didn't come down with something all of a sudden, he didn't look like he'd been depleted of all his energy right after sleeping a full night right away. It happened slowly, gradually and Tails wants to punch himself for not catching the signs early on, for not getting him proper help at the first sign of the unusual wobble in Sonic's smile.

(It's funny because Tails did notice but every time he did as much as try to ask Sonic if he was okay, he was immediately brushed off with a, “I'm fine, don't worry.”)

The should haves and could haves don't really matter anymore, the problem is already out of his hands — not like it ever was in his control but now? Tails can't even remotely help his brother.

His condition keeps getting worse. Each passing day, Sonic gets hauntingly slower. He sleeps for longer, yet the are dark circle imminent under his eyes — the emeralds that user to be brimming with life were now left devoid of soul and feeling. As if something had sucked the life out of them.

Sonic is hurting.

But he won't tell Tails even though the kit can see the pain in his movements.

It's a terrifying notion; Tails can see Sonic losing a battle against an unseen opponent but can't help him, won't be allowed to help him.

One day Sonic doesn't wake up until sun begins to set again. That day, Tails finds himself crying.

He doesn't know what to do. He's confused and scared, too afraid to shake Sonic awake — too afraid to touch him.

Did he do this?

Is he hurting his big brother?

It doesn't sit right with him. He hates this feeling of guilt brewing in his gut. In the four years of knowing him, Tails has found that whatever curse his hands bore never effected Sonic.

And yet…

Looking at his sleeping form, his tired face and the pain behind closed eyes of an even closed and reserved hedgehog who is the only person Tails could love and trust, knowing a goodbye isn't in their story anytime soon — he can't help the tears that roll freely down his muzzle.

Because its not fair.

It's not fair that he has to be afraid if losing the only family he has — the family he oh so painstakingly found. It's not fair that he has to sit and cry silently because he doesn't know how to heal his brother. It's not fair that Sonic won't let him in, won't confide in him even when he has asked the kit to do just that with him so many times before. It's not fair that, out of all people, Sonic has to be the one suffering.

Before Tails could pray for whatever has befallen his big brother to happen to him instead, Sonic stirs awake.

He sits up, his action slower than his usual speedy self would allow him.

His quills are a mess and his eyes look so tired. He is quick to hide the grimace of pain that flares up in his chest as he moves his body to look at Tails.

Ocean eyes already puffy with tears and throat constricted with emotions that he has been silently crying only allow the kit to tilt his head to the side with a small frown as if asking Sonic what's wrong instead of his usual greeting.

Sonic looks at him and yet Tails feels those emerald eyes to be anywhere but on him. The silence that stretches between them as Sonic finds his words to answer the unspoken question is suffocating.

Then, he confesses,

“I'm dying.”

Neither look at each other.

“I know.”

Tails barely keeps his voice from breaking.

And that's perhaps the last words they share in a long, long time.

Tails silently wonders if it would've been better if he never found a family at all.

#sonic the hedgehog #miles tails prower #au stuff #drabbles #so uh hi #have this ig

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lamemaster · 1 year ago

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The Curse of Bloodlines (Epilogue 😔)

Request: For the annon who sends me this request every day. You know who you are and you have my respect fellow gremlin.

Pairing: Thranduil x Reader

AN: I never wanted to write this. But alas for those who cannot live without a happy ending go thrive. Please no more requests for this AU after this.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Epilogue |

"Atyo!" You peel Celegorm's hands off Thranduil's throat. At once your uncles are at the task of taking him to another room as you follow them. Not daring to look back at him. Too scared that you might not be able to leave if you do.

Perhaps it was the fear of finding the same disdained look you had witnessed in Arda. The fear of being subjected to it had left your eyes anywhere but, Thranduil.

So you focus all your attention on your father, who almost escapes the grasp of 4 of his brothers, including Uncle Maedhros, who towered over the majority in Valinor.

"Ata, not now," your voice cuts through the din, surprisingly firm despite the tremor in your heart. Your father's face contorted in a snarl, but something in your voice, perhaps the raw emotion, caused him to pause.

"Let me go!" he roared, his voice thick with fury. "I won't be mocked by that… that…" he trailed off, his tongue failing him to find an insult that wouldn't ignite another confrontation.

You shake your head and lead him out. "Let's leave. Grandfather is waiting."

You clenched your jaw, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. This meeting, the one you'd dreaded since your days in the Halls of Mandos, had been a disaster. And the worst part? It was just the beginning.

Meeting your father was something you had wished for forever. An unfulfilled yearning you grew up with. The same yearning Legolas grew up with. Absence of a bond that made the entirety of an existence.

Settling in his arms was a comfort unknown to you in life. Death had been kinder in many ways.

The agony of right and wrong seared on both you and your father. Ignorance of the bond that is most priced above any other. Blood that had cost you the love of your husband and the chance to watch your son grow.

But things that once shredded your heart into pieces now were distant worries. The sting of betrayal and the ache of lost years paled in comparison to the warmth of your father's embrace. His tearful apologies, whispered promises of redemption, were a balm to your wounded soul.

You met then, your uncles, your grandfather, your great-grandfather, An entire clan doomed in the halls of death. And so the task of stitching back together the House of Finwe began.

From uncountable days spent sharing stories by the pillar of your Grandfather, Feanor's firey pillar, to bringing along the souls of your troubled cousins Aegnor and Maeglin. Finweans started healing.

And you became the princess of Noldor. A title that came with a hefty price.

Legolas' friendship with Finrod wasn't a surprise. Both, you realized, carried the weight of a love lost to time – a grief you could never fully understand or soothe.

Legolas, however, found solace elsewhere. Celebrimbor, with his gentle spirit, became his closest confidante. He regaled Amrod and Amras with tales of Middle-earth, earning their playful grumbles about being called "grandfathers." Feanor, a name whispered in legends, became a complex figure he learned about through stories and perhaps, even fleeting glimpses of him to and from the forge.

Your interactions with Legolas were tentative at first. You were a stranger to him, a face from stories whispered in hushed tones. He longed to know the woman who carried him.

Awkward silences hung heavy in the air, punctuated by whispered stories of his life in Greenwood. He spoke of Thranduil with respect, but a flicker of sadness lingered in his eyes. He spoke of a man named Estel, a human who had become a dear friend, a story that filled you with bittersweet joy.

Then came the inevitable – a meeting with Master Gimli. Their shared tales of their unlikely friendship brought laughter to the once desolate House of Feanor.

Finally, after much coaxing, you managed to convince Legolas to attend Oropher's feast. You knew a march to invite the entire Noldorian royal family was a tad excessive, even by his standards.

Noldor marching was almost always was a perilous idea.

"Apply this twice a day," you mutter, handing him the small vial. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you allowed yourself to meet his gaze. "For the bruises," you clarified, pointing to the dark marks of your father's grip on his throat.

A flicker of surprise crossed his face, then settled into a mask of stoicism. His eyes, those same eyes that once held the warmth of a thousand sunrises, seemed distant, etched with the weight of untold ages. They held an emotion you couldn't quite define - a far cry from the hatred that burned in them during your last moments together.

His hand brushed against yours as he reached for the vial, sending a jolt through you. The grief that had settled between you, heavy and suffocating, felt like a tangible presence in the air.

"I apologize for my father," you began, your voice barely a whisper. "He is…"

"Troubled," he finished the sentence, his voice surprisingly gentle. "As are we all."

A heavy silence descended upon you once more. He spoke, breaking the quietude, his voice laced with a weary resignation. "I do not know what penance I shall bear to ever right the wrongs I have committed. I have searched for ages, scouring the world, but I cannot find a path back to the past I crave."

"I do not know what repentance I shall bear to ever right the wrongs I have committed," he continued, his voice barely above a murmur. "This yearning for what we once had consumes me, yet I detest it, for I do not believe I am worthy of it." His voice cracked, and for a moment, the once proud king you knew of was now stripped bare, revealing an elf consumed by regret.

The air around you seemed to crackle with unspoken apologies and unspoken yearning. You gathered your courage, forcing the words from your lips. "I do not know much of right or wrong," you began, your voice surprisingly steady. "Neither do I understand the intricacies of penance or forgiveness. Yet, from all I have learned in this strange realm, one thing resonates."

He averted his gaze, his back turned to you, his broad shoulders slumped in defeat. All the air seemed to have been sucked from the room, leaving a hollow ache in your chest.

Your mind raced, searching for the right words. "No act is set in stone. No grievance can hold its power over the relentless march of time. My kin, they wronged many, yet even they found a measure of peace." You thought of your uncles, of your father, finally released from the burdens of their choices.

"They were able to return to the light of Aman because they allowed themselves to seek forgiveness," you continued. "Beyond mine or Legolas', it is your own that you require the most." You reached out then, your fingers brushing against his cheek.

"We have all the time in the world." You leaned in, your lips brushing against his in a whisper of a kiss. A flawed marriage, a flawed separation, and a flawed reunion, yet, nothing had managed to make it any less sweeter.

#the hobbit #the silmarillion #tolkien elves #noldor #thranduil x reader #Feanorian reader #celegorm #angst #middle earth #thranduil x wife #thranduil #Istg I will not write this ever again

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zeroseuniverse · 3 months ago

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Do You Believe In Fate?

Word Count: 1.2K Summary: And as you stood there, gazing at the soul that had once saved you, a strange and wonderful thought settled in your heart: Pairing: Yeosang X reader

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You had known only greed and cruelty.

For centuries, you had been bound to a golden lamp, your power twisted and exploited by the selfish and the wicked. Rulers, warlords, and men with insatiable hunger for wealth and power had summoned you, each wish staining the world with more corruption. You had come to believe that kindness was a myth, that goodness was a fragile thing crushed beneath the weight of desire.

Until the day a child summoned you.

You emerged in a dimly lit hovel, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and desperation. Expecting yet another master with grandiose demands, you prepared for the familiar commands—gold, kingdoms, immortality. But the child, small and trembling, merely looked up with wide, tear-filled eyes and whispered, "Please… My family is starving. Just some food. And warm clothes for winter. That’s all."

You hesitated. Never had you been asked for so little.

For the first time in your endless existence, you granted a wish with care. Plates of steaming food appeared on the worn wooden table. Bundles of soft, warm clothes materialized in the child’s arms. The child gasped, eyes shimmering with gratitude, and ran to wake their family. Laughter and cries of joy filled the home, a sound you had never heard in response to your magic before.

When the child returned, their gaze was solemn. “You granted my wish. Now I have one more.”

You braced yourself. This was where greed always crept in. More food, endless riches, power. Something selfish.

The child took a deep breath. “I wish for you to be free.”

Your heart, if you had ever truly possessed one, cracked open. A brilliant light surrounded you, chains of invisible servitude shattering as you exhaled a breath you had never known you were holding. The lamp crumbled to dust at your feet.

For the first time in countless lifetimes, you were free.

—

You were reborn into the world as a mortal, no longer a being of smoke and magic but of flesh and blood. Your past was only a whisper in your dreams—hazy memories of golden light, the scent of damp earth, and the sound of a child’s laughter. The memories never made sense, nor did the strange pull in your heart whenever you gazed up at the stars.

Decades passed. You lived as any human would—learning, growing, and searching for something you couldn’t name. And then, one fated day, you met him.

Yeosang.

It was in a quiet bookstore, where dust danced in the golden sunlight. You reached for the same book, hands brushing. The moment your eyes met, something deep inside you stirred, as if a thousand lifetimes had been leading to this moment. A heartbeat later, a memory resurfaced—small hands holding warm clothes, wide eyes filled with innocent hope, a voice whispering, I wish for you to be free.

The realization hit like a thunderclap. This was your savior’s descendant.

Yeosang blinked, a soft smile forming. “Sorry, you can take it. I didn’t mean to—”

“No,” you breathed, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s yours.”

And as you stood there, gazing at the soul that had once saved you, a strange and wonderful thought settled in your heart:

Perhaps, just perhaps, this was fate’s way of bringing you back to the one who had once set you free. Only this time, you would choose to stay.

Yeosang’s smile lingered, and the warmth of it sent a ripple through your chest. You had spent so many years in the shadows of your past, haunted by the weight of all the wishes you had granted, only to now find yourself standing before someone whose presence made everything feel right.

“You seem familiar,” Yeosang said softly, his tone contemplative, his gaze not quite meeting yours. It was as if he was trying to place something just beyond his reach.

Your heart skipped, but you forced yourself to smile, though it didn’t feel quite real. “I get that a lot,” you said, trying to laugh it off, but there was an undeniable pull in the air. The memory of the child’s wish—the weight of their selflessness—hung between the two of you like a fragile thread.

The silence stretched, heavy but comfortable, until Yeosang shifted slightly, his voice breaking the stillness. “I’m Yeosang, by the way.”

You nodded. “I’m…” You hesitated, uncertain of how to answer. In your new mortal form, your name felt like something that belonged to a different life. A different world. But this—this was you now. “I’m Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he repeated softly, as if testing the name on his tongue, and a spark of recognition flared in his eyes. You both stood there, momentarily caught in the space between past and present.

“I don’t mean to sound weird,” Yeosang continued, his gaze now settling on you with more focus, “but I feel like I’ve known you for a long time. Like—like we were supposed to meet.”

A shiver ran down your spine, the truth of his words settling over you like a cloak.

“Maybe we were,” you said, your voice a whisper. The weight of the memories that swirled in your mind seemed to pull at your soul, and the realization struck you once more: the child’s wish had carried you through countless lifetimes. And now, here you were, standing before Yeosang, the very one who had unknowingly freed you from a curse.

The air between you crackled with something electric, something that felt like fate—or maybe like a second chance. You took a small step closer to him, your hand brushing against the edge of his sleeve. “I don’t know why,” you murmured, “but I feel like I’ve been waiting for this moment.”

Yeosang’s breath caught at your words, and for the first time, he looked at you as if he saw more than just a stranger. “Maybe I have been too,” he said quietly, his voice filled with something unspoken, something tender.

There was no need for words after that. You simply found yourselves walking side by side, the weight of everything unsaid wrapped around you like a protective shield. It wasn’t until you stepped outside into the bustling streets that you realized how easy it felt—how right it felt—to be with him.

As you moved through the city, the world around you became a blur. All you could focus on was Yeosang’s presence beside you—the quiet, comforting aura of him that seemed to settle over you like a familiar song.

When you found a quiet bench in a secluded park, you sat together, the city’s noise fading into the background. For a long while, neither of you spoke. And then, finally, Yeosang broke the silence.

“Do you believe in fate?” he asked, his voice contemplative, his gaze focused on the distant skyline.

You turned toward him, your heart stirring with a deep sense of connection. “I didn’t used to,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. “But now, I’m not so sure.”

Yeosang turned his head toward you, a thoughtful look in his eyes. “Maybe fate isn’t something we find. Maybe it’s something we choose.”

Your heart skipped a beat. His words were so simple, yet they resonated in a way you hadn’t expected. Maybe fate wasn’t just about destiny. Maybe it was about the choices you made—and the ones you had yet to make.

And as you sat there with Yeosang, feeling the pull of something ancient and beautiful between you, you realized that this wasn’t just a meeting by chance. This was the beginning of something new.

A new life. A new hope.

Maybe, this time, the wishes would be different. Maybe, this time, you would choose to stay.

#ateez #ateez fanfiction #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader #ateez fic #atz scenarios #atz fluff #atz imagines #atz x reader #atz fanfic #atz #kang yeosang x reader #yeosang imagines #yeosang ateez #yeosang x reader #yeosang fluff

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