#nothing changed she still owns my soul... and body and everything i love this woman

[aenslem]

i see her for five seconds on screen and im already like ma'am i would do anything for you

god she is so *q*

love her

[mllemaenad]

Listening to Wyll's backstory in context of all the details we're acquiring on devil's contracts and soul selling is fascinating.

See - I listened to Lann Tarv's three tales to get my soul coins. I felt bad for making Karlach listen to that, obviously, but to be honest I didn't even want the coins that much. I actually wanted the stories. I wanted a better understanding of how this works.

And what I'm learning is - for the gods (and godlike beings) of this world, cruelty seems to be the point. I mean - it's possible there's a god in this world I wouldn't want to stab to death with a rusty fork, but if so I have not met them yet.

These beings have the power to save people and places, to change lives, to do anything. And when someone asks them to - they demand a terrible price. But they don't just demand a price. They subvert the original request in such a way that they utterly fail to deliver on the original promise.

An abused woman wishes to be loved - and her true love appears, but dies instantly. A man wishes to save his children from starvation, and ends up personally growing masses of meat on his own body - not only painful for him, but forcing his children into survival cannibalism, which they were trying to avoid.

Auntie Ethel works the same way. Every one of her customers is left in a tortured state, while Ethel still takes her payment.

The idea is that the person must come to regret their wish long before the payment comes due. Every cry for help must be met with a boot to the face. Or else the mortals will get uppity? Or something.

What is interesting is how consciously Wyll defies that. And how much Mizora is dancing around, trying to force him into that state of miserable regret.

Wyll was manipulated into selling his soul. He was a kid, and he was summoned into a terrible situation - and in that moment, he could see no other way to save the city. Mizora did need to save Baldur's Gate to serve her boss's purposes, so she couldn't take that victory from him - but she did everything she could to take the joy of it.

He didn't get respect, or admiration, or his father's pride for saving the city. He lost his home and his family. He was assumed to have done something monstrous because he was denied an opportunity to defend himself.

That was supposed to fill him with bitterness and regret - but he got to work building his own life instead. By the time you run into him, the Blade of Frontiers is a hero of some renown. He's remade himself, and found a way to enjoy what his powers can do, however he came by them.

So that didn't work.

Then Mizora sent him after Karlach, and that was a mission tailored to break him. Karlach is kind and heroic herself, and that the start she has been sold into slavery, mutilated and forced to fight in a war against her will. If Wyll killed her, and then found out who she really was, then he betrayed everything the Blade of Frontiers is supposed to stand for - and he would lose the life he made for himself.

But he didn't, and that didn't work either. He's got a friend, now, who at least knows part of what he's dealing with.

So Mizora gave him demonic features. That would destroy the life he's made for himself, because no one would trust him to help them.

Except now Wyll basically goes nowhere on his own, and a small army of people can attest that he got those horns and eyes as punishment for being a good man. Mizora might be able to shut his mouth, but she can't silence his friends - and the group absolutely have shouting sessions about everything. Wyll's horns become a battle scar, like his missing eye, and nothing more.

And beyond that, if you are playing as a heroic character, a significant throughline in the game's story is the journey of the tiefling refugees. The story makes it clear that these people experience a constant barrage of racism, due to their appearance and "demonic" heritage. It also makes it abundantly clear that this prejudice is entirely undeserved - they're just people, with virtues and flaws like everyone else, and what is happening to them is terrible. So Wyll turns up to assist a bunch of people whom he now at least somewhat resembles - and with Karlach along, you have two people in the group who technically count as "infernal", but haven't got an evil bone in either of their bodies.

Mizora created solidarity. Oops.

Wyll is deeply suspicious of gods and higher powers. He doesn't want to make more deals with devils. When Elminster arrives to tell Gale what Mystra demands of him, he explicitly says he does not do religion. When you get Mizora to agree to let his contract expire in six months, he starts by casually invoking the gods - but switches to thanking the player character instead, because he knows who helped, and who did not.

But he utterly refuses to regret the pact he made. That can be a struggle. He clearly misses his dad, and would like that relationship repaired. The fact that he was transformed very much against his will is clearly a source of distress from him.

But if he regrets, then Mizora wins. That's it. Game over. She gets what she wanted all along. So he doesn't.

The main companion characters all have this kind of problem, and naturally have different ways of dealing with it. You have characters like Shadowheart and Lae'zel, who were indoctrinated as children, or Gale, who was literally seduced by one of these nightmare deities - and with them you have to start out by convincing them they they were the wronged party in the first place.

But Wyll knows exactly what game he's playing, and he's been screaming defiance the whole time. It's just that, in his case, the "defiance" is grinning and carrying on every time Mizora inflicts some more bullshit on him.

[mariacallous]

I am looking at a colour photo of a woman with auburn hair entering the courthouse in Avignon. Around her, the impassive faces of her lawyers.

This woman is about to hear a verdict. How much will he get? How much time in prison will be given to the man who drugged her senseless and remorselessly raped her?

As the answer comes and the news filters out around the world: 20 years, I wonder what it is worth to her. A woman to whom nothing will be given back.Not an inch of her body.

What’s a number like this when there’s nothing left?

This man is the father of her children. The judge reads out the prison sentences for his convicted acolytes, his mates, his accomplices in horror – his partners in the pleasure of destroying others.

This woman is not smiling.

Her eyes are wide open, unblinking. They never blink.

Her name is Gisèle Pelicot.

That name left the little village of Mazan and travelled the world. That name is now allowing us all to shout out loud: Gisèle Pelicot did it, so I can do it.

She is us.

This morning in Avignon, as she has done every other morning for months, Gisèle stared at the greedy camera. She made no effort to avoid its glare.

She hoped, she said, by her actions, to change our patriarchal society.

To do that, she looked us all in the face.

That face is also a body.

The body is also ours.

A body that a society made up of ordinary men chose to reduce to nothingness, to nonexistence.

But Gisèle decided to shine the spotlight on these men.

They wiped their shoes as they walked into her house, washed their hands in her washbasin, and hung their coats on the coat hook before setting to work.

Destroy everything? They “didn’t think” so, they had said.

Once upon a time, in a small village in the south of France – that part of France that people so love to visit – lived a woman named Gisèle Pelicot.

For as long as she could remember, Gisèle loved life.

Then one day, over a café au lait, a man – her husband, infinitely multiplied – decided to bring her down. Then to knock her out, to penetrate her, to insult her, to pry open her limbs and body parts. Like a serial killer turning a home into a morgue.

Like any other woman, Gisèle had countless things she liked to do in her daily life. It was a life of reasonable expectations. A life that, as the years passed, was shaped by childbirth, too.

In this small village in France too, lived her daughter Caroline and Caroline’s brothers when they were children. Children usually call their fathers Daddy.

Caroline doesn’t use that name now, and never will again. She too is waiting for justice to be done, as they say.

In a small village in France, our hearts lie shattered.

The denial of Gisèle’s humanity by her rapists is the denial of violence done to every woman, to all of us.

At her side, after this verdict,we can now look the world in the eye.

Deep in our entwined souls, we can only hope that society will rise to the challenge thrown down by the superhuman determination of Gisèle Pelicot.

I stayed silent for 30 years about sexual assault and rape. And now, the law in France considers that the statute of limitations has expired on the crimes committed against me. But I can still fight for those who do not have a voice. Like Gisèle’s, my own story speaks for all of them.

[sulky-cabbage]

I once made a not so serious post about a possible parallelism between Megumi and Sukuna.

And....

Sorry but how do you keep Megumi trapped inside Sukuna and when Yuji reaches the depths Megumi starts saying this stuff

right after the chapter where Yuji was trying to reach Sukuna and show him the beauty of life without me thinking that what Megumi's saying is a hint to Sukuna's true buried (human?) feelings and maybe what he could never have?? (Or maybe not and he's just the antithesis of Megumi which is another form of parallelism)

Megumi's soul is trapped inside a curse!!!

let me rephrase that...

A "Blessing" is drowned inside the king of curses!!

A "Blessing" that he tried so hard to suppress by killing his love one(s)

This is the exact type of symbolism that sticks in my brain and I just can't ignore it.

Maybe it's a reach but I just can't brush it off!!

Yuji tried to save them both!!

Keep in mind the Ksitigarbha is also a guardian of children and a patron deity of deceased children and aborted fetuses.

Gege did repeat the scene where Satoru meets child Megumi but with Yuji this time!!

Satoru was trying to save Megumi and reach Sukuna but he failed. (Seems like Yuta's method of becoming Satoru also failed)

I didn't take the Yuji being Satoru's parallel seriously before but I think there's some merit to it now.. (especially after that panel of him with child Megumi, Really Gege?)

Yuta was also a gojo parallel (he literally became gojo) and his character was connected to the theme of love as well. (There is also that whole Rika= Geto thing)

Maybe Gege is showing us two types of students? the one that imitates his teacher, and the other one that does it in his own way and actually succeeds??

Reminds me of these images lol

It makes sense that Yuta is the one to carry Satoru's will and kill Kenjaku (a major villain) and maybe even get to bury geto's body and Satoru's body... maybe next to each other?👀

I imagine Shoko will be there too at the burial...

On the other hand we have Yuji dealing with the main villain (the other thing that Satoru wanted to do and failed)..

I can see Yuji having the ability to see the afterlife of others like Sukuna and Maybe he will guide Sukuna and Gojo (and the others?) to go North?

Honestly this correlation between Megumi and Sukuna is interesting I don't know what it is exactly but...

The fact that we found out that Gege planned for Sukuna to possess Megumi from the start but he was told to change it!!??

AND The cursed womb arc (which I think is the heart of the manga) where Sukuna rips Yuji's heart out and says he can live without it but the brat can't..

(Which was a very cool and symbolic way to subtly tell us the difference in their ideals)

I don't know if it still has the double meaning in Japanese... it probably does

The shibuya stuff and everything was to get gojo out of the story so Sukuna can possess Megumi (which is what Gege wanted all along) so he can repeat what happened in the cursed womb arc again but in reverse.

Also..... there's a possible parallel between Megumi killing Tsumiki and Sukuna killing Gojo?????

Gege gave Megumi a sister that's important to him (and literally does nothing with her) makes me think she was made only so she can get killed by Megumi's hands, but not before making her possessed by a woman who's obsessed with teaching Sukuna about love. (Right before his fight with Gojo mind you) and then connecting this love thing with his fight with gojo (possibly Sukuna's important person?) Bringing up yorozu's words again and again and again during the fight!!

He killed gojo while in Megumi's Body!! (He didn't need to do that!! Don't you find it suspicious that right after killing gojo he turns into his true form??????)

He only gets into his true form when he starts fighting Kashimo (who's kinda Satoru's true form in a way) and he uses the weapon Yorozu gave him on Kashimo!!

And then more talk about love ensued !!!!

And love was never brought up again!!

Honestly this whole thing is diabolical I don't know how Gaygay managed to cook this hard !!

I still have no idea how this is gonna end though.. is Sukuna really just evil? Will we ever get his backstory? Will Yuji be able to actually reach him and make Satoru proud?

[crowsource]

🐦‍⬛ 𝐖𝐄 𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐄 — quotes taken from the first novel in hafsah faizal's sands of arawiya duology. some edits have been made to allow for rp purposes. feel free to adjust for pronouns/names/etc.

❝ We hunt the flame, the light in the darkness, the good this world deserves. ❞

❝ A thousand leagues and a thousand sands. For you, a thousand times I would defy the sun. ❞

❝ Heart of my heart. Moon of my soul. ❞

❝ If I told you my name, would you bow? Or would you flee? ❞

❝ A life without purpose may be no life, but a life without love is nothing but an existence. ❞

❝ Bring the desert to its knees. ❞

❝ He was a mess of scars like the sky was a mess of stars. ❞

❝ Love is for children. Death is for fools. ❞

❝ Suffering is our fate. ❞

❝ There is a certain beauty in chaos, magnificence in the uncontrollable. ❞

❝ Promise me that if you die, you will die fighting to return to me. ❞

❝ Knowledge without action is vanity, but action without knowledge is insanity. ❞

❝ Darkness is my destiny. ❞

❝ There was nothing more respectable and dangerous than a woman of confidence. ❞

❝ But eyes couldn't stay closed forever, unless one was dead. And the dead never dreamed. ❞

❝ Monsters preferred solitude. ❞

❝ Together, we will raise the dunes from the earth and rain death from the sky. Together, we are capable of anything. ❞

❝ He didn't live. He existed. And no one understood the difference between the two until they ceased to live. ❞

❝ They'll tell stories about us. ❞

❝ Death is the one thing certain in human life. Why does it still come as a surprise when it happens? ❞

❝ If you want me obedient, ___, kill me and carry my corpse. ❞

❝ He would not fear the darkness. He was the darkness. ❞

❝ A monster will always be enslaved to a master. ❞

❝ Sometimes, when you live a life of captivity, trapped for so long, freedom becomes a thing to fear. ❞

❝ May your hearts remain entwined beyond death. ❞

❝ The first step to getting anywhere is believing you can. ❞

❝ He came here for one act alone: murder. ❞

❝ He's not always this grumpy. Then again, he's one of those people who talks less and murders more. ❞

❝ A person without hope is a body without a soul. ❞

❝ People lived because she killed. ❞

❝ People died because he lived. ❞

❝ Who decides what's out of reach, if not we ourselves? ❞

❝ You are the compass in the storm, the guide in the dark. You will always find your way. ❞

❝ This was pain worse than a sword. This was forgetting and then remembering everything afresh, the curse of memories. ❞

❝ Men can be such beautiful trash. ❞

❝ A life without purpose is no life at all. ❞

❝ You remind me that hope is not lost. ❞

❝ That was life, wasn't it? A collection of moments, a menagerie of people. Everyone stranded everywhere, always. ❞

❝ Confidence breeds freedom. ❞

❝ No one can be that pure. ❞

❝ Death will be her companion. He's kept her safe all this time. Why stop now? ❞

❝ If only you knew what it was like to feel the weight of your gaze. ❞

❝ I just think that once you're bound to another, you change. That for the happiness of the one you love, and for your own, you change without knowing it. ❞

❝ That does not mean I cannot love a monster. ❞

❝ What are you? To define is to limit. ❞

❝ If you're going to save the world, you might as well do it in style! ❞

❝ Congratulations, ___. You're officially a murderer. Welcome to the club. ❞

❝ Think of all the women you can help by being you. ❞

❝ Did you think this was your chance for redemption? Darkness is your destiny. You were born for hell. ❞

❝ Tragedies happen once; memories relive them eternally. ❞

❝ You do it for them. For them to love you. ❞

❝ I once loved. ❞

❝ How come something so painless as the loss of memory hurt so much? ❞

❝ A life with magic means nothing to me if you aren't in it. ❞

❝ You and I are strangers. ❞

❝ I'm big enough to keep anyone busy for awhile. ❞

❝ Will there ever come a time when you won't see me as a monster? ❞

❝ You care for him. ❞

❝ I've never seen a face so open. ❞

[kckt88]

The Lost Dragon 2 - I'll Never Let You Go.

Summary:

A King loses his Queen.

Warnings - Death, Grief, Mourning.

AEMOND TARGARYEN x O.C -VAELYS TARGARYEN

Word Count: 5890

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8

"Vaelys, my love," Aemond began, his voice barely audible. "Please, don't leave me. I can't cope without you. You're my strength, my light. I don't know how to live in a world where you're not by my side."

He squeezed her hand gently, as if the mere act could tether her soul to this world. "I can't lose you," he continued, his sobs growing more pronounced. "I won't survive it. You're everything to me, Vaelys. My Queen, my heart. I don't know how to go on without you."

Aemond's tears fell onto her blanket, creating tiny, darkened spots on the fabric. He pressed his forehead onto her shoulder, his body shaking with the force of his sobs. "-I love you so much."

The room seemed to close in around him, the oppressive silence amplifying his grief. He could hear the distant murmurs of the Maesters, but their words were meaningless to him now. All that mattered was the woman lying in his arms, the woman who held his heart.

The realm could go to the seven hells, for all he cared.

As the night deepened, Aemond continued to whisper his desperate pleas, his voice raw with emotion. "You promised me a lifetime, Vaelys. Don't let this be the end. I can't do this without you. Please, come back to me. Please-"

Exhausted, he laid his head beside hers on the pillow, still holding her hand tightly, his tears mingling with the strands of her silver hair.

As dawn's light began to seep through the heavy curtains of the chamber, Vaelys stirred. Her eyes fluttered open, and she found Aemond still nestled beside her, his face etched with worry and exhaustion. His eye, though filled with sorrow, softened as he saw her wake. He leaned in, his breath catching in his throat.

"Vaelys," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion.

Vaelys managed a faint smile, her hand reaching up to touch his cheek. "Aemond," she said softly, her voice weak but filled with love. "My brave dragon. My heart."

Aemond clutched her hand, bringing it to his lips. "I'm afraid," he admitted, his voice breaking. "I don't know how to live without you."

Vaelys shook her head gently. "Aemond, my love, you have given me everything. Because of you, I've had a life filled with joy, with love. Our children-they are a testament to our bond. You've made me the happiest woman in the world."

Tears welled up in Aemond's eye again, but he listened intently, holding onto her every word.

"You are my twin flame," she continued, her voice growing steadier. "In you, I found my other half, my soulmate. We've faced so much together, and through it all, you've been my rock, my strength. I am so grateful for every moment we've shared."

Aemond's tears fell freely now, his heart aching with the intensity of his love for her. "Vaelys, I don't want to face the world without you. You are my everything."

Vaelys smiled, her eyes shining with affection and a deep, abiding love. "And you are mine, Aemond. Always remember that no matter what happens. Our love is eternal. It transcends time, and nothing can change that."

She took a shaky breath, her gaze never leaving his. "You have to be strong, for our children, for our legacy."

Aemond nodded, though his heart felt like it was breaking. "I will, Vaelys. I promise. But please, don't leave me-"

Vaelys cupped his face with her hand, her touch gentle and filled with tenderness. "I love you, Aemond. More than words can express. No matter where I am, a part of me will always be with you. In your heart, in our children's laughter, in the legacy we've built together."

She closed her eyes, her strength waning. "Thank you for loving me, for giving me a life filled with wonder and joy. I will always be with you, my love. Always."

Vaelys stirred, her eyes fluttering open to meet Aemond’s. She managed a faint smile, her hand weakly reaching up to touch his cheek. "My Aemond," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "My dragon."

Aemond leaned in closer, his heart aching. "Vaelys, I'm here," he said, his voice trembling. "I'm right here."

"I’m so tired, Aemond," she admitted, her voice frail and filled with exhaustion. "So very tired."

Aemond's tears began to fall, dropping onto the silken blankets that covered her. "I know, my love," he said, his voice breaking.

Vaelys looked at him with eyes full of love and sorrow. "I-I don’t want to leave you," she whispered, her voice quivering.

Aemond clutched her hand even tighter, his tears flowing freely now. "If you need to rest, Vaelys, you can," he said, though every word felt like a dagger to his heart. "If you need to go, it’s okay-“

Vaelys' eyes filled with tears as well, and she nodded weakly. "I love you, Aemond. More than anything in this world. You’ve given me a life filled with love and joy. I will always be with you, in your heart."

Aemond leaned down, pressing his forehead against hers. "And I will always love you, Vaelys. Forever and always."

Vaelys' hand slipped from his cheek, and her eyes closed as her strength finally waned. She took one last, shallow breath, her body relaxing in his arms. Aemond felt her go limp, a wrenching sob escaping his lips as he realized she was gone.

"Vaelys-" whispered Aemond, his voice breaking.

He held her close, his body shaking with the force of his grief. The room was silent, save for the crackling of the fire and the sound of Aemond's heartbroken sobs. In that moment, the world seemed to stop, and Aemond knew that nothing would ever be the same without his beloved Queen.

Aemond screams of heartbreak and anguish echoed throughout the Red Keep, a mournful sound that reached the ears of everyone within its walls. The guards outside the chamber exchanged solemn glances, their hearts heavy with the sorrow that filled the air. Servants paused in their duties, bowing their heads in silent respect for the King Consort's grief.

Aemond rocked back and forth, holding Vaelys tightly, as if his embrace alone could somehow bring her back. "I love you," he sobbed, his voice hoarse and desperate. "I love you more than anything. You were my everything, my heart, my soul. How am I supposed to go on without you?"

He pressed his forehead against hers, his body wracked with uncontrollable sobs. The room felt colder, emptier, as if the very essence of joy and life had been stripped away with her passing. "Vaelys, please," he whispered, his voice a broken plea. "-Not yet."

But there was no response, no gentle touch to soothe his pain, no loving words to ease his despair. Vaelys was gone, her spirit departed, leaving Aemond to face a world that felt unbearably dark and empty without her.

As his cries of grief continued to echo through the Red Keep, the people within its walls mourned alongside their king consort.

"Your Grace, please allow us to enter. We must tend to the Queen."

Aemond's response was immediate and fierce. "NO" he shouted, his voice raw with anguish. "No one is to enter. No one will touch her."

Maester Clarke exchanged a worried glance with the other servants and guards. "Your Grace," he tried again, his tone gentle but insistent, "-The Silent Sisters must be allowed to prepare her- It is tradition."

Aemond's grip on Vaelys tightened, his eye blazing with a mixture of sorrow and fury. "I won't let them take her," he said, his voice breaking. "I won't let anyone take her from me."

"Father," called Sovia softly, "Please. Let us in-let them help. Mother deserves the proper rites."

Aemond shook his head vehemently, tears streaming down his face. "No. I can't let her go. I can't bear it."

"Father, we understand your pain, but Mother wouldn't want this. She would want us to honour her properly,” said Daevyn.

"We must be strong, Father. For Mother. For each other. She would want us to carry on, to honour her memory with dignity” whispered Aemon.

Aemond's body shook with sobs as he held Vaelys closer. "I can't," he cried. "I can't say goodbye."

“We're here, Father," Rekara said softly. "We're all here to help-to get through this together. But you need to let them in."

“Father-“ uttered Jacaerys.

But Aemond would not be swayed. His grief had turned to rage, a tempest of emotions that threatened to consume him. "I won't listen to any of you!" he spat, his voice thick with anger. "I won't let anyone take her away from me!"

"Grandpa-it's Vhalarr. Can I come in?"

With a heavy sigh, he rose from his seat, his steps heavy as he approached the door.

Slowly, he opened it just a crack, his eye meeting Vhalarr's with a mixture of grief and gratitude.

Vhalarr stepped into the chamber, his heart aching at the sight of his grandfather's pain. He crossed the threshold, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

The room was silent save for the sound of their breathing, the weight of their grief hanging heavy in the air. Aemond stood before him, a broken figure bathed in shadows, his sorrow etched deep into the lines of his face.

Vhalarr approached him slowly, his footsteps echoing softly against the stone floor. "Grandpa," he said gently, his voice filled with compassion. "I'm here for you. Whatever you need, I'm here."

As Aemond turned to face him, his facade of strength crumbled, and he collapsed into Vhalarr's arms, his body wracked with sobs. Vhalarr caught him instinctively, holding him close as the weight of his grief threatened to crush him.

Aemond's cries echoed through the chamber, a raw and anguished sound that tore at Vhalarr's heart. He held his grandfather tightly, offering what little comfort he could, knowing that no words could ease the pain of losing someone so dear.

For what felt like an eternity, they remained locked in their embrace, the only sound the desperate sound of Aemond's weeping.

"Grandpa," Vhalarr said gently, his voice steady despite the turmoil in his heart. "I know this is hard, but we need to let the Silent Sisters in. They can help prepare Grandma for her final journey."

Aemond's body tensed at the mention of the Silent Sisters, his grief-fuelled resolve still strong. But Vhalarr held onto him tighter, refusing to let him push everyone away.

"They will treat her with the utmost respect, Grandpa," Vhalarr continued, his voice soft but firm.

Aemond remained silent for a long moment, his body trembling with silent sobs. Vhalarr could feel the weight of his grandfather's grief pressing down on him, threatening to drown them both.

Finally, with a shaky breath, Aemond nodded, his resistance crumbling in the face of Vhalarr's unwavering support. "Okay," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the echoes of his sorrow. "Let them in."

Vhalarr released a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, relief flooding through him. With gentle hands, he helped Aemond to his feet, guiding him to the bed where Vaelys lay.

Together, they watched as the Silent Sisters entered the chamber, their movements graceful and reverent as they approached the bed.

But as they moved to lift Vaelys from the bed, Aemond's hand shot out, grasping the edge of the sheet with a fierce determination. "No," he said, his voice hoarse with emotion.

The Silent Sisters exchanged uneasy glances, "We must take her now, Your Grace," one of the sisters said gently, her voice filled with sympathy. "It is not proper for you to witness-"

But Aemond cut her off with a fierce shake of his head. "I don't care about propriety," he said, his voice trembling with emotion. "I won't leave her side. Not now, not ever."

Vhalarr stepped forward, placing a hand on his grandfather's shoulder, his eyes filled with understanding. "Grandpa," he said softly, "Please. Let them take her-“

But Aemond's gaze remained fixed on Vaelys' still form, his determination unwavering. "I won't leave her," he repeated, his voice barely a whisper. "I can't."

In the chambers of the Silent Sisters, Aemond stood with a heavy heart, watching as they prepared Vaelys' body. The air was heavy with silence, broken only by the soft rustle of fabric and the hushed whispers of the sisters as they went about their sacred task.

As they reached for the linens to wrap Vaelys' body, Aemond's hand shot out, his voice firm and resolute. "Stop," he said, his tone commanding yet filled with a quiet intensity. "I'll do it. I shall be the last to touch her"

The Silent Sisters hesitated, surprised by Aemond's sudden assertion. But they could see the determination in his eye, the love and reverence he held for his beloved wife.

With a nod of understanding, they stepped back, allowing Aemond to approach Vaelys' still form. He stood before her, his hands trembling slightly as he reached out to gently caress her cold cheek, his touch lingering with a tenderness born of a lifetime of love.

Leaning down, Aemond pressed a soft kiss to Vaelys' forehead, his lips lingering against her pale skin for a moment before he straightened, his resolve firm.

“I love you-“

With steady hands, he began to wrap her body in the white linens, his movements slow and deliberate. Each fold was a testament to the depth of his love, a silent vow to honour her memory with the utmost care and reverence.

As he worked, the Silent Sisters watched in silence, their hearts heavy with sympathy for the grieving King Consort.

But Aemond remained steadfast, his focus unwavering as he carefully completed the task. And when he was done, he stood back, his hands resting on the shrouded form of his beloved wife.

With tears streaming down his cheeks, Aemond looked upon Vaelys one last time, his heart heavy with grief yet filled with a quiet sense of peace.

With a choked sob, Aemond collapsed to his knees, his body wracked with the force of his grief. His cries echoed through the silent chamber, a haunting lament for the woman he had loved so deeply the woman who had been his everything.

Aemond felt a hand rest gently on his shoulder, a silent gesture of support and understanding. He looked up through tear-blurred eyes to see Vhalarr standing beside him, his own cheeks stained with tears.

"Grandpa," Vhalarr said softly, his voice thick with emotion. "You're not alone. I'm here with you."

Aemond lay curled up on the bed he had shared with Vaelys, her absence a palpable ache in the air. The scent of her lingered on the sheets, a haunting reminder of the love they had shared and the emptiness that now filled his heart.

Suddenly, the door swung open, flooding the room with light and the sound of hushed whispers. Aemond looked up, his eye bleary with tears, to see his children entering the room, their faces etched with sorrow and compassion.

Without a word, they climbed onto the bed, surrounding their father with their presence. One by one, they wrapped their arms around him, pulling him close in a silent embrace.

Aemond buried his face in the crook of Sovia's neck, his body shaking with silent sobs. Daevyn placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, his own tears mingling with his father's. Aemon and Rekara held onto him tightly, offering silent support, while Jacaerys leaned in close, his voice barely more than a whisper.

"We're here, Father," he said softly. "We're here for you."

Together, they lay on the bed, their bodies forming a protective circle around Aemond. They held him close, offering what little comfort they could as he grieved the loss of the woman who had been the heart of their family.

As the sombre toll of the bells echoed through the streets of King's Landing, the city mourned the passing of their beloved Queen. The people lined the cobblestone streets, their faces etched with sorrow as they watched the procession pass by.

Flower petals drifted through the air like tears, their vibrant colours a stark contrast to the grey skies above. The scent of roses and lilies mingled with the heavy weight of grief, filling the air with a bittersweet fragrance.

At the head of the procession, a grand carriage draped in black carried the shrouded form of Queen Vaelys.

But it was not the carriage that drew the attention of the crowd—it was the figure walking behind it, his head bowed, and his shoulders stooped with the weight of his sorrow.

Aemond had, refused to sit in a carriage or ride a horse. Instead, he walked behind his Queen, his steps slow and measured, his gaze fixed on the ground before him.

With each step, Aemond felt the weight of his grief pressing down on him, threatening to crush him beneath its relentless weight.

The people of King's Landing watched in silence as Aemond passed by, their hearts heavy with sympathy for the grieving King Consort.

But as they lined the streets, their silent presence spoke volumes, a testament to the love and respect they held for their Queen and the man who had loved her so fiercely. And as the funeral procession disappeared from view, Aemond walked on, his silent vigil a poignant tribute to the woman who had meant everything to him.

As the funeral procession wound its solemn path through the streets of King's Landing, the sky above was suddenly filled with the majestic form of Vermithor.

With each powerful beat of his wings, he soared through the air, his massive form casting a shadow over the grieving city below.

The mournful song of Vermithor echoed through the streets, a haunting melody that seemed to pierce the hearts of all who heard it. His sorrowful cries filled the air, a lament for the loss of his beloved rider.

As the funeral procession reached the grassy banks outside of King's Landing, Aemond stood with a heavy heart, his eyes fixed on the spot where Vaelys' body now lay. The air was heavy with grief, the solemnity of the moment weighing down on him like a leaden cloak.

With a deep breath, Aemond approached the pyre, his steps slow and deliberate. His heart pounded in his chest as he looked down at Vaelys' shrouded form.

In his shaking hands, he held a daisy chain-made by his youngest great granddaughter, a simple yet poignant symbol of the love they had shared. With trembling fingers, he placed it gently on her wrapped body, the delicate flowers a stark contrast to the starkness of death.

Closing his eye, Aemond bowed his head in silent prayer, his thoughts filled with memories of the woman he had loved so deeply. He whispered words of farewell, his voice barely more than a whisper, as tears streamed down his cheeks.

And then, as if in response to his grief, Vhagar descended from the sky with a thunderous roar. Her massive wings beat the air, stirring up clouds of dust and debris as she landed beside the pyre, the great dragon lowering her head low in a silent gesture of sorrow and respect for the passing of her rider’s love.

The time had come for him to give the command to Vhagar, to ignite the pyre and send his beloved Queen on her final journey.

But as he opened his mouth to speak, to utter the word that would set the flames alight, he found that the words wouldn't come. His throat felt tight, his tongue heavy with the weight of his sorrow. Try as he might, he couldn't bring himself to give the command.

A sense of panic washed over Aemond as he struggled to find his voice, his hands trembling at his sides.

But then, a gentle hand slipped into his own, grounding him in the present moment. Aemond looked up to see Sovia, standing beside him, her eyes filled with determination and strength.

Without a word, Sovia glanced towards Silverwing, who stood nearby, and in that moment, Aemond understood.

With her voice firm and unwavering, Sovia gave the command that Aemond could not. "Dracarys," she said, her voice carrying across the quiet clearing.

As the flames roared and danced before him, casting a flickering glow over the clearing, Aemond felt an overwhelming urge to step forward, to immerse himself in the searing heat of the dragon's fire. It was as if a voice whispered to him, urging him to join his beloved Queen in her final journey.

With a heavy heart, Aemond took a tentative step forward, his eye fixed on the blazing pyre before him. For a brief, fleeting instant, it seemed as though he would surrender himself to the flames, to the consuming embrace of fire and ash.

But then, as if sensing his intentions, the hands of his children closed around him, pulling him back. Their grip was firm and unwavering, their voices filled with concern and determination.

"Father, no!" Sovia cried out, her voice echoing through the clearing.

Aemond looked into the eyes of his children, his heart heavy with sorrow and gratitude. In that moment, he realized the depth of their love, the strength of their bond.

With a trembling breath, Aemond allowed himself to be pulled back from the flames, his steps faltering as he collapsed into the arms of his children.

Sovia stood at the forefront, her expression stoic yet resolute. Her mother's crown, a symbol of power and authority, was placed upon her head with great reverence, its weight a reminder of the responsibilities that now rested upon her shoulders.

Beside her stood her husband, Daevyn, his own expression solemn yet supportive. The crown of their father, now passed down to him, sat upon his head, a testament to the legacy of their family.

With a steady voice, the High Septon stepped forward, his words echoing through the clearing as he declared Sovia the new queen of the Seven Kingdoms. The crowd fell silent, their eyes fixed on the newly crowned queen and her king consort, their hearts heavy with the weight of the moment.

Sovia held herself with grace and dignity as she accepted her new role, her gaze unwavering as she surveyed the faces of her subjects. She knew that the road ahead would be fraught with challenges and trials, but she was determined to lead her people with wisdom and compassion, just as her mother had done before her.

Beside her, Daevyn stood tall and proud, his hand clasped tightly in hers as they faced the future together.

Alone in the dimly lit chambers of the Red Keep, Aemond sat in solitude, his heart heavy with grief and his mind consumed by memories of the woman he had loved with all his being.

The coronation of his children, Sovia and Daevyn, should have been a moment of great joy and celebration, a testament to the enduring strength of their family and the resilience of the realm.

But for Aemond, the thought of attending such an event was unbearable.

Instead, he remained hidden away in his chambers. He sat before the crackling fireplace, the warmth of the flames a stark contrast to the cold emptiness that filled his heart.

In his trembling hands, he clutched a robe that belonged to Vaelys. The fabric was soft and worn, the scent of her perfume lingering on it like a bittersweet reminder of the life they had shared together.

With each breath, Aemond drank in the familiar scent, allowing it to envelop him in a cocoon of memories and longing. He closed his eye, his mind drifting back to happier times, when laughter and love had filled the halls of the Red Keep, and Vaelys had been by his side, radiant and full of life.

But now she was gone, her absence a gaping hole in his heart that could never be filled. And though he knew he should attend the coronation of his children, to fulfil his duty as the previous King Consort, he could not bring himself to leave the safety of his chambers.

Eventually exhaustion overtook him. His eyelid growing heavy with the weight of his sorrow, and soon, he succumbed to the embrace of sleep.

In the quiet of the chamber, the flickering flames of the fireplace cast dancing shadows across the room, and Aemond drifted into a fitful slumber. His dreams were haunted by memories of Vaelys, her laughter echoing in the recesses of his mind, her gentle touch a fleeting sensation against his skin.

But as sleep began to loosen its grip on him, Aemond felt a gentle touch on his shoulder, pulling him back to consciousness. He stirred, his mind still clouded with the haze of sleep, and for a brief moment, he thought he heard Vaelys' voice calling his name.

"Vaelys?" he murmured, his voice thick with sleep as he reached out instinctively, expecting to find her warm embrace.

But instead, his hand met with empty air, and he blinked away the remnants of his dreams to find Sovia standing before him, her face etched with concern.

"Father," she said softly, her voice breaking through the fog of his mind. "It's me, Sovia."

Aemond's heart clenched with a sudden surge of grief as reality crashed over him like a tidal wave. He looked up at his daughter, his eyes brimming with tears, and in that moment, he saw the ghost of Vaelys reflected in her features.

"Sovia," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "I'm sorry. I thought-"

But Sovia reached out a hand, gently brushing away the tears that streaked his cheeks. "It's okay, Father," she said, her voice filled with compassion. "I understand."

And in that moment, Aemond felt his grief swallow him whole once more, consuming him with its overwhelming intensity. He buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs as the weight of his loss pressed down upon him like a leaden shroud.

Sovia knelt beside him, wrapping her arms around him in a comforting embrace, offering him solace in the midst of his pain. And as they sat together in the quiet of the chamber, father and daughter bound by their shared sorrow.

In the weeks that followed Vaelys' death, Aemond retreated further into the solitude of his grief, his heart heavy with the weight of his loss. The once vibrant halls of the Red Keep now felt empty and cold, their echoes a painful reminder of the woman who had brought light and warmth into his life.

Day after day, Aemond shut himself away in his chambers, seeking solace in the silence and solitude. He spent hours sitting before the fireplace, the flames casting flickering shadows across the room as he stared into the dancing embers, lost in memories of the past.

At times, he would take out parchment and quill, penning letters to Vaelys that he knew she would never read. He poured his heart out onto the page, his words a desperate plea to the heavens, a futile attempt to bridge the chasm that now separated them.

But no matter how many letters he wrote, no matter how many tears he shed, the ache of his loss remained unchanged, a gaping wound that refused to heal. And so, he would sit, lost in his thoughts, his heart heavy with the burden of his grief, praying to whoever was listening to just let him die, he had promised her-but this was one promise he couldn’t keep, he couldn’t exist without her-he didn’t want to exist without her.

Outside his window, the sky stretched endlessly overhead, a vast expanse of blue that seemed to mock him with its boundless freedom. Aemond would stare up at the heavens, his eyes tracing the path of the stars as they shimmered in the darkness, wondering if somewhere among them, Vaelys was watching over him.

But no matter how long he stared, no matter how hard he searched, he found no solace in the vastness of the sky. For his queen was gone, lost to him forever, and no amount of longing or despair could bring her back.

As Aemond lay in bed, enveloped in the silence of his chambers, he felt the weight of his grief pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket. The memories of Vaelys haunted him, her absence a constant ache in his heart that refused to fade.

And then, as if from the depths of his own longing, he heard her voice—a soft, melodic whisper that sent shivers down his spine. It was as if she were calling out to him from beyond the veil, a beckoning from a world he could not see.

For a moment, Aemond's heart soared with hope, his mind filled with the possibility of reunion with his beloved Queen. He closed his eyes, his breath catching in his throat as he reached out, as if to grasp hold of her ephemeral presence.

But then, a sense of peace washed over him, a calmness that seemed to settle deep within his soul. He realized then that he was ready, ready to let go of the pain and sorrow that had consumed him for so long.

With a sense of finality, Aemond closed his eye once more, surrendering himself to the embrace of the unknown. He felt as though something were reaching out for him, a gentle hand guiding him towards the light.

As Aemond slowly stirred from his slumber, he was met with a sensation unlike anything he had ever experienced before. Surrounding him was a blinding light, so intense that it seemed to sear through the darkness of his dreams and into the waking world.

Blinking against the brightness, Aemond raised a hand to shield his face, his heart pounding in his chest as he tried to make sense of his surroundings. Everything felt strange, yet familiar at the same time, he was in his chambers but as his vision began to adjust to the light, Aemond realized something even more astonishing—there was no pain. No dull ache that had plagued him for so long, no phantom twinge of the scar that had marred his face since childhood.

With trembling fingers, he reached up to touch his face, his breath catching in his throat as he realized what he had found. His left eye, the one that had been lost to him for so many years, was whole once more.

It was a sensation he had almost forgotten, the feeling of having two eyes instead of one.

He stood in front of the looking glass and was stunned at his youthful reflection staring back at him, over the years his hair hair grown grey and his face lined with wrinkles but here now-his hair was silver and his face smooth and sculpted.

What was going on?

As Aemond stood in the threshold of his chambers, the sound of laughter danced on the air, drawing him irresistibly forward. With each step he took, the laughter grew louder, filling him with a sense of warmth and joy.

And then, he stepped through the doorway and found himself standing in the midst of the gardens, bathed in the golden light of the sun. The warmth of its rays washed over him, chasing away the shadows of his grief and filling him with a sense of renewal.

Beneath his feet, the grass was soft and, tickling his bare skin as he walked. The scent of flowers hung heavy in the air, their delicate fragrance a symphony of colours and shapes that surrounded him on all sides.

And as he wandered through the garden, basking in the warmth of the sun and the gentle embrace of nature, Aemond felt a sense of peace settle over him.

Then he saw her, sitting amidst a bed of wildflowers, her hands deftly weaving daisy chains with a grace and ease that took his breath away.

She looked so beautiful, her youthful skin glowing in the warm sunlight, her smile radiant. Aemond's heart swelled with a mixture of joy and disbelief as he watched her, unable to tear his eyes away from the vision before him.

"Vaelys," he whispered, his voice trembling with awe and love.

She smiled, that same tender, loving smile that had always made his heart skip a beat.  “I’ve been waiting for you."

Aemond sank to his knees beside her and reached out, cupping her face in his hands, his fingers tracing the familiar contours of her features.

"I missed you so much," he said, his voice breaking with emotion.

Vaelys placed her hands over his, her touch grounding him in the reality of their reunion. "I missed you too, Aemond," she replied, her eyes glistening with tears. "But now we’re together again, and we have an eternity to share."

He leaned in, resting his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling in the still air of the garden.

Without a word, he pressed his lips to hers, the kiss soft and tender.

It was a kiss that spoke of love, longing, and the promise of forever. In that moment, Aemond knew he was home. His heart was whole once more, mended by the presence of the woman who had always been it's other half.

When they finally pulled apart, Vaelys smiled up at him, her eyes twinkling with mischief and affection. She patted the ground beside her, indicating for him to sit. "Come," she said, her voice as warm and inviting as the sunlit garden around them. "It's time you learned how to make daisy chains."

Aemond chuckled, feeling a lightness in his heart as he settled down beside her. Vaelys reached over and placed a pile of picked daisies in his lap, their delicate petals soft against his skin. She took one flower and began to demonstrate, her fingers nimble and sure as she wove the stems together.

"Watch closely," she instructed, her tone playful yet patient. "It's simple once you get the hang of it."

Aemond watched her intently, his eyes following the movement of her hands. He picked up a daisy and tried to mimic her actions, his larger hands fumbling slightly with the delicate stems. Vaelys laughed softly, her laughter a melody that filled the air with joy.

"Like this," she said, guiding his hands with hers. Together, they worked on the daisy chain, their fingers brushing against each other in a dance of love and connection.

As they wove the flowers together, Aemond felt an overwhelming sense of peace and contentment. Each daisy added to the chain was a symbol of their unbroken bond, a testament to the love that had transcended time and death.

"There you go," Vaelys said, holding up their finished creation. "See? You did it."

Aemond smiled, pride and happiness radiating from him. He took the daisy chain from her hands and gently placed it on her head, crowning her with the delicate flowers.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice filled with gratitude and love. "For everything."

Vaelys reached up and touched the daisy chain, her eyes shining with tears of joy. "We're together now, Aemond," she said softly. "That's all that matters."

And as they sat in the sunlit garden, surrounded by the beauty of nature and the love they shared, Aemond knew that he had found his paradise. With Vaelys by his side, his heart was whole, and he was finally at peace.

[oneshotnewbie]

Part four of rabbit hole (Special Victims Unit) please? It's so good, you got me hooked up and now I need the whole series or else I will eat a 🛌

⚠️Trigger Warning⚠️ This one-shot includes the topic of domestic abuse, blood and gaslighting. The plots are presented. If this triggers you too easily or you just can´t handle the subjects, I urge you NOT to read this work. I am NOT embellishing this topic under any circumstance. Read at your own risk.

Taglist: @Marvelfan0573 @technotic-prophecy @setsuna1415

---

A loud, sadistic laughter from the kitchen drew your attention and you gave up on trying to rip the cord on your tied hands with your already bloody fingers. The weight of shoes on your old rattling wooden floor caused a vibration throughout your body and shivers started to cover your body in distress.

He made his way to you- slowly like a predator about to ambush it´s prey. In his right fist he held your phone that was smeared with your own blood, the display cracked from hitting the ground as he waved it in front of your face. "I managed to disable the location tracker. Funny that you´re still using your deceased dog´s birth date as your password."

You looked at the phone, and watched it light up with worried phone calls from Olivia. But after the initial surge, the notifications slowed to a trickle and the messages began to flow after another. You watched intently, trying to read each and every message to soak up any personal information you were left with.

Henry has set the phone up out of your reach, where you were powerless to reply but always able to read what was being sent. He turned the phones volume all the way up, resulting in torturous pings every time a message was being delivered and watched you cry.

Soft sobs stole over your beautiful lips and your entire, battered body trembled from the suppressed sounds. You closed your eyes, not wanting to see all the chaos in your apartment that was making your heart clench painfully.

"Please" you tried the impossible and humiliated yourself by begging him. "Let me go. I´m just giving you trouble."

"You don´t understand. You never understood me." For the first time ever, his enraged gaze turned sad and he really seemed to believe the madness he was spouting. His mood changed suddenly; that was his gift and you hated the ability to go from aggressive to lovable in a second. "I love you, Y/n. Even when you make mistakes. I hate myself for hurting you after punishing you- even then I love you."

You narrowed your eyes and tried to follow your ex-husband´s logic while trying to put your pain on the back burner. It no longer frightened you, maybe because the fact that you were still alive seemed like a sign after everything that had happened to you in the last few hours. Perhaps the level of cruelty that a woman could endure was fulfilled.

"No man who loves his wife does what you are doing."

"I´ve changed Y/n. I´ve been in therapy with a shrink who wasn´t that bad. He usually doesn´t take cases and if he does, only special ones." he said, rolling the words tenderly and carelessly off his smiling lips. "I´m just a habitual offender, according to him, when it comes to hitting my wife."

-You don´t hit her, you kill her. And with the beating you break her soul without which she is nothing more than a lifeless shell- you pondered to yourself and noticed how you struggled with your consciousness.

"No, you´re sick. An asshole eaten up by an inferiority complex. You´re trying to break my wings because you can´t take the fact that I don´t want and need you anymore." With that statement, which you didn´t manage to articulate properly due to the agitation, the fear came and with the fear the sub-machine gun in your chest started again.

"You bitch-" he yelled, threads of saliva flying into your face from afar as he ran towards you in a rage; grabbing you hard by the throat. Henry pulled you forwards with force and the cable around your wrists bursted from the pull as he threw you onto the ground, back first, and you screamed out as the slivers of glass pierced your back.

You gasped in his arms, unable to take a single breath- his fingers pressing into your thin and pale skin, already imprinting red fingertips on it. You had seen your ex-husband angry countless times, often to the point of incandescence. But you had never seen the aggression flash so intensely in his eyes. You may have hit a sore spot in him with your statement, which made him start to doubt himself.

Your bloody fingernails clawed at his hands, scraping the surface of that skin to convince him to let go, but he squeezed even harder, banging your head onto the floor countless times. The kicking and scratching of your legs in the shards was in vain. The ground beneath your feet, which you hoped to one day stand on again, began to crumble and you lost the strength to fight.

You were too weak and powerless. And you were more scared than ever. But you were ready to die; closing your eyes in faint, clenching your lids so tight you thought they would never open again and stopping your attempts to escape- you had braced yourself for the worst of pain, including death.

But then his sweaty and shaky hands began to pull away from your bonded skin, leaving you with no air to pass your crushed windpipe. A short and forced cough escaped your throat and was drowned out by a sonorous one that caused you even more pain.

Wordlessly, Henry fixated himself on the smeared blood on his knuckles and ran his fingers over it playfully before moving up and stepping over you like you were nothing but garbage bags standing in the way.

"Your death is not my aim and killing you is not my desire. I punish your ignorance and selfishness in leaving me." he clicked his tongue to confirm his reasoning. "Yes, that´s worse than a quick death if I let you live and you have to walk through this shattered life."

His real pleasure, after countless humiliations, was to kill every last glimmer of hope in the individuals he tormented.

You lay there, your eyes wide open and still gasping for air as he disappeared into the kitchen to get duct tape to tape your mouth shut. He must have had enough of your talking.

Stuck in your own apartment, you couldn´t think of an answer to the question of why you existed and you cursed God for putting you through this experience twice. But most likely, God didn´t exist- no valid, all-powerful being could condone what Henry did and probably would do to you.

---

Tired and drained, Olivia opened her eyes and stared sullenly at the phone gripped tightly in her hand. Immediately and without hesitation, she unlocked it half asleep, looking hopefully at the display; waiting for a message from you.

"Damn it." a heavy sigh escaped her dry lips and her shoulders sagged. Thousands of messages she had sent within the last evening had arrived and been read, but there was no confirmation for her that you were fine.

Her pale hand clutched the back of the couch she was lying on. She hadn´t heard from you since the incident two days ago- your connection remained silent. Since you´ve known each other, there hasn´t been a day that you haven´t spoken, which also made her suspicious.

The brunette took a deep breath, rubbed her eyes and threw the phone on the table. Her gut still spoke volumes and told her to be sure that you were fine so she got up and got ready to check in with you to see for herself that you were okay.

Arriving at your apartment in less than half an hour, she lifted her slender hand and knocked briefly. For a moment, when the silence weighed heavily, she longed for an answer. Heavy footsteps, mixed with an unclear clinking under them, approached the wooden door and when it opened carefully and only a crack, she took a deep breath and wanted to say something, but the sentence got stuck in her throat.

"Oh hello." the iron look of the almost black eyes looked dull at the woman in front of him, registering who he was looking at and nervously brushing the tousled and unwashed strands of hair out of his face. "Benson.. am I right? What do you want?"

"Captain, yes. I want to speak to Y/n." her voice was harsh and broke through any silence the hallway had to offer. Her legs were planted firmly on the floor and she spoke with an authority that made him increasingly uncomfortable. "She is very busy at the moment. Can I tell her something?"

She smiled mischievously as her gaze rose from the floor. "Yeah.. tell her that the violent suspect from out recent case soon gonna be a dead man." she spoke dryly but loudly, certain that you were held by him in your own apartment and knowing that you had heard and understood what she was trying to tell you.

Olivia wanted to free you from your living nightmare immediately, but she couldn´t do anything against him alone; risking your and her life on top. She didn´t know what danger awaited her if she tried to break in alone. Nor did she know what condition you were in.

[princesscolumbia]

Another TLT thought

Would Wake really have hated Gideon that much?

Stay with me here, this is important.

Let's say that, somehow, Wake didn't die on the Ninth when trying to airdrop in. Let's say she managed to stay alive and get away and somehow Griddle still grows up exactly the same way, still does the fire-less shish-ka-bob with her heart for Goth Queen, and winds up clawing her way out during Varun's attack on the Mithraeum, and the conversation about who Gideon is still happens without Wake piloting Citherea's body like her own Gundam.

Wake is still trucking about in the galaxy, you probably wouldn't have the terrorist-style attacks on the Empire (even Jod admitted that Wake had more sense than to nuke random targets), G1deon is still doing his level best Terminator impression.

Palamedes and Harrow insist that bonding a soul to an inanimate object will, over time, degrade that soul. It will not retain all the important of the everything about the person the soul is from long term. It will eventually turn into a ravening revanent, incapable of properly processing the world around it.

John seems to think (and would be the leader of the school of thought by default) that the soul is immutable, that once formed nothing changes it. No wonder he treats Wake as a coherent individual when he's talking to a literal possessed zombie, it never crosses his mind that maybe he's wasting his time. Wake isn't a coherent person anymore, she's fashioned herself into a cold, impersonal implement of destruction for everything wrong with the galaxy. She literally had her last living thoughts be about completing a mission, life be damned, at the expense of all else (No wonder G1deon had such a hard-on for her, he'd done the same thing to himself). She made herself into a weapon.

No wonder she possessed a sword for nearly two decades.

She locked her very malleable, slowly decaying spirit inside a cold, hard, immobile, single-purpose prison for two decades. Her entire purpose became to haunt the Walking Tomb of 200 Infants, and when she finally had a chance to be somewhere else, she put herself in the body of another woman who'd turned herself into an undying weapon.

Decades of nothing but cold, hard, unrelenting, raveningly insane HATE OF ALL THINGS ALIVE AND NOT. This was her ENTIRE WORLD.

And then Palamedes tumbles to the fact that souls are 100% mutable and malleable and WILL take on the traits of that which they are part of no matter what.

Back to the theoretical timeline where Wake didn't die on the Ninth...

Word gets back to her that there's this poor redhead who's got her nose and drive and Jod's eyes and seems to be working to try to White Knight All the Things who (and this is an IMPORTANT BIT) wasn't subjected to the irrational HATE of a schizophrenic teenager because IT WAS WAKE'S DECAYED SOUL THAT FORGED HARROW'S PAIN AND ANGER INTO HATE IN THE FIRST PLACE and she says, "Huh...okay, yeah, she's a zombie, but she's also my kid. I've had two decades to mellow after that cock-up of a mission. Maybe I don't love this zombie, but let's see if she hates her old man as much as I do."

And yeah, Gideon hates mommy dearest as much as she hates her pops, but they can at least respect each other and work with each other. They won't trust the other, but they're both smart enough to rely on each other to get the job done.

And since souls are malleable and Wake isn't locked in a tomb (see what I did there) of cold steel, maybe she warms up to her daughter.

[parcequecestnotreprojeeeet]

Hello! It's Winter!!! I was going through writer's block until this story popped into my head. I hope everyone enjoys it. (Mature Subject Matter).

Her Thoughts

She weakly pulled him up to her chest, smiling at his glistening lips as she tried to catch her breath from the powerful orgasm she had just experienced, courtesy of her boyfriend's skillful tongue and fingers. 

“Now, it’s your turn,” she licked her lips, ready to reciprocate. “Lay on your back.”  

“Let’s just go to bed,” Emmanuel replied, kissing her softly on the mouth. “It’s getting late.” 

Let’s just go to bed. 

She lay awake at 1 AM replaying his words in her head, realizing she needed to get up and walk around if she had any chance of falling asleep. After sliding into her pink slippers, she quietly walked to the bathroom and closed the door. Flicking on the obtrusive light and blinking a few times to adjust her tired eyes to the yellow glow, Brigitte examined herself closely in the mirror, pulling at her skin and lifting her nightgown so she could get a better look at her stomach. It had carried her three children, but still remained toned thanks to her extensive workout routines and healthy diet. 

She was 47 years old, a far cry from his youthful age of 22. 

“I knew I’d find you in here,” Emmanuel sighed, relieved to locate her. “Our bed felt cold and empty without you.” 

His booming voice startled her and she jumped back, almost falling into his arms. She was not expecting him to get out of bed and look for her. The sight of his muscular body standing before her in just a pair of silk boxers rendered her speechless - but still heartbroken. 

“You’ve been in the bathroom for 10 minutes. Is everything alright?” He asked, placing his cold hands on her shoulders. Puzzled to catch her with her nightgown pulled up so high, he wondered what it could possibly mean. “Brigitte, you’re not ….” 

She shrugged her shoulders and broke free from his strong grasp. “No, I’m not pregnant. You know that’s impossible.” 

“Why were you looking at your stomach?” He asked, painfully aware she had flinched when he touched her. The conversation of pregnancy was always a sore topic for them, no matter how many times he told her, relentlessly, that he didn’t want children of his own, and that her children were his despite the fact they did not biologically belong to him. 

“It’s nothing. Just go back to bed.” She whispered. 

He wasn’t one to shy away from a conversation, usually becoming the most talkative person in the room when the topic on hand was one he loved and felt passionate about. And right now, he loved nothing (and no one) more than the beautiful woman standing 3 feet in front of him looking like she was ready to burst into tears. 

“I know something is bothering you. So, would you please tell me the truth so you can finally get some rest?”  Emmanuel pleaded, attempting again to touch her. This time she didn’t back away. 

She turned so he could get a closer look at her body, holding her nightgown in the same spot it had been when he walked in. “My stomach isn’t how it looked when I was your age. My breasts have lowered, my face is beginning to show my age and no amount of makeup can cover up the fact I’m almost 50. Everything is changing and it’s hard for me to accept it.” 

Brigitte spoke from the heart, mourning the youthful body she once had, deeply regretting that it had been wasted on her ex-husband. 

“Chérie, I’m not complaining. You should never feel insecure about your body. I happen to think you have the ….” 

She interrupted his sentence, not quite ready to let him speak yet. 

“Are you still attracted to me?” Brigitte closed her eyes, hoping the lack of eye contact would make his answer less soul-crushing. “Just tell me if you want someone else. Someone younger.” 

So there were absolutely no mixed signals, he pulled her into a warm embrace, placing a delicate kiss on her neck. “I’m very attracted to you, Chérie. Isn’t it obvious?” 

His erection against her stomach left no room for misinterpretation. 

“Are you bored of me? Am I not good enough in bed for you?” A single tear ran down her cheek. “Have you met someone new? A woman your age?” 

He stood in shock, wondering if she even knew what she was saying out loud. “Baby, tell me where these crazy thoughts are coming from. How could you possibly think I want someone else?” 

Brigitte took a deep breath. “Before we went to bed, right after you… you know… I offered to return the favour. You said - and I quote - let’s just go to bed.” 

He looked deep into her eyes, hoping to find the correct response in those deep blues, because right now he was at a loss for words. “It wasn’t about me tonight. Darling, every time I do something for you, I don’t expect you to return the favour. And it’s not a favour! I do it because I love you. I love making you squirm, I’m addicted to the way you taste, and I love knowing that I’m the only man who can make you scream, moan and convulse like that. Call me selfish or stupid, but seeing the pleasure I give you makes me feel like I’m finally worthy of your love. I wanted tonight to be about you and your needs. You satisfy me all the time, beyond my wildest fantasies. Your wicked tongue, the way your elegant fingers stroke my cock, your plump lips, your tight pussy, it’s all more than I deserve or ever thought I’d experience. I don’t do those things because I expect something in return. I do them out of love … and enjoyment.” 

She hung onto every word he said, trying her best to let it sink in. “So, you still want me?” 

“Of course, I do. Every single day, every time I see you, I need you. I have to fight the animalistic urge not to strip both of our outfits off every time we’re alone in a room together. Last night was something I wanted to do for you. Do not, for one second, think I don’t want you because, baby, I want you every second of every day.”

Hello Winter! ❤️

How your mind goes to "writer's block" to "hello smut" so fast is impressive 😂

Apart from the smut, it was also cute how Emmanuel dealt with that insecurity moment from Brigitte. He can give her amazing orgasms and still be a romantic sweet potato hahaha

Thank you so much, Winter! ❤️❤️❤️

[sirendeepity]

[ Selene one-shot ]

A/N: so this fic took me way too long to write/edit and is 100% self-indulgent. Past tenses are my worst enemy now so if things don't make sense time-wise(?) then close your eyes and look away because if I have to read this thing one more time istg I'm gonna lose it. English is so fun! Anyway, consider this also canon-defiant, as in Nesta kept her powers (as she should've). I am Selene, Selene is me, what I was thinking, she was thinking too. Also, can we all agree Selene was the best sibling? Enjoy! <3

W/C: 1.9k

T/W: --

Death was not what I’d imagined. My idea of dying has always been a cold embrace, yes, but also a release. Leaving a soft knock at my door once my skin had wrinkled and my wings had thinned and my trembling, aching bones had turned into stardust.

That desired rest after a long, fulfilling life. Little did I know.

My life had not been long and my body was not the battered rag of what it once used to be and my death couldn’t have been any less poetic, really.

I used to be bitter and resentful about everything and anything, but, well, you get used to it after being dead for centuries. Throwing tantrums is not the key to resurrection, apparently. One would think the Otherworld would be at least fun—as fun as being dead could be—but no, not even the company of other stolen souls was enough. Because there were none. Not even my mother’s. There had been, at first, when everything was new and strange and filled with sorrow. We only had each other, as we did in those last dreadful moments. We’d spent days and years and ages together, watching over what was left of our hearts, the part of us that was still alive and well. He was most of the time, at least. Well, I mean, he’s always been alive. Kind of. But as the years went by, as I watched him grow into the male and brother and High Lord he was always meant to be, my mother’s essence had grown tired of the stillness, that limbo, and had started to long for the Afterlife that was promised. Her face had turned more frequently, more easily, and her gaze had fixed on the darkness between the stars. Still, she’d stayed. Waiting, holding on to that last thread of hope.

It took five hundred years or so, but as the mating bond snapped into place, securing their souls to one another, my mother kissed me goodbye. It was out of her hands now, was all she’d said. It’s out of yours, too, she’d then added, urging me to follow.

But I couldn’t leave just yet. I didn’t want to. Because what my mother didn’t know was that I hadn’t been watching only my brother and his family—once my family as well. That had been the plan, yes, but plans change. Mind did so very quickly.

There was a very peculiar female that caught my eye. A woman.

She was a vicious, prideful thing, her spirit an inferno burning around a heart made of steel, too big and bright and hot to be tamed and kept confined inside skin and bones so… Mortal.

I was rooting for her—for Cassian, even. He had seen right through her, too—had seen that shivering, weeping, scared girl who had no idea how to give love because love had never been given to her, never felt like it was. She’d been hidden, kept under lock and key. A silver beast prowled her silver cage, keeping guard. Protecting her in the only way it knew how: Nothing was getting through.

That little girl was the reason I’d stayed. And the bickering, too.

Had Cassian always been that annoying? Or was it only for her? The female clearly knew how to hold her own, but still. Their banter was entertaining, almost comical. When it was not gutting them from the inside out, that is.

I felt so helpless when Hybern had thrown her and her sister inside the Cauldron.

What came out was not what went it, the Bone Carver would say weeks later.

Nesta, Nesta, Nesta.

I felt it the moment it happened. Everyone did, even in the Place-That-Was-No-More.

That— Well, that changed everything.

And so I waited and waited, and waited. Oh, that stubborn little—

Weeks had gone by and Nesta still refused to acknowledge the immense power within her, although she did practice with Amren, which was a feat on and of its own. It still wasn’t enough to prevent the war from happening.

Once again, I found myself in the position of begging whatever bastard—sorry, god—was willing to listen, asking them to turn their gazes somewhere else, far from that battlefield. I hoped that none of my beloved would become the company I’d so desperately craved. Cassian, the idiot, had really tried his best on more than one occasion. I’d risked losing Nesta, too, so I’d helped a little, found a loophole of sorts. It only took the whisper of an idea planted in the right mind, a mind that could see past barriers and borders, and the King’s crown fell with his head. She had some backbone, the flower girl.

My joy didn’t last long. Nothing in my life seemed to—no pun intended.

It happened so fast, I barely caught it.

Our eyes had met, a mirror image of each other, and held long enough for me to shake my head. Left to right, right to left. As starlight slid down my cheeks, I could offer him no more than a faint smile as I said, “Not yet.”

And then he was gone. Taken away from me. Again.

But as much as I’d longed for his embrace, I couldn’t help myself but feel relieved. My brother lived—all of them lived when many others did not.

As the Afterworld got crowded, albeit momentarily, and the thread between the worlds stretched further and thinner each day—sometimes I could see and feel little to nothing, others I thought it might snap completely—I kept my vigil. There had been moments when I felt distant, unmaterial. Which is weird to say, considering that I am distant and unmaterial. (Dead, remember?) But as Nesta got lost in herself, I did too. Maybe that’s what my mother had felt when she’d forced herself to stay rooted in place, afraid to inhale and exhale too deeply as if she might start floating if her lungs stretched too much. Maybe that was a sign—my sign. It was time to let it go, to let it fall.

The bridge was crumbling. What had once been inside the Cauldron was now kept chained to the bottom of an icy core, not even an ember of it allowed out, and the flesh of its vessel was giving out. She was giving out—giving up.

Nesta Archeron was giving up.

Please, please, please…

They had tried a last, desperate attempt. I can’t tell how that went down—those days used to blend and blur with one another. It felt like having clouds inside my head. Would not recommend, not remotely as fun as it sounds. One moment I was in a darkened dumpster, the next in a lovely house with one too many people, and then I was going down, down, down some stairs.

My mind was crystal clear when Nesta took a wrong step and went tumbling down—ouch—and I kept it sharp and focused as she pressed her forehead against the wall and started… Pulling. I don’t think that was intentional—as anything that had to do with her power ever was—still, I reached out and pulled back, answering her call. Something had shifted then, and I found myself with a brand new asset: a House.

Safe to say, I peeked through that window as often as I could, helping Nesta get back on her feet in all the ways my brain managed to conjure. New books (her taste was immaculate), cakes and pastries (for her soul), keeping her warm but away from fires (she really did not like those), and, yes, even forcing her to talk when communication was needed. That had proven harder than I thought, especially since said communication took a wrong turn. Who knew someone could be so verbal and physical at the same time? The horny animals currently living in the House had a lot to say, apparently.

Still, Nesta was not the biggest fan of the well of power within her, but I kept trying to lead her toward the right direction—my direction, that is—leaving hints and clues any chance I got. A book here, some candles there, a crystal thrown in for good measure.

No one had ever opened a portal to the Afterworld—I could count on one hand the number of folks who dared try but had still hesitated to take that last, some might say even foolish, step. Myself included.

But Nesta Archeron was not no one. She was a very fancy, very powerful, very deadly someone.

If only she deigned to listen to me, goddammit—

I had almost managed to rope her into it, once. One foot inside the library and her gaze had snapped to the grimoire I’d left on the desk; she’d felt its presence immediately, heard that voiceless call. And had then proceeded to eye it in that wary but curious way of hers for a few moments. That was until Cassian had snatched her attention elsewhere. Nesta had very clear priorities.

So the book had stayed right where it was, and soon enough she’d sat down in front of it, resumed the interrupted staring contest, and then finally—finally!—opened it. Right to the bookmarked page. Good girl.

It didn’t take her long to read the chapter, her eyes eating up the words as they went, and soon enough she was sitting in silent contemplation. Again.

Get there faster, Archeron.

Well, at least now she knew. Small victories.

My kindness backfired, as everything in my (not)life seemed to do, because the two days of freedom I’d rewarded Nesta with had turned into two months, along with a mate—that took longer than I expected—, a miracle, and a nephew. None of this was part of the plan, for your information, but it made Nesta a lot happier. It also made me screech with jealousy. Little Nyxie should’ve been my nephew, too.

Pettiness was motivation enough for me to get back on track, and keep Nesta on a tight leash.

Day after day, I kept working my “insanely annoying for a House” magic—not my words—until, on one fated night, my patience and tyranny finally came to fruition.

Cassian was supposed to be back from Illyria for dinner, so Nesta, as the loving mate that she was, waited for him. Apparently, she also felt bored enough to take pity on my efforts and pick up the chalk, along with every trinket I’d ever given her, and took that final step. If I still had a beating heart, I’d say it was close enough to burst right out of my chest. Was this real? Was it happening?

I felt the cold breeze first. The whispers came right after, then the tingles.

Just as the sun slipped under the horizon, and the last ray of light went out; just as time stilled, stuck in a dance between day and night, I closed my eyes. The moon grinned down at the world, and so did I.

Nothing changed, nothing felt different. But I knew it was, it had to be, because—

A soft gasp reached my ear, and when I opened my eyes, Nesta was right in front of me.

I waited, too scared to move, as her eyes widened with surprise, then confusion, and then wonder. I knew the exact moment she registered the violet of my eyes, and the last piece of the puzzle snapped into place.

“Who are you?”

It sounded more demand than question, but I obliged her anyway.

“You already know who I am, Nesta Archeron.”

She swallowed, her delicate throat bobbing with the movement. “Humor me,” she breathed.

“My name is Selene, darling.”

[the-skull-breaker]

so I have updated one of my minis from Hero Forge for a contest on Reddit AND I've had written a summary of his lore to which I'm gonna share down below \/ \/ \/

I called him Menace and he's the Possessed Knight of the Witch Queen's order

and without his helmet !

and now onto the story ! keep in mind, it's just the summary version, so it's not so detailed

When your loved one is having every symptoms of a demonic possession, may it be nausea, sudden concussions, delusions, sudden changes of mood, voice changes, loss of control of the body, dark marks all over the body and black viscous and magical liquids appearing whenever the demon takes over, you would want to risk everything of your power to get rid of that unholy being and save you beloved, right ? maybe pray to your god for salvation, buy potions and trinquets that would repel the evil spirit or even find a priest in the hopes that their holy words might have positive results ? well these were what the parents of an unfortunate child who had fallen into a curse of a jealous neighbor had tried to do.

Only at an age before reaching adolescence, this boy to which the name is unknown has been brought to many sages and priests to lift the curse, only to be told, after many attempts, that they couldn't do anymore. For the boy's family, who was getting poorer due to the expenses they had to make to save their only son, there was only one more priest they could afford, and despite the warnings of their relatives, they felt they had no other choices than to leave the child in this man's hands. Just like a doctor, the priest examined him in every angles, everything that stood out from the ordinary. When he finished, he told the child's parents that he was close to be completely consumed by the demon, however, there was still one way to save his soul, only one, and he needed their full assistance.

The boy was soon chained up from head to toes to a cross, fully naked, confused and afraid of what was to come. His parents, at the request of the priest, showered him with some unknown and stinky liquid, while singing a psalm. The priest came to him, a sharp dagger in have, and started cutting over the marks that covered his whole body, singing the same psalm. When he finished, the parents showered the child again, despite his cries and pleadings due to the pain, and then the priest took a torch, then came closer to the boy, smiling. It was not a smile of benevolence nor of accomplishment, it was an evil, greedy smile, and his parents did nothing but obey to this man's orders, they believed everything he lied about, at the expenses of their son's life.

Then, as if the demon answered the boy's prayers, a dark liquid formed itself to take form of a sword, and cut off the priest's head before his flame could meet his skin. Before they could react, the parents met with the same fate as the man. As three decapitated bodies were laying of the floor, the liquid freed the child and closed every wounds before vanishing. Confused by what happened, the boy took his clothes back and got out of the temple, to which surprisingly was completely empty.

After walking for long minutes while meeting nobody else, he came across a really tall and skinny woman, fully wrapped by dark reddish clothes and her face under a mask faceless mask and wearing a platinum crown on her head. She came upfront the boy and took him in her arms, comforting him after the unjust torture he went through, and walked away in the distance. She introduced herself to the child as the Witch Queen, and took him into her dark castle, where other unholy beings dwelled. She, as well as treating him as her own son, taught him how to fight, how to control his demon and how to take advantage of his possession to its full potential, and soon enough, the boy became a man with great force and power, knighted by the Witch Queen herself, and is now best known by the common folks as a threat.. no, as a MENACE, and is feared to be one of the most powerful generals of the Witch Queen's kingdom.

[treadmilltreats]

Reflecting on my life

During this long Thanksgiving weekend, I had time to stop and reflect on my life. Most of the time, I am so busy doing so much that I don't have time to sit and reflect, or even sit for that matter.

But this weekend, as everything I needed to do was done, I decided to do nothing, so I had time to do this.

I didn't want to spend this weekend cooking and cleaning. I needed time to relax and spend some time with family and friends.

I thought about a lot of things like how far my oldest daughter had come from the days that I thought I may have to put her in military school to the amazing woman who she is now. She's back in college, traveling the world, and has a good job. I am grateful for my little one who found her passion and is going after it with a Masters degree. I am grateful I got to hang out with friends, catch up and laugh, and even learn some lessons. I got to go to my favorite place, the beach, and lose myself in a good book, which was amazing.

I am grateful for my heart because even with all the heartbreak I have experienced in my life, I am still willing and open to be able to try again. I went on a few dates last week, it's been months since I even thought about dating, and even though they weren't the “one” at least I tried to put myself out there.

I know that life can change in an instant, and we need to be in this moment. We need to really stop to take the time to treasure what we have, and what is important, and to give thanks as it could have been another way.

I've learned that I need to take care of myself. To be my own advocate after the health scare I had with some pharmaceutical medicine that I didn't do my research on. I started to exercise more intensely but not just that, to get to the core of me, which, for me, is yoga. It helps my mind, body, and soul. I started doing meditation with yoga again. I am watching what I eat and what I put into my body. I am watching what my thoughts are, which is just as important as what you eat. I want to be able to be and stay in a place of peace and gratitude.

So today, my friends, this is me reflecting on my life, what I am grateful for, and this is what I am doing to stay in that space.

My question is, what are you doing?

Have you forgiven?

Have you worked on what is broken inside of you?

Have you worked on your body, your mind, and your soul?

Whatever that may look like to you, it's your life, but we all must do the work to be where we want to be.

Start small, do one thing at a time, just do something because like I say at the end of every blog…only you can be the change you want to see.

@TreadmillTreats

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​

[songbird-scribbles]

Please add "Futures Bound" to your 'To Read' lists. I'd cry if I saw it rec'd somewhere. *24 chapters, (F) Durge x Astarion, Longfic* ___

-'Futures Bound' by songbirdscribbles

A loose retelling of the plot of Baldur’s Gate 3 told from the perspective of my female Durge, Kalliope. Kalliope is a “Way of the Shadows” tiefling monk.

She doesn’t understand these bloodthirsty desires or thoughts, but sees their use in battle. Her monastic teachings are very contradictory to this seductive, dark muse in her mind that urges her to “KILL-MAIM-END!”

__________ “I do believe, my plant-happy friend, that we’ve just shared everything we know with you. Now, are you going to help us or not?” Astarion sounds as nervous and impatient as you feel.

[…]

Nettie’s lips thin into a tight grimace.

“…Kalliope…” tries Gale.

“No. I’m not taking poison from a woman I can’t trust. You’ve done nothing but deceive us since we crossed that threshold,” you flick your hand angrily, pointing to the door you passed through just moments before. “Despite us answering every question that you asked.”

The dark whisper snakes up the back of your skull, the killing calm begins warming and filling your body.

“It’s just for insurance,” tries Nettie once more, “take it only if you feel yourself changing.”

You sneer. And then, your vision goes red.

____________

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ And if you haven't already, some of my other faves are: ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

-' A Gift, A Curse' by El_Emit

"If the desperation in his eyes and the heartbreak on his face hadn’t already been enough to break you, the tremble in his voice would have done it. And even without all that, how could you ever say no to this man? He who stood beside you as you discovered your lost self. He who remained beside you when you learned your cursed history. He who bound the knots of your restraints and stroked your hair through the night, even as you writhed and fought to end his life. He helped you gain your freedom from the damnation of your birth. How could you possibly deny helping him with his own freedom?

But, says a voice in your head, seven thousand souls.

----

A story in which we discover just how damned an ascended vampire can be, and just how far you will go to save the elf you loved." _________________

-'To Try Living' by Sastrei

“Look, I don’t do this song and dance thing,” Trei tells him. There’s something tired, but still mischievous in her eyes. “If you want to fuck me, just come out and say it.”

It’s mostly the performance that pushes Astarion forward, until his nose is brushing against her pumpkin hair, and his lips are right next to her ear. This is all meticulously rehearsed.

But he’s not really sure what makes him murmur, “I want to fuck you.”

He doesn’t have to. No one is forcing him, or will punish him for failing. He decides swiftly that it’s for strategic purposes only. Purely self-preservation. Having a Zhent with connections on his side, when and if he ever gets to face Cazador, will be incredibly valuable.

That’s as far as he gets in terms of thinking, because Trei’s hands are curling into the front of his shirt and the pressure of her kiss shoves him against a tree.”

—-

(Or: the story of two not-okay elves overcoming their own personal tormentors together, and finding love, healing, reclamation, and a lot of great sex in the process)

_________________

-'I Want to Live' by TalesFromTheWanderingBard

"Canon divergent - loosely following the game story but adding a little spice.

Tav (Wren - she/her) x let's find out: Tav is a ranger with a performer background.

Other Tav (Mistral - he/him) x Karlach: Mistral is a storm sorcerer also with an entertainer background

Super self-indulgent, with short chapters, and no editing because this is mostly to get it out of my head.

Wren had escaped Avernus shortly before the rest of the Elturel Tieflings out of sheer luck. She had recovered and thought she could finally start a new life - until she was taken by the illithids during their passage over Waterdeep and she once again found herself escaping Avernus.

Now, back in the material plane, with one of the parasitic tadpoles in her head, she and her newfound companions have to find a cure but what else will she find?"

_________________

-'A Different Form of Eternity' by iamnothere97

"Tav is the kind who never regrets anything. She helps Astarion ascend so that he can walk in the sun freely and live his life without fear. She refuses to be turned because that’s not what she wants. She leaves Baldur’s Gate on her own after their victory to explore the world, to continue on her adventures. And she always comes back to Astarion because she is still irredeemably in love with him and always will be.

Astarion is the kind who is never satisfied. All the stolen moments over the years are never enough for him. He wants more. He wants it all. And he wants all of her. _________________

-'The Performance of a Lifetime' by CosyLlama

"Over the centuries, Astarion has learnt to play people like a fiddle, using his dashing good looks and roguish charisma to do his master's bidding. Now, with his freedom finally within reach, the one person he needs on his side seems immune to his charm.

As a bard, Cordelia is well-trained in both performance and insight into the nature of others. She sees that walking red flag a mile away, but that doesn't mean she can resist him forever."

_________________

-'The Arrangement' by rubyfangs

You managed to convince Astarion not to go through with the Rite of Profane Ascension. He remains a vampire spawn, and you now offer your blood from time to time to help with his sanguine hunger until a solution is found.

Even though you had both decided to stay as friends back at Moonrise Towers, lines begin to blur once more as other cravings come to the surface… and things with Astarion are seldom uncomplicated.

_____________

Impatience gripped your nerves ferociously. "These things take time, Astarion."

"Oh, my darling… I have all the time in the world, but you only have a limited supply of blood," he whispered softly and you could almost taste his taunting words."

_________________

-'A new start for a new life' by SunStar88

"Over the centuries, Astarion has learnt to play people like a fiddle, using his dashing good looks and roguish charisma to do his master's bidding. Now, with his freedom finally within reach, the one person he needs on his side seems immune to his charm.

As a bard, Cordelia is well-trained in both performance and insight into the nature of others. She sees that walking red flag a mile away, but that doesn't mean she can resist him forever."

_________________

-'Shadows of the Past' by PallidMoon

"After a year of blissful cohabitation, Astarion disappears without a trace, leaving behind a heartfelt letter explaining his departure. Determined to find him, you traverse Faerûn in search of your lost love, only to realize that some absences are meant to be permanent.

Returning to Waterdeep, you find solace in the company of Gale as you come to terms with Astarion's absence. But just as you begin to heal, Astarion reappears, begging for a second chance at love.

The question looms: can you forgive his abandonment and trust him once more? As you grapple with your emotions and trauma, a sinister force lurks in the shadows, targeting you for unknown reasons.

With danger closing in, you must navigate the treacherous waters of trust, love, and betrayal to uncover the truth behind the mysterious entity's motives. Will you be able to reunite with Astarion while facing the demons of your past? Can you unravel the secrets that threaten your very existence?"

just finished reading like all of your fics. they are all such great reads and your writing is beautiful!! i wondering if you have any specific fic (or author) recommendations — especially anything that’s about astarion and the other companion characters

Ahh Tysm for the ask! Here’s some fics I’ve compiled so far! 🤍🌸 Heed the tags on some. 🤍 I’ll write my own little summary for most of these/why I rec them. Might add on to this as I gain more recs.

ASTARION-CENTRIC RECS

Wyll/Astarion

A Dream of Sweeter Things - Asidian - Hurt/comfort - Dream Sharing - Series

I recommend just about everything from this author really! Incredible writing and characterization for everyone. I adore their fics. This one is a series of Wyll and Astarion growing closer. 🤍

nothing is safe - foxflowering - Character Study - Smut

This one is a really interesting look into the development of their relationship! Really good conversations and some interesting dynamics. I just really loved this one, 10/10.

Days In The Sun - joan_p - Post-game - Duke Wyll

Just an incredible look into if Astarion married Duke Wyll post-game. Heed the tags and warnings, but I really adored this one.

Another Path - Asidian - Canon-divergence - Hurt/comfort - WIP

Monster Hunter x Monster turned to the max. A what-if where Wyll saves Astarion from Cazador early.

Halsin/Astarion

All Our Missing Parts - Viraaja - Smut - Touch-starvation - WIP

Interesting and smutty look into Halsin teaching Astarion more about elf culture. Mind the tags to see if it’s something you’re into.

the bridge won’t burn - tippytulip - Touch-starvation - Smut

Halsin helps Astarion with old pain from his scars. Just very sweet.

Handmade - BerlinBerlin - Hurt/comfort - Series

Just a very sweet series of them growing closer. Short but really good I rec all of the Halsin/Astarion things from this author.

Perceived Impressions - Acinonyx1 - Hurt/Comfort - Whump - WIP

Astarion is locked in at the goblin camp with bear Halsin. Mind the tags, but this one is amazing so far. This author has a good few Astarion fics as well of the smutty variety.

A Break in the Illusion - Acinonyx1 - Smut

What it says on the tin. 🤍

Astarion/Gale

Hoarding Tendencies - Asidian - Misunderstandings - Trust Issues - WIP

Astarion has a tendency to hoard things. Gale notices. Very sweet so far.

Astarion/Karlach

Astarion Origin Part Nonsense - starkraving - Character Study - Hurt/comfort - Series

Amazing characterization for both of these fics. Couldn’t rec these more. Heed the tags, however!

Repairs - Asidian - Trust Issues - Hurt/comfort

Short and sweet. Can’t recommend this author enough.

The Things You Miss - Asidian - Hurt/comfort

Another short and sweet one. Really good characterization.

Astarion/Tav

Porcelain - cweepa - hurt/comfort - Sickfic

Astarion grows sick and worried about his appearance. Really well done 🤍

Working On It - casswhatever - Developing Relationships - Hurt/comfort - Series

Short but really good reads. 🤍

Still You Breathe - tokidokifish - hurt/comfort - Series

Really good tav. Heed the tags, but very sweet.

Let me in the other room - LadyRagnelle - Hurt/comfort

Really enjoy the things from this author! Very good characterization of Astarion. 🤍 heed the tags, but a very good read.

Seducere - Tlon - Character Study - Hurt/comfort

One of my favorite Astarion fics. Heed the warnings and tags, but an incredible look into his time with Cazador.

Gen

Reflecting Endless Down the Hall - Asidian - Hurt/comfort - Character Study

Small moments between Astarion and the companion. Amazing and interesting characterization and interactions. Heed the warnings.

——————

Will likely have more to add after reading more things, but this is what I have right now! And while I can’t say I recommend myself lmao, here’s my ao3 if you wanna have a look through my bookmarks and works FlowerCitti 🤍

[iguessweallcrazyithinktho]

My world

SUMMARY: Can you make a joe quinn one where they are dating since shooting season 4 and now they have interviews of the sesson together reader has been in it since the 1st season and in the interview he getd asked how he fell in love and what he loves about the reader and he gives such a sweet kind of speech and the reader didnt know he thought so and when they are at their hotel cause theh are in Brazil its all sweet and they make love? ^^ SMUT

WARNING: cute speech, NSFW, intercourse, unprotected sex, slight oral.. yeah

I'm reposting this + masterlist coming soon

You woke up with a soft groan. A yawn fell from your mouth as you stretched- well tried to. You frowned feeling something heavy against your lower body. You opened your eyes looking down to see your boyfriend, Joseph passed out on top of you. His face was buried in your tummy and arms around your waist. Your laughed slightly as you listened to his light snores. You knew he was exhausted especially after your long flight here to Brazil. You both have been working non stop for press tour for Stranger Things. Even though it could get a little overwhelming at times at least you had each other.

“Joseph.” You shook him lightly trying to wake up. A grunt fell from the man's mouth as he started moving around. “Baby, can you get off my legs. They're going numb now.”

Another groan fell from Joseph lips. He heard you loud and clear and rolled off of you. But you weren't out of his grip yet. His arms circled your waist pulling you into him.

“Joseph!” You said with a laugh. With his eyes still closed due to sleep he grunted a ‘what’

“we need to get up and ready. We have work to do.”

Joseph sighed out, “fine.” he stretched and yawned while you removed yourself from the bed. You walked into the bathroom and grabbed your toothbrush starting to brush your teeth. A few minutes went by before Joseph joined you. He walked in and kissed your temple before grabbing his own toothbrush.

“you ready to see your fans?” You asked turning to him. He nodded his head before spitting in the sink. “Never be more ready. Kinda crazy have so many people love me.”

You smiled. “Yeah, it's amazing to see people love you.” you kissed your boyfriend on the cheek. “Now I'm going to take a shower and get ready then we can go.”

♡︎

You and Joseph got ready within an hour. After a quick breakfast you made your way to the meet up. While there you watched as Joseph greeted his fans. You could help but feel so happy for him. Greeting fans for you was nothing new but for him it was big. This was his breakthrough role and he was finally getting the recognization he deserved. Seeing all this overwhelming support mad him so happy and it also made you happy knowing this was what he wanted the day he started filming with you guys.

You took some pictures talked to some fans, all before it was time for the interviews.

You took a seat in the chair that was in between Joseph's and Jamie's. The interviewer started asking simple questions about the show to which you three answered normally. It was towards the end when they asked about your relationship.

“so Joseph, we know you and y/n have been dating for a little bit. Tell us how did this start?”

Joseph turned to you and smirked.

“you know I wasn't planning to fall in love with anyone, but I met her and you know everything thing changed. For starters she's the most kindest and sweetest person I've ever met. The first day on set she made me feel welcomed more than anyone and that continued while we were filming. I realized I liked her and I asked her out and she surprisingly said yes. Every day after that has been amazing.” Joseph sighed as he softly smiled. “god, She's everything I dreamed for. the prettiest smile, the prettiest voice, my biggest supporter, best advice giver. She Has the most gentle soul ever. She's the sunshine to my life even on bad days. She's my world, my everything. I can't wait to spend many more years with this very beautiful woman.” Joseph turned to you and smile softly at you, he grabbed your hand and laid a kiss on it.

Jamie and the interviewer awed at you two. It was sure to get more aw(s) when it hit the internet the next day that was for sure.

After your interview you and Joseph went to a party with Jamie. It was great, Nice even but really you want to go back to the hotel to talk to Joe. His words were stuck in your mind like glue. He has told you numerous times how much he loved and appreciated you, but never to that extent. It gave you butterflies just thinking about what he had said to you.

The long work day drew to a close soon and you were happy. As you walked back into your hotel room the first thing you did was hug Joseph. He was caught off guard but he wrapped his arms around you too. “You ok?”

You smiled at his concern and pulled away. “Yeah, I'm fine. It's just those words you said about me earlier made me get butterflies.”

Joseph smirked “Really?”

You nodded, “yeah really.” you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him so that you both were barely an inch away. “ you're my everything too.”

You kissed Joseph hard. He held your waist as you both made out. After a minute he pulled away. “Jump.” He whispered against your lips. You did as he said and wrapped your legs around his waist. You both started kissing again as he walked over to the bed.

Your back hit the mattress as he sat you down. Joseph lips moved down to your neck, he placed rough kisses that were sure to leave hickeys. You moaned running your fingers through his hair. Joseph lifted his head, he smirked at you before kissing your lips again. You started to unbutton his shirt the best that he could. When you reached the last button he pulled away and removed the white shirt from his body.

You took your opportunity to take off your shirt. When your shirt was thrown on the floor, Joseph's hands were already pulling at your bra. You giggled as you help take it off. “Needy aren't you?”

He rolled his eyes but the smirk on his face told you he was.

The bra was tossed to the floor where all of your other clothes were. Joseph hand went to your boob, he squeezed the flesh, pinching your perky nipple that grew hard from being exposed. You softly grunted and looked up at him.

“God, I just wanna be inside of you.” Joseph grunted. His soft brown eyes shut as he started unbuckled his pants, pushing them down his leg. You did the same, removing your pants and panties until you were completely bare in front of him. In front of each other.

Joseph looked down at your body as he stroked himself. He's seen it a million times before this but you always amazed him at your beauty.

“So fucking beautiful.” His accent was thick as his lust grow. You opened your legs wide making him scoot in between them. you needed him in you badly. You practically ached for him to fill you up.

Joseph held onto your left thigh as he pushed himself into you. Your bodies connected with one another. In union both your moans filled the room.

Your walls, warm and wet coated Joseph's length making him twitch in you. You were always so tight and warm. After a good 30 seconds of recovering Joseph finally moved in you.

A moan escaped your lips as he slowly moved out of you and slammed right back in. His pace went from slow to fast in no time. You sobbed out a moan with the actions that were taking place. Your eyes were torn between watching Joseph enter you and his eyes.

“this my pussy?” Joseph said his words scattered as he pounded into you. You nodded your head.

“no, use your words. Is this mine huh?”

A shiver ran down your spine making you moan. Your stomach was slowly tightening. “Yes, it-.. it's yours.”

Joseph grunted, “good girl. Fuck!”

Joseph hips snapped into you making you wail out. He knew you were close from the way you tighten around him. “You going to cum?” He asked looking down at you. “Yes.” you cried out gripping the sheets underneath you.

Joseph hand went down to the bundle of nerves and began circling at it“Cum!”

You came like he said. Your body shook undet

Joseph didn't cum instead he pulled out of you. You looked at him, “why didn't you cum?”

“this isn't about me.” Joseph lowered himself on the bed to between your legs. “i gotta show you how much I love you.” He kissed your thigh as he looked up at you. “Now relax, I'm going to get a few orgasms from you before this night ends.”

Before you could say a word his mouth was on your pussy. You shuttered bringing your hands to his hair. Let's just say Joseph did show you how much he loves you that night.

[sukirichi]

home from war | sukuna x reader

Home from War | sukuna x reader

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

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

part two!

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

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

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

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

But not in that way.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until you came.

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

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

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

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

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

It was perfect. It was heaven.

But that wasn’t you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But does any of it matter?

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

You could never have him.

You could never have what they have.

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

Though deep down, you knew the answer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shut up, shut up, shut up!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It makes sense Sukuna loves her.

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

She is a blessing.

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

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

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

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

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

He knows you’ll come home.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They don’t even eat.

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

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

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

You know you’re not her.

You could never be her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck, Y/N, what’s wrong —”

“Kiss me.”

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Enough!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sukuna lied.

To him, his heaven was in her arms.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You won’t allow it.

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

But you are harm’s way.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyes widen at the realization.

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

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

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

“Sukuna, don’t!”

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

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

It’s the Curse of Death.

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

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

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

You drop your dagger.

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

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

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

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

“And if you’re lying?”

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

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

You don’t even think about it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He knows you better than you know yourself.

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

“Lately?”

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

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

Megumi purrs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wha-?”

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

 - - - - - 

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

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

[l-artemisia-del-secolo]

Delusion

Yelena Belova x reader, oneshot, angst, cheating, definitely not a happy ending

Yelena cheated on you. Even though she tries her best to fix everything, you've already made a decision.

"No, no, no, no... you can't do this." Yelena followed you to the bedroom. "This is just insane. We've been together for so long"

"Really? Watch me." You took a pile of her clothes and shoved it in a bag you were holding. "I'm making it easier for you. Appreciate it."

"Babe, please stop." Her voice was higher than usual, she was quickly falling into despair. "I love you. We can fix everything."

"Really? How interesting. Where was your love when you were fucking her in our bed, hm?" You were boiling with anger. "Where was your love when you were eating her out on our kitchen table?"

"It was a mistake. I swear."

Her strong physical presence disappeared, her confidence vanished. She appereared even smaller than she was, weighed down by guilt and pain.

You, on the other hand, were practically burning her with your looks and movements.

"A mistake?" You repeated in a mocking tone, still filling the bag with her personal things. "That's convenient."

"It means nothing. She means nothing. Just a random girl." Yelena helplessly watched how you were getting rid of her presence in the apartment.

"Oh, please, don't be like this. I'm sure, that girl deserves more praise. She managed to do what I couldn't. She had your undivided attention."

You knew you were right. For years you had to share Yelena with her job, teammates, bosses. So many people thought that she belonged to them. She belonged to the whole world. And you were getting only the crumbs of your woman. Which was driving you crazy, but at least you were convincing yourself, that she was doing her best. Yelena was a hero and giving her a room to breath was a small price for such a woman being yours.

But these last few months were different. She was different. She didn't even give the crumbs, she let you starve.

"Don't say that. She was... It was... A delusion." Yelena tried to get closer to you, but your hand stopped her.

"Don't you dare making another step." You couldn't allow your defence to have a crack. "A delusion? Fine. How many times?"

Yelena didn't know what to answer. Her first instinct was to lie to you. To protect from her own stupidity. To cry outloud that it was a mistake, nothing more than a cruel joke.

But Yelena knew right now she didn't have any right to manipulate you. Her pure woman, who sacrificed so much for her.

"Four months." She sounded as if she didn't believe that herself.

"Was she good?" You asked ruthlessly.

"I... Don't..." Yelena felt tears on her cheeks. And she thought she wasn't capable of crying anymore. Or feeling such immense pain.

"Answer me."

"She... She's not you." Yelena whispered. "None of that was real. None of that was mine."

"Well." You wiped away your tears. "Sorry to disappoint you but it is real."

You threw the bag on the floor and kicked it in Yelena's direction. You were never betrayed before. You always left before that could happen. But with her you genuinely tried to be a family. She was your family, and you were blind enough to believe that you were hers.

"We still can make it work." Yelena was sobbing, you could barely understand her. "I can."

"Really?" You pointed at your heart. "How are you going to make this work? You wanted everything and I gave you everything. My mind, my soul, my heart, my body. I trusted you. I believed in you. I saw you wanting have a normal, healthy relationship. When did it change? Why?"

"It just..." Yelena was defeated. "It just happened."

"Oh, yeah." You smiled bitterly and looked at the ring on your finger. "Makes perfect sense."

Yelena gave you that ring years ago. Her first meaningful present. The one, that was always with you. The one, you cherished the most. The one, she loved on you.

"It won't happen again. Give me a chance." She pleaded.

"No. You lied to me. You cheated. I won't forgive this." You took off the ring. "I think you should have it. Seems to me, you have forgotten, what these words truly mean."

You tossed her a piece of jewellery. Of course she caught it.

"Don't do this to me."

"You did it to yourself. Take the bag. I'll send everything else as soon as I can."

You stormed out of the room. But Yelena didn't even try to catch you. You took off the ring. It was the end.

She knew the engraving on the ring, she chose it herself.

"Всегда буду принадлежать только тебе одной" (vsegda budu prynadlezhat' tol'ko tebye odnoi.)

"I will always belong only to you alone."