#it’s a story of hope and survival and fighting against the odds | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

muiitoloko · 6 months ago

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Would you be able to do a Severus Snape story. One where his girlfriend is nervous about having sex with him, as she still suffers from issues she suffered at the hands of a man who thought cared about her but just wanted to abuse her. Severus completely understands and never pressures her, she tells him she finally wants to have sex with him and he takes his time with her and is gently with her due her abuser being a sadist when it came to sex and not preparing her enough. Then after they have made love, he cuddles up with her which is a foreign concept to her as her abuser just use to shove her clothes into her arms after he was finished. Severus telling her how beautiful she is, as her abuser also belittled her about her body.

if you aren’t comfortable with this idea, it is fine if you choose not to write this idea.

Title: Alchemy of the Heart

Summary: A story of transformation and healing, where Severus Snape learns that love, like magic, can mend even the most broken of souls.

Pairing: Severus Snape × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Smut.

Author's Notes: Thank you for your request! 🫶

Also read on Ao3

Severus Snape never thought he would find himself in such a situation—dating a Muggle, living a life that was so mundanely normal after everything he had endured. He scoffed at the absurdity of it all as he moved about the small kitchen in his modest home at Spinner's End, preparing dinner for himself and you, the woman who had somehow wormed her way into his life, despite his best efforts to keep everyone at arm’s length.

The irony was not lost on him. He, Severus Snape, a man who had spent his entire adult life hiding behind shadows and secrets, was now standing over a stove, chopping vegetables for a Muggle dish he barely knew how to make. He was a man who had survived the war, against all odds, only to be pulled back from the brink of death by none other than Harry bloody Potter. That particular twist of fate still rankled him. Potter had used the Elder Wand to heal the wounds inflicted by Nagini, saving his life and subsequently fighting to free him from Azkaban, where he had been imprisoned for a year. It was a bitter pill to swallow, knowing he owed his life and freedom to the very boy he had spent years despising.

Snape grimaced as he remembered the cold, damp cells of Azkaban, the Dementors draining every ounce of warmth and hope from him, leaving only a hollow shell behind. He had resigned himself to that fate, ready to be forgotten, to fade into obscurity. But Potter had other plans, of course. The boy who lived, the boy who couldn’t leave well enough alone.

And now, here he was, living in his old childhood home, the memories of his past haunting every corner, every shadow. But there was one new element in his life, something—or rather someone—who had become an unexpected comfort in this bleak existence. You.

He had first noticed you a few weeks after his release, moving into the house next door with your belongings piled into an old, beat-up car. You were a breath of fresh air in the stale, suffocating environment of Spinner’s End. Snape had tried to scare you off at first, his usual acerbic demeanor and cutting remarks meant to keep you at a distance. But you were persistent, infuriatingly so. You would knock on his door with some trivial request—a cup of sugar, a light for your stove, a missing ingredient for dinner. And every time, despite himself, Snape would begrudgingly oblige, always with a scowl and a sarcastic remark.

But you kept coming back. No matter how cold or curt he was, you would return, flashing that infuriatingly bright smile, your eyes sparkling with a warmth that he hadn’t known in years. Slowly, despite his best efforts, Snape found himself softening towards you, your presence becoming a constant, a fixture in his life that he didn’t entirely hate.

It had started as a reluctant friendship—if he could even call it that—exchanging a few words here and there, discussing the weather or some mundane topic. But then, one evening, you had invited him over for dinner. He had almost declined, the words on the tip of his tongue, but something in your eyes, a quiet loneliness, made him change his mind. And that night, as you both sat in your small, cozy kitchen, sharing a simple meal, Snape felt something shift between you. It was subtle, a barely noticeable change in the air, but it was there, and he knew you felt it too.

From that moment on, things were different. The awkwardness that had always lingered between you seemed to dissipate, replaced by a quiet understanding, a comfort in each other’s presence that neither of you could deny. The dinners became more frequent, the conversations more personal, and before long, those moments spent together turned into something more.

The first time you kissed him, it was hesitant, a brief brush of lips that left him reeling. He had pulled back, his eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt, of regret. But all he saw was warmth, acceptance, and something deeper—something he hadn’t felt in years. And so, he had kissed you again, this time with more conviction, more certainty, his hands tangling in your hair as he pulled you closer, tasting the sweetness of your lips.

But even as things between you grew more intimate, there was always a hesitance on your part, a reluctance to let things progress beyond those heated kisses, those moments of passion that left you both breathless. Snape had tried to be patient, tried to respect your boundaries, but there were times when he couldn’t help the frustration that simmered just beneath the surface.

It wasn’t until one night, after another round of heated kisses that left you both wanting more, that Snape’s patience finally wore thin. He had used Legilimency on you, a skill he had honed to perfection over the years, and what he saw left him reeling. Memories of your past, of a relationship that had been toxic, abusive, of a man who had used your body, your trust, against you. It made Snape’s blood boil with rage, a fury that he hadn’t felt in years, directed not at you but at the man who had hurt you.

He had pulled back immediately, ashamed of what he had done, of the intrusion, but he couldn’t erase the memories from his mind. He couldn’t forget the pain in your eyes, the fear that had lingered just beneath the surface, even as you tried to move on, to find happiness with him.

So he kept it to himself, burying the knowledge deep within, refusing to let it taint what was growing between you. He would wait, he decided. He would wait until you were ready to tell him, until you trusted him enough to open up, to share your past with him.

And then, one evening, as you both sat on his old, worn sofa, your head resting on his shoulder, you had finally told him. The words had tumbled out in a rush, your voice trembling with fear and uncertainty, and Snape had listened, his heart aching with every word. When you had finished, he had wrapped his arms around you, holding you close, his lips brushing against your hair as he whispered words of comfort, of reassurance.

"Thank you for telling me," he had murmured, his voice low and rough with emotion. "You’re safe with me, always."

And that night, as you lay in his arms, Snape had made a silent vow to himself. He would never hurt you, never push you beyond what you were comfortable with. He would wait, as long as it took, until you were ready.

Now, as he stirred the pot of soup simmering on the stove, Snape couldn’t help but think back to that night, to the way you had looked at him with such trust, such vulnerability. It made his heart clench in a way that he wasn’t used to, a feeling that he had tried to bury for years but that now resurfaced with a vengeance.

You had come into his life like a force of nature, breaking down the walls he had built around himself, forcing him to confront emotions that he had long since buried. And while part of him resented it, resented the way you had made him feel again, another part of him—the part he tried to ignore—was grateful.

He heard the soft creak of the floorboards behind him and turned to see you standing in the doorway, your eyes bright with affection as you watched him cook. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and he couldn’t help the warmth that spread through him at the sight of you, so full of life, so full of light.

"You’re cooking," you said, your voice filled with a mix of surprise and delight as you stepped into the kitchen, your hands coming to rest on the counter as you leaned against it, watching him with those warm, trusting eyes.

"Don’t sound so shocked," Snape replied, his tone dry but not unkind as he turned back to the stove, giving the soup another stir. "I am capable of preparing a meal, despite what you may think."

You chuckled softly, the sound sending a pleasant shiver down his spine. "I never doubted it," you said, your voice light and teasing as you stepped closer, your hands resting on his shoulders as you leaned in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. "But I’m still impressed."

Snape felt a warmth spread through him at your touch, your lips against his skin sending a wave of heat coursing through his body. He turned his head slightly, his eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, he allowed himself to get lost in the warmth of your gaze, the affection that shone in your eyes.

But then, as quickly as it had come, the moment was gone, and Snape turned back to the stove, his hands tightening on the spoon as he stirred the soup with more force than necessary. He couldn’t allow himself to get too comfortable, to let his guard down. There was still so much you didn’t know about him, so much he was keeping from you.

You didn’t know that the man you were dating was not just a simple recluse living in a small, forgotten town. You didn’t know that the man you had trusted with your secrets, with your heart, was a wizard, a man who had fought in a war that had left deep scars on his soul. You didn’t know that the man you had chosen to love was capable of things that would terrify most people.

And as much as Snape wanted to keep it that way, to keep you safe from the darkness that had consumed so much of his life, he knew that it was only a matter of time before the truth came out. He could only hope that when it did, you would still look at him with the same warmth, the same affection that you did now.

But for now, he pushed those thoughts aside, focusing instead on the task at hand—preparing a simple meal for the woman who had become the light in his dark, shadowed world. It wasn’t much, but it was all he had to offer.

You moved closer to him, your body pressing against his as you wrapped your arms around his waist, your head resting on his shoulder as you watched him cook. Snape stiffened slightly at the unexpected contact, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he allowed himself to relax into your embrace, the warmth of your body seeping into his own, calming the storm of thoughts that constantly swirled in his mind.

"Thank you, Sev," you murmured, your voice soft and sincere as you pressed another kiss to his shoulder, your lips lingering against the fabric of his shirt. "For everything."

Snape swallowed hard, his throat tightening at the sound of your voice, the sincerity in your words. He wasn’t used to this—this warmth, this affection. It was foreign to him, something he had long since resigned himself to living without. But now, with you, it was becoming a part of his life, and as much as it terrified him, he found himself clinging to it, desperate for the light you brought into his world.

He didn’t trust himself to speak, didn’t trust his voice to remain steady, so instead, he simply nodded, his hand coming up to rest on yours, squeezing it gently in silent acknowledgment.

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him, your eyes searching his for something—reassurance, perhaps, or maybe just a connection, a confirmation that he was here, with you, in this moment. Whatever it was, Snape felt a surge of emotion rise up within him, threatening to overwhelm him.

And then, as if sensing his turmoil, you leaned in and kissed him, your lips soft and warm against his, a gentle caress that made his heart ache with longing. Snape responded almost automatically, his hands coming up to cradle your face as he deepened the kiss, his lips moving against yours with a desperate need that he hadn’t felt in years.

The kiss quickly grew more heated, more urgent, as Snape’s hands roamed over your body, feeling the warmth of your skin through the fabric of your clothes. He could feel the desire building within him, the need to take this further, to lose himself in you, in the warmth and comfort that you offered.

But then, just as quickly as it had begun, you pulled back, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you looked up at him, your eyes filled with a mix of desire and uncertainty.

"Severus," you murmured, your voice trembling slightly as you placed your hands on his chest, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. "I… I want to be with you, but…"

Snape felt his heart clench at your words, the hesitation in your voice, the uncertainty in your eyes. He knew what you were going to say, knew what was holding you back, and it made his chest tighten with a mix of frustration and sorrow.

"But you’re not ready," Snape finished for you, his voice low and rough as he cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing gently against your skin. "And that’s okay, love. We’ll take things at your pace."

You looked up at him, your eyes filling with tears as you nodded, a small, grateful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible as you leaned into his touch, your eyes closing as you savored the warmth of his hand against your skin.

Snape felt a wave of emotion wash over him, a mixture of love and frustration and something else—something deeper, something darker that he couldn’t quite put into words. He wanted you, more than he had ever wanted anything in his life, but he couldn’t—wouldn’t—push you into something you weren’t ready for. Not after everything you had been through.

So instead, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin as he whispered, "When you’re ready, I’ll be here."

You nodded, your arms wrapping around his waist as you buried your face in his chest, clinging to him as if he were a lifeline. And in that moment, Snape realized that maybe, just maybe, he was.

As the two of you stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, Snape couldn’t help but think of how far he had come, how much his life had changed since the end of the war. He had gone from being a man consumed by darkness and hatred, to a man who was learning to love again, who was finding solace in the warmth of a woman’s embrace.

But even as he held you close, the weight of his secrets pressed down on him, a constant reminder that there was still so much you didn’t know about him, so much that he was keeping from you.

And as much as he wanted to protect you from that darkness, he knew that it was only a matter of time before the truth came out.

For now, though, he would hold onto this moment, this brief reprieve from the shadows that haunted his every step. And he would continue to wait, as long as it took, until you were ready to take that next step, to fully trust him with your body, your heart, your soul.

Because for the first time in his life, Severus Snape had something worth waiting for.

You and Severus Snape sat across from each other at the small, worn kitchen table in his modest home. The room was quiet, save for the soft clinking of spoons against bowls as you both ate the soup he had prepared. The aroma of the dish filled the air, a comforting blend of herbs and spices that seemed almost out of place in the austere surroundings of Spinner’s End.

Snape watched you closely, his dark, piercing eyes never leaving your face as you took your first tentative spoonful of the soup. He appeared calm and composed, but there was a hint of something else in his gaze—an emotion that he carefully kept hidden behind his usual mask of indifference. You, oblivious to the scrutiny, tasted the soup, savoring the warmth that spread through you as you swallowed.

To your surprise, the soup was not just good—it was delicious. The flavors were rich and well-balanced, each ingredient perfectly complementing the others. You glanced up at Snape, your eyes wide with genuine admiration. “This is amazing, Severus,” you said, your voice filled with pleasant surprise. “I didn’t expect you to be such a good cook!”

Snape’s response was immediate. He rolled his eyes in a manner that was both exaggerated and entirely out of character, the motion so unexpected that it caught you off guard. His lips pressed into a thin line, and he affected a tone of mock offense. “What did you expect, then? That I would poison you with my lack of culinary skills?”

You burst into laughter, the sound bright and clear in the small, dimly lit kitchen. “No, no! It’s just—I mean, you never struck me as the type to… well, cook. You always seem so serious, so… severe.”

He raised an eyebrow at you, his dark eyes narrowing slightly, but there was a glint of amusement in them that you hadn’t noticed before. “I am full of surprises, as you’ve clearly discovered,” he said dryly, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he were fighting the urge to smile.

You tried to stifle your laughter, covering your mouth with one hand as you leaned forward, shaking your head. “I’m sorry, Sev. I didn’t mean to sound so… rude. I’m just pleasantly surprised, that’s all.”

Snape’s expression remained impassive, though the faintest hint of a smirk tugged at his lips. “Well, if you’re going to be so disrespectful about my cooking, perhaps I should refrain from ever doing it again,” he said, his tone smooth and measured, though laced with a subtle edge of sarcasm.

Your laughter died down, and you looked at him with wide, imploring eyes, your lips forming a small, playful pout. “Oh, please don’t do that! I’m sorry, really. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

He allowed the silence to stretch out, letting you squirm slightly under his gaze. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he set his spoon down and leaned back in his chair, his long, pale fingers steepled in front of him. “I suppose I can find it within myself to forgive you,” he said with mock gravity, his voice carrying that familiar, rich baritone that sent a shiver down your spine.

You grinned, relieved by the playful banter that had emerged between you two. “I promise to be more appreciative next time,” you said, your tone light and teasing.

Snape’s eyes softened slightly, and he allowed himself a small, genuine smile, though it was fleeting. “See that you do,” he replied, his voice carrying just a hint of warmth. He picked up his spoon once more, returning his attention to his soup, though you could tell he was still watching you from the corner of his eye.

The two of you ate in comfortable silence for a few moments, the earlier tension between you having dissipated entirely. There was something soothing about the simplicity of the moment—the two of you sharing a meal, the quiet intimacy of the evening wrapping around you like a warm blanket.

After a while, you looked up at him, a thought crossing your mind. “Severus,” you began, your voice soft and curious, “you never really talk about your past. You’ve told me bits and pieces, but… I don’t really know much about you.”

Snape’s hand paused mid-motion, his spoon hovering over the bowl. His eyes flickered up to meet yours, and for a moment, you saw a flash of something—uncertainty, perhaps?—in his gaze. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by his usual inscrutable expression.

“What exactly do you want to know?” he asked, his tone carefully neutral.

You hesitated, unsure of how to phrase your question without prying too much. “I know you were a professor—a chemistry professor, right? At a college in Scotland?”

He inclined his head slightly, acknowledging the version of his past that he had shared with you. “Yes,” he said, his voice measured. “I taught for many years.”

You smiled at him, trying to convey that you weren’t seeking to push him into sharing anything he wasn’t comfortable with. “It must have been… interesting, teaching. But I can’t imagine it was easy, especially with students who didn’t always appreciate your brilliance.”

Snape’s lips twitched at that, and he let out a soft, sardonic huff. “Indeed. Many of them were more interested in their own self-indulgent pursuits than in actually learning anything of value.”

You chuckled, imagining a classroom full of students cowering under Snape’s stern gaze, their attempts at chemistry likely met with his cutting remarks. “I’m sure you were a… challenging teacher,” you said, choosing your words carefully.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by your tact. “I was effective,” he replied simply, his tone leaving no room for doubt.

You leaned forward slightly, resting your chin on your hand as you looked at him with genuine curiosity. “Do you miss it? Teaching, I mean.”

For a moment, Snape was silent, his eyes distant as if he were considering your question—or perhaps reliving old memories. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, more reflective. “There are aspects of it that I miss, yes. The pursuit of knowledge, the satisfaction of imparting it to those few who were truly eager to learn… But the rest… no, I do not miss that.”

You nodded, understanding that there was much more to his past than he was willing—or perhaps able—to share. You didn’t press further, content to let him reveal what he wished in his own time. Instead, you reached out and gently placed your hand over his, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“Thank you for sharing that with me, Sev,” you said softly, your eyes meeting his with sincerity.

Snape looked at you, his expression inscrutable, but you could sense the shift in his mood—the subtle softening of his usual defenses. “You’re welcome,” he replied, his voice low and almost reluctant, as if the words didn’t come easily to him.

You both returned to your meal, the earlier levity now replaced by a quiet, comfortable silence. As you finished your soup, you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of contentment—a feeling that, despite everything, you were exactly where you were meant to be, with the man who, against all odds, had become so important to you.

And as Snape watched you from across the table, his dark eyes lingering on your face, he too felt a stirring of something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in years—something that, for the first time in a long time, he didn’t entirely hate.

Days later, you found yourself in a small, charming boutique nestled in the heart of town, dragging Severus Snape along with you. The place was a far cry from the dark, foreboding atmosphere of Spinner's End. It was bright, colorful, and filled with racks of clothing that seemed to almost offend Snape’s sensibilities. The air was thick with the scent of fresh fabric and a hint of perfume, and the light streaming through the windows made everything seem almost unnaturally cheerful.

Snape, however, was anything but cheerful.

He stood in the middle of the store, his tall, lean frame towering over the racks of clothing, his long black coat making him look like a shadow in a world of light. His greasy black hair hung over his pale, angular face, and his dark eyes were narrowed in a mixture of disdain and discomfort. He watched you with a glare that could have curdled milk, his lips pressed into a thin, disapproving line.

"You cannot be serious," he growled, his deep, monotone voice cutting through the lighthearted chatter of the boutique. "I have no interest in—"

"Oh, come on, Sev," you interrupted, undeterred by his intimidating presence as you held up a bright, turquoise shirt, eyeing it critically before pushing it against his chest. "You can't always wear black. It's time for a change, don't you think?"

Snape recoiled as if you had just handed him a particularly venomous potion. "Absolutely not," he snapped, pushing the shirt away from him as if it were toxic. "I am perfectly content with my current wardrobe, thank you very much."

You rolled your eyes, clearly unfazed by his resistance. "You can't hide in black forever, you know. It’s time to add a little color to your life, Severus."

He scowled, crossing his arms over his chest in a gesture of stubborn defiance. "I see no need for such frivolity. I am not one of your... fashion experiments."

You grinned at his surly tone, your eyes twinkling with mischief as you rifled through another rack of clothing. "Well, maybe you should be. I think you’d look quite dashing in something other than black for a change."

Snape’s eyes narrowed further as he watched you, clearly unimpressed with the direction this outing was taking. "This is absurd," he muttered, though there was a faint trace of resignation in his voice as he realized that there was no escaping your determination.

And then, as if to test his resolve further, you pulled out a bright pink shirt from the rack, holding it up for him to see. "What about this?" you asked, your voice filled with playful innocence. "I think pink would really bring out the color in your eyes."

Snape’s reaction was immediate and visceral. His dark eyes widened in horror, and for a moment, it looked as if he might actually hiss at the offending garment. "Absolutely not!" he thundered, taking a step back as if the shirt were about to attack him. "I will not—under any circumstances—wear pink! No! No! No way! I’d rather die before wearing that!"

You burst into laughter at his dramatic reaction, clutching the shirt to your chest as you tried to stifle your giggles. "Oh, Sev," you managed between laughs, "you’re being ridiculous. It’s just a shirt!"

"It’s not just a shirt," he retorted, his voice laced with indignation. "It’s a deliberate assault on my dignity. Pink, indeed!" He scoffed, his nose wrinkling in disdain. "Do I look like someone who would wear pink?"

You stepped closer to him, your laughter subsiding as you held the shirt up to his chest again, your eyes meeting his with a mixture of challenge and affection. "You might be surprised," you teased, your voice softening slightly as you gave him a knowing smile. "Besides, I think you’d look quite handsome in it. It’s just for fun, Sev. No one’s going to see you."

Snape stared down at you, his expression unreadable as he contemplated your words. There was a long moment of silence as the two of you stood there, the bright pink shirt still held between you, an unspoken battle of wills playing out in the air.

Finally, with a resigned sigh that seemed to come from the very depths of his soul, Snape snatched the shirt from your hands, his dark eyes glaring at you with a mixture of frustration and reluctant acceptance. "Fine," he muttered, his voice low and gravelly. "But if I look ridiculous, I will hold you personally responsible."

You grinned, practically bouncing on your toes with excitement as you watched him disappear into the dressing room. "I’m sure you’ll look fantastic," you called after him, unable to keep the amusement out of your voice.

Several minutes passed, and you waited impatiently outside the dressing room, practically buzzing with anticipation. Finally, the door creaked open, and Snape stepped out, his tall, lean frame draped in the bright pink shirt you had chosen for him.

For a moment, you were stunned into silence. The shirt, against all odds, actually looked… good on him. The color, while a far cry from his usual black, brought out a warmth in his pale complexion that you hadn’t noticed before. The way the fabric clung to his lean form was surprisingly flattering, highlighting the sharp lines of his shoulders and chest.

But what really struck you was the expression on Snape’s face. He looked utterly resigned, as if he were bracing himself for some inevitable disaster, but there was also a glimmer of something else in his dark eyes—something that almost looked like amusement.

He stood there, his arms hanging stiffly at his sides, and then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he clapped his hands together, his expression deadpan as he waited for your reaction. "Well?" he drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Are you satisfied with your handiwork, or do I need to suffer through more of this torture?"

You couldn’t help it. You burst into laughter, the sound bright and joyful as you clapped your hands together in delight. "You look… amazing, Severus!" you exclaimed, your eyes sparkling with amusement as you stepped closer to him, reaching out to smooth the fabric of the shirt against his chest. "I knew you’d look good in pink!"

Snape rolled his eyes, though there was a faint twitch at the corner of his lips that betrayed his own amusement. "I look like an idiot," he muttered, though the words lacked any real heat. "This is precisely why I do not allow you to choose my clothing."

You grinned up at him, your hands resting on his chest as you met his gaze with a playful glint in your eyes. "Well, I think you look quite handsome," you said, your voice filled with affection. "And besides, it’s good to have a little fun every now and then, don’t you think?"

Snape huffed, clearly unconvinced, but there was a softness in his gaze that hadn’t been there before—a subtle acknowledgment of the fact that, despite his grumbling, he didn’t entirely hate the experience.

"Fun," he repeated, his voice laced with irony as he gave you a pointed look. "Yes, well, I suppose if nothing else, I’ve provided you with some amusement."

You chuckled, your eyes twinkling as you leaned up to press a quick kiss to his cheek. "You always do, Severus. You always do."

And as you both left the boutique, Snape still wearing the pink shirt with a mixture of resignation and reluctant acceptance, you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of contentment. The man who had once been shrouded in darkness, who had built walls around himself so high that no one could penetrate them, was slowly letting you in—one bright pink shirt at a time.

Later that day, after the unexpected and rather amusing shopping trip, you found yourself back at Snape’s home. The small, dimly lit rooms of Spinner’s End were a stark contrast to the bright, colorful boutique you had dragged him to earlier, but there was a certain comfort in the familiarity of the old, worn furniture and the quiet, almost melancholic atmosphere that seemed to permeate every corner of the house.

Snape, now mercifully back in his usual black attire, sat stiffly on a low stool in the bathroom, his long legs awkwardly folded in front of him, as you fussed over his hair. The small, narrow room was filled with the scent of shampoo and the faint sound of water dripping from the faucet, the only noises breaking the otherwise heavy silence.

You stood behind him, your fingers working through the tangled strands of his long, greasy black hair, your touch gentle but insistent. The hair-washing had been your idea, of course—a suggestion made with the kind of playful insistence that you knew Snape could never fully resist, no matter how much he pretended otherwise.

Snape, for his part, was doing his best to endure the ordeal with what little dignity he had left. His dark eyes were narrowed in a mixture of discomfort and irritation as he glared at his reflection in the small mirror above the sink, his lips pressed into a thin line of discontent. Every so often, he would let out a low grumble, the sound vibrating deep in his chest as he shifted uncomfortably on the stool.

"Must you continue this charade?" he muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he shot you a sideways glance in the mirror. "I’m quite capable of washing my own hair, you know."

You ignored his complaints, your fingers continuing to work through the soapy strands of his hair with determined care. "Oh, hush, Severus," you replied, your tone light and teasing as you gently massaged his scalp. "You’re just being grumpy because you know I’m right—this hair needs a good washing, and you weren’t about to do it yourself."

Snape let out an indignant huff, his fingers curling tightly around the edge of the sink as he tried to maintain some semblance of control over the situation. "I hardly think you’re qualified to make such judgments," he retorted, though the faint hint of amusement in his tone betrayed his true feelings. "And you’re taking entirely too much pleasure in this."

You chuckled softly, your eyes twinkling with mischief as you leaned down to press a quick, playful kiss to the top of his head. "Of course I am," you admitted, your voice filled with affection as you continued to run your fingers through his hair. "When else do I get the chance to pamper you like this?"

Snape rolled his eyes, though the gesture lacked any real heat. "Pamper," he repeated, his voice laced with irony as he met your gaze in the mirror. "If this is what you consider pampering, then I shudder to think what you would consider torture."

You grinned, your hands still working methodically through his hair, carefully untangling each knot with the patience of someone who had come to know him well enough to not be intimidated by his gruff demeanor. "Oh, Sev," you teased, your voice soft and affectionate, "I think you secretly enjoy this more than you let on. You just don’t want to admit it."

He scoffed, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as he turned his head to glare at you, though there was no real malice in his gaze. "I assure you, I derive no enjoyment from being subjected to this… this—"

"Indulgence?" you supplied, your tone light and playful as you met his glare with a knowing smile.

"Humiliation," Snape corrected, his voice heavy with sarcasm as he turned his attention back to the mirror, his expression once again settling into its usual stoic mask. "But by all means, continue with your… indulgence."

You shook your head, your grin widening as you continued to work through his hair, the strands slowly becoming less tangled, less greasy under your careful ministrations. "You’re impossible," you muttered, though there was no real heat behind the words. "But that’s part of your charm, I suppose."

Snape’s only response was a low, noncommittal grunt, his fingers tapping impatiently against the edge of the sink as he tried to maintain his patience.

After a few more minutes of combing through his hair, you finally felt satisfied with your work. You reached for a clean towel, gently wrapping it around his head as you began to dry the now-clean strands with a firm but gentle touch. "There, all done," you said, your voice filled with a quiet satisfaction as you stepped back to admire your handiwork.

Snape, however, was less than impressed. He reached up, his long fingers brushing through his now-damp hair with a frown, as if expecting to find some glaring imperfection. "Are you quite finished?" he asked, his tone a mixture of irritation and resignation as he glanced at you in the mirror.

"Not quite," you replied, your eyes catching sight of a single strand of white hair near the crown of his head. Your expression shifted from playful to curious as you reached out to touch the strand, gently pulling it free from the rest of his hair.

"Sev," you said, your voice filled with a mixture of surprise and amusement as you held up the white hair for him to see. "Look what I found."

Snape’s eyes narrowed as he glanced at the strand in your hand, his expression immediately hardening. "That is not mine," he stated flatly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "It must have gotten mixed in with my hair somehow."

You couldn’t help but laugh at his stubborn denial, your eyes sparkling with amusement as you dangled the strand in front of him. "Oh, come on, Sev," you teased, your voice light and playful as you met his glare with a grin. "It’s just one white hair. It’s nothing to be ashamed of."

Snape’s lips pressed into a thin line, his dark eyes narrowing further as he snatched the strand from your hand, his expression one of absolute refusal. "It is not mine," he repeated, his voice filled with the kind of certainty that only Severus Snape could muster. "I do not have white hair."

You rolled your eyes, clearly amused by his adamant refusal to accept the truth. "You’re impossible," you muttered, shaking your head as you watched him carefully inspect the strand of hair, as if trying to find some evidence to support his claim.

"Impossible or not," Snape replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he tossed the strand of hair into the waste bin with a flick of his wrist, "I refuse to believe that I am… aging."

You chuckled softly, reaching out to gently cup his cheek, your thumb brushing against the sharp line of his jaw as you looked up at him with a mixture of affection and amusement. "Everyone ages, Sev," you said softly, your voice filled with warmth as you met his gaze. "Even you."

Snape’s expression softened slightly at your words, though he still seemed reluctant to accept the truth. "Perhaps," he muttered, his voice low and gruff as he glanced away, his dark eyes flickering with an emotion you couldn’t quite place.

You smiled, your heart swelling with affection for the man who had become so important to you, despite his stubbornness, despite his gruff exterior. "It’s nothing to worry about," you assured him, your voice soft and reassuring as you leaned in to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. "I think it just makes you more distinguished."

Snape let out a low, skeptical grunt, his lips curving into a faint, reluctant smile as he met your gaze once more. "Distinguished," he repeated, his tone filled with a mixture of irony and amusement. "Is that what you call it?"

You grinned, your eyes twinkling with mischief as you nodded. "Absolutely," you replied, your voice filled with playful conviction. "And besides, it’s just one hair. You’ve got plenty of time before you have to worry about going gray."

Snape rolled his eyes, clearly unconvinced by your reassurances, but he didn’t argue further. Instead, he allowed himself to relax into your touch, his long fingers wrapping around your wrist as he pulled you closer, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as he looked down at you with a mixture of desire and frustration.

"You’re entirely too pleased with yourself," he murmured, his voice low and rough as he brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his touch lingering on your skin.

You felt a shiver run down your spine at the intensity of his gaze, your heart quickening as you looked up at him, your breath catching in your throat. "And you’re entirely too grumpy," you retorted, though your voice trembled slightly as you spoke, the playful banter giving way to a sudden, undeniable tension that crackled in the air between you.

Snape’s lips curved into a small, dangerous smile, his eyes darkening with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. "Perhaps," he murmured, his voice dropping to a low, seductive growl as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear, "you need to be reminded of why you shouldn’t push me too far."

Your breath hitched at the underlying threat in his tone, a thrill of fear and excitement coursing through you as his fingers tightened around your wrist, pulling you closer until your bodies were pressed together. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the steady, insistent pressure of his arousal against your thigh, and it sent a jolt of desire straight to your core.

"Severus," you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of anticipation and fear as you looked up at him, your eyes wide and uncertain.

He met your gaze, his expression softening slightly as he sensed your hesitation, the dark intensity in his eyes giving way to a quiet, almost tender concern. "You’re still afraid," he murmured, his voice low and rough with barely restrained desire as he brushed his lips against your temple, the gentle gesture at odds with the possessive grip he had on your wrist. "You don’t have to be, love."

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest as you felt the weight of his words, the quiet reassurance in his voice making your resolve waver. "I know," you whispered, your voice barely audible as you looked up at him, your eyes searching his for any sign of doubt, of hesitation.

But there was none. Only the dark, smoldering intensity of a man who wanted you—body, heart, and soul.

"I want this," you said, your voice trembling slightly as you spoke the words that had been on the tip of your tongue for so long, the words that you had been too afraid to say. "I want you, Sev."

A low growl rumbled deep in his chest at your admission, his dark eyes flashing with a mixture of desire and satisfaction as he leaned down to capture your lips in a fierce, hungry kiss. His hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth with a possessive urgency that made your knees weak.

You responded eagerly, your hands tangling in his damp hair as you pressed yourself against him, the fear and hesitation that had held you back for so long melting away in the heat of his embrace. There was no room for doubt, no room for fear—only the overwhelming need to be with him, to feel him, to lose yourself in the pleasure that he offered.

Snape’s hands moved with a sure, practiced grace as he deftly unbuttoned your blouse, his fingers brushing against your skin as he pushed the fabric aside, revealing the smooth, pale expanse of your chest. He let out a low, appreciative groan as he took in the sight of you, his eyes darkening with desire as he reached up to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples with a feather-light touch that sent shivers down your spine.

"You’re so beautiful," he murmured, his voice rough with barely restrained desire as he leaned down to press a soft, lingering kiss to the hollow of your throat, his hands moving to your waist as he slowly began to guide you toward the bed. "I’ve wanted this for so long… wanted you for so long."

You let out a soft moan at the feel of his lips against your skin, your heart pounding in your chest as you allowed him to lead you, your legs trembling with anticipation as you felt the edge of the bed against the back of your knees. "Sev," you whispered, your voice filled with a mixture of desire and uncertainty as you looked up at him, your eyes wide and vulnerable.

He met your gaze, his expression softening slightly as he sensed your lingering hesitation, his hands moving to cup your face as he leaned down to press a gentle, reassuring kiss to your lips. "You don’t have to be afraid," he murmured, his voice low and soothing as he brushed his thumbs against your cheeks, his dark eyes filled with a quiet, tender concern. "I’ll be gentle, love. I promise."

You nodded, your heart swelling with affection for the man who had been so patient, so understanding, even as his own desire threatened to consume him. "I trust you," you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion as you leaned into his touch, your eyes closing as you savored the warmth of his hands against your skin.

Snape let out a low, relieved sigh at your words, his lips curving into a small, tender smile as he pressed another kiss to your forehead, his hands moving to gently guide you onto the bed. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice filled with a quiet, sincere gratitude as he leaned over you, his dark eyes never leaving yours as he slowly began to undress you, his fingers brushing against your skin with a reverent care that made your heart ache.

There was no rush, no urgency—only the slow, deliberate movements of a man who wanted to savor every moment, every touch, every kiss. And as he finally stripped away the last of your clothing, leaving you bare and vulnerable beneath him, you felt a sense of peace settle over you, the fear and uncertainty that had plagued you for so long fading into the background as you lost yourself in the warmth of his embrace.

Snape took his time, his hands and lips exploring every inch of your body with a slow, deliberate care that made your breath hitch in your throat, the pleasure building with every touch, every caress. He was patient, attentive, always watching, always listening for any sign of discomfort, of hesitation, ready to stop at a moment’s notice if you so much as whispered a word of doubt.

But you gave him none. Only soft, breathless moans and whispered pleas for more, your body arching into his touch as he slowly, gently, brought you to the edge of pleasure, only to pull back, teasing you with the promise of release before finally, mercifully, giving you what you craved.

When he finally entered you, it was with a slow, deliberate thrust, his hands gripping your hips as he filled you completely, the sensation both overwhelming and exquisitely perfect. You let out a soft cry, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you clung to him, your body trembling with the intensity of the pleasure that surged through you.

"Sev," you moaned, your voice trembling with a mixture of desire and relief as you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer as he began to move, his thrusts slow and measured, each one sending waves of pleasure crashing through you.

He let out a low, guttural groan at the sound of his name on your lips, his hands tightening on your hips as he quickened his pace, the intensity of his movements matched only by the fierce, possessive hunger in his eyes as he looked down at you, his expression one of absolute, unbridled need.

"You’re mine," he growled, his voice rough with desire as he leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, his hips driving into you with a desperate urgency that made your breath hitch in your throat. "Mine, love. Always."

You could only moan in response, your mind too clouded with pleasure to form coherent words as you lost yourself in the sensation of him moving inside you, the steady, insistent rhythm of his thrusts sending you spiraling closer and closer to the edge of release.

And then, with a final, powerful thrust, he pushed you over the edge, your body convulsing around him as you cried out in pleasure, your fingers digging into his back as you clung to him, the intensity of your orgasm leaving you breathless, trembling, and utterly spent.

Snape continued moving inside you, his thrusts becoming more erratic as the intensity of his own pleasure grew, his control slipping with each passing second. His dark eyes, usually so guarded and inscrutable, were now clouded with raw desire as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear, his breath hot and ragged.

“Where do you want it?” he asked, his voice a strained whisper, rough with the effort to hold back. There was a note of desperation in his tone, a plea for your permission, your acceptance, as he teetered on the edge of release.

Your mind was a haze of pleasure, your body still trembling from the powerful orgasm he had just coaxed from you. His question hung in the air, charged with the weight of what it would mean—for him to finally claim you, to mark you as his.

“In me,” you breathed, your voice barely audible, but there was no mistaking the conviction in your words. “Cum inside me, Severus.”

A low, guttural curse escaped his lips, a rare crack in his usually controlled demeanor, as he buried himself to the hilt with a final, powerful thrust. The sensation of his thick length pulsing deep inside you sent a shudder through your body, your nails digging into his shoulders as you clung to him, holding him close as he found his release.

He came hard, his entire body tensing as he spilled himself inside you, his grip on your hips almost bruising as he held you in place, ensuring that every last drop was buried deep within you. His breath came in short, ragged gasps, mingling with the soft, desperate moans that escaped his lips as he rode out the waves of his orgasm, the intensity of it nearly overwhelming him.

“Mine,” he growled through clenched teeth, his voice rough with satisfaction as he pressed a bruising kiss to your lips, his body trembling with the aftershocks of his release. “You’re mine, love… all mine.”

You could only nod weakly, your body spent, your mind still reeling from the force of your own climax. The weight of his words, the possessiveness in his tone, sent a thrill through you, even as exhaustion began to creep in, your limbs heavy and languid as you lay beneath him.

Snape slowly pulled out of you, a low, satisfied groan rumbling in his chest as he watched the evidence of his claim slowly begin to seep from your body. He couldn’t tear his eyes away, the sight stirring something deep within him—something primal, possessive, and utterly inescapable.

But before you could fully process what was happening, Snape surprised you by shifting lower, his long, lean frame sliding down the bed until his face was level with your still-sensitive core. Your eyes widened in shock as you realized what he intended, a soft gasp escaping your lips as his hands gripped your thighs, spreading them wide to make room for himself.

“Sev—” you began, your voice trembling with a mixture of surprise and lingering sensitivity, but he silenced you with a look, his dark eyes glinting with a hunger that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Be still,” he commanded softly, his voice a low, dangerous growl as he lowered his head, his lips brushing against your inner thigh in a feather-light caress. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

You whimpered softly, your body trembling as he moved closer, his breath hot against your already oversensitive skin. You could feel the warmth of his breath ghosting over your most intimate areas, the sensation sending jolts of pleasure and discomfort through your body in equal measure.

“Severus, please,” you pleaded, your voice weak and breathy as you tried to squirm away, the overwhelming sensitivity making you want to pull back, to escape the onslaught of sensations that were too much, too intense.

But Snape would have none of it. His grip on your thighs tightened, holding you firmly in place as he buried his face between your legs, his lips and tongue seeking out the remnants of his own release mixed with your essence. The feel of his mouth on you, the deliberate, almost reverent way he cleaned you, was both too much and not enough, your mind spinning with the intensity of it all.

“Stay still,” he murmured against your skin, his voice a rough whisper as he continued his ministrations, his tongue lapping at you with slow, deliberate strokes that sent shivers of pleasure racing up your spine. “Let me taste you… let me taste what’s mine.”

You gasped, your fingers curling into the sheets as you fought against the urge to pull away, the overwhelming sensitivity making every touch feel like both pleasure and torture. Your body jerked involuntarily, but Snape only tightened his grip, holding you steady as he continued to work his mouth against you, his dark eyes flicking up to watch your every reaction.

He loved this—loved the way you trembled beneath him, the way your body responded to his touch even when it was too much, too intense. He loved the way your breath hitched in your throat, the way your nails dug into the sheets as you fought to keep still, to endure the overwhelming pleasure he was giving you.

“You’re so sensitive,” he murmured against your skin, his voice filled with dark satisfaction as he continued to lap at you, his tongue flicking against your clit in a way that made you cry out, your body convulsing beneath him. “So perfect… so responsive… I could do this forever.”

You couldn’t respond, your mind too clouded with pleasure, your body too wracked with sensation to form coherent words. All you could do was cling to the sheets, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps as Snape continued to work his mouth against you, his tongue relentless in its pursuit of every last drop of your combined release.

“Sev, please… it’s too much,” you whimpered, your voice trembling with a mixture of desperation and need as you tried to pull away, your body on the verge of another climax, the overstimulation sending jolts of pleasure and pain through you in equal measure.

But Snape didn’t let up. If anything, your pleas only seemed to spur him on, his mouth working you with renewed fervor, his hands tightening on your thighs as he held you in place, refusing to let you escape the overwhelming pleasure he was giving you.

“You can take it,” he growled against your skin, his voice filled with a dark, possessive hunger as he drove you closer and closer to the edge. “You’re mine, love… every part of you. I’ll make you cum again… I’ll make you remember who you belong to.”

His words were your undoing. With a final, desperate cry, your body convulsed beneath him, your second orgasm crashing over you with a force that left you breathless, trembling, and utterly spent. Snape held you through it, his mouth never leaving you, his tongue continuing to lap at you even as your body trembled with the aftershocks of your release.

When you finally came down from the high, your body limp and exhausted, Snape slowly pulled away, his dark eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he watched you, his lips curving into a small, dangerous smile.

“Perfect,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with a dark, possessive satisfaction as he leaned down to press a soft, lingering kiss to your trembling thigh. “You’re absolutely perfect.”

You could only nod weakly, your mind clouded by exhaustion and the overwhelming pleasure that had just coursed through you. Every muscle in your body felt heavy, spent, and as you lay there, trying to catch your breath, the reality of what had just transpired began to sink in. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, your heart still pounding in your ears, as you waited for the inevitable.

You braced yourself for the cold distance that you had come to expect from your past—waiting for him to pull away, to turn his back on you, to push you away with a dismissive order, just like your ex-boyfriend used to do. The old fears began to creep back in, threatening to ruin the quiet afterglow that had settled over the room.

But Severus didn’t do that.

Instead, he surprised you. The bed shifted under his weight as he climbed in beside you, and before you could even process what was happening, he gently wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close against his chest. His embrace was firm but comforting, his long, lean body molding perfectly to yours as he held you, his breath warm against your temple.

“Did you like it?” he asked quietly, his deep, monotone voice soft, almost hesitant, as if he were unsure of the answer. His hand came up to stroke your hair, his touch gentle and careful, as if he were afraid of overwhelming you further. You could feel his lips brush against your forehead in a tender kiss, a gesture that was so unexpected, so out of character, that it nearly brought tears to your eyes.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat. You couldn’t speak, couldn’t find the voice to tell him how much his gentleness meant to you, how much his care and concern had touched you. Instead, all you could do was lay there in his arms, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear.

When you didn’t respond immediately, Severus tensed slightly, his grip on you loosening as if he feared he had done something wrong. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice filled with quiet regret. “If I was too much… if I pressured you… that was never my intention.”

The sincerity in his words, the genuine worry that laced his tone, sent a wave of emotion crashing over you. Tears welled up in your eyes, and you had to blink rapidly to keep them from falling. The care he was showing you, the way he was so attuned to your feelings, was something you weren’t used to. Your ex-boyfriend had never asked if you were okay, never checked if you were comfortable or happy. But here was Severus, a man who had every reason to be distant and cold, holding you with such tenderness, such concern, that it made your heart ache.

You turned your head slightly, looking up at him through tear-blurred eyes. His dark gaze met yours, and you could see the worry etched into his sharp features, the way his brow furrowed as he waited for your response. He was genuinely concerned for you, genuinely worried that he had done something to hurt you, and the realization was almost too much to bear.

“I…” you began, your voice trembling as you tried to find the right words, but all you could manage was a soft, choked sob as the tears finally spilled over, trailing down your cheeks. “Severus, I… I’ve never…”

You couldn’t finish the sentence, couldn’t find a way to explain the depth of what you were feeling. But Severus seemed to understand. His expression softened, and he gently wiped the tears from your cheeks with the pad of his thumb, his touch so gentle, so reverent, that it only made you cry harder.

“Shh,” he murmured, his voice soothing as he pressed another kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin. “It’s all right, love. You don’t have to say anything. Just know that I’m here… and I’m not going anywhere.”

The reassurance in his words, the quiet promise that he would stay, that he wouldn’t push you away, was more than you could have ever hoped for. You buried your face in his chest, your tears soaking into the fabric of his shirt as you clung to him, your arms wrapping around his waist in a desperate attempt to hold onto this moment, to hold onto the safety and comfort he was offering you.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice muffled against his chest as you tried to control the sobs that threatened to overwhelm you. “I’m sorry for crying… I just… I’m not used to this. To someone caring.”

Severus tightened his hold on you, his hand moving to the back of your head, cradling you against him as he whispered, “You never have to apologize for your feelings, not with me. And you deserve to be cared for, love. You deserve to be treated with kindness… with respect.”

The words sent another wave of emotion crashing over you, and you couldn’t hold back the sobs that shook your body, the raw, unfiltered emotion spilling out of you as you finally allowed yourself to feel the depth of what you had been holding back for so long. Severus held you through it all, his arms wrapped around you, his hand gently stroking your hair as he murmured soft words of comfort, his deep voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves.

When the sobs finally subsided, leaving you exhausted and drained, you pulled back slightly, looking up at Severus through tear-streaked eyes. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice hoarse from crying. “Thank you for… for being so kind. For caring.”

Severus gazed down at you, his dark eyes filled with a warmth that took your breath away. “I care about you more than you know,” he said softly, his voice rough with emotion as he brushed a strand of hair away from your face. “And I will always care. You’re safe with me… always.”

You nodded, unable to find the words to express how much his reassurance meant to you, how much his presence in your life had changed everything. Instead, you simply leaned up and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his lips, pouring all of your gratitude, all of your affection, into that one, simple gesture.

Severus returned the kiss with a tenderness that made your heart swell, his hand coming up to cup the back of your head as he deepened the kiss, his lips moving against yours with a slow, deliberate care that made you feel cherished, adored.

When the kiss finally ended, Severus rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your lips as he whispered, “You’re incredible, love. So strong… so beautiful. And I’m honored that you’ve allowed me to be a part of your life.”

The sincerity in his voice, the way he spoke those words as if he truly believed them, made your chest tighten with emotion. No one had ever spoken to you like this before, had ever made you feel so valued, so loved.

“Severus,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion as you looked up at him, your eyes shining with tears. “I… I love you.”

For a moment, Severus didn’t respond. His dark eyes searched yours, as if trying to discern the truth in your words, and when he finally spoke, his voice was filled with a quiet, almost reverent awe. “You love me?”

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest as you repeated the words, letting them hang in the air between you. “I love you, Severus. I’ve loved you for a long time.”

Severus closed his eyes, a soft, shaky breath escaping his lips as he let the words sink in. When he opened his eyes again, there was a vulnerability in his gaze that took your breath away, a raw, unguarded emotion that he had never allowed you to see before.

“I love you too,” he whispered, his voice filled with a quiet, almost desperate sincerity. “More than I ever thought possible.”

The words were like a balm to your soul, soothing the wounds left by your past, filling the empty spaces in your heart with a warmth that you had never known before. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close as you buried your face in his chest, the sound of his heartbeat steady and strong beneath your ear.

And as Severus held you close, his arms wrapped around you in a protective, comforting embrace, you knew that this was where you were meant to be. In his arms, in his heart, in his life. And for the first time in a long time, you felt truly, deeply loved.

#alan rickman x reader #alan rickman #severus snape x reader #severus snape #harry potter

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catcze · 1 year ago

Note

thinking ab the way wriothesley would cry so hard the first time you hug him ... he has never felt comfort in his life and i stand by that 😿

Wait;;; :((( oh wait ur right :((( [also side note i feel like this takes place a little bit after he became the administrator, before he got his title. Hence why he's not as blase about the shit he's gone thru in the same way that he is in his story quest. ]

"Can I give you a hug?" You ask him out of the blue, and Wriothesley stills at his desk.

He's not sure what's brought this on— hell, you're not even sure what's brought this on, but you figure there's no harm asking.

"I—" The word gets caught in his throat, and his brows furrow in contemplation. One of his hands goes to scratch at the back of his neck, and against all odds, he actually looks a little nervous. "I cen't recall the last time I had a hug. Probably was—"

Probably was when he was still with his foster parents.

The unspoken thought hangs between the both of you, dampening the mood slightly as you realize that all those memories of warm hugs have long since soured for him. Wriothesley quickly clears his throat.

'But if you're offering... well, I don't see why not."

Delighted, you instruct him to stand, and quickly make your way in front of him. You're a little nervous now too, all too aware of how messed up his foster parents were. Aware of how messed up his young adult years were, growing up in an environment where he had to fight for his survival. All you could offer him right now was a hug, but at the very least you hope that he could hold onto it as a good memory.

"Go right ahead, Sweetheart," Wriothesley says, opening his arms wide.

You waste no time in wrapping him up in your embrace— your arms snake around his torso, crushing your chests together. This close, you can feel the quick beat of his heart, warm and rapid and alive in his chest. Your hands go to his back, one of them rubbing soothing circles into the planes there, while the other gently guides his head to rest on your shoulder. Thankfully, he poses practically no resistance to you, letting you guide his body around you with ease.

His arms wrap around you in turn. Tentatively, as if he's scared of shattering you in his hold. Or perhaps he fears the reverse.

Wriothesley's hands settle on your waist, keeping you snug against him. With each circle you rub on his back, each gentle scratch you give to his scalp, his grip tightens bit by bit.

You pour out every single ounce of love you can into the hug. Every warm thought you have of this scarred man in your arms, every adoring thing you can think about to comfort him. You hold him close in a hug that is neither too loose but is not chokin. A hug that is just enough, as if you mean to mend together those invisible wounds that he still carries.

The hug goes on longer than socially acceptable, but neither of you find it in you to care. Wriothesley is practically boneless in your hold, leaning a large portion of his weight against you. He's quietly hugging you back, face buried in your shoulder, trembling just the slightest bit with every comforting scratch or pat or circle you draw on his skin. Wriothesley does not shake, he does not fall. He doesn't let a single noise escape him, save for a single shuddering breath that you feel from his chest.

You let him bury himself in your hold for as long as he wants and as long as he needs. You'll embrace him for as long as he needs, to make up for all the lonely years he's spent without a single hug.

And if you feel a dampness on the shoulder of your shirt, then you promise you won't tell anyone.

[ #Taglist registration here !! ]

#astronetwrk #「 🐈‍⬛ 」 catcze.desserts #wriothesley x reader #genshin impact x reader #cw gn reader #genshin impact #wriothesley

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luvvictoria · 8 days ago

Text

The Almost Confession

+ pairings. simon "ghost" riley x f!reader

+ tags. romance, heavy (?) angst, slow-burn, action-packed military romance with angst and tension, Soft Ghost™ Moments

+ summary. In the midst of a brutal explosion during a high-stakes mission, Ghost fights through chaos to save his wounded companion. As red alarms and enemy fire blur the line between life and death, he clings to the fragile hope of survival. In that raw, emotionally charged moment, Ghost’s unwavering determination is intertwined with a nearly spoken confession of deep, unyielding love—a silent promise to always fight for the one he holds dear, even in the heart of war.

+ materialist ; prev. part ; next part.

+ a/n. yeah, Idk why this story doesn't make any sense to me at all anymore, it's like I'm just throwing out chapters that don't really add up with each other omg

It was supposed to be an easy mission — a quick in and out, just another day on the edge of chaos. The briefing had been concise: a low-altitude insertion, a secure extraction point, nothing more than a fleeting dance with danger. The team had boarded the aging transport plane with a mixture of routine confidence and nervous energy. The engine’s steady hum was a lullaby for seasoned soldiers, each lost in thoughts of home or the promise of another safe return.

But fate, as it often does, had other plans.

The moment you stepped out of the plane, the mission's script unraveled. The aircraft had shuddered violently mid-flight — an unexpected drop, a cascade of red emergency lights bathing the cabin in an ominous glow. Red alarms blared like desperate cries, filling the cramped space with the sound of impending doom. In that heartbeat, every instinct screamed to brace for impact. The plane plummeted, a metal beast spiraling towards a chaotic destiny, scattering debris like confetti against a backdrop of crimson warning.

Then, in the blink of an eye, the world exploded into a nightmare.

The explosion ripped through the silence like a scream in the void. Shrapnel and fire danced in the air, their movements wild and uncontrollable, as chaos reigned around you. The ground, once a distant memory, now became a harsh reality. You were caught in the epicenter of devastation, your body thrown into a maelstrom of burning air and jagged fragments. Dust choked your lungs, mingling with the acrid scent of smoke, and every breath was a battle against the sting of searing heat and raw adrenaline.

In that moment of utter disarray, everything was painted in shades of red — red alarms, red flashes from the explosion, red the color of blood and burning embers swirling around the scorched earth. The world seemed to pulse with an intense, almost surreal, sense of urgency and dread, as if every heartbeat echoed the terror of the unfolding disaster.

Through the cacophony of destruction, Ghost — always the calm in the storm — moved faster than his own thoughts. His eyes, sharp and unyielding beneath the weight of responsibility, were fixed on you as he navigated through the chaos. One second, you were marching in formation with your team, your faces set with determination and camaraderie; the next, you were sprawled on the fractured earth, your body overwhelmed by the jarring collision of pain and disbelief. Coughing violently, you struggled to make sense of the blurred, nightmarish scene, where memories of calm routine collided with the brutal reality of shattered metal and burning skies.

In that raw, unfiltered moment, the stark contrast between duty and vulnerability, between the planned mission and the chaotic rebellion of fate, was laid bare. The red alarms still echoed in your ears, a relentless reminder that in war, even the simplest of plans could be torn apart by the cruel hand of destiny. And amid the relentless barrage of sensory overload, you felt the weight of every heartbeat — a silent plea that somehow, against all odds, you might survive to tell the tale.

Through the haze of war and the metallic tang of blood, Ghost was at your side — a steadfast beacon amid the chaos. The mission had begun with a calculated calm. You and your team had boarded an aging transport plane at dawn, the pre-dawn chill clinging to your uniforms as you prepared for a quick in-and-out operation behind enemy lines. The hum of the engines and the reassuring murmur of your comrades had been a lullaby to your nerves. But fate, as it so often does in war, had other plans.

Mid-flight, the unexpected shattered your fragile calm. Without warning, the aircraft shuddered violently, and red alarms erupted in a chorus of urgency, painting every surface in an eerie crimson glow. The cabin lights flickered as the emergency system took over, its insistent beeps echoing like a death knell. In that moment, panic took root. The plane lurched downward, its metal frame groaning under the relentless assault of gravity and malfunctioning controls. You clutched your gear tighter, the promise of a smooth mission disintegrating into chaos.

The world turned into a kaleidoscope of terror as the transport began its rapid descent. Outside the fractured windows, the landscape blurred into streaks of fire and debris. Then came the deafening impact — a collision of shattered hopes and twisted metal. Amid the cacophony, an explosion erupted, the force of which scattered you and your team like leaves in a violent storm. In that instant, the explosion’s searing heat and jagged shrapnel transformed the world into a burning, scarlet nightmare.

And there, in that maelstrom of red and ruin, Ghost moved with preternatural speed. He fought his way through the chaos, his eyes fierce with determination and a deeper, unspoken resolve. As you lay dazed on the scorched earth, coughing through the dust and the acrid sting of smoke, he knelt beside you. His face, illuminated by the flickering light of distant fires, was etched with a mixture of relentless focus and raw, unfiltered emotion.

“Stay with me, love,” he murmured, his voice a trembling lifeline amid the relentless roar of battle. His hand, steady despite the pandemonium, pressed against your side. He felt the rapid pulse of your fading warmth — a delicate rhythm punctuated by the scarlet seep of blood through your gear. Every beat of his own heart thudded like a drum of war — a rhythm of fear, hope, and raw, unyielding emotion.

“Look at me,” he urged, his tone both commanding and desperate. Each syllable was laden with the weight of everything unsaid, every battle fought and every loss endured. “Look at me, dammit.” His voice cracked, vulnerable yet defiant, as though he were willing the cruel tide of fate to bend just for a moment.

In that moment, the red alarms and the blood-streaked world around you blurred into insignificance. All that remained was the fierce, pleading look in his eyes — a silent promise that even as the world burned in hues of despair and violence, he would never let go. The memories of the calm before the storm — the steady hum of the plane, the brief hope in routine — clashed with the raw immediacy of shattered metal and blazing skies. And through it all, Ghost’s unwavering presence was a beacon, a fragile promise that life, no matter how brutally tested, was worth fighting for.

In the midst of the carnage — the deafening whir of enemy fire mingling with the relentless, echoing march of boots over shattered ground — you finally managed to force your eyes open. The pain was excruciating, every nerve a live wire, each breath a symphony of agony conducted by a war that knew no mercy. Through the haze of smoke and debris, your vision locked onto him. There he was: a man who donned his duty like a suit of armor, every line on his face a testament to battles fought and sacrifices made, yet behind that steadfast gaze lay scars that no uniform could ever conceal.

A bitter laugh, rough and desperate, tore itself from your cracked lips even as your body convulsed with another painful cough. “Didn’t know you cared so much, Riley,” you rasped, each syllable dripping with disbelief and defiant irony. It was as if the pain itself was a cruel reminder of the fragile balance between life and death.

For a heartbeat, Ghost’s steely gaze softened — a fleeting crack in the hardened facade of a soldier who had weathered countless storms. “You have no idea,” he replied, his voice a low murmur that hung between you like a forbidden secret in the thick, acrid air. His eyes, glistening with unshed tears and a sorrow that rivaled the devastation surrounding you, mirrored the wreckage of the battlefield. In that suspended moment, even the thunderous roar of artillery, the anguished cries of the wounded, and the distant, relentless echoes of enemy fire faded into a mournful silence.

Time itself seemed to slow as the weight of countless unsaid words pressed down on him. Years spent waging wars — not only on distant, hostile battlefields but also in the hidden recesses of his guarded heart—had gradually chipped away at the formidable walls he had built around himself. Every mission, every loss, had left an indelible mark on his soul. And now, as he hovered over you, his hand trembling as it fought to keep you tethered to life, he teetered on the precipice of revealing the truth he had fought so hard to suppress.

In the dying light of the conflict, with the haunting shadows of fallen comrades and the specters of past missions swirling like mournful phantoms around him, Ghost’s voice caught on the edge of confession. The words he almost let slip — words that would have shattered the carefully constructed façade of indifference — hovered in the air, fragile as a whispered prayer. “I can’t lose you... not now,” he thought, a confession woven with threads of agony and hope, nearly free yet ultimately swallowed by the all-consuming chaos.

But fate, in its cruel precision, had other plans. With the sudden urgency of a final act, the medics burst onto the scene—a whirlwind of hope and despair, their voices sharp against the backdrop of war. They swept you away with practiced urgency, their faces etched with the grim determination of a brotherhood forged in the crucible of battle. And just like that, as your battered body was carried off to the uncertain refuge of safety, the almost confession remained suspended in the air—a secret buried beneath layers of duty, searing pain, and the relentless, unyielding tide of conflict.

As the echoes of the explosion gradually faded into the obsidian night, Ghost remained behind on the battlefield, his eyes fixed on the exact spot where you had lain. The sadness in his gaze was profound, as deep and unyielding as the wounds carved into the very earth—a silent promise that he would carry the weight of his unspoken love, his undying grief, and the harsh realization that some battles were fought not just on open fields, but within the soul itself.

In that fractured, solitary moment, surrounded by the remnants of what was meant to be a simple mission, Ghost vowed silently to himself. No matter how many explosions would tear through their lives or how many secrets would remain locked away in the silence between heartbeats, he would always fight for you. Even if it meant facing down his own inner demons, he would battle on, fueled by the hope that one day, in the quiet moments between the screams of war, that almost confession would finally find its voice—a beacon of raw, unfiltered love amidst the relentless storm of conflict.

tag list : @hao-ming-8 @jajouska @pinkpookiebear

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meadowfics · 1 month ago

Text

tall shadows

cho hyun-ju x male!reader

warnings: descriptions of death, guns, injury, mentions of transphobia, i am not a man but I hope I wrote this one right for the male!readers🩷, i am not responsible for the content you choose to read.

requested? no.

word count: 715

the sound of the buzzer reverberated through the cold concrete walls as the players shuffled into the dimly lit room. this was the game… a place where survival trumped morality and every step forward came at the cost of someone else’s failure.

as one of the tallest players, standing at an imposing 6’4”, you naturally stood out.

heads turned to look at you, not just because of your height, but because of the way you carried yourself…a mix of calm and determination. you had been here for hours now, and though no one knew your story, they could see you weren’t here by choice. nobody was here by choice.

basketball had been your life. you were good at it, maybe even great, until that fateful day when a career-ending injury left you broken…both physically and financially. the surgery saved your life but cost you everything else.

that’s how you found yourself here, fighting for a chance to erase the crushing debt that loomed over you like a shadow.

among the sea of players clad in identical green tracksuits, one figure caught your eye. player 120. she stood apart, not just in presence, but in how she seemed to shrink under the weight of everyone else’s judgment.

she was beautiful..her soft features framed by loose strands of her dark hair, her brown eyes betraying a sadness she seemed determined to hide. you noticed how she avoided eye contact with anyone, as if bracing for rejection before it even came.

you had spent time in the states before for basketball, long enough to meet people like player 120..people who were unapologetically themselves despite how the world treated them. it didn’t matter to you that she was different; in fact, it made her all the more interesting.

then came mingle.

the robotic voice called out the rules, monotone and devoid of any humanity:

two players.

the music stopped, and panic spread like wildfire. players scrambled to find someone, anyone, who might increase their odds of survival. the chaos was deafening, but your eyes were fixed on hyunju.

she stood still, staring at the ground, her hands fidgeting nervously. she expects that no one will approach her. that no one even looked her way.

without hesitation, you crossed the room, weaving through the frantic crowd. hyunju didn’t notice you at first, too lost in her own thoughts. it wasn’t until you stopped in front of her and said,

“come with me,” that she looked up, wide-eyed.

“what?” her voice was soft, hesitant.

“the rooms are filling up. come on.” you extended your hand, not giving her a chance to decline.

her gaze darted around the room as you both ran into one of the green doors.. disbelief written all over her face.

the two of you stepped into one of the last remaining rooms, the door sliding shut behind you with an ominous thud.

for a moment, there was silence. hyunju stood near the corner, her arms crossed as if trying to make herself smaller. you leaned against the wall, studying her.

“thank you,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

“you… you saved my life.”

“no need to thank me,” you replied.

“besides, it’s not like i was going to let you stand out there alone and get shot by those monsters in shape masks.”

she chuckled softly, though there was still an edge of uncertainty in her expression.

“most people wouldn’t have chosen me.”

“well, i’m not most people.” your tone was light, but your words carried weight.

hyunju glanced at you, her cheeks tinged with a faint blush. “you’ve been looking at me a lot,” she teased, a small smile playing on her lips.

you grinned, unbothered by her observation.

“of course i’m going to look when i see a beautiful lady.”

120’s blush deepened, and for the first time since you’d seen her, she looked genuinely flustered.

“you… you’re something else,” she murmured, her smile growing.

you didn’t know what the next game would bring or if either of you would survive, but in that room, with hyunju standing across from you, you knew that you wanted to protect her. not because you thought she was weak, but because you saw strength in her that she didn’t yet seem to recognize.

masterlist

#cho hyunju #cho hyunju x reader #squid game fanfic #hwang jun ho #squid game #squid game s2 #kang dae ho #squid game season 2 #lgbtqia

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whateverisbeautiful · 2 months ago

Note

I think the Jessie story was TPTB testing chemistry. Just b/c Gimple and our beloved ship captain Andy were planning for Richonne to happen, that doesn't mean the other folks involved (::cough:: Nicatero ::cough::) wanted it to happen.

I think they were hoping he'd have chemistry with the pretty blonde, and if he did, I think they would have pushed her further into Rick's arms. THANK GOD Andy wasn't feeling it. You could see in interviews and just the way he acted with her versus how he acted with Danai -- he was not feeling the chemistry, baby.

So. Chop chop. They had no choice. The Richonne fan base is too strong. GN saying he had other things to do when it came to being involved in TOWL is just him saying he never rooted for the pairing and didn't want to be around all the lovey dovey -- he wants an asexual Daryl and gore. And the way the writers messed with Michonne after Rick left, turning everyone against her -- that tells me that without Andy around they were just letting it be known that they didn't care about Michonne the way that Danai and Andy and Gimple did. No one can tell me otherwise.

And I'll bet talks about the movie broke down not just because of the pandemmy, but b/c ANDY WANTED A LOVE STORY. I'll bet you anything that has a big something to do with the movie breaking down. B/c who came together like "eff it, let's give OUR PEOPLE what they want"? The golden trio that brought us the most successful spinoff of them all, fight me (not you, I adore you, just saying).

Just when I thought I couldn’t be more grateful for Richonne and our captains, you reminded me that it really is special that Richonne exists because they overcame some major odds. Not just within the show but behind the scenes too. A healthy soulmate pairing like them is rare to see depicted on TV and usually gets thwarted, tainted, or nipped in the bud before it can even bloom because as you’ve said, some people do not want to see it happen. Thank goodness Richonne was championed by the two wonderfully devoted actors who bring Rick and Michonne to life and the longtime showrunner who saw the vision early on.

I agree that similar to how people overlooked that Rick is and has always been a romantic at heart, they overlooked that Andy also has a solid understanding that love is the driving force of why these characters fight to survive and wanted TOWL to be a love story. TWD is a story of humanity and survival and it’s not just the fighting and action that contribute to that survival, it’s love and I’m forever grateful that all three members of the golden trio knew that and depicted that as excellently as they did. The best captains we could ever ask for truly. 🫡 (Also for the parenthesis at the end - thank you! 😋🫶🏽)

#richonne #reflecting on richonne

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inubaki · 2 months ago

Text

The Sea Queen

Chapter 6

————

story commissioned by the amazing @libby-for-life! Based off one of the first pics @sir-tater-of-the-tot made that got me hooked on this fandom to began with. I blame them entirely.

———-

Four hours later, Adam and his crew were tossed around like rag dolls on the churning sea. Towering waves crashed against their ship, the relentless wind shrieked through the rigging, and the howling storm seemed determined to swallow them whole. Adam could hear the frantic shouts of his female crew members as they struggled to secure loose equipment and keep their vessel from capsizing. The salty spray of the ocean drenched him as he fought to maintain his footing on the heaving deck.

His heart raced as he bit his lip, determination hardening his resolve. Grabbing a thick rope with both hands, he pulled with all his might, trying to steady the ship against nature’s wrath. It was a battle unlike any he had ever faced. The ferocity of the storm was terrifying, a chaotic blend of swirling winds and crashing waves that roared like a wild beast.

As he glanced around, he saw the fear mirrored in his crew's eyes, but there was a fierce determination beneath that fear. They were all in this together, fighting for their survival against the elements. Adam whispered a silent prayer, hoping that somehow, against all odds, they would navigate through this tempest and find safety on the other side.

A piercing scream echoed through the air, slicing through the chaos around Adam and reaching his ears just in time. He spun around, his heart racing, and his breath caught in his throat as he witnessed Lute's desperate struggle. She had stumbled over the railing, her body teetering dangerously over the edge until she was just hanging from the side. With a burst of adrenaline, she managed to grasp the weathered wood with a gripping hand movement, her knuckles white as she fought to maintain her hold. But Adam could see the fatigue in her arms; it was clear she wouldn't be able to hold on for long.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Adam sprinted toward her, his mind focused solely on saving his first mate. The sound of a rushing wind filled his ears as he closed the distance, ignoring the shouting and commotion around him. Lute's eyes widened in a mix of fear and determination as their gazes locked, a silent understanding passing between them.

As he reached her, Adam grasped her arms tightly, feeling the strength of her muscles tense beneath his grip. With a powerful heave, he pulled her back toward safety, his heart pounding not just from exertion but from the urgency of the moment. Finally, with one last effort, he yanked her up, hauling her away from the brink. Relief washed over him as he felt her weight shift back onto solid ground, the danger momentarily averted.

He sensed the impending chaos before he could fully comprehend it. One moment, Lute was beaming at him, her laughter mingling with the thunderous roars of the storm that raged around them, wind howling and rain lashing against the deck of the ship. In the blink of an eye, the vessel lurched violently, tossed by the surging waves. Adam's heart raced as he felt the deck tilt beneath his feet, and before he could brace himself, he and Lute were hurled off the side of the ship.

In that split second, adrenaline surged through him, awakening a strength he hadn’t known he possessed. Fueled by instinct and desperation, he managed to grasp Lute and, with a fierce push, flung her away from him, watching as she soared through the turbulent air, her silver hair trailing like a comet’s tail. His heart swelled with relief as she shot back toward the ship, momentarily safe.

But his brief solace was shattered as the merciless waves crashed over him, pulling him into the icy depths of the ocean. The salty water engulfed him, swallowing his cries for help, as he disappeared beneath the tumultuous surface, his thoughts consumed by the hope that Lute's landing had been secure.

Adam held his breath as long as he could but with how he was being thrown about, he felt disoriented and his lungs burned from trying to hold his breath. Just as he was blacking out, he felt familiar tentacles grasp his body. At least Lute was safe....

As Adam slowly regained consciousness, the first thing that reached his senses was a soft, melodic humming that seemed to echo all around him. The sound was strange yet mesmerizing, floating effortlessly through the water while carrying an inexplicable depth that tugged at the corners of his mind. Confusion washed over him as he tried to move, only to find that his limbs felt heavy and constrained as if they were caught in some invisible grip.

Suddenly, a deep, resonant chuckle reverberated through the water, pulling him from his thoughts. Panic surged within him as he forced his eyes open. To his astonishment, he realized he was submerged, the world around him a hazy dark blue, and yet he was inexplicably able to breathe. The sensation was both chilling and surreal.

Instinctively, Adam began to thrash, his body arching as he fought against the pull of the water, desperate to reach the surface before the peculiar atmosphere suffocated him. Just as he was about to lose hope, that haunting chuckle washed over him again, wrapping around him like an eerie embrace. "I forgot how cute you were," a voice teased, smooth and playful, sending a shiver down his spine as he struggled to comprehend his bizarre surroundings.

He was met with a pair of fiery red eyes, glowing with an emotion he couldn't place that sent chills down his spine. At that moment, he realized that all the scars etched into his skin were igniting with an agonizing intensity, unlike anything he had ever felt before. It was as if his very past was clawing its way back to the surface, reminding him of all the pain he had endured. Adam's heart raced wildly in his chest, skipping a beat as a sickening realization washed over him. The creature looming over him, shrouded in darkness and a swirling mist of despair, was none other than a Kraken.

Despite the fear gripping him like a vice, Adam couldn’t tear his gaze away from the monstrous form that he had come to know all too well. Memories of terror and destruction flooded his mind—the chaos it had wrought upon his life, the devastation it had unleashed upon his home. It was a horror he thought he had escaped, yet here it was, tangible and ready to torment him once more.

“Lucifer,” Adam growled, the name escaping his lips like a curse, laden with resentment and a burgeoning rage. Each syllable was infused with the weight of his memories, a defiant acknowledgment of the creature that had shattered his reality and left him to pick up the pieces.

“Adam,” Lucifer purred, the sound rolling off his tongue like silk yet laced with an unmistakable chill. His eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and a simmering anger that belied his playful facade. “While I’m pleasantly surprised to see you grown up, I must confess I’m also quite furious with you.”

The playful tone he adopted did little to mask the underlying tension, an edge to his voice that sent a shiver coursing through Adam. "I've told you so long ago...that my kind was rare...and you killed so many of my family." Adam shook as he looked at the fangs that seemed to grow longer. "And while I've somewhat understood why you did this at first...you just kept going. Even getting rid of Krakens who had no part in the destruction of your home. And that is something I couldn't let slide."

"Fine then. Kill me." Adam yelled, surprised that the sound could carry underwater like that. Lucifer blinked before laughing as if he said something funny. Adam looked at him wearily. "Oh, my sweet Adam. I'm not going to kill you." That made Adam tense.

"It's only fair you replace the Kraken you killed." Adam barely had time to register anything before fangs were pricing his neck. Adam screamed as those sharp teeth ripped into his neck. Lucifer clamped on before slowing letting go, licking a long and thick tongue across the open wound. The blood mingled with the water, slowly rising. "Ah...can't you feel it, Adam? It's time we become one."

Adam whimpered when tentacles began to explore his body. While he wasn't overweight, he did like to indulge in beer and food since he had nothing as a kid. Therefore, Adam didn't really like it when people saw too much of his body since it wasn't really seen as the ideal. Luckily, he had muscles under layers of fat.

Lucifer didn't seem to care as he ripped through his clothes easily, allowing them to sink below them. The Kraken marveled at his body, his eyes showing Adam just how turned on he was. If the large dick poking wasn't anything to go by.

Adam tried to wiggle out but Lucifer held him firm as he explored every inch of bare skin. Every one of them fondled something while hands cupped his face. He felt some touch on his nipples, his stomach fat, his balls, and even around his ass to caress beneath the folds. Adam whimpered again as Lucifer kissed him deeply.

It was harsh and rough, teeth puncturing slightly as Lucifer plunged his tongue into his wet cavern to wrestle his tongue. He immediately won and Adam let out a surprise moan as he was manhandled. He cried out, muffled by the kiss, when an appendage easily made its way into Adam's puckering hole. He would wonder how it was possible to fuck underwater without dying, but he was feeling too much at once to think about it.

A hand gripped his hair and yanked as a tentacle thrusted into him. "You have no idea how long I've waited for this? For you to be in my arms? How angry have I been? Oh, Adam...I'm never letting you go." Lucifer, impatient to finally have him in a way that he could only dream of up until now, prepped him just enough to get him loose before saying, "I might be a bit big...but I'm sure a good boy like you can handle it."

Adam screamed at the appendage entering him, moaning in pleasure at being filled up. He had no idea about this, but Krakens let out a special slime at the tips of their tentacles that acted like an aphrodisiac when they wanted to mate. It had already sunk into his skin and Adam couldn't think of anything other than to be filled.

Lucifer gripped Adam hard as he slammed mercilessly into him, growling and biting Adam anywhere he could find him. Adam was in too much pleasure to feel the bites as anything more than pleasurable. "Mine! You're mine, Adam!" He spilled his seed into Adam making them both cry out. They both gassed for breath as they came down from their high.

"Well, I hope the seed takes...we'll have to do this a lot more to get my population up again."

—-

pervs:

I did a painting for this one. With some highlights. I rather like this one. Let’s see if my nieces and nephew will drop it by morning. It’s still wet.

#adamsapple #guitarduck #lucifer x adam #adam x lucifer #hazbin hotel #traditional art #my art #Painting #kraken lucifer #human adam

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a-mirror-of-memories · 21 days ago

Text

Not the last Airbender Au

From Kyoshi’s novels we learned that Air Nomads can lose their bending by neglecting their spiritual side and clinging to earthy desires and that’s exactly what happened to the survivors of the genocide who managed to stay hidden. Even if they wanted to cling to what was left of their culture their fear for theirs and their loved ones lives shackled them like anything else. Wanting to preserve at least a little of their heritage some Air Nomads went to great lengths to painstakingly write down every airbending form, dish, book, plant, festival or anecdote they still remembered; then they hid them away with the hope that they’ll be found only when the war’s finally over and their descendants could start to rebuild their lives. Others decided to pass their stories the oral way, sharing their culture with their children in secret even if they couldn’t fully embrace it as non benders.

But the children, not fully understanding the tragedy they were living been so young, weren’t always non benders.

Not all their children and not on every generation but airbending keep finding its way back and refused to be erased without a trace. After 100 years of war what was left of the Air Nomads culture was small and hidden away but against all odds was still fighting for survival.

Some parents cried when they saw their kids’ airbending for the first time, passing down everything they could even if it should forever be kept a secret from everyone else. Others were terrified of the danger it implied, punishing and beating the child until they were unable to create anything stronger than a small breeze. But there were still those who the war had turned cruel, who saw such children as something disgusting that should be destroyed before anyone found out.

It was exactly the later situation that prince Zuko stumbled upon only a few months after been exiled.

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sihtricfedaraaahvicius · 2 months ago

Text

Halloween 13: the final chapter

note: and now for my last trick... the end is here. This is a direct follow up to chapter 12 & this fic goes out to everyone who has stuck by me and this insane story the past year and a half, and to those who have helped me along the way too. This is my "heart fic" and it's been a whole ride. Thank you for reading the previous chapters if you did, and thank you in advance for reading this one, I hope you will all enjoy it. Happy (early) new year, see you all in a little while... 🖤🦇

warnings: 18+, angst/suggestive etc etc you'll know what to expect if you've read the previous chapters.

pairing: modern!Sihtric x fem!reader (no use of Y/N)

summary: Could you and Sihtric survive another lifetime apart?

word count: 9.1k

Masterlist

Reblogs & comments are immensely appreciated.

You were crouched down in the asylum corridor, not being able to move as you were in a state of shock. Your eyes were wide, staring at nothing in particular while you tried to take in everything that had happened about an hour ago. Images flashed by of Sihtric being dragged away from you and out of his room, to him fighting off the guards and grabbing the fire axe to butcher Skade to pieces, only for him to then be beaten brutally by the limping guards before being dragged away from you once again.

You looked around the dull and previously all white hallway, now splattered red with fresh blood still dripping from the walls while it slowly darkened as it dried. You felt sick to your stomach before an odd sensation of relief seemed to embrace you, which was soon replaced by panic once you remembered where Sihtric had been taken to; the asylum's basement, which you knew looked an awful lot like a medieval torture chamber.

You managed to get yourself up on your trembling legs, and you slowly stumbled past the mutilated body on the floor. No one noticed you when you almost clumsily made your way to the left wing of the asylum and grabbed a guard's keys without him realising it, as everyone was too busy trying to recover from the horrors they had witnessed too. You had to stop every few steps and grab onto the wall railing to prevent yourself from falling down to your knees. You felt dizzy and you whined softly when you noticed smudges of blood on your hands, blood which clearly wasn't yours. You fought your tears, as well as your breakfast coming back up, and you quickly wiped your hands on your shirt before you continued your way to the basement.

'Sihtric?' you hesitantly called out, 'it's… it's me.'

Your mouth was dry and your breath was unsteady as you carefully walked down the old and slippery stone stairs. You felt a rush of panic as you entered the dank and dark space when you remembered how battered and bruised Sihtric had gotten about an hour ago, right before they dragged him down here.

Your eyes adjusted to the darkness of the dungeon while water dripped from the wet ceiling, filling the eerie quietness. You stopped dead in your tracks when you heard a sudden rattling sound of metal chains nearby. You held your breath while your eyes slowly became comfortable with the very faint daylight, which crept in through the cracks of the old stone walls that reached up just above ground outside, and you then saw a dark figure sit back against the wall across from you.

'There's a torch,' Sihtric's calm voice sounded, 'next to the stairs. There's a lighter too,' he sniffed, and the rattling chain sound followed as he shifted his body slightly.

You noticed the shape of a torch on your right, and your hands searched the shelf next to it for the lighter. You lit the torch and then saw Sihtric on the ground, only a few paces away from you and you gasped at the sight of him. His arms were spread with his wrists captured in old and rusty steel cuffs, which were attached to metal chains, looking equally old and worn. You then realised Sihtric couldn't move away from the wall as those heavy chains were attached to the old brick wall he sat in front of.

'No,' you sobbed and ran over to him, 'oh, God, no,' you took his blood splattered face in your hands and started to cry, 'why are you chained up like-'

'It's fine,' Sihtric hushed you, his voice hoarse, 'I'm fine. It'll be fine.'

He looked up at you and you immediately got lost in his mismatched eyes as the torch flame flickered, casting a comforting warm glow over his perfect face. His perfect face that shouldn't be perfect at all right now, because it shouldn't be possible after every punch and kick he had received earlier to be healed already. And once you fully realised the bruises he had gained an hour ago were nowhere to be seen anymore under the smudged blood on his face, you almost tripped as you quickly backed away from him.

'Y-your face,' you stammered, shocked and almost paralysed with sudden fright, 'how… how,' you whined softly, 'Sihtric, I don't understand-,' you paused when you noticed the cut he had received while breaking the fire axe out of the glass case was also gone, 'and your arm- how?' you almost yelled, then quickly covered your mouth with your trembling hands and whimpered.

Sihtric sighed softly and let his head fall back against the wall.

'Vampire blood,' he said without looking at you, 'it heals me abnormally fast.'

'What?' you asked once you realised what he had said, 'what? I mean… how is that possible?'

'The vampire of Bebbanburg,' Sihtric began, 'many think it's just some story to scare children with at night. But it's true. It's all true.'

'Are… are you him?' you asked, panic rattling through your bones, 'are you a fucking vampire?'

'Don't be crazy,' Sihtric scoffed lightly, 'I'm not a vampire. But I am a descendant, as I told you before. And, yeah, maybe I was him in a previous life. Because I know you and I met in previous lives, but I am not him now. I am not a vampire, but his blood runs through my veins. You can look up the story in the library if you don't believe me, it's filed under local lore-'

'I know the story, Sihtric,' you interrupted, 'we all know the story. But I just don't… I don't understand. I mean, your scars? You heal. Your body heals but how did you get those scars then?'

'Silver blade,' he answered, 'every lasting damage on my body had been caused by silver.'

You stared at Sihtric from across the moist dungeon floor, clearly terrified but maybe even more relieved in an odd way now that you knew he wasn't seriously injured.

'That explains the medication,' you said quietly after a moment, as if only to yourself when everything just clicked, 'it explains why you sober up so fast and why the nurses kept giving you more and more. But you're sober now,' you looked up at him, 'right?'

'I've been sober since I realised where I was earlier today,' Sihtric said and he looked down at the ground, saddened, 'I was sober when I killed Skade and I'm sober now, yes.'

Sihtric looked up at you, troubled, because you didn't say anything and just stared at him. He couldn't read you, he didn't know if you truly believed him and if you were on his side. And then his breath hitched in his throat before he could speak again.

'Please,' he half whispered, 'I don't want you to be afraid of me.'

'I never said I was afraid of you.'

Sihtric smiled at that, but his eyes betrayed his broken heart.

'And yet you're afraid to get near me.'

'No,' you said and crawled closer, placing the torch safely on the wall next to him, 'I'm not afraid of you, Sihtric. But everything… it's just a lot to wrap my head around,' you took his blood splattered face in your hands again, 'and I'm just scared of what's going to happen to you now.'

Sihtric suddenly moved his arms, a sad attempt to try and reach out so he could hold you in his arms, but the chains slammed him harshly back against the cold and sharp wall. His low and frustrated grunt echoed through the dimly lit space, and he dropped his head defeatedly.

'I just want to hold you,' he murmured with a strangled voice, trying to hold himself together for you.

You took his hand and moved closer to the wall he was chained to, pressing your cheek against his palm while you looked at him, and Sihtric began to cry while he shook his head.

'You have to go before they find out you're here.'

'I can't leave you here,' you sniffled and kissed his hand, then cupped his face, 'I can't leave you behind.'

'You'll have to,' he whispered, 'it's okay.'

'It's not okay,' you said, and then desperately began to pull at the chains and their locks, in a futile attempt to release him.

You had stolen a guard's keys, but it was clear that none of those keys could unlock the chains.

'Stop,' Sihtric said weakly, 'please stop.'

You continued to pull the heavy and rusty chains, but to no avail, and it pained Sihtric to see you so hopeless and lost.

'Little bat,' he said, his voice sounding more broken than before, 'stop it, please. There is no way out for me here.'

'There has to be,' you cried and leaned your forehead against his, 'you said it yourself, we're supposed to be together!'

'Maybe I was wrong,' Sihtric argued as he sniffled, 'maybe I was wrong. Maybe this is once again not the right life for us-'

'Don't say that! Please.'

'Just go,' he urged, 'you have to go, darling, please.'

'But I love you,' you barely managed to say out loud.

'I know,' Sihtric said as he shed a few tears, 'I know. And I love you too. In this life and in the next, and in the one after that, always. But you have to go, please, before it's too late. We don't know what the others will do to you when they know you've been here. You have to return those keys, leave no trace behind that you've been here.'

'Sihtric-' you said with a sob, your fingers curled around the neck of his blood stained shirt.

'Go,' he said again, then suddenly leaned in as far as he could to kiss you firmly until his lungs burned, 'go, my little bat, be free of this place. Just… please don't forget about me.'

'I won't forget you, ever,' you said and still tried to contain your tears as they fell, 'I promise I'm coming back for you.'

Sihtric shook his head and kissed you again deeply, lovingly and bruisingly, wanting to imprint the feeling of your lips against his into his mind, as well as the way you tasted so he would remember the sensation of your kiss for as long as he had to endure a life without you. He kissed you with passion and haste, not knowing if he would ever be able to kiss you again. And you tasted the salt of his tears as they mixed with your own. Then, with a shattered heart Sihtric forced you to break the kiss as he looked away, and he once again urged you to go.

'I love you,' he said.

'I love you too,' you cried and reluctantly let go of him.

You then slowly dragged your heavy feet away from him, up the spiralling stairs, not able to look back over your shoulder at the man you were leaving behind. Not able to look back one last time at the man who you also left your heart behind with.

'Wait for me,' Sihtric called after you, 'wait for me in the next life. I will find you again, I promise.'

In the weeks that followed after the massacre in the asylum a lot started to change. New nurses and guards came in, replacing the vile and untrustworthy ones you had worked with before. The asylum also finally gained a new person in charge, as the place had seemed like a ship without a captain since you arrived there, and the new man who ran the place was named Siggtryggr. He seemed kind but also still had to earn your trust before you could try and have Sihtric's records reevaluated for a possible release.

You also couldn't sneak down to the basement anymore, because ever since Sigtryggr's arrival the asylum had working cameras in every corridor again, and you knew you weren't supposed to go down those stairs. The one security flaw you were now thankful for was the fact that the cameras never recorded anything before, which was so no one would ever have any proof of the horrors that had been going on in the place for years, but it also meant there was nothing that could ever come back to haunt Sihtric about Skade's murder.

You were wary of all the new people and, since only one former guard remained, Haesten, you saw him as your only way to keep an eye on Sihtric without raising suspicion, as he was now the guard tasked to bring Sihtric his food and medication several times a day. And by keeping Haesten close you could also make sure he would never run his mouth about the murder, or about the secret romance you and Sihtric had that he was clearly aware of.

The first thing you fixed after Skade's death was Sihtric's medication, by replacing his pills with identical looking placebos. You didn't tell anyone about it, and you didn't have to, because you had managed to put yourself in charge of the apothecary when the asylum was still a mess before Sigtryggr appeared, and luckily he was fine with you being the head of the pharmacy. Every day you gave cups with the non working medication to Haesten, who would bring it down to Sihtric along with some food and water.

You worked almost non-stop, mainly because it was your only way to make sure that Sihtric wouldn't be further damaged and tortured. And whenever you weren't working you researched the vampire lore Sihtric told you about. You already knew the basics of the story, as it was like every tragic horror story; an undead being falls in love with a living being, and after having a passionate romance they are separated. That story wasn't new information, but what was new information was the fact that, once you went down several rabbit holes in the library, you discovered numerous historic records that re-told the story through time. All the stories spoke about a creature and a beautiful lady who fell in love but got torn apart, and none of the tales were entirely the same.

What made you question your sanity for a while was when you realised that every tale's description throughout time of the two doomed lovers matched yours and Sihtric, that was the one consistent fact you found back in every story over and over again. And to make matters worse, all the tales that had been written down matched the vivid dreams you've had during your sleep throughout your whole life. You wholeheartedly believed in anything spiritual, supernatural and paranormal, so you knew this wasn't a coincidence and you knew that Sihtric really had to be a descendant of the vampire. Or that perhaps he truly had been the vampire himself in another life and that you had been his long lost love.

But no matter what exactly the truth was, you were not going to allow yourself to be a doomed lover once again. Not in this life.

Sihtric was cold and tired, exhausted even, which he thought was funny. Because how could he possibly be exhausted when he didn't do anything at all. All he could do was sit on that cold and wet floor, leaning back against the equally cold and wet brick wall, its sharp pieces of stone poking his skin and scratching him open from time to time. Luckily he healed fast, but more often than not he wished he didn't heal at all. To endure another life without you was his version of Hel, and he didn't want to live through it again.

He had tried to keep count of the days, to recall how long it had been since he had last seen you. How long it had been since he had last heard your voice in his ears and tasted your kiss on his lips… but too much time had passed, and he couldn't remember exactly how long it had been. All he knew was that it had been too long.

Sihtric had contemplated his options to escape. But, sure, he knew he could break out of these chains, but then what? He could not expect to just walk out of his cell and wave a polite goodbye as he left the asylum gates, no… escaping wasn't an option. The only thing that kept him somewhat sane was the fact that every few days Haesten would tell him about you, that you were still working upstairs and hadn't forgotten about him.

Sihtric also soon began to realise that the medication he was still forced to take didn't affect him anymore. At first he thought it was actually his mind playing tricks on him, that he truly did need the medication to feel normal. But once he began to understand that there was no rebound waiting to kick in he figured the medication was tampered with. He began to question Haesten about it who refused to answer at first, until he realised Sihtric wasn't dropping the question and asked him every day for weeks on end.

'Your girlfriend up there is in charge of your meds,' Haesten eventually sighed, 'that's all I know, okay?'

And to that Sihtric simply smiled, before he down another cup of placebos, because he now knew you were looking out for him.

That knowledge kept him sane. It kept him sane knowing you still cared, that and the fact he did have some form of company in that dungeonesque prison of his; a couple of rats. Their squeaking had irritated him at first, as the rats would often fight over some crumbs Sihtric had spilled after he received his daily tray of food, but he soon began to enjoy their company and even managed to earn their trust.

He learned the rats were smart and rather friendly. He was only bitten twice in the process of taming them, once in his finger and once in his nose. But it didn't take long before the rats allowed Sihtric to pick them up from time to time, and they didn't mind the hours-long ear scratches they received from him either. And so a couple of rats were his only company, for who knew how long…

'How is Sihtric?' you asked Haesten, weeks after you had last seen your locked up lover.

'He is okay,' Haesten said quietly, 'he eats and drinks well. I throw a bucket of water over him every other day, you know,' he shrugged with a chuckle, 'to bathe him. And he allows me close enough to let me sort of maintain his facial hair. It's been a while,' he continued, 'his hair is fully grown out now. It took me a while but he finally let me cut his hair decently because, well, it had grown uneven since he had kept one side shaved before he got thrown down there. You wouldn't recognise him now, I'm afraid. He looks like a barbarian with his long and messy hair. He's always cold though, you know, it's pretty damn cold in that place.'

'God,' you sighed, and your heart ached, 'there is a robe in his room, make sure he gets that on, please. And what about his medication? Is he taking it?'

'He is,' Haesten confirmed, 'but I'm not sure if it works. It seems he has befriended the rats who live down there,' he laughed, 'I hear him talking to the creatures every now and then when I bring him food. He's losing his mind, if you ask me. He also kept asking me who is in charge of those damn pills for a while.'

'What did you tell him?'

'I told him that you are in charge,' he shrugged.

'And what did he say to that?'

'Nothing,' Haesten furrowed his brow, 'he just smiled and downed his pills. Strange boy, that one,' he said and then left your office.

You sat back in your chair and stared up at the ceiling, which you did every day when you were working. Your mind had gone over countless plans to break Sihtric free, but none were solid enough to get away with. You knew the asylum's way of operating was changing, you just weren't sure about that Sigtryggr guy yet. So all you could do was wait for a miracle in order to set the love of your life, and the love of your past lives, free for once and for all.

Days, weeks and months passed before you finally started to believe Sigtryggr was not the enemy. He truly wanted the best for the people who lived in the asylum, and you had finally worked up the courage to knock on his office door one afternoon to discuss Sihtric's situation.

'And this Sihtric guy is innocent?' Sigtryggr asked, half shocked and half amused by the gruesome and almost fairy-tale-like story you had just told him.

'Yes,' you said, '... and no. Look, he has done terrible things, yes, he killed Skade and it was wrong but you have to understand he was more or less forced to do that. I documented everything that was done to him and what he did in the time I've been working here.'

You grabbed a stack of papers out of your bag and placed them on Sigtryggr's desk.

'Sir,' you said quietly as you leaned in, 'terrible things have happened here, and not just to Sihtric. A lot of patients here have been victims of the former guards and nurses, but there is not much proof. You know too that the cameras weren't working and that a lot of patient files are incomplete.'

'I do know,' your boss agreed, 'and I am changing that. You know I am reviewing every patient and their files here to get a better understanding of what went down and how to move forward. I have spent a fortune to hire new staff and to get the patients the proper security and care they need.'

'And I am grateful,' you said, 'but you have to review Sihtric's case.'

'In time I will, but you know I have a lot of cases to review. I have read parts of his files but-'

'No,' you said and leaned in over his desk even further, 'you don't understand. That man in that basement hasn't seen decent daylight in months and not a single nurse has been doing check ups either. You can't hold him there,' you stressed, 'please! Please, I beg you. Let me see him. I know he is considered a danger and no one is allowed to go down there except for the guard, but at least let me see him if you won't look into his files yet.'

'You know I can't do that,' Sigtryggr said, truly feeling sorry for you and the clear state of desperation you were in, 'I can't let you see someone who has murdered one of our own. I believe your good intentions, and I admire how you see the good in everyone, but from what I do know about him… I just can't risk it. If you get hurt then that's on me, and that's not something I will allow to happen. I am trying to get this asylum back on track again, to rid it of the darkness that has taken place inside these walls. I cannot afford an incident to happen. I will review his files as well as his mental and physical health, but I have to do that for every patient here, not just him. This is going to take time.'

'How long?'

'I can't say for sure, I'm sorry. For now I have decided the best way to go about it is to work through the files in alphabetical order. I'm afraid he will have to just stay put until I can make up my mind about him-'

'So you will just let a man who has been medicated out of his mind rot away in a prison?' you sneered as tears prickled in your eyes, 'that is not ridding this place of darkness, sir, that is trying to ignore the darkness until it dies.'

You were quick to wipe away the tears before they fell down, then you grabbed the stack of papers from his desk and turned on your heels.

'You know,' Sigtryggr said before you left out the door, 'maybe the darkness of this place is what's kept down in that basement.'

It drove you mad at night and it started to get at you during the day too. You became snappy to your new colleagues and you made mistakes with other patients' medication. You were overwhelmed with your own emotions and not able to properly look after yourself anymore due to it all. All you could think about was Sihtric and how to get to him, it was like an obsession and it began to take over your whole life. You thought of just murdering everyone in your way to get him out, it was unrealistic and you knew that, but it seemed to be your only option.

Sigtryggr kept his word, he truly was working his way through the endless stack of patient files and got their health checked by a trustworthy professional. It was a slow process, and in the meantime the atmosphere in the asylum did improve greatly, but unfortunately that wasn't enough for you.

You and Sihtric had been separated for almost a year, and your patience was nonexistent anymore. You didn't know exactly how far Sigtryggr was in the alphabet with his files, but you couldn't bear living like this anymore. Haesten kept you updated about Sihtric's health when he could, but you simply had to see Sihtric yourself to believe it. You knew Haesten only spilled the whole truth to those who promised him good things in return, and you didn't have anything to offer to the guard. So there was a good chance that Sihtric had died weeks ago and he just didn't care to tell you.

Until one late afternoon you finally saw your chance…

Haesten was not a guard who was known to be reckless, but after bringing Sihtric his daily dose of placebos he suddenly made a grave mistake. You had been pacing back and forth near the door, waiting for the guard to come back up so you could fire your questions about Sihtric. You startled Haesten as soon as he closed the door behind him, which led to him answering your questions with clear agitation and he became impatient when you kept asking more and more. And as he tried to escape you and your worries as fast as he could, he had completely forgotten the fact he had left the keys on the door after turning the lock.

You froze when you saw it. It was a miracle, a gift, something that just had to be too good to be true that it simply couldn't be real. But it was… the key was right there, as were the keys that could unlock the handcuffs. Your mouth went dry and you carefully looked up to the cameras without moving your head. You knew that the camera above you did not directly film the door you were in front of, but it was actually placed to film the corridor leading to the door. Since the hallway had a deadend with no escape route possible, Sigtryggr didn't think it was necessary to film the door because whoever would go in and out of it would be caught on camera anyway, and to film the door it would mean to spent more money to put an extra camera up. Therefore you knew for a fact that no one would ever find out Haesten had forgotten his keys, the same way no one would ever find out you took those keys in your trembling hands and then left for your office.

What you did know was that you had to be quick. It would only be a matter of time before the guard would notice his keys were gone. And Haesten was a rat in many ways, but he wasn't an idiot. He would piece it together and figure out that when Sihtric would go missing from that basement, you had to be the holder of his lost keys.

And so you made haste. You didn't have to think twice about what you were about to do, you had gone over this in your head thousands of times already. You would be able to take care of everything, but you never had been able to open that door that led to Sihtric. But now that you finally had access, you immediately set your plan in motion.

You went to Sigtryggr's office and politely told him you wanted to resign, explaining to him you just couldn't work in a place anymore where such horrors had happened and that it started to affect you and the way you did your job. It wasn't a total lie, so Sigtryggr bought it with ease as he was also aware of the mistakes you had been making lately when it came to the medication dosages. He understood you had been through a lot, and although he was sad to see you go, he told you that if that was your wish then he wouldn't stop you.

You left his office with a sigh of relief, but nerves took over again when you packed up all of Sihtric's files in your office. If you were going to break him out, you were going to destroy everything that could cause him trouble later on. You sat in your office where you waited as calmly as possibly until the guards went on their dinner break as the night fell, and that's when you grabbed the keys out of your emptied drawer. But before you left your office one last time, you threw Sihtric's file in the metal trash bin and set the paperwork on fire.

You then hurried to the door that had been the barricade between you and the love of your life for far too long, and you struggled to place the key in its lock while you fought your nerves. As soon as you heard the lock click open you pulled the heavy door toward you and you ran down the darkened stairs.

'Sihtric!' you almost yelled as you neared him.

Even though you couldn't see each other in the pitch black room you knew you were close, you felt it with every fibre of your being. And Sihtric did too.

'Little bat?' Sihtric breathed, barely able to speak louder than a whisper as he hadn't used his voice properly in months.

'Sihtric!' you cried and fell to your knees in front of him.

You were barely able to see him, there were no torches lit and no faint daylight to peek through the cracks in the wall. All you saw was the dark outline of his chained up body. Your hands were quick to find the shackles that held him captured while you heard the fire alarm go off upstairs, just as you had planned.

'What… what are you doing?' Sihtric asked, his voice raspy, 'how did you get here?'

'Key,' you said with haste while fighting with the heavy chains, 'I got a key.'

'Where did you get the key?'

'Doesn't matter,' your voice broke, 'I refuse to live another life without you.'

You finally freed his wrists, the heavy cuffs slamming against the wall with an echo, and you took his cold hands in yours.

'We have to go, my love,' you urged and gently tugged at him.

'Where to?' Sihtric asked, still trying to grasp what was happening while he tried to get up on his feet.

'Home.'

'But… this… this is my home, little bat,' Sihtric said softly.

'Not anymore,' you said and helped him towards the stairs with you, 'but we have to be quick-'

'Wait,' Sihtric gasped, and he disappeared into the darkness before returning to you a few moments later.

'What did you do?' you asked, but Sihtric didn't answer that, 'are you okay to move fast?'

'I am fine, but the lights are blinding me,' Sihtric said as you approached the door that had kept him hidden from everyone, 'it's too bright.'

You suddenly stopped when you were only one step removed from the all white corridor, as Sihtric stopped dead in his tracks and held you back from taking another step.

'Wait,' he whispered again.

'Go,' Sihtric said, and he pulled you up with him and began to run.

You looked at him, his hair wild and uncombed while his robe was dirty and wet. Sihtric then suddenly pulled you against his chest and crouched down at the top of the stairs, as if shielding you from something that wasn't there… yet.

You then heard a sound you couldn't place, a sound that grew louder quickly. It was a sound that was heavy and low yet thick with vibration, it was something you felt in your body and all around you, it made the ground shake beneath your feet. And then, seemingly out of nowhere, you heard and felt the fluttering wings of a thousand bats emerging from behind you. They flew over your heads, making it feel as if a strong wind gushed through the building while the swarm or bats seemed endless as they crowded the corridors and darkened the asylum entirely with their black wings, blocking the hard led lights above you.

You ran in between the fluttery bats while they protected Sihtric's sensitive eyes from the lights, as well as making it unable to get caught on any of the cameras as you broke out the man you were destined to be with. You held hands as you ran out of the asylum within the dark cloud of bats and into a thick fog. The bats followed while you got in your car and speeded away, deep into the fogged up forest that surrounded the haunting mental hospital you would never return to again.

And just like that, Sigtryggr stood in front of the asylum's entrance and saw an inexplicable amount of bats disappear into the foggy night, while the fire alarm still rang and guards came running from their breaks… but they were already too late. For you were already gone, never to be seen again.

Your eyes were wide and your hands gripped the steering wheel tightly as you speeded over the dark woodland road. You and Sihtric were both silent, and you didn't take your foot off the gas until the asylum was far, far behind you and the bats finally disappeared up into the dark night sky. And only then Sihtric spoke as he placed his hand gently on your knee.

'Stop the car,' he said calmly.

You slowed down and shut off the engine, then turned to Sihtric who was still staring out the window, into the darkness.

'Let me see you,' you whispered and gently took his chin.

The silver moonlight appeared and illuminated both your faces when you finally really dared to look at each other. Finally seeing each other for the first time in a year. And after all this time, Sihtric still took your breath away. He was a little hesitant for a moment, as if afraid to get hurt. He knew you wouldn't hurt him, but he had been broken down to pieces so many times that he struggled to allow himself to let his guard down immediately. You gave him time, holding his hands and giving a reassuring squeeze that it was okay to feel a hint of relief. And after a long silence you both showed a faint hint of a smile, while still being apprehensive to feel truly happy yet.

You pushed a strand of his long and wild hair behind his ear when he allowed you to come closer. You leaned your forehead against his, and then you both broke down in tears as you embraced each other as tightly as possible.

'How?' Sihtric asked through his tears, 'how did you get that key?'

'Dumb luck,' you sniffled, 'I've been plotting to get you out for so long,' you said and cradled his face in your hands, 'you have no idea. I had it all planned out, the sounding of the fire alarm, this getaway route. I mean, shit,' you scoffed with a chuckle, 'I even bought you some new clothes that are at my home waiting for you. But I just couldn't get through that door without a key. Then earlier today Haesten forgot his keys after I came up to him to ask how you were doing. He just forgot his keys, can you believe that?' you said with a sob, 'I've been asking the new head of the asylum, Sigtryggr, for months to review your files and do a new health check, and he was going to do that but he had to review everyone. I couldn't wait for that, not anymore, so when I saw that key today… I had to. I just had to. And I don't know where those bats came from, I don't know how you did that and I don't need to know either, all that matters is that we made it out. I destroyed your files before I left, they can't put you back in there anymore. They can't take you away from me anymore, you hear me? No one can tear us apart anymore.'

'You came back for me,' Sihtric whispered after a moment and wiped away your tears.

'I promised I would, didn't I?'

Sihtric responded by pulling you in for an almost bruisingly firm kiss, one that left you breathless and aching for more, so much more, but you knew now was not the time. You had to get home first, and so you started your car again and continued the drive.

'What did you go back for earlier?' you asked when you suddenly remember how he had run back into the cold darkness.

'My friends,' Sihtric said and a smile tugged at his lips as he reached for the hood of his dirty robe, from where he pulled two black rats, 'they kept me company back there. They looked after me in a way, so it's only fair I look after them now.'

You chuckled and shook your head lightly.

'Your heart, Sihtric, is too pure for this polluted world, my love.'

When you came home you immediately took Sihtric to your bathroom after he made sure his pet rats were safely inside a quickly improvised cage. You ran him a warm bath and helped him clean up while searching for any bruises, but as expected you didn't find any on him due to his supernaturally fast healing ability.

You found Haesten hadn't lied when he said he had tried to maintain Sihtric's facial hair, it looked rather well kept and you only had to touch it up here and there. His long hair was a different story, though. You didn't hate it, but it was something. It did look more tamed when washed and brushed, which was a bit of a relief, but you still offered to cut his hair. Sihtric politely declined your offer, saying he liked it this long but that you could shave the sides if you wanted, which you did.

After he got dressed in his new and comfortable clothes, you ordered a pizza. And while you waited for your order to arrive Sihtric decided to snoop around your place. He told you that you both own some of the same books, but that you also had a bunch he hadn't seen before on occult topics he was interested in too. He then stumbled upon your glass cabinet in the corner, and he saw you had kept all the little wild life skulls he had found and gifted you when he was still in the asylum, and it warmed his heart as much as it broke him too.

'I have to go back to my old house soon,' Sihtric said as you both enjoyed the pizza while being cosy on your couch, 'fuck, this pizza is so good. You have no idea how much I missed proper food.'

'Honey,' you laughed, 'I don't think this is considered proper food. But I'm glad you're enjoying it, love. But,' you became serious again, 'why do you have to go back to your former home?'

'I need to collect some of my personal belongings,' Sihtric said with a mouthful of pizza.

'You sure no one lives there?'

'Nah, my ex hated the place. There should be a key hidden in one of the flower pots near the door. Otherwise I'll just break a window. It's still my house anyway,' he shrugged, 'my passport, my phone and credit cards should still be there.'

'And you're certain your ex didn't take those?'

'I don't know for sure, but I hope not. There's nothing she could do with my stuff. My bank account should still be frozen, I know no one could access it once I got locked up. And I hope to figure out a way to get access to it again, because there should still be a good amount on there.'

'You think we can just go to the bank?'

'And ask them to give me access after I escaped the asylum?' Sihtric furrowed his brow.

You stared at each other for a few long seconds before you both broke out in laughter. You agreed that idea would probably not work, as you knew what it would take to get the access back.

'That is why I needed Sigtryggr to review you again too,' you said, 'when you get officially released it will be put in a system, and with that information it should give back everything you had before. Your money, your status, everything.'

'Even my sanity?' Sihtric half joked, 'look, we'll figure it out. I know we will somehow.'

'We will somehow,' you smiled and kissed his cheek, then stole the last half slice of pizza he held.

And once his hunger for food was stilled, after eating almost everything you had stocked up in your fridge after he had that pizza, Sihtric helped you draw protective symbols and sigils on the doors and windows with Florida water, to ward your home and yourselves from any negative energies. And you both couldn't shake the feeling you had done something like this together before somehow, maybe in a previous life, maybe in some alternative universe.

'Feels like we've done this before,' you said softly after finishing the last symbol on your bedroom window.

'I know. I feel it too,' Sihtric smiled faintly as he lit a few candles, 'and maybe we did.'

'Maybe we did,' you smiled at him as you leaned back against a cabinet.

Sihtric placed the last candle he just lit on the cabinet and then took your hand, pulling you closer until he could capture you in a soft and loving kiss.

'Feels like we've done this before too,' he whispered against your lips, and then kissed you again.

You kissed slowly at first, gradually allowing the kiss to deepen until Sihtric picked you up in his arms. He carried you over to the bed, where you began to tug at each other's lounge wear while becoming needier. You kissed until you were both fully undressed and warm under the covers of your bed, and then you kissed each other slowly all over as a way to explore each other's bodies. And then, after all this time and all this longing, you finally made the slowest and most intimate love deemed possible. The kind of love that intertwined souls and synced the beating of your hearts, a kind of love that could only be made when two people simply belonged together.

It was the kind of love that left you both breathless and speechless, and even more in love with each other than you even thought would be possible. It was the kind of love that made you both forget all the pain and horrors you had gone through to get here. It was the kind of love that silenced all the negatives and all the voices in your heads, but only for a moment though.

'Promise you're still here when I wake up?' Sihtric suddenly asked in the quiet night, his voice soft as a whisper in your ear as he had his arms wrapped tightly around you.

'I will always be here when you wake up from now on,' you promised and kissed his hand.

'I know,' he whispered and kissed your neck softly, 'I know you will. I know you.'

'I feel like I've known you forever,' you whispered as you traced his arms mindlessly, 'and I can't explain it.'

'You do know me,' Sihtric whispered, 'we've known each other forever. I've been looking everywhere for you, in so many lifetimes, but every time I found you I also lost you.'

'I know,' you sniffled, 'and I am terrified of losing you again.'

'No,' Sihtric squeezed you in his arms, 'you won't. Because this time is different.'

'How do you know that?'

'Because this time you found me, little bat.'

He squeezed you in his arms again, holding you so tightly as if he was afraid you would vanish right there. And in truth, Sihtric was terrified to fall asleep, but he didn't want to tell you. He was terrified that this had all been a dream again, and that he would wake up back in the asylum, cuffed and chained to the cold wall in that dark basement.

He tried to fight his urge to sleep, but he hadn't had a decent sleep in so long and he longed for it as much as he feared it. And eventually even the strongest of men have to give in to it, and so Sihtric fell asleep while he still held you in his arms.

The next morning you got the scare of a lifetime when you opened your eyes and found Sihtric sitting next to your bed, staring at you from a close with his big eyes. He was only lovingly admiring you, but that didn't change the fact that he scared the living hell out of you and you couldn't help but scream, which in return startled him and made him jump up and scream as well.

'Don't ever do that again!' you yelled as you grabbed onto the sheets, covering your bare body for no real reason at all.

'I'm sorry!' Sihtric yelled back, equally as spooked as you still were, 'I just… I couldn't believe you were still here. I was afraid if I looked away you'd disappear. And you… you're… you're so beautiful, I'm sorry.'

You immediately softened after hearing his words, and you pulled him back in bed.

'I already told you,' you whispered and kissed his face all over, 'I'm not going anywhere, and neither are you.'

And that was the first morning you got to wake up together as a couple. You soon learned that Sihtric needed some time to adjust to his life as a free man again, while you needed some time to adjust to the fact you were living with someone now. Sihtric still woke up at 6 in the morning sharp every day, a habit from the asylum as he was forced to take his medication at 6:15 to start the day, and something inside him still woke him up for a daily dose he clearly didn't need. But as he found it hard to fall back asleep again, he would just get up and play with the rats or rearrange their cage, as he liked to do every few days to stay busy.

Sihtric also started to read the books in your cabinet he hadn't read before, educating himself with more knowledge about everything paranormal, and he even joked that you and him should open a paranormal investigation business.

'Sure,' you laughed.

But Sihtric knew as well as you did that it was an interesting idea and something that could work. You and Sihtric both enjoyed exploring supposedly haunted buildings, something you did quite often once you both had adjusted to your new life after several weeks, and it could be a way to provide an income for you both. But that was a concern for later though. First you had to deal with driving him to his old house, which was a huge mansion, just like the one you had seen in your dreams. It was scary how identical it looked to the one you dreamt of, and you felt an almost suffocating negative energy as you waited for him to find the key, and you told Sihtric he had to get rid of the house.

'I know,' he agreed, 'and I will. I only want to take some of my stuff and then I'm selling it. I have no reason to hold onto this place anyway. It's tainted with the past of my failed marriage.'

You felt relieved when he said that, but that feeling ended abruptly once you stepped inside the house and found the place absolutely ravaged. You both froze when you saw the big chandelier on the floor, which had somehow fallen from the ceiling and broken into a million pieces, and the furniture in the living room was broken and shoved against the walls. Shattered glass and torn books were everywhere, and to make matters even stranger, you both saw there was a small fire burning in the hearth, but it disappeared as soon as you both blinked. Sihtric grabbed your hand as he stared at the destroyed place he used to call home.

'I… I've seen this before,' you said once you dared to speak.

'So have I,' Sihtric confessed, 'but… those were dreams, right?'

You nodded slowly as you followed him further inside and carefully up the stairs, where he grabbed a bag and filled it with clothes and all his important possessions which were indeed still there. You couldn't wait to get out of his house, as the suffocating feeling seemed to wrap around you more and more the longer you were in there, until it made you dizzy.

'I have to step outside,' you said and left down the stairs in a hurry.

Outside you sat on the small porch, feeling unwell and as if you just couldn't seem to fill your lungs with enough air. It was only when Sihtric slammed the door shut behind him that you started to feel better, and he said he had felt the same energy while you were already outside.

'Yeah, I'm selling that hell hole once I can,' he said as he gave it one last look in your rearview mirror as you drove off.

Not long after you returned from the cursed mansion, Sihtric found out he could access his bank account after he got his phone to work again.

'Wait,' you said as he showed you his phone, 'but… Jesus, Sihtric, do you know what that means?'

'What?'

You scoffed, then began to laugh and grabbed his face to kiss him.

'That means Sigtryggr has filed and approved your release.'

'What?' Sihtric asked again, confused this time, 'are you sure?'

'It's the only way for this to have happened.'

What you both didn't know was that when Sigtryggr watched the enormous cloud of bats disappear into the night of your escape, he had already made up his mind about Sihtric without needing to have a look at him. He had read Sihtric's files before you burned them, and he knew he didn't belong in a place like that. He had filed the documents for Sihtric's release just one day before you broke him out, but it took time for those to be processed.

That is why no one came looking for you, even though Sigtryggr knew exactly what had happened once he found the basement door open. He held off a search and erased that night's security footage, granting Sihtric a brand new start in life by doing so. And if that wasn't enough, Sigtryggr also made sure Sihtric received a load of money to compensate for the damage that had been done to him. It couldn't erase what happened, but it could provide for a better future.

And it did.

Because Sihtric used that money to buy a brand new home for the two of you, and the pet rats. And together you transformed the former plain looking house into the gothic fairy-tale home you had both dreamt of. You painted the walls dark and decorated them with framed posters of your favourite horror movies, with shelves which held skulls and candles, and you got a few gigantic book cabinets which would be filled up entirely.

And once you were all settled in your new home, Sihtric proposed to you by in your bedroom, which was lit with hundreds of candles. And those also set off the fire alarm multiple times when extinguishing them after the proposal, but that didn't change how romantic it had been or how sweet the love making had been that night.

You initially set the wedding date for Halloween night. But the more Sihtric thought about it, the more headaches he got, and he had to acknowledge the terrifying feeling that gnawed at him.

'Darling, you know I love Halloween,' Sihtric said one night while you were both reading a book in bed, 'but that wedding date… it doesn't sit well with me. It gives me a headache, and I don't know why.'

'I know what you mean,' you revealed, 'something's been feeling off for me too every time I think about it. '

And so you agreed to move the date to October 1st. But before you would squeeze yourself into your all black wedding dress in several months, you first had to paint and set up the office space on the ground floor of your new home.

After giving it some more thought, and since no one wanted to hire Sihtric due to his rocky past, you realised that starting a paranormal investigation firm wasn't all that bad of an idea. There was enough to explore and more than enough people could probably use your help and knowledge too.

And after you got all the paperwork in order and finally fixed up the last things in the office, you took a step back to look at it all alongside your soon to be husband. You both smiled at the sight of your new workplace, because this was truly the start of your brand new lives together.

'Well,' Sihtric smiled, then wrapped his arm around your shoulder and kissed your forehead, 'that's it, my little bat. We're officially open for business.'

@mrsarnasdelicious @neonhairspray @sihtricsafin @errruvande @penumbrie @lexeirikrleif @diiickbrainn @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @bubblyabs @dixie-elocin @alexagirlie @stupiddarkkside @urmomsgirlfriend1 @gemini-mama @foxyanon @man-i-be-that-pretty-motherfuckr @thenameswinter99 @m-a-s-h-k-a @superblyzanynight @hernakedmuse @ewanmitchellfanatic @lady-targaryens-world @cosmosnkaz

#🖤#sihtric kjartansson #the last kingdom #sihtric #tlk #sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #sihtric fic #tlk fic #sihtric au #tlk au

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max-nolastname · 2 years ago

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types of story that different black sails characters think they're in:

jack: typical underdog overcoming unbeatable odds story; he is the main character and the show is 100% about him and his joseph campbell hero's journey. he is like achilles seeking eternal glory. he is also like gilgamesh, seeking immortality because he's afraid of death

flint: one of those fairytale retelling stories from the villain's pov; he is the fire-breathing dragon/big bad wolf/wicked witch that his village has ostracized, chased out of his home with pitchforks and torches because they feared him and what he is and what he stands for. he knows that in another show, a more popular show, the story would be told from the pov of the villagers about the dangers that lie beyond the village walls and into the forest...but this is HIS show and in HIS show HE is the one that survived the villagers not the other way around and HE is the one that has been wronged and he WILL see them pay for it

miranda: at first she thinks she is the witty and cunning heroine of a regency period romance novel. she is critical of high society and it's archaic and sexist traditions, turns her nose up at the institution of marriage and yet against all odds finds a true partner in thomas. she thinks herself happier and smarter than her peers, for finding a way to explore her sexuality freely and still keep her high status. she is caught in a whirlwind romance with a handsome naval officer and well....then her story turns into a tragedy and a decade caught in lifeless loveless joyless limbo where she is sidelined into the background of someone else's story

max: overly aware that she is in A Story and that she is Not The Main Character; the spotlight is never on her, she will never take centre stage. in fact, she is in the wings, or perhaps watching the show from the back of the theatre as the stage manager, setting the scene and directing others to pull ropes, shine lights, open and close the curtains so that other actors can strut and fret their way around the stage

billy: revenge quest story! thinks he is the good guy, there to protect his friends and get revenge on the tyrant who killed his father. gains some genre awareness and realizes that he is not, in fact, the main character, but rather a side character caught in a romance between his captain and quartermaster and if he really wants to survive he's really gotta break them up

madi: a story of hope told around a campfire, passed on from generation to generation so people don't forget about the time that an island of maroons stood up to a seemingly eternal and unbeatable empire. some days, it's a cautionary tale, on how volatile solidarity can be with divisions like class, race and gender .... or how revolution necessitates violence that people who are comfortable in their oppression rather not pay... but no empire lasts forever and nothing is inevitable. the story sticks in the hearts and minds of future revolutionaries and someday someone somewhere will pick up the torch and continue the fight

season 1 walrus crew: workplace comedy

silver: [redacted]

#black sails #black sails meta #rare black sails meta text posts where i look back on it like....yeah my takes could be wrong here #i was like “huh i wonder what genre of show the black sails characters think they're in” and then blacked out #but the inherent tragedy of characters in a story IS that they dont know what genre of story theyre in #so realistically i dont think any of them would actually think this stuff through except maybe jack max and flint #anyways if it helps i did take a media literacy class in university <- things that are embarassing to admit when my takes end up being wron #charles and anne: you guys live in a story? well we live in the moment so

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autumnmobile12 · 10 months ago

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Against all odds, I hope the surviving LoV members live.

Killing them off or even having their stories end with life in Tartarus seems like a total cop-out. And if they live, I don't think their fates are going to be that simple because of Kurogiri, Nagant, and Aoyama.

Kurogiri was a villain and Nagant and Aoyama were traitors, but now they are fighting on the heroes' side. What happens after the Final War? Are they all gonna be shafted with, "Thanks for your help, but you're still villains, so you're still going to prison."

With the Safety Commission crippled, I really think/hope the characters left are going to take advantage of the opportunity to restructure the system and address its flaws, and that could include a means of rehabilitation for villains. I feel like someone's gonna stand up and say, "Hang on, look at Kurogiri, Nagant, and Aoyama. They stood with us in the end even though they originally did wrong. The villain line shouldn't be an end all, be all decision one can't come back from."

Or maybe I've just been watching Hazbin Hotel too much and Charlie's, "Everybody deserves a chance for redemption," is rubbing off on me.

...

However, one big reason I want them to survive right now?

I want Toga, Dabi, Spinner, or Shigaraki to wake up to Recovery Girl and, "Smoooooch," and getting that hysterical reaction because holy hell, could we use a laugh from this series right about now.

#my hero academia #league of villains #shigaraki tomura #toga himiko #dabi #spinner #recovery girl #kurogiri #lady nagant #boku no hero academia #bnha #mha #speculation

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ourmondobongo · 1 year ago

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JJK 251 delivered one of the most intense fights till now, and honestly, I can't wait to see it animated! (if I'm still alive 10 years from now, that is lol).

That said, I need to write a little about this chapter because it has been eating me out since Thursday, and the HQ scan release is MAGNIFICENT. So let’s go!

Yuta used Cleave on Sukuna!

But, alas, he wasn’t the one to eat Sukuna’s finger. It was prolly Rika.

I don’t think anyone would think it makes sense that Yuta - second only to Gojo, the strongest modern sorcerer - could be the one to eat the King of Curse’s finger. While he IS powerful, it is still so risky to think he could ingest a piece of Sukuna’s soul and keep it inside himself for God knows how long.

Also, if a human had eaten one of his fingers, it seems a bit unlikely Sukuna wouldn’t have noticed somehow, as the cursed object holds a part of his very soul.

On the other hand, Rika hasn’t fully manifested. It seems an odd thing since this battle is even more dangerous and important than all previous battles Yuta had since his 2vs1 with Geto. Which may be just a wild speculation, but that has me thinking that maybe - just maybe - he hasn’t allowed her to fully manifest because she ate the finger. Like with the finger bearers at the beginning of the manga, Sukuna would know it is there, and he could target Rika more fiercely. Perhaps get to even retrieve it.

But this is speculation only - and I hope we will be sure of it in the next chapters.

It’s good to remember tho that it was Rika who ate Uro’s arm, not Yuta. And I doubt Yuta himself could have also eaten Hana’s and Inumaki’s arms…

Yuta was right in thinking that Sukuna would be surprised at being hit by his own technique.

However, something pretty nice happening here is that Sukuna looks pleased at tasting his own technique.

You know, we are well aware by now that Sukuna is a hedonist to the fullest. So I’m actually pleased that, rather than being really pissed off for getting a taste of his own medicine, he really experienced this little moment in a way that couldn’t show better how a being can be more self centered lol

I mean, his smile as he says ‘I see. Quite the meal.’ or "Oh, I get it. You ate it." feels like he is amused at tasting some of the power his own technique holds. I can hear Suwabe-san making it sound like he is having a foodgasm. And Yuta’s face turning worried is a sign that he oughta move to his next attack against the King of Hedonism ASAP.

Yuji and Yuta’s hand-to-hand-fight with Sukuna is beautiful, my god.

Sukuna is a good +4m tall muscle-built four-armed TITAN GIANT. Yuta and mostly Yuji are making him bend, making him bleed, making him blind by spitting blood on his cursed eyes, and FUCK - THIS FIGHT IS GOLD!!

Details I gotta highlight:

This is the second time Yuji survives Cleave at point blank, showing how much his endurance is up in such a crucial moment.

It was so smart of him to spit blood on Sukuna’s face. Reminds a little how his lil brother Kechizu spat his cursed blood on him back in s01 times.

Yuji’s determination to save defeat Sukuna and save Megumi with ‘heal up, heal up, HEAL UP’ makes me wanna chomp on wood T_T (C’mon baby, you can do it!)

Count on Sukuna to keep looking amused as he is being wrecked to the bones lmao. But also, this means he is thinking, analyzing, plotting, and soon preparing to counterattack.

The way Rika grabs him by the leg and throws him at Yuji’s soul shaking kick IS PERFECT.

The beating is so well delivered that, in fact, Sukuna is pushed to a deadly gamble.

I love when Sukuna gambles. He does it so many times throughout the story that I don’t think anyone can actually be surprised to see him doing this again in this chapter.

And I really mean it, cause not even our MCs are surprised. They had a solid plan of what to do once they had pushed Sukuna to the point they wanted: aka, releasing the HWC to try using Space Dismantle while tanking Jacob’s Ladder.

In less than a blink, Sukuna is 3/4 immobilized.

Rika, half manifested, gets his upper arms while Yuji goes for the lower right.

Yuta, though, goes straight to his guts, and bravely shoves his hand inside his belly mouth while Sukuna's only free arm goes straight to his head.

The cost for such a risky attack? A Cleave delivered directly on his bloody head.

But Yuta’s RCT doesn’t fail him. And he also still gets to rip out the Cursed Tongue - leaving Sukuna to have only one way to chant curses now. Confirming their suspicions that the King needs to use hand signs and chants or both to use “Space Dismantle”, which is an opening they can take an important advantage of to both use the domain's sure hit and reach Megumi.

This page made me scream!

The sight of Sukuna’s cheek exploding is bloody horrible.

Yuta tanking another slash attack shook me.

But Yuta coming up at the fucking King of Curses absolutely confident he can face him off FEARLESSLY is even more gobsmacking. I love my son!

ALSO: DID YUTA REALLY USE DISMANTLE ON SUKUNA’S ARM RIGHT HERE????

Also, the fact that Sukuna’s output is low to that point is both a sign that 1) his deadly efficiency is truly getting compromised by the biggest jjk team jump this manga had to this day, 2) Yuta and Yuji really leveled up to an impressive stage!

I don’t think we have ever seen Sukuna getting so overwhelmed and shocked.

Yuta’s next sword attack happens simultaneously with Yuji’s blood manipulation attack, and Sukuna loses his free hand while he realizes Yuji in fact just used his spitted blood to blow half his face off, rendering unable to speak.

A little thought I want to share though is that, while it has been long hinted that Yuji is able to use Blood Manipulation in any form after eating his brothers and training with both Choso and Noritoshi, I still have a little doubt whether the piercing blood attack in chapter 247 really comes from Yuji or not.

From the pov in 247, PB comes from somewhere really high and far from where Sukuna is. And in chapter 244, we see Mei Mei and Momo observing the battle from a tall building not too far away. I could see Choso being taken somewhere safe up to and despite being heavily wounded, still trying to help his lil brother. But also, I can picture Yuji rushing up some of the destroyed buildings to locate Sukuna and Higuruma, and desperately PB Sukuna to buy some time until he gets there.

I mean, if it had been really Yuji, I half expected Sukuna to have a lil flashback not only of the moment Yuji spat on him, but also from when he was attacked back in 247. That would solidify the fact he shockingly realized Yuji is using BM. So I will wait for a clear confirmation...

This talk is pretty interesting and important.

We discovered through Yuki’s search that:

Even when souls mix to some degree, they don’t become one single soul.

Choso can’t feel the OG soul of the human whose (his) body belongs to, and that’s why he asks if Yuji and Sukuna aren’t a special case. A fair question that made me think Choso could actually give back his body to the guy if he knew the poor man was trapped inside.

Yuji explains that CE plays an important role in the case of cursed objects and non-sorcerers then. Yet, no matter how deep a living soul may sink, it won’t merge or disappear in such cases.

Choso proposes another special case: since Yuji said, “in general level things are unmergeable”, what if Megumi and Sukuna are different tho? What if that could happen to them?

Yuji proceeds to say he added the “general” thing cause he had dealt with Mahito. Also, uniting souls transform them into other separate being. So as long as a soul CT like Mahito’s is NOT at play, then the merging of souls can’t happen.

And trusting fully in Yuki’s search, Yuji promises he will shake Megumi’s soul awake.

And after learning all of this, I wished for real that Yuki had not died so prematurely. The fact she was a former Star Plasma Vessel, that she could hear the voices of the souls Tengen had absorbed throughout the millennium, and that she had now Maki, Yuji/Sukuna, Choso and Mahito to deepen her research on souls and find a “scientific way” for how to break free from CE, BUT she never could do it… is a PAIN. We can’t undo what GG did, tho, so let's move on to the next topic.

Angel’s technique is special.

But it has a well defined role in the story: one that is NOT what some ppl think.

In an incarnated body, there is the mix of one’s technique + the personality + cursed object. So, since Angel’s CT can eradicate CTs, they can erase Sukuna. As they all want to save Megumi, tho, they will need to do the same thing Hana tried back in chapter 213: using the attack to FIRST weaken the connection between Sukuna and Megumi so Megumi’s chances of surviving the brain damage are better, and THEN move on to finish off the King of Curses.

And here I want to point out how absurd it is for anyone to expect a MINOR side character to end the history of the final MAIN antagonist of this series. Because, truly, unless you are being really disingenuous or purposefully kidding yourself just to hate and badmouth JJK, one cannot be serious over Hana EVER standing a chance against Sukuna. Even more with one of her arms torn off by the King himself.

And that’s why Yuta - the one second only to Gojo - is the one side-handling this freaking final battle.

Sukuna is damn right roughen and wrecked.

Yuji has one of his arms, Rika has two arms + a bite on his shoulder, his free arm is handless, his main mouth is half blown, and his belly mouth is tongueless and dripping blood.

There is a seriousness to his features that is different though. I mean he is the king of smiles, but he is deadly serious right here...

He KNOWS what is coming. He has chosen to gamble his endurance power against Yutangel’s Max Jacob’s ladder. So he is definitely mentally preparing to receive one of the hardest blows on his unstable (connected to Megumi) form.

And then Sukuna takes it.

His reaction is highly different from last time though, and it’s kinda obvious why. In chapter 213, he had just barely taken over Megumi’s body as well as he was at 15 fingers. Here he is in his incarnated true form, 19 fingers + his very mummified head in.

That said, the way he only growls/grunts/gasps tanking a DE’s sure hit from someone with a CE around the same as his own is impressive. Not only that, but also another crystal clear hint that he is the fucking King of JJK for a reason. You can’t break him easily. You can’t beat him conventionally. You can’t kill him until his last drop of CE is gone, until his brain is incapacitated, until his self-serving wish to keep existing - even if meaninglessly - is obliterated together with his cursed soul. As long as he holds the overwhelming power to exist, he will keep existing.

Knowing the enemy is NOT down yet, Rika chomps her mouth on Sukuna’s shoulder again as she holds his arms again while Yuta butchers his lower right arm in half, buying the time Yuji needs to fuel the special punch that he hopes will shake Megumi’s soul awake from the depths of this nearly unkillable monster. And if my eyes are not deceiving me, I think that - by the shape of Sukuna’s tattoo - Yuji hits him in the middle of his chest. Right over his heart.

Megumi’s breakdown deserves an analysis of its own.

But, yeah, IT HURTS.

As Yuji is shaken by Megumi’s state, though, the inevitable happens.

Sukuna, following his gamble of tanking and surviving JL to throw the WCD, does exactly that. The chants come on the page on a background a little similar to how his DE first appeared in animation. It’s eerie, cursed, and we know shit will happen on the next page…

Using what seems to be the arm Yuta had slashed in half (or is it the hand Rika was holding before), Sukuna strikes ALL his enemies with a seemingly WCD.

Way too close to him, Yuta takes the bruntest of it - the slash rips/slants his abdomen (letting we peek what is probably his liver), his back and his ring fingered hand (strongest way of connection with Rika) is severed from his wrist. Rika is slashed all over her face, the lower jaw which had bitten onto Sukuna’s shoulder is cut off and falling, her monstrous hands all cut and bloodied when they release Sukuna. Yuji is slashed on his forehead, across his face, and by the blood trajectory, from his collarbone down to abdomen.

There is NO WAY THO that Yuji is dying like that, though.

So before we find out how Yuji - and prolly Yuta too - will survive this attack, it is important to notice here that Sukuna does not say “Dismantle” when he unleashes this attack on them. And, YES, chants ARE important in JJK. (I know a lot of ppl will complain about this, especially since “Gojo died with this attack!”, but I’m just saying what is drawn in the manga.)

Sukuna is back to his menacingly smiling aura as Yuta’s domain starts crumbling on top of him.

But while he is RCTing his injuries and tasting what seems to finally be the end of this cursed battle day, he is struck by the sneakiest signature attack of the modern era.

Maki Zenin, the demon with zero cursed energy, pierces his heart - and soul - with her Split Soul katana.

If I said I haven't screamed at this whole sequence, I would be a liar. This was absolutely INCREDIBLE!

Now I hope GG won't switch the pov back to Hakari x Uraume, but I feel like he might as well do again T_T

Anyway, I just had to write all this to say how PERFECT Gege is weaving Gojo's pupils battle against the greatest King of Curses!!

#jjk 251 #jjk meta #or kind of lol #i just needed to get this out somewhere or it would bug my mind until next chapter #which will happen in TWO WEEKS T_T #ryomen sukuna #yuta okkotsu #itadori yuuji #maki zenin

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