#so them being separated and passing by is by 'fate'
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
đđĄđ đđŤđŤđđ§đ đđŚđđ§đ, đđđ đđ°đ¨




pairing: gojo x fem!reader
part two of the arrangement
summary: life was going well. better than you could have ever imagined. the whirlwind marriage between you and gojo satoru that started as an arrangement blossomed into something sweeter and more tender after you both fell in love. but that storybook life you've been living soon shatters when you're told that a bitter king wants you two to separate so gojo could marry his daughter. either that, or he promises a war to follow. you live between selfishness and sacrifice as the fate of the kingdoms rests in your, and your husband's hands.
warnings: 18+ mdni, angst with no comfort for a while, near-death experiences, gojo sometimes struggling to be reasonable, small panic attack, heavy making out, heavy smut, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, (reader's first time), creampie, (happy ending)
word count: 38k+ (sorry again)
note: act two is finally done! (nearly lost my fingers writing it) art credit: _3aem
jjk masterlist + series masterlist

One year ago you were told about an arrangement. The arrangement.Â
It offered you a chance of freedom, a lick of life. You didnât have time to question why the most sought-after bachelor of the six kingdoms was asking for you to be his bride, and only a daft, bumbling idiot would seek out the answer when time was given. Gojo Satoru was the man you soon called husband, but the true act of having an actual husband didnât come around till months later.Â
At first, the dinners you spent alone were now spent together. Albeit in silence, but sometimes youâd catch his stare from the other side of the long, mahogany table, and the two of you would quickly look away. On other days youâd walk around the estate only to catch him when he was training with his men, his loud voice booming around the walls as he commanded them. Youâd watch them from the balcony, leaning over the railing as you rested your chin in your palm. Sometimes heâd look up and see you, not doing anything to hide his surprised expression, other times he tried puffing his chest out so heâd seem even bigger.
All of the unspoken feelings, lingering touches, and longing glances morphed into the two of you spurring out your thoughts to one another, elated and relieved to find that the other felt the same.
Months would pass and a part of you wondered if perhaps what he felt was only momentary. But those worries quickly seemed to pass the more you surveyed him. Because the most esteemed man, the most worshiped warrior destined to lead his lands to greatness, could not seem to survive apart from you for longer than five minutes.Â
âLove, we have to go.âÂ
Itâs your fifth time telling your husband about the urgency of getting out of bed, and the fifth time heâs tugged your squirming body closer to his bare chest to get you to stay in bed. His arms, which are the size of tree trunks, prove to work more than your pathetic flails, chuckling when you let out a deafening, annoyed whine.Â
Months ago you never entertained the idea of the two of you sharing a bed, let alone the man you married turning into such a leech. Seeing how you were first sleeping on separate sides of the estate, you always assumed you had ended up in one of those marriages in which the only time you two ever saw each other was during meal time (if that) and at gatherings.Â
But things took a turn, and after a while, that turn never stopped. And you found yourself here. With no complaints, of course.Â
The days when the two of you werenât burdened with the life of being the Lord and Lady of the North, Gojo would whisk you away to wherever you pleased. Sometimes you settled to bake some sweets in the kitchen, other times you requested to go into town and look through the bustling markets. He would always oblige, taking you down to the epicenter of Northern life, watching as you carded your fingers through the fabrics and stocked up on your spices. And though you enjoyed prancing around with your husband attached to your side, most days, these were the moments you loved the most.Â
Other days youâd find yourself with newly made friends, women you had slowly gotten closer to the more you socialized. It took a while for you to move away from the quietness you had been accustomed to for so long, but you preferred walking around the town or the estate with them, arm in arm as you laughed about something minuscule.Â
Nights were spent with each other, skin to skin, sharing the warmth. Mornings like this would come and heâd awake before you, pulling you closer to his chest as he nudged his nose against your ears. Heâd whisper how much he loved you, how pretty you were when you slept. It proved to be a nice and easy way to wake up, but on the days where you were particularly stubborn and wanted to sleep more, heâd bite your ear, chuckling when you would let out a fake whine. Afterward, youâd grumble about it, like now, but other times youâd laugh softly when youâd turn and see his blushing face.Â
âPeople might gossip if they hear you,â your husband muttered against your head, his lips pulled back into a large grin, âThey might say Iâm torturing you, leaving you unsatisfied.âÂ
Your cheeks heat up at his implications and you wrangle a hand out of his hold to slap at his torso, rolling your eyes as you give up, going slack in his arms as you relax against him. You mightâve put up a tougher fight if this wasnât a daily occurrence and your overall zest to equal the strongest man ever known was decreasing.
âYouâre so lude,â you comment, and he just shrugs in response, knowing that you werenât lying. If anything, this was him being more than tame. Sometimes heâd corner you in a hallway that had heavy foot traffic and kiss you senseless, his plush lips growing into a sly grin when somebody caught the two of you.
âYou make me lude,â Gojo remarks and you sigh, pretending to find him annoying instead of endearing as you look away. In reality, you loved your mornings together. With how busy the two of you got throughout the day, these little blips of being alone together were heavily enjoyed.
You rub at your eyes, yawning a little bit as you stretch your legs out. You find yourself sleeping better than you ever have in this bed, and whether it be the fact that your husband was asleep next to you or that the bed was constructed of goose feathers, you didnât care much to question it.Â
âWe should go into town today,â Gojo says suddenly, and you turn your neck slightly over to him as you raise a brow. He mirrors your expression as if he isnât riddled with duties that need to be taken care of.
âA ride into town alone takes an hour,â you argue, bringing his hand closer to yours so that you can fidget with his slender fingers.Â
âIâm well aware,â he says, âBut you were saying last night that you need more cinnamon sticks and that your honeycomb stash is nearly gone.âÂ
You try to hide your smile, try not to let him know how pleased you are that he remembers the little things you mention to him on a whim.
When you donât say anything in excitement to his plan, he pours slightly, nudging at your shoulder with his nose.Â
âHave you grown tired of me?â His voice is slightly muffled against your skin and you laugh a little bit, the sound making him smile slightly, hiding it against your collarbones, âDo you wish to cast me aside and take on a different lover?â
Your mouth drops open in a loud laugh, shoving your shoulder upwards so that his chin would fall off and you look at him in shock.Â
But thereâs a teasing grin on his face, one that truly just wanted to see you smile.Â
âIâm just trying to be sensible,â you say with a pout, craning your neck as you glance up at him, your legs sprawling out on his, âYou have that meeting with your advisors and I have to pretend Iâm not listening to your meeting with your advisors.âÂ
Gojoâs eyes crinkle upwards, soft and gentle as he looks at you like you raised the moon, and pinches your arm slightly.Â
âIâve told you if you want to join us youâre welcome to,â he says against the skin of your neck, his lips moving fast and you try to hide your bursts of giggles at the ticklish feeling, âIâd much prefer having you inside with me than standing alone outside.â You also try to hide the way you burn up wherever his fingers are, which at the moment are gripping at your hips.
âBut itâs more fun when it feels like Iâm learning state secrets,â you murmur teasingly, turning around a bit so that the two of you are face to face. So close that you could count the amount of eyelashes he had and the little dust of barely visible freckles on his cheeks. He was training more than usual now, spending more time in the sun. His pink lips pull into a wide smile when he finally sees you, all of you, and runs a hand under your calf and up to your thigh to hike it up over his waist.Â
Gojoâs eyes trail over your features for a silent second, admiring your appearance early in the morning, disheveled from a good night's rest. You feel like hiding, but admire the endless attention you receive from him at the same time. You feel foolish when you note how his features soften, his smile genuine and bright when his thumb traces over the hairs of your eyebrow.
A part of you never thought you would have a husband who looked at you the way he does. When you were younger you always assumed youâd end up a spinster or married off to an old man in need of an heir. This is why you so eagerly accepted the Gojo familyâs initial proposal, but you never expected much to come from it. Never in your dreams did you envision the Gojo Satoru holding you close to him with such tender care, or that heâd gingerly run his fingers across the slope of your nose just to memorize your bone structure.
Never this.
Gojo Satoru was somebody who you had grown up with but observed from a distance. You always assumed that he and his family would prefer for him to marry a girl with a moreâŚfavorable background than you, but by a force of fate, you were the lucky girl they picked. You found yourself immensely lucky seeing that it was either him or evil incarnate himself, but some mornings you wake up and expect to blink yourself out of this dream. That youâll turn around to find some other man than him, somebody with an oily smile and evil eyes. But just like this morning you woke up to fluttering kisses on the exposed skin of your shoulder and slender fingers trailing up your arm.Â
âYou have that look,â Gojo murmurs gently, his eyes tracing the way your lips part, the way they do when youâre in your world, âThe one where youâre deep in thought,â he says, his voice a little softer as your gaze settles back onto him.
You think a little longer, eyes squinting as you smile.Â
Itâs been a while since the two of you have had a decent amount of time alone together. Mornings together, dinners, and then nights climbing into bed seemed to be the only blips of time when he wasnât riddled with counsels and you with overseeing and trying to take care of problems the people of the neighboring towns were dealing with (last week you had to carefully settle a dispute with two farmers arguing over a goat, claiming it was their own.)
âI'm thinkingâŚ.â you chew on your bottom lip a little bit, âIâm thinking I want to go away,â you say with a sigh, resting your back upon the headboard behind you as Gojo leans upwards, resting his weight on his arms.Â
His white brow cocks up, not confused, just curious.Â
âWhere to?â He asks, and you know he couldâve asked something more extensive, but heâs gotten to know you and your strange requests, knowing you preferred simple questions instead.Â
You hum, crossing your legs across the bed as you bring his hand back to yours and play with the wedding ring on his finger. He lets you do it, his fingers curling a bit so that they can hold onto yours, limiting your movements just a little bit.Â
âYour summer home,â you say, tilting your head towards him, a gleam in your eyes, âThe one near the ocean. Do you remember? The one where we all used to go when we were younger?â
Gojo nods a little bit, his pink lips and pink cheeks pulling upwards in a little grin. This was something he would very much be willing to fulfill.Â
âI think thatâs doable,â he says and your smile widens, âWe can invite-â
âNo,â you cut him off, shaking your head, eyes flitting to his momentarily before they dropped back down to his large hands, which were freckles slightly as well, âJust us.â
Gojo nods a little bit, swaying his head from side to side as he thinks about how quickly he can put all of this together. Maybe if it were any other man heâd be taken aback by the strange and unexpected request, but he was your husband and was used to your nature by now.Â
âIâll tell my men, Iâm sure weâll be able to pull some strings and be there by next week,â Gojo tells you after a minute of thinking and you grin, going to say something but get interrupted by a steady knock on the door.
âMy lady?â One of the girls, Alina, calls out, and you look back at Gojo with a smile, knowing the slight angry pout thatâs going to be taking over his face.Â
âComing!â you respond after a beat, pressing a soft kiss to your husband's forehead as you brush the white strands of hair away from his face before pushing the blanket off of both you and your husband as you swivel your legs around the bed, sitting up as you stretch your arms above your head and yawn.Â
You hear the bed squeak as Gojo does the same, the wooden floor creaking as he stands up, walking over to your side as he leans his back on one of the pillars of the bed, waiting for you to stand.Â
When you finally do he leans down to press a chaste kiss to your lips, knowing how much you were averse to his breath in the morning, and another one to the tip of your nose. His hand rests at the back of your head, gentle and soft.
âIâll bring up the trip to my advisors today,â he starts, and your eyes twinkle, âAnd Iâll see you at dinner,â he tells you, and you nod, running your hand up and down his sturdy arm. You pinch at the muscles and he yelps a little bit, looking down to where your fingers are and you canât help but laugh, soothing over the spot.
âIâll see you then,â you say with a smile. Thereâs a little silent beat before he speaks.
âI love you,â Gojoâs voice lowers slightly, knowing that the women outside canât hear him, but still wanting his words to only grace your ears.Â
You giggle, your cheeks pulling upwards as you smile brightly, your hands trailing upwards to tangle in the hairs at the nape of his neck.Â
âI love you more,â you reply giddily.Â
---
Once your maids came in and got you ready for the day, you bid farewell to Gojo, knowing that with how long his meetings with the advisors and counselors went you most likely werenât going to be seeing him till later in the night.Â
You donât miss the way the younger girls blush when they see him kiss you farewell on the side of your forehead or the way they stare longingly at his musculature figure as he leaves the room, but you donât care much. They can stare as much as theyâd like. Youâll stare at them. You know youâre the only one he looks at anyway. Especially when you catch the wink he sends your way before closing the door shut.Â
The five girls come bustling in as usual, helping you out of your sleeping garments, although youâve told them countless times that you donât need help to undress yourself. They help lace you up in your corset and bodice, helping you with your chosen outfit of the day. As usual, you find yourself in the plush chair as they dote over your appearance, swiping honey over your lips and dusting powder over your cheeks.
It was a routine you had slowly gotten used to. A far cry from your old life where youâd turn out of bed, get dressed in your sister's old clothes, and walk through the pantry and into the kitchens to find something to eat. But this was better, far better than that. Â
But despite those younger girls and their bubbly personalities, there was something off with the way your usual maids were acting. Alina, who usually was the most talkative out of the group, only met your eyes in the mirror a couple of times, her lips pressed into a thin line as she quickly looked away.Â
Two of the other girls, Maryam and Lilly, seemed to be whispering together in hushed tones. It was ineligible from where you were sitting, and you tried to make yourself seem as discreet as possible as you slightly angled your head towards them, but to no avail. Sometimes, when you could look up for them to clasp the gold necklace around your neck, courtesy of Gojo, you saw the way they glanced at each other and then down to you with pursed lips and downcast eyes.Â
When Alina went to dot some lavender oil on your wrists you saw how her hands were slightly shaking, her fingers cold and clammy.Â
âAlina?â You said with a little laugh, eyebrows pulled together in confusion, âAre you alright?â You pressed the backs of your fingers to her cheek and then her forehead. A couple of months ago she wouldâve pulled away in shock, telling you how unorderly it was for a lady to get this close to her maid, but sheâs gotten used to it, and she only pulled away after a few seconds.
The other girls around you pause as you speak, but you donât notice how they seem to mirror Alinaâs expression.Â
You watch as she swallows thickly, nodding her head down low as she places the glass bottle of oil down on the vanity. Her brown curls bounce a little bit with her movements, her large brown eyes wavering, as if she couldnât bear to look at you.Â
A look of perplexity takes over your face. Had you said something?
âIs something wrong?â You press again, turning around in your chair as you look at the other girls who have now fallen silent. None of them seem to be looking at you.Â
You let out a curt laugh, arms resting on the back of the chair as your head tilts slightly.Â
âAlina?â You ask one more time, your voice dropping a bit out of genuine worry. But you can only watch as she takes a deep, shuddering breath, her head still facing downwards as if there was a weight on her shoulders.Â
You go to stand up but she quickly ushers for you to sit back down, though you see the way she brings her palms up to her eyes, trying to wipe something away.Â
Was she crying?Â
âWhatâŚ?â You reach your hands out, trying to see what is wrong, but she looks up quickly and youâre taken slightly aback by the way her eyes seem bloodshot and wet cheeks, stained with tears.Â
She shakes her head again, lips trembling as she quickly bows her head to you.
âIâm s-sorry my lady,â she says in a choked voice, âWeâre done. Iâll see you tonight.â And before you can ask what was going on, to see if she was okay, you watch as she almost runs out of the room, leaving your other maids standing in a heavy, awkward silence. You look around to see what the other maids are looking like, surely as startled as you were, but if anything, they seemed to be struggling as equally as Alina was.Â
âWhatâsâŚ.whatâs wrong? Do you know-â âWe have to leave, my lady,â Maryam quickly says, cutting you off unintentionally as the other girls mirror her movements and bow their heads down in respect, âI apologize.â
You sputter, trying to find something to say, but fall silent as you watch them file out in your room in the same hurry as Alina.Â
You stand still, staring at the large wooden door.
What was that?Â
â-
You try going about your day like normal.Â
You asked around, trying to see if anybody had seen where Alina or the rest of your maids had run off to, but nobody seemed to find an answer.Â
Not only that, but it seemed like the girl's strange behavior was reciprocated around the entire estate. Wherever you went, people would look at you for a second longer. You try not to make it obvious, and after years of being surveyed, youâve gotten rather good at discretely listening in on what others are doing and saying.Â
Walking around the halls alone, you keep your head down and ears open. You donât miss the way some of the servants murmur things to each other behind their hands, their stares never leaving your frame. Youâre grateful that today was one of the days Shoko, who you had become good friends with, wasnât able to join you. With her rapid talking you doubt you would be able to hear any of the gossip even if it was shouted in your left ear.
You felt like you had been transported back to your old home, with your father's wife and your sisters. The constant whispers wherever you went, the eyes trained on your back. It was benign and odd, something that had never, ever happened until today.Â
Something was wrong, and nobody was telling you what it was.
You had initially wanted to eavesdrop on the meeting Gojo was having with his advisors, but with the pit in your stomach and the dizzying feeling you were having everywhere you went, you decided to hide the rest of the day in the library, finding a little alcove where you could nestle away from everybody else.Â
Truth be told, you had known something was wrong for the past week. Although today was the first physical evidence of this hunch youâve had, thereâs been something off in the air and you didnât have the heart to voice this insanity to your husband. You tried brushing it off after the first couple of days.Â
As somebody who grew up around maids and servants, cooks and cleaners, you were aware of how they were often the first to learn of any news. Words traveled fast with those who worked, and it didnât take long to settle. You had been the subject of whispers and subjected others to being the victim of it, but either way, you saw firsthand how quickly gossip would and could spread. Especially when it was good. Even more so when it was bad.Â
You could only wonder what it was that was plaguing the mouths of everybody around you. Has somebody passed? Somebody you knew? Your palm grew sweaty at the thought. There were only so many people you were close to and one of them you saw alive this morning. It couldnât have been your father, they wouldnât drag it out like this. You chew your lips raw, thinking. If it wasnât a death, then it must be regarding the social circle sphere that youâve recently found yourself a part of.Â
You stare at the walls lined with books, blankly blinking as you rake your mind.Â
It had to be serious and it had to be important. But as much as you tried to think, you kept drawing blanks.Â
And so, as much as you tried telling yourself it was nothing, you knew deep down it was something. Today you had seen the people around you exhibit what you were more fearful of, but this past week you could pick up on hushed and worried voices. You could barely even read the first page of the book you had blindly selected from one of the many shelves, and when the sun set in the large window behind you, you had to remind yourself that there was still dinner to be had.Â
You begrudgingly made your way to the dining hall, knowing you could barely stomach a block of cheese let alone a full meal. You had spent the last couple of hours letting your mind run over all the horrible things that could be coming your way, and having to mull over all those horrible things over food might cause you to become sick.
The guards open the large double doors for you as you begin to enter, and you feel a part of you deflate seeing that Gojo isnât already there.Â
You slowly make your way to your seat, moving in a trance as you pull your chair in, looking around to get a sense of the mood in the room. Heavy, from what you could tell. Perfect, you think to yourself.
The servants bring in different assortments of food prepared tonight, and had you had a better appetite you mightâve finished them the second they had arrived. But it felt like there was cotton shoved in your ears, barely hearing anything they were telling you.Â
You swallow your bile down, your head ringing as you look up from your plate and to the man in front of you, your forehead dotted with sweat. You like your chapped lips, fidgeting with the ring on your finger.Â
âWhere,â your tongue feels heavy in your mouth, âWhere is my husband?âÂ
The servant blinks once, then twice.Â
He rubs the back of his head apprehensively, looking behind him to the closed doors, and then back to you. You could feel the way he was taking in your sick appearance, the way you seemed to be swaying side to side in your set as a means to help your queasy self.Â
âLord Gojo wonât be joining dinner tonight, my lady.â The man tells you. You know his name and have seen him countless times, but you canât think about what the first letter of his name even starts with.Â
âDid he say why?â You think your hands are shaking, and you grip the fabric of your dress to calm them down.Â
In all honesty, you donât know exactly why youâre freaking out the way you are. It could be something simple thatâs happened and Gojoâs only stalling to tell you because he doesnât find it to be important. But in all the time youâve lived at this estate, have become the Lady of the North, youâve seen things going right and things going wrong. Youâve observed the way the maids and servants act with one another and how they act with you when things arenât going well. Theyâve taken a deep liking to you, and respect you and your title. They care about you, which you still have trouble accepting given your past life, but they do things out of the goodness of their hearts. So if they were talking behind your back, it couldnât be because they no longer care about you. Itâs worse, and you canât fathom what it must be.
âNoâŚmy lady, I apologize.â
You glance up at the man again and nod slowly.Â
âThank you,â you chew on the inside of your cheek, âThat, thatâs all.âÂ
He bows down, giving you a small smile, one that doesnât quite reach his eyes and exits.Â
You look down at your plate and heave out a breath.
â-
Dinner was spent in total silence, but that was a given seeing that Gojo never showed up.Â
You donât know how long it took for you to walk up the stairs that led to your shared bedroom, but you know it took longer than usual with the way it seemed like your legs were weighing you down.
When you entered the room, all you were reminded of was this morning with Alina and the other maids, and it only worsened your already raving heart. You tried to sit at the edge of your bed and calm your breathing, but slowly you realized that you needed to be moving. Sitting was only going to worsen your condition. Â
You paced around the expansive room, fidgeting with your ring, moving it up and down your finger as you tried to busy yourself with taking off your other pieces of jewelry.Â
You had also requested for the girls to not come in tonight. You needed to be alone, not knowing what youâd do if you were to see their pale, fear-stricken faces again.Â
With shaky hands and multiple efforts, you were finally able to unclamp your necklace and take off your earrings. You tried to wet some cloth and drag it across your face, hoping the cool water would help. It didnât.Â
A part of you tried to force yourself to think that you were simply overreacting. There was nothing to worry about. But deep inside, you knew that that was a lie. You felt this same way when you were a little girl and your father's men raided you and your mother's little home to take you away from here. This was the same feeling you had when you were informed of your marriage with Naoya Zenin. It was the same, deafening and nauseating feeling whenever youâd walk into a room and know that everybody there knew your secrets before you even knew them.Â
There was a moment in which you thought perhaps that part of your life was left behind, but it seemed like with every creeping shadow, it was still following you around.Â
Still, you did what you could to distract yourself. You were able to unlace the back of your bodice and corset, pulling your shaky legs out of your petticoat and skirt. You ringed around your wardrobe and found a shift that was suitable for the summer breeze.Â
There seemed to be only a few seconds where you wouldnât look at the door, but you couldnât help yourself. Youâd glance at the old grandfather clock in the corner, feeling your blood roar in your ears as the hands ticked away later into the night. It was unusual for a meeting to take this long. And if it did, Gojo wouldâve warned you ahead of time so that you wouldnât worry the way youâre doing now.Â
It took nearly another two hours of your frantic effort to stay awake when your bedroom door creaked open and Gojo walked in. His white hair was messy, eyes sunken in. When he saw that you were awake his glare softened slightly.Â
You could only blink when you saw him, your nails digging into your palm, surely leaving little crescent moons indented into your skin.Â
There was an unwelcome silence that followed afterward. You watched as he shut the door, rubbing his tired eyes, and looked back up at you through furrowed brows.Â
âYouâre not asleep?â He groggily asked as he began to take off his boots, his back rippling with muscles from under his tunic as you gnawed on your lips and he stood up from his position on the floor. Â
âI couldnât,â you simply said, moving forward a couple of steps and slowly leaning into his outstretched arms as he pulled you into his chest, planting a tender, heavy kiss on the side of your head. One of his hands pressed tightly against your back, not moving. Â
There was another moment of silence, one heavy and unknown as you listened to the sound of his heartbeat.Â
âIs everything alright?â Your voice was muffled, but still audible, as you finally asked the question that was searing into your head.Â
There was another beat of silence, but this one was uncomfortable. Gojo hadnât let go of you yet.
âYes,â he finally said, but you had heard better lies from your sisters after they ate your pastures and said they didnât than this.Â
Your brows furrowed as you looked up to him.Â
âWhat took so long?â You pressed, pulling away slightly as his lips formed into a thin line, and he dragged a hand down his face.Â
âJustâŚstate affairs,â he turned away from you, against eye contact as he ran another hand through his hair.Â
You scoffed, rolling your eyes as you crossed your arms over your chest. You thought that he had at least begun to trust you enough not to lie this blatantly.Â
âHave one of the states suddenly terminated their subject's existence?â You tried to tease, but your voice was flat and you couldnât hide the curiosity and hurt behind it. Gojo didnât laugh, which hurt even more. You leaned back on one of the pillars of your bed and watched as he stood with his back to you, contemplating something in utter silence.Â
How you loathed silence.Â
âWhatâs wrong?â You ask again, your tone heavy, not leaving any room for him to stay quiet.Â
Your brows furrowed even more, arms tighter around your middle as he heaved a heavy breath, and when he finally turned you wished he wouldâve just stayed hidden from you. Because there were spots of red in the whites of his shimmering eyes, and that was more fearful than the quiet.Â
You tilt your head, not knowing what to do, and see his breath in shakily. The only time you had seen him break was that night he confessed to you in the field. Never again. Not until now.Â
You take a tentative step forward, eyes searching his but he canât bear to look at you.Â
âI know thereâs something wrong,â you say shakily, taking a deep breath as you pinch the bridge of your nose, âAlina nearly broke down in front of me today and everyone around the house seems to be walking on glass. SoâŚso please just tell me what it is.â Youâre pleading with him at this point, and you donât care if youâre losing a shred of dignity.Â
Gojo takes a deep breath, his hand searching for yours as you oblige. Itâs warm, comforting. His thumb rubs up and down your wrist apologetically.Â
His nose picks up on the smell of lavender oil, one heâs come to associate with you. Itâs calming, a gentle reminder of his home, the one thing he fights for. When he looks at you and sees the worried crease of your brow, it only tugs on his heart more.Â
âYouâreâŚaware of how thereâs been some conflict with the South for a while, right?â Gojo finally asks, though it seems like speaking is physically hurting him, âAnd how tensions worsened when my father stepped down?â
You nod slowly, knowing of this. After all, you mightâve been kept in the shadows in your old life, but you werenât daft. You tried to keep up with the relations of the state as much as possible. Your father also did what he could to inform you of the Northâs relations with the other tribes and nations before your wedding. Given its sudden nature, there were some things you werenât able to fully learn until you got here, but it was common knowledge that the north and south were always teetering on an edge.Â
It was centuries of conflicts that dated well before your time. Bloody disputes over land, women, and coin often seemed to be the root cause of all the troubles, and however petty they might seem, theyâve mended themselves deep in the current rulers of the country. Gojoâs father, the previous Lord of the North, was a peaceful man, but there were tensions even he couldnât solve. The Southern King often ruled with an ironclad fist that only grew more spiteful when the old lord stepped down and Gojo took his place.Â
You remember your father sitting in front of you with an ancient book spread out in your old home's library, a candle flickering in the background as he told you all this. And the final thing that you couldnât forget he said regarding the current relations between the north and south were embedded in your mind.Â
âI know the king isnât happy with this arrangement at all,â your father had said as you flipped through the crinkly pages, smoothing over the wrinkles on his forehead as you glanced upwards.Â
âBecause of the Princess?â You asked, looking down briefly to read a passage on one of the northern wars that happened nearly three centuries ago.Â
âPartially because of that,â your father agreed, his eyes glancing over your features.Â
In the candlelight, when it was dim and nobody was around, he was allowed to look at you and see his daughter, not a bastard child everybody swore you were. Sometimes when you looked at him, he saw your mother. And when that happened, he had to look away.Â
âBut because of you. Because of who you are. Never forget the blood that runs in your veins is the blood that old lords and kings fought over.â
Your eyes narrowed, trying to think back to your sister's history lessons you listened to behind closed doors.Â
âMe?â You parrot, confused. Your father nodded, his fingers scratching at the slight stubble on his chin.Â
âThere are greater enemies than ones gained from lost land, and the South would never forget those who allied with the North to get them where they are now.â
So you knew that it certainly didnât help that Gojo married a daughter of the Western ruler, a union that in its nature was egregious to the South.Â
âAnd before I married you, my,â he squeezed his eyes shut, breathing deeply, âMy father had agreed for me to marry the Southern princess to mend our relationship.âÂ
You knew of the women Gojo had lined up, some in his favor and some not. The Southern princess was one of them. You had seen her a handful of times at the old gatherings you were forced to go to when you were younger. There was always a circle of girls circling around her, their voices chirpy and pitched like canaries, and whenever she said something, loud laughter (faux) would fall comedically from their lips. Your sisters always tried to befriend her, but you knew it wasnât your place. Youâd observe them from afar, taking note of the ridiculous amount of jewels and stones that decorated her bodice, her neck, her wrists, her hair. The boys would stare at her from a distance, talking to each other, trying to decide who should approach her first. The princess was indeed a true beauty, perhaps the most beautiful girl youâve ever seen, but that was the last bit of knowledge you had regarding her.
Much like you who was initially supposed to marry another man, Gojo was close to accepting the Southâs proposal to marry him off with their only daughter. But something happened, and the former Lady of the North proposed for you to marry her son instead.Â
âSo?â You shake your head in confusion, your stomach churning, âYouâre married to me now,â you state the obvious, but you see the way he smiles softly at that, nodding.Â
âThe Southern King wasnât fond of our marriage,â you watch as he twirls his ring around, âTheyâve been holding off on trade with the North and anybody whoâs pledged allegiance to us. Theyâve formed naval blockades around parts of our ocean that stop us from reaching our traders across the sea.â Gojo jams his palms into his eyes. For a moment he doesnât look like the ruler he is or the warrior heâs always been but a scared boy who doesnât know what to do.Â
You take another step forward, leaning into him as he deflates into you, one hand protectively going around your shoulders and the other around your waist.Â
âWell, surely there are ways to figure this out,â you say as confidently as you can, âWeâll ask for a smaller cut of their exports than usualâŚ.or offer another northerner of higher ranking for their princess,â you offer, looking up at him only to see his eyes wavering, the tip of his nose pink.Â
He swallows thickly.Â
âWe did,â he mutters, âWe did all of those things. All of those things and more. butâŚâ
He trails off and you shake your head, eyes wide.Â
âBut what?â You press and he rubs at his eyes, at his stray tears.Â
He goes to open his mouth but he canât. Youâve never seen him like this.Â
âThe Southern King, he-â your husband's voice cracks and you pull away in shock, in fear, in terror as he tries to control a sob. The most feared man of all the land fighting down a sob, and all you could do was watch in fear.Â
âHeâs promised war if we donât abide by his terms.â
Your tears have stung in your eyes, maybe because you were terrified of the response because a part of you knew that something good like this could only last for so long. That your moments of bliss were only to be cherished at an armâs length, good, but not eternal. Perhaps you shouldâve known from the start, should have braced yourself for something as terminal as this.Â
But war? You never could have prepared yourself for this. It had been years since the land had seen war of any kind. Minor battles and conflicts were impossible to avoid, but a declaration of war from a king was beyond what you could have comprehended.Â
Your eyes blink rapidly, your fingers twitching as they reach upwards to cover your mouth. There were only so many routes Gojo could decide to go down on. Depending on the conditions of the statement the king had set forth, there might be a way to avoid any senseless bloodshed. But you knew your husband, knew how much he cared for his land, for his people, for you, and if any one of those things were at stakeâŚ
âAnd,â your lips tremble, and how Gojo longs to kiss it away, if only his hands werenât shaking and heart pounding, âAnd what are his terms?â
A grim look takes over his face, one that looks like a knife has been dug into his stomach and has begun to twist. He opens his mouth once, twice, and fails. He canât speak. He canât say the wretched words out loud.Â
âThat,â Gojoâs voice is wavering, and itâs a strange, unnerving thing to hear, âThat I uphold by the initial promise. That I marry his daughter. That I separate fromâŚâ he blinks slowly, his mouth closing and then opening, a little gasp of horror leaving your lips as you piece together what he was saying.
Youâre shaking your head, lips trembling, moving away from him as you walk around the room until youâre standing near your vanity, your chest shaking with quivering breaths as you try desperately to keep your stinging tears at bay.
You can hear him shuffling, but with your back to him, you can only feel his presence come up from behind you as his hands try to grasp at your elbows, trying to move your hands away from your face. But itâs no use. Itâs as if youâve been petrified, turned into a stone statue. The only sign of movement was the way your chest heaved up and down with each gulp of air you were taking.
Heâs calling your name, but you feel like a fish underwater. You canât hear anything correctly, can only hear the pounding, shuddering beat of your dying heart. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to hold on to the cries that are threatening to spill from your lips. You realize now what it was that the maids were talking about, why Alina was crying. It was no surprise to you that they were able to get word of them before you did. And you were no longer confused by their sullen responses.
Because there truly was no answer. No good answer, at least.Â
You couldnât justify a war over a marriage that didnât work out. You couldnât find it in yourself to allow Gojo to go through with it, despite knowing that was most likely what he was planning to do. An image of marching men, heading straight through a firey unknown, swords raised, and arrows drawn. You think of bloodstained letters finding their way home, wives crumbling upon finding the news of their husbands dead. Children left abandoned by their fathers and siblings. All of it in the name of a marriage. One marriage to survive while others withered away. Your eyes widened at the horrifying thought, trying to humor the other one.Â
The one that included your separation.
Separating from the only man youâve ever loved, who you consider to be your other half seemedâŚbarbaric. You couldnât imagine a life where you wouldnât wake up next to him, couldnât think of a day where he wouldnât sneak through hallways and corridors just to surprise you with some flowers he had picked from the garden. Your mind flashed, thinking of what separation truly meant. Banishment, for you. Your old life wouldnât accept you, his new wife wouldnât want you near. There was nowhere you could go that you had any familiarity with.
You felt your knees give out from beneath you, falling to the floor as you hunch over, cradling your thighs to your chest. You feel stupid, knowing how childish you mustâve looked to him. But you felt like you had been plagued by every sort of emotion, and it was tethering you downwards, down where you felt more safe.Â
Somewhere in the midst of this you could feel his guiding hands sprawl on your back, one slowly circling your shoulders. Gojo mustâve come down to meet you where you were, and you felt like a shell of a person as he gingerly pulled you toward his chest.Â
One of his hands moved upwards to cradle the side of your head, his thumb rubbing up and down your forehead, as he shakily tried to wipe your watery tears away. If only you knew how much it pained him to see you cry. He wished you knew that heâd rather be shot with a thousand arrows than see you cry tears of sorrow.
He was talking, you knew he was because you could hear muffeled noises from above you that mirrored his tone and voice. But you couldnât hear anything, trying your best to focus on the pieces of woven threads of the carpet beneath you.
â...alright,â you think he says, making out some words, â...will figureâŚoutâŚalright?â
You can only nod.Â
Alright?
â-
Nothing was alright.Â
Youâve barely slept ever since you got the news.Â
The people around you seem to have pieced together why youâre acting the way you are, and thankfully, they donât push it. Alina doesnât ask why youâve suddenly grown so silent, none of your other maids jest stupidly when they feel youâre especially down, and even the younger girls donât pretend to fawn over Gojo, gently applying rose water to your hair as they give you soft smiles.Â
Everybody in the estate knows whatâs happening, and nobody dares to bring it up. Wherever you go there seems to be a darkness that follows you. People go quiet when you walk past them, and looks of pity and solemness are clear on their faces. You feel like a ghost thatâs wading through the halls with nowhere to go. You feel like a dead body roaming the land of the living.Â
There were several of these meetings you went to, knowing that these ones should not be heard behind a closed door. You were told to come to more of them, but you slowly realized that the more you heard, the more sick you felt.Â
A part of you was screaming at yourself, begging to see what was truly at stake. A simple marriage was not worth the countless lives at stake. No matter how long this feud was going on between the North and South, you knew that using your marriage was just another scheme to worsen it.Â
The more you allowed yourself to think about the situation at hand, the more you felt yourself going mad. You knew that war wasnât the right answer, and it wasnât the one you wanted. You couldn't even begin to think about the piles of bodies, the smoke rising into the ashen sky as they were set on fire in Northern tradition. You think with a shudder about the homes raided, the women assaulted, just how much men turn to animals when war turns lawless. You think about the years to come, when thereâs nothing left of you but bones. How youâd be remembered in the stories, as the selfish whore wife that wouldnât separate from her husband and would rather watch lands be torn apart instead. So no, war wasnât the option.Â
But separating from your husband? How on earth was the better choice?
Perhaps a while ago you wouldnât have wanted to separate from him because you refused to go back to your old life. You didnât want to go back to your old room that could only be accessed through the dingy pantry and a dimly lit corridor.
You didnât want the constant reminder of your untrue blood, how much of a bastard reminder you were to your fathers life. Months ago you wouldâve tied yourself to a tree and let a bear feast off of you then become the social outcast again because you had lived through it once and would rather wind up dead.Â
But now, youâd chain yourself to that tree because leaving Gojo might be the other thing that would tear you apart.Â
You never thought it would be possible to be loved by another person who you love just as much. You had forced yourself into believing that tender care and pure adoration wasnât something you would ever receive in this lifetime. In all honesty, you didnât expect to receive it from Gojo Satoru either. But you did, and living a life without it would be more than empty. You knew you could never have him the way you do now, casted aside as another woman takes your place. And perhaps he might come to love her just as much, even more. But another part of you, the part thatâs been trying to claw its way out ever since you were a little girl is screeching. Screeching that you deserved that shot of happiness, of joy, that those moments you shared with your husband shouldâve only been shared by you two alone.Â
A part of you wilts when you even begin trying to think of mornings without him. Without him pulling you into his chest, murmuring words of nonsense into your ear as you pretend to sleep. Your heart burns when you begin to think of him kissing another girl the way he kisses you, bringing her to parties and balls tied around his elbow. You know the ton would appreciate a princess with the lord of the north far more than you, and you canât begin to imagine what would happen if Gojo began to prefer another union. One that benefited him more than it benefited his partner.Â
You werenât a jealous person by any means. Sometimes you got snippy, and sometimes you glared when women looked too long at your husband. But this was more than simple jealousy. It was biting away at you, taking away from the brightness that once bloomed across your entire body.Â
Maybe deep down you thought you deserved that chance of a better life, and maybe that part of you was just too optimistic knowing the hand youâve been dealt with up until now.Â
But gods would sooner fall out of the sky than you tell all this to Gojo. Not the latter, at least. But regardless, it seemed to brew more and more arguments between the two of you as of late.Â
âI donât understand why this is something that still needs to be discussed,â Gojo bit out one night as he was undressing to sleep, taking off his uniform as he angrily hung it up.Â
You had one hand wrapped around the bedpost, fidgeting with your necklace, the singular pearl moving back and forth as you shook your head.Â
You knew it was a bad idea bringing up the war plans right now. It was one of the first nights where Gojo was actually free from his meetings, earlier than what had become the norm. But it was also the first time you had properly seen him in almost a week, and your mind was nothing if not still.Â
âIâm not saying we terminate the marriage,â you pause when he snaps his neck over to you, his eyes darkening with a glare, âBut surely we canât be thinking of war. âToru there has-â
âThere is no other way,â his voice is deep, his back to you as he takes off his bottoms, kicking his heavy boots off as the thud against the wall, âIâve told you this countless times Iâm not separating from our marriage.â
Your chest is heavy, your heart churning, and he canât tell. You know there are thousands of other things that are riddling his mind right now, but you wish he could see what youâre begging him to see. If there was one thing youâve grown to know about Gojo is that his stubborn nature was unbridled and steady.Â
You wanted him to take a second and understand, or perhaps he did understand but chose to see this as a black and white matter, the gravity of what he was suggesting. It had been years since an actual war had been fought. Years since men were sent in blind with only their swords and their wits to keep them alive. None of you had seen the true calamity of war, the sheer destruction that followed from it. Gojo was thinking as the cold hearted warrior he had been trained to be, but not like the man you had fallen in love with.
âWhat if youâŚgods,â you groan, exasperated and tired, âWhat if you take the princess on as another wife?â The suggestion itself tastes like poison, bitter poison on your tongue, and maybe it soothes you just a little bit when Gojo lets out a bitter chuckle, his hands gripping the table as his knuckles turn white.Â
âDo you want me to do that? Truly?â He spits it out and you let out a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose as you shrug helplessly.Â
âNo, fuck. No, I don't want you to do that! But what else can-â
He raises his hand upwards, something he does when he wants to interrupt you, and you clamp your mouth shut.Â
âWeâve declared war today,â he glances at you from over his shoulder and your eyes widen, âItâs final.â
You crumble against the wooden pole, fingers curling into the bed sheets as you choke on air. Final? Your fingers are trembling, your lips quivering as it feels like youâre struggling to breathe. No, you know you are. You feel lightheaded, the little bits of dinner you had surging upwards, bile filling your mouth.
He hadnât told you about any of this, had silently refused to tell you the status of this situation because he knew how loudly and adamantly you would protest it. But it was done now. There was nothing else you could do.Â
Gojo looked over at you, his face that was once cold and unmoving shifting to one of worry. Moving away from the warrior he was forced to be this past month and back to your husband.Â
He moves to where you were, but you shake your head, not bearing to look him in the eyes as you shakily make your way over to your side of the bed, climb in without a word and watch as your shoulders shake with silent sobs.Â
His mouth opens and closes. He shuts his eyes, jamming his palms into his eyes as he clenches his fists.Â
âI love you,â he whispers finally, and the words seem to carry slowly between your two bodies that to him seem oceans apart, âSo much,â he feels like heâs choking on your silence, itâs thick and settles deep in his throat. Heâs been punched, hit, kicked, beat and thrown before, but none of them have knocked the air from his lungs much like you staying utterly quiet.Â
âIâm doing this for us,â his voice is wavering, why canât you understand that he wants to yell, but wonât, heâd never raise his voice at you, âWhen this is all over weâll go to the house near the ocean,â your heart cracks, âRemember how you wanted to go?â
Gojo watches as your shoulders stop shaking, the only sound in the room becoming your labored breaths.Â
âPlease, darling, please say something. Anything.â
Youâre the only person Gojo would beg to. The only human who could hear his desperate pleas, the way his commanding voice would crack and crumble and shatter all at your mercy. You sniffle quietly, pulling the blanket closer to your chest. You love him, gods above you love him. You don't know yourself how much you love him. Sometimes it frightens you how much you do.
But in this moment, the man behind you was the Lord of the North and not your husband, and so you stayed quiet, letting the only sound that he heard of you be your cries.
â-
You canât seem to find reasons to leave bed most of these days.Â
Every time you look in the mirror, you feel like youâre staring back at a stranger. There are dark circles beneath your eyes, your lips chapped and cracking. Your cheeks have fallen, sullen and flat. Smiling has become a chore, laughing a rare occurrence. As the North was beginning to prepare and brace for the oncoming war, your home was starting to look more like housing quarters for troops rather than the place you used to adore.
You havenât seen Gojo in a while, and each day it seems like heâs pulling away from you. At night, you barely see each other. He comes to sleep far later than you do and wakes up earlier and earlier with each passing day. Sometimes youâre awoken to the bed dipping when he climbs in, other times you pretend to be asleep even when he presses a lingering kiss to the side of your forehead, your fists balling up when he whispers a quiet I love you in your ear before he sleeps.
Itâs not that you donât love him. And you donât fear him, you never have. Sometimes you curse yourself when you donât mutter the words back, but youâre suddenly and crudely reminded that outside your bedroom walls, there were people actively preparing for a war being fought in your names, and it stills you from moving.Â
It was becoming rare sharing a meal with your husband, even rarer to see him anywhere but the counseling chambers, and it no longer felt like it did months ago. Every time you walked past him, you two were so busy and wrapped in your own minds that you didnât even acknowledge each other until it was too late, your neck twisting as he walked on by, and his body turning when you rounded the corner to another hallway.Â
You wonder if this was truly the love that was fated to emerge from this marriage ever since the beginning. That the feelings you felt were mirrored in an act that Gojo was putting up with until this point, if this war was bound to happen and using the arrangement between you and Gojo as a catalyst for the chaos that was to follow.Â
The idea that was slowly planted in your head began to flower, and it caused you to see things for what they werenât. Eventually leading to looking blankly at the wall when he walked into your bedroom one night, hours earlier than when he usually comes, and you donât even spare a glance to him.
âIâm leaving tomorrow.âÂ
Your head slowly turns to where he was standing at the door, eyes gradually making their way upwards to his face, lips parted. You were leaning on the headrest behind you, twisting and turning the ring around your finger.Â
In this moment, you allow yourself to look at Gojo. You take in his disheveled appearance, the white stubble that was dotting across his jaw. A couple months ago you mightâve felt your cheeks heat up at the sight, never expecting for him to look so ruggedly handsome looking like this, but now, all youâre able to think about was how much this cursed war was taking away from time he cherished being able to shave himself clean. He looks worn down, aged, no longer the youthful and cheerful man you remembered. How was this happening? How was any of this real?
You blink, shaking your head a bit as you come back to reality, biting your tongue for a few seconds before you speak.Â
âLeaving?â You finally ask, watching ashe nods, nearing where you were sitting on the bed, leaning down the untie the straps and leather clasps of his boots, letting out a sigh of finally being able to relax as he shrugs his coat off, running a hand through his white strands that seemed to be longer than from the last time you saw him.Â
He nods dimly, his lips pressed into a thin line as he looks you over, his eyes falling when he takes notice of your crestfallen state, the way the light that was in your eyes has seemed to die out.Â
âI have to go rally more allies across the West,â he explains, slowly making his way over to the bed as he drops down on the corner of it, his hand reaching out for yours but you donât move, âYour father has promised us his troops but there are smaller cities scattered across that still need some convincing.â
Your fingers curl around your blanket, eyes pulled together in a furrow.Â
âLet me come,â you tell him but he stares at you for a few seconds, trying to see if you were joking.Â
When he realizes you're being serious he shakes his head, his blue eyes a dark color as he looks away for a second to stare at the wall.Â
âItâs dangerous-ââ
âBut I know the cities!â You cry out, the first time youâve heard your voice be this loud in a while, and it takes him by surprise as well, âI can help! Iâve been sitting here feeling like a duck waiting to be shot! IâŚâ you stop for a second, the stupid tears that have seemed to become a common occurrence burning your eyes.Â
You look away, biting your lip to keep it from shivering, hoping he doesnât come near you.Â
âThis is my fault,â you whisper, âEverything thatâs to come, itâs all my fault. If only I didnâtâŚâ your voice cracks, your chin falling to your chest as your eyes wring shut, wanting to keep everything and everyone away.Â
But Gojo, like always does, is drawn to you like a moth to a flame. You hear the sheets rustle as he moves across the bed and settles in beside you, his tall and lean frame shadowing over your body as you refuse to look at him, not wanting him to see how weak youâve become.Â
You feel one of his hands reach for your jaw, his fingers curling around your ear and holding the back of your head as he gently turns you to face him. Â
You try desperately to keep your eyes somewhere else, focusing on his knees rather than him, but when you feel a tear escape and roll down your cheek, being wiped away by his thumb, you break, barreling yourself into his chest as you cry.Â
His hands circle your body, caging you to him as you feel your chest shake. Itâs painful and it burns, but you canât seem to stop. You can feel his heartbeat ratting against his chest, a faint smell of smoke clinging to his skin.Â
âNone of this is your fault,â he murmurs against your head, âYouâre not to blame for anything.âÂ
âSatoru, I,â your hands curl as they rest on your thigh, a tear catching on the tip of your nose, âIâm s-scared,â you choke, the words slurring on your tongue, âIâm so terrified all the time. ThisâŚthis war, these plans, the strategies e-everyone keeps talking about,â your hand curls against his tunic, gripping into the fabric as if it was tethering you to the earth.Â
Gojo takes in a deep breath, and you feel his lips pressing to the crown of your head, soft and warm. Oh, how you missed his lips.Â
âThereâs nothing to be scared about,â his voice is slightly muffled, but itâs steady and sure, âEverything will be alright.â
But you shake your head, a fresh wave of tears sprouting.Â
âHow do you know?â youâve been asking yourself the same question over and over, âNone of us have even lived through a war, l-let alone fight in one.â
âI,â Gojo sighs, and you imagine the pensive look on his face, âI donât know. I have no idea how any of this is going to go. And,â he pauses, thinking briefly, âIâm scared too. Iâm scared that all of our plans will go to shit and weâll encounter a force we never expected. Everyday I examine different escape routes we should go through, creating different maps that might save us. I donât know what Iâm doing half the time,â he admitted with a solemn laugh, âButâŚbut no matter what, Iâll still come back to you when all of this is over.â
Your breathing shudders, and you raise your head to look at him. Youâre sure you look like an absolute mess, with tears staining your face, youâre constant sniffles to keep your nose under control, the reds of your eyes. But Gojo still smiles, his hands moving to either side of your face, his thumb moving back and forth across your cheeks.Â
âThereâs my girl,â his voice is barely above a whisper, but he sounds proud, his blue eyes lightening up a little bit. You let out a little cry when you see his tender smile, the way he looks at you like youâre the most beautiful person heâs ever seen.Â
âP-promise, promise youâll come back to me,â you say through broken sobs, wiping messily at your cheeks, your palm rubbing harshly against your chin so that the tears donât fall against the sheets, âPromise me that you will come here again.â Â
He nods, his own eyes wavering when he understands just how much this has been tearing you apart. One of his hands moves to cradle your head, bring you closer to his and he rests his forehead against yours with a quiet thump.Â
His nose nudges yours, and his lips inches away from your trembling ones. Your eyes close shut, hands refusing to move away from his sturdy chest.Â
âI, Gojo Satoru, will come back to you,â his voice is clear but heavy as if he intended for his words to travel across the world and through different lifetimes to end up back here, âI promise this to you. As your husband, as your friend,â his voice slightly cracks, âAnd as the man who loves you most ardently.â
You donât give him another second before you pull him a little bit closer by the collar of his tunic to slam your lips against his. You hear him groan instantly from underneath you, but you donât care. Your teeth move cruising against each other, your tears mixing with your spit.Â
Itâs messy but needed, an anchor that youâve so desperately been craving.Â
Gojoâs large hands move from your back to under your ass, cupping the flesh as he grips your thighs, pulling you into his lap as his finger trails upwards to your waist, his favorite spot. His slight stubble scratches against your skin, but youâre surprised to find that you like the feel, like the way he feels.Â
He bites your bottom lip, slipping his tongue past yours when your mouth opens slightly and you moan against him, fingers curling tightly in his white strands of hair, tugging them harshly. It earns a deep groan from him, his fingers digging into the skin of your waist in a desperate attempt to keep himself steady.Â
Your back arches closer, nails raking his scalp as you tilt his head back upwards for your lips to capture his. He moves at your will, slotting himself against you, working in tandem as your chests rise and fall at the same pace.Â
You feel starved, needing to taste him, to feel him. You canât remember the last time youâve kissed him this feverishly, as if youâd die within moments if you didnât have your skin melting against his.Â
The seconds seem to blur together, and before you know it, there was a loud knock at the door. You squeal, almost shoving yourself off of him as the two of you look back to see what it was.Â
âMy, my lord?â The voice behind the door squeaks, most likely a younger soldier, âThereâs been a slight shift in tomorrow's plans. The general wants to speak to you.â He clears his throat, most likely having heard your moans and you feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment.Â
You look back to Gojo, and see the way his head falls and his hands curl into fists on his thighs.Â
Your hand traces the hot skin of his jaw, your thumb hooking underneath his chin to bring him back up to you.Â
âGo,â you say quietly, a small smile on your face. You try to hide your disappointment, knowing this is more important. Â
Thereâs a storm happening behind his eyes, swirls of blue and gray mixing together as his chest slightly heaves, his cheeks dusted with pink. One of his hands grips your waist, pulling you forward with no force as he kisses you once, twice more.Â
âIâm sorry,â he whispers, kissing your cheeks softly, âIâll come back tonight and Iâll wake you before I leave tomorrow.â
You nod, hoping he knows that youâll be okay, and shift away slightly from his lap so that he can go.Â
âI love you,â he mutters against the side of your head, looking deep into your eyes before he presses his last kiss against your forehead, âSleep well, love.â
Your smile cracks slightly, and you swallow the lump in your throat as you cross out a measly love you most and watch silently as he puts his boats and coat back on and leaves within seconds.Â
You stare at the messed up sheets and then to the door, accepting the fact that this would be your life from now on.Â
â-
Gojo left the next morning, before the sun was in the sky.Â
âItâll only be three weeks at most,â Gojo assures you, and you look up to see his men preparing their horses, throwing saddles across them as they prepare their satchels of food and gear, âTwo if I flatter my way through the cities.âÂ
You giggle a little bit, rolling your eyes, the most you could muster yourself to do and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to your body.Â
âIâll miss you,â you mutter, hoping nobody could hear the way your voice was barely surviving itâs need to break, âCome back as soon as you can.âÂ
Gojo sprawls a hand across your back, tipping you up by the chin to meet his lips in another kiss. A while ago you might have felt shameful and scandalous for kissing your husband like this out in the open, but everybody was so distracted with their own tasks that they wouldn't bother to look at you right now.
You pull away slightly, cheeks heating when his pupils grow slightly, and place a hand across his sternum, rubbing up and down the vigil of the North that was pinned to his coat.Â
âI will,â he says, pulling you in for a tight embrace as you hug him with as much strength as you have, your cheeks pressed against his shoulder as his chin rests on the top of your head, âIâll be back before you even realize I was gone.âÂ
That was a few days ago, but with how little you already saw him before he left, it felt a little bit true to his words. You were so busy trying to help the war efforts around the estate that missing your husband happened in the quiet moments when you were allowed to have some silence to yourself, or in the late hours of the night when you hugged his pillow close to your chest.Â
When nights would come and you had had your dinner and were making your efforts to sleep, you requested to only have Alina help you get undressed and ready. She was the one you felt closest too, and the only one who never seemed to bombard you with sympathy. And after a grueling day, that was all you needed.
âWould you like some lavender oil?âÂ
You look up from the counter, putting your necklace back in its case as your eyes meet her brown ones in the mirror.Â
âNot tonight, Alina, thank you,â you say and she nods, setting the glass bottle back down as she picks up some of the rose water, native to the North, and begins doting it across your neck, head and wrists.
There was a slight breeze that was wafting in through your open window. Fall was quickly approaching, but you were trying to hold on to the last bits of the cool summer air before the biting winds staked their spot until the next spring.Â
âWould you like me to close the window?â Alina glanced over to the rustling curtains, flowing freely, and you shrugged, taking off your earrings as you placed them down gently on the little plate Gojo had given you as a gift a while ago.Â
âI prefer the breeze,â you reply, wiping your face with a damp cloth, âThank you, though,â you offer her a small smile, one that she reciprocates.Â
Alina finishes up some things, and the two of you work in comfortable silence. She knows just how much you need these little things to help keep you sane, and as much as sheâs been trained to help out her lady in any means possible, as your friend, she lets you do some things alone.
After a few more minutes pass Alina clasps her hands on her hips, and you let out a small giggle, knowing she was done.Â
âI donât see why you need me here,â she grumbles, pushing some hair away from her face and you snort, standing up from your chair as you flick her shoulder gently.Â
âYouâre good company,â you simply say, moving around your room as you go to the little corner where you keep some of your books.Â
Alina pushes the chair back in and makes her way to the door, bidding you a good night before she pauses, looking back at the window.Â
âMy lady?â She says, and you look up from the shelf, glancing over to her. You raise a brow, waiting for her to continue.Â
âI know itâs not my place, but my mother always told me to sleep with the windows closed. You never know how cold the night might get and I donât want to see you waking up with a fever.â
You look back to the window and the rustling curtains and grin, nodding.Â
âIâll close them in a bit,â you tell her and note how her shoulders ease and a smile makes its way onto her face.Â
âGoodnight my lady,â she tells you, and you say the same thing, making sure sheâs all gone before you let the smile drop, your cheeks hurting, and look back to the bookshelf.Â
Youâve seen how worried sheâs gotten as of late regarding your nature, so youâve tried being a little more cheerful around her even if it pains your soul to act like nothings wrong.Â
Your fingers card through different books, reading the spines as you try to find something that might help put you to sleep. Finally you find a title of a book youâve read before, maybe a few years ago, and pull it out, examining the cover.Â
You move around to your bed and place it near your pillow. You fill the glass on your stand with some water from your pitcher, setting down as you go to the vanity to blow out the candles that were lit.Â
There were only a few left, and you just wanted to save the one next to your bed so you could read. You move past the window, going to the corner of the room, blowing the third remaining candle out.Â
You feel the hair on your arm prick up from the sudden rush of cold air, goosebumps trailing in their wake, and you walk back to the window, pushing aside the long drapes as you reach your arms out to find the knobs that would pull them in towards you.Â
Until a sudden force knocks you down to the ground.Â
It takes you half a second to realize that you hadnât tripped on something, and that the reason why your head didnât hit the floor causing a thud to be heard was because something, somebody, was on top of you.Â
A man. Thereâs a man lying on top of you.Â
This canât be happening.Â
You go to scream, but a hand flies to cover your mouth, pinning your legs and wrists down by a heavy leg and their other hand, effectively holding your writhing body still.Â
Your eyes are squeezed shut as you try to move, biting the hand thatâs over your mouth but it doesnât budge. You feel your heartbeat as fast as it ever has against your ribcage, your fingers trying to grab something, anything, that could help you.Â
âIf you make any noise Iâll cut your tongue straight from your mouth, you hear me?â
Your eyes slam open, looking straight at the face hovering above yours.Â
A brute of a man is looking down at you. You yell again, but he presses his hand down even harder, his rough skin meeting your teeth as your voice becomes muffled.Â
Heâs gigantic, looking more like an ogre than a man. His hooked nose and sly lips are pulled into a sleazy smile as he looks down at you, his greasy black hair pulled back behind his ears. His arms are the size of boulders, his legs looking like they were strong enough to push boulders. His teeth are yellow and crooked, and he lets you see them when he talks.Â
You feel something sharp press to your side, and in your frantic state youâre able to wiggle a little bit to tilt your head down to see what it is. Your eyes widen when you see the glimmering dagger, its edge serrated. Its tip was so sharp that you could feel it cutting into your skin and you knew he wasnât pressing as hard as he possibly could.Â
âStay. Still.â The man grunts again, licking his teeth as you shake, shaking your head as your hands open and unopened, not knowing what else to do.Â
âIâm going to move my hands from your mouth,â he says next, slowly and quietly, âThereâs a couple things I need you to do for me. But I swear that if you make a single squeak, any fucking noise, Iâll gut you like a fish, hm?âÂ
Your eyes are shaking, brows pulled taut as you try to move around but to no avail. The knee that was pressing down onto your thigh digs in deeper, his bone searing into your flesh as you whine in pain.Â
âDo you understand?â He whispers in your ear, his hot breath fanning over your skin. The knife is still pointed at your hip, and he presses it just a bit deeper, and youâre sure if he goes any more heâll draw blood.Â
You look at the man, at the deep set scars that run all across his face. You take in the glint that shimmer in his eyes, the pure evil that drips from his grin. You can smell the blood drying on his clothes, and can almost taste iron the closer he gets to you.Â
You want to fight back, but you canât.Â
Your mind races back to those days when you had asked Gojo to let you spar with him, wanting to know how to defend yourself. There were some moments when you felt like you could take him down, but heâd always find a weak spot of yours and bring you tum biking to the ground. But he would always help you up with a gentle smile, apologizing profusely as he kissed your cheeks. This man was far bigger than Gojo, and his smile wasnât kind the way he was. You knew you couldnât overpower him, not in the slightest.Â
So you slowly nod, your tears falling freely from the corners of your eyes, rolling back onto the floors as the man grunts.Â
Slowly and surely, he moves his hand away from your face, still keeping the rest of his body pinning yours. Your lips are trembling, your body almost convulsing as you wait for him to speak.Â
He gives it a second, making sure you werenât going to pull anything before he decides youâre compliant enough, or rather not willing to die, to listen to his orders.Â
âGood job,â he mutters, his voice pricking at your skin like a thousand needles, his greasy smile making you want to hurl, âThereâs three things I need you to do. Nod if you understand.â
You look back at him. He presses the knife into your hip, and your teeth dig into your lip, knowing that he for sure broke skin.Â
Your eyes squeeze shut in pain as you slowly nod.Â
âFirst, from here on out, be as quiet,â his voice is low, âDonât let anybody outside think anything.â
He pushes himself slightly off of you, trying to get a feel of how loud the floorboards creaked. When he was satisfied that they wouldnât make a sound, he moved his hulking body away from yours, carefully standing up.Â
You feel your heart lurch when you see him at his true size, nearly three heads taller than Gojo, and even more packed with muscles.Â
âStand up,â he motions for you to do the same, not until he warns, âSlowly.âÂ
Youâre frozen in place, your arms and legs losing all function. The man looks down at you through his dark stare, seeing that itâs taking you too long, and bends down to loop a hand around your elbow.Â
He drags up upwards like you weigh nothing, your lungs refusing to work as you gasp for air.Â
When you're on your feet, you feel like throwing up, your head dizzy, nose wrinkling at his strong odor that reeks of onions and ale.Â
âWalk over to that table,â he nudges his chin over to the desk that is littered with Gojoâs maps and scrolls and your books, âAnd sit down at the chair.â
You can only stare at him, biting your tongue, hoping this was all a nightmare.Â
But the man just stares back at you, waiting. He flashes you the dagger again, itâs too stained with your blood, and your legs, however weak, seem to work faster than your mind. You feel like a newborn lamb learning how to walk as you somehow make your way over to the table, his presence never leaving from behind your back.Â
Your legs shake as you set yourself down on the wooden chair, tears biting at your cheeks as you wait for his next instructions.Â
Behind you, you hear something rustle. You donât want to look to see what heâs doing, but youâre able to pick out a bag being opened carefully, some papers scratching against each other.Â
It takes a few more seconds but the sounds stop, and suddenly a piece of parchment falls down next to you.Â
âWrite down on a piece of sheet that repeats what is written there,â he tells you, and your eyes dart down to the parchment, tears blurring your vision.Â
âWâŚâ your words are slurring together, and you canât hear your own voice, âWhat?â
Youâre quiet, but the man hears you.Â
He just shoves the parchment closer to your face, saying nothing.Â
Your eyes fall down to the words scattered across the price, black ink staining its yellow color, and you blink your eyes a couple of times to read what it says. The handwriting is foreign to you, something you canât recognize. You donât know how, with everything your mind was going through, you were able to read properly, but you felt your stomach drop when your eyes scanned through the first couple of sentences.Â
My love, with a heavy heart I write to you, but there is no other way to break my thoughts to you. I can no longer sit and watch what you plan to do in my nameâŚyour eyes skim a further but down, the blood youâre willing to spill is unlike what I thought you to be capable of. Youâve become cruel and inhuman, and I refuse to have myself tied to a man that desires death the way you doâŚ
Your mouth drops a little, your jaw slacking when you realize what the note was saying. This was a goodbye letter.Â
I have to leave. I could never, under any godsâ sky, pretend to keep loving a man as barbarous as you.
Your heart stops.Â
âWrite that down girl,â the manâs gruff voice interrupts, âHere.â
He scavenged through the piles of discarded plans and strategies, finding a clean sheet of parchment that was untouched by ink.Â
You shake your head, looking over your shoulder as your tears drop from your chin.Â
âI,â you swallow thickly, trying to force down the vomit that was at the back of your throat, âI canâtâŚwriteâŚâ
The man snorts, his arms crossing over his large chest as he shrugs.Â
âIf you donât write, Iâll gut that girl that you favor so much,â he twists the daggers handle in his large palm, âThe only with the curls. Gods, itâd be a shame though. I might have a taste of her beforeâŚâ
You tune him out, ears filling with water as you realize heâs talking about Alina, your fingers trembling against the wood of the table as you look down at the pre-written note and the blank parchment he had set in front of you.Â
Your mind was blanking as you try to ration whatâs happening.Â
You look a little bit to your left at the pot of ink and the quill Gojo was always scratching away with. Before you can think any other thought, you feel cool metal pressing against your neck.Â
The man is right behind your chair, his daggers blade a breath away from your skin. Heâs holding your jaw in place, forcing your head down at the table.Â
His fingers are rough and calloused, stained with blood and dirt, and you gasp slightly, eyes blurring once again as you turn still.Â
âWrite.â He whispers thickly in your ear.Â
You donât move, and the dagger presses down, your lips falling open in a silent cry as you feel it cut through some skin, blood beginning to stain your nightdress.Â
Mindlessly, your hand moves to the ink and quill. You feel like you've left your body as your fingers grasp the quill, dipping it into the little pot, and set it down to the paper.Â
You feel like youâve left your own self as you look back to the note, chewing your lips raw as you write down the first word. The dagger is still against your throat, unrelenting as you begin to write. You donât know how none of your tears have yet to stain the paper, but you donât what the stranger would do if that were to happen.Â
A part of you blacks out when you write, your eyes open but not understanding anything in front of you no matter how hard you try.
Your quill suddenly stops, and you feel the man leaning in behind your shoulder, the dagger loosening away from you as he lifts the two pieces of parchment up.Â
You donât know when you finished, or what you write, but in the silence that it takes for him to read yours through, you get the grasp that you mustâve done something correctly because he seems satisfied, setting your version down on the table.Â
He steps away from you, and you watch from the corner of your eyes as he takes the original piece to one of your candles, holding it over the flames as it catches fire. He watches as it burns, the ashes falling into his other hand. When itâs all burnt up, he scatters it out the window, the wind doing its job as it takes any remains of what it was away from here.Â
He looks back at you with a smile.Â
âLast thing,â
Your head sways.Â
âFill this bag,â he holds up an empty satchel, âFill it with things youâd take if you were to run away.â
You blink slowly at him, your mouth going dry.Â
You canât speak, but he can tell youâre confused.Â
âWe need to make it seem like, well,â he shrugs, his lips pursed together, âThat you wrote that note and ran away. Pick out some clothes, jewelry, and coins. Make the room messy.â
Your heart beats slowly in your chest when you start to understand what it was he was asking you to do.Â
He holds up his weapon, its edges shining red with your blood, and he points it to the door.Â
âI know youâd hate to hear her scream,â he says, and you dimly nod.Â
You set the quill down gently on the table, moving carefully from your chair as you walk towards his outstretched hand. Your fingers tremble as you take it from him, walking slowly towards your dresser.Â
Heâs right behind you, the knife pointed at your waist so that you donât think of doing anything, and you quietly open the door, grabbing some hoods, slips, common clothes, nightwear and undergarments. You shoved it in until the bag was nearly full.Â
You did as you were told, taking the rest of your clothes and scattered it across the ground, throwing some things onto your bed.Â
He grunted behind you, most likely a little surprised with how compliant you were.Â
You drift to your vanity, shoving some necklaces and earrings in the satchel, not wanting to take all because it was actively killing you to do this.Â
âThatâs good,â the man says after a couple minutes and you pause, your back still to him.Â
You set the satchel down and turn slowly around, hoping this would be enough. That your night was done and that he would let you go.Â
âOh, and,â his eyes drop down to your empty hands, pouting the tip of the blade to your finger, âLeave the ring.â
Your eyesight goes blurry.
You feel lightheaded, gripping into the edge of the table as you heave for air. Leave the ring? Leave? Leave?
âWe donât have all night,â he explains, making that his reasoning for why he so suddenly takes your hand, his large fingers circling around yours as he roughly yanks off the piece of jewelry, throwing it next to some other pieces you had lying on the table.Â
You can only stare blankly at it as he moves around, stare as the gold glimmers in the soft candlelight. It looks the same way it did the first time you saw it, when Gojo had placed it on your finger when he was saying your vows. It was a simple ring, a gold band that didnât have any stones on it. Gojo later explained that while he had told you earlier it was usual something he had picked out, his mother had gifted it to him.Â
You feel a force hit the back of your head and suddenly, everything goes black.Â
â-
Waking up hurt.Â
You blink once, twice and then for a final time before you feel like you can see accurately again. Your head was throbbing, a dull pain at the back of your skull. You go to rub it, but notice that your hands are bound together by rope.Â
Coming to your senses you realize that the rope wasnât the only problem. The wobbling motion you first had wasnât from your stomach ache, but because you were rocking back and forth on a horse.Â
You sit up a little bit in shock, but the motion causes you to wince, your body sore and aching.Â
âI wouldnât move if I were you.âÂ
That voice.Â
So it wasnât a nightmare.Â
The wall that you felt behind your back wasnât a wall, but was in fact the same man who had forced his way into your room at night, made you write that letter, packed your things and leaveâŚ
Leave home.Â
All around you was a sprawling field, no sign of life from as far as you could tell. You had no idea how long you were unconscious, or how long you had been on horseback, but the North usually didnât get grass to grow this tall seeing how the cold winters usually killed them. There was a breeze, but it wasnât as biting as it should be.Â
You were glad to see that your mouth was wrapped shut, but that also put a strike of fear through you. If the man wasnât afraid of you screaming, then there surely wouldnât be anybody around to save you.Â
You were alone.Â
A part of you was on the verge of breaking down, screaming until you coughed up blood and your throat became raw. But you knew that if you wanted to stay alive, if you wanted to go come, you had to keep onto your wits. It was either that or you froze, not moving, becoming a shell of a human, the same way you were that night when this all happened. And you had seen what it could do, had seen how your own body would betray you, and you vowed to never let that happen again.Â
âHow long has it been?âÂ
Your own voice shocks you. Your throat is dry, seeing how you havenât opened it in a while, and the sentence comes out like a croak. You swallow some spit, hoping it would help with the scratchiness you were feeling. The horse moved slowly through the pasture, the sun shining but not beating down on your face in an unforgivable way.Â
The man clicked his tongue against his teeth, his hands holding onto the reins.Â
âNearly six days,â he says gruffly, and your eyes widen, not expecting for it to have been almost a week that youâd been out, âThought Iâd killed you.âÂ
Five days?Â
You try to do the math in your head. It had been almost six days since Gojo had left when the man came into your room, and with these five days, it would be almost a week since Gojo was gone from home. If the travel West took as long as it did for you, then heâd be almost there by now. But you didnât know how mail would travel, or how long it would take till heâd come back home to figure out what the problem was.Â
Depending on which direction the man was going, it could take weeks until they found you. Fields like this werenât uncommon in the North, but the weather wasnât. It reminded you a bit of home, but Western nature was dry and glaringly hot. Even in the fall, youâd still break a sweat after being in the sun.Â
And given how prepared this man was, he surely wouldn't be heading there, most likely knowing that Gojo was there as well. You had seen enough maps and heard enough talk around the counsel to know that it would take almost two weeks to travel Westward, but almost three weeks to arrive in the Eastern nations.Â
Judging by the landscape you had seen on paper and that youâre surveying now, this man was taking you somewhere East.Â
âDid the king send you?â You ask, your head dipping downwards so that you could angle your ears to hear him better.Â
He pauses, and you wonder if youâd asked the wrong question, if he was going to make you suffer in some way for crossing the line. You still couldn't work out his motive. If he was truly sent by the king, then why wouldnât he have killed you in your room? Why go through the hassle of making you seem like you had run away?
Killing you and showing the North your body would send a greater message than whatever this was. Taking you without making it seem like an abduction was strange, even for the South, and so you desperately wanted to know what it was that had put you in this situation.
âA friend of his did,â the man finally says, and when he falls quiet, you realize that this was all he was going to say.Â
So he was from the South. And he didnât seem like heâd be a lying man, heâd have no reason for it. The more you thought about it, it made more sense that the king didnât send direct orders to abduct you. But that made you furrow your brows in confusion. If the king was ready to wage war, why would an abduction be something he wanted hidden?Â
âWhy didnât you kill me?â you ask after a beat of silence, your body swaying in tandem with the horse. You could feel your dried tears crusting near your eyes, your lips battered, iron coating your tongue the more you spoke, causing the wound to open up.
âI will, but not here.âÂ
You bite your cheek, your hands shaking.Â
âWill you take me up to your king to make a spectacle out of me?â You try to keep your voice from wavering, from showing him any signs of fear.Â
The man chuckles, spitting to the road.Â
âIâll kill you somewhere where thereâs a lot of trees, hide your body so that nobody can find it,â he explains, and you feel your heartbeat in the palms of your hands, âMake it seem like you ran away.âÂ
You try not to let your lips tremble, instead, you try to piece the clues he was giving you together. If the king truly wanted to make it seem like you were running away, then it means that he would want your spot as Lady of the North to appear vacant. He would want Gojo to think that you didnât care for him anymore, and that you wanted out of this marriage, which would make room forâŚÂ
His daughter.Â
But if the king wanted his daughter to marry into the Gojo family, you wonder why he didnât do this whole abduction in the first place. You sigh deeply through your nose, looking down at your hands, your fingers moving around slightly but to no avail. While youâre trying to see if there was any wiggle room, a thought runs through your head.
The king wasnât expecting thisâŚ
You wonder if perhaps the king promised war in a way of bluffing, or hoping that Gojo would terminate the marriage and take on the princess to avoid any trouble. This wasnât his first plan, you decide, but him trying to save the skin of his teeth. He wasnât expecting the North to retaliate, to declare a war of their own. He didnât see Gojo carrying this much for his arranged bride, and didn't think that the young lord would rather die than marry another woman. But the king underestimated Gojo, and sent this man to answer for his mistake.Â
If it seemed like you found Gojo repulsive, that you no longer loved him, then he could search all he wanted to, but if he never found you, or your body, then he would come to the eventual conclusion that you had run away. Either way, this would make it so that he would call off the war. Maybe in attempts to fix the now shattered relationship between the two nations, a marriage between Gojo and the princess might actually take place.
Your hopes deflate, knowing the letter you were forced to write might also be more realistic than some Southern scribes realized. With the way you had argued countless times with Gojo over the chance of ending the possibilities of war, he might read it as an actual goodbye.Â
The thought makes you sick.Â
So, you decide to busy yourself with trying to find an escape option.Â
Your wrists were chafing with how tightly the rope was tied, but the knot around it was tied in a way that seems to have shifted in the days you had been riding. The man behind you is tall, but sitting down, he can only see above your head, and heâd have to force himself up to peer down at your lap.Â
Slowly, over the span of a few minutes, youâre able to position the rope closer to the bottom of your palm, your thumb and pointer finger reaching for the knot. A small smile graces your face when you're able to pinch it between the two fingers.Â
You stop your movements, not wanting to make anything obvious, and then start back up after a couple minutes of silence passed.Â
With the knot now closer to your finger, you begin picking at it with your nail. You know your nail is dull and cut through it, but you think that if you nudge at it enough, you might be able to create a small opening that would allow you to slip your pointer finger through it and unravel it.Â
âI think it would be fair to share your name,â you say, not wanting the man to think anything of your silence, and you begin to execute your plan, fiddling away with the rope with your finger as you raise your head up, not wanting to keep your stare directed at your lap, looking ahead at the field.Â
Wind blows through your body, ruffling the nightdress that you were still wearing. The man at least had some decency to put a cloak over you, hiding your body from being entirely bare. The more you looked at the field, the more it reminded you of the one that surrounded the Gojo estate. You blink and see him sitting there, his back on the grass, an arm resting behind his head, his white hair sprawled out as he held you close to his chest, telling you stories from his childhood. You blink again and see nightfall, see him with his tunic off, telling you about the scar on his torso. You see him professing his feelings, telling you how much he loved you. You blink again and see the field, your nose twitching slightly.
âMy name?â The man repeats with a slight chuckle, most likely shaking his head in disbelief. Out of all the people heâs taken, out of all of the people heâs been sent out to kill, youâve been the weirdest behaving out of all of them.
You nod, your finger working away at the knot, and you cough to cover up the noise when you make a particularly loud scratch.Â
âMy name changes based on the man who hires me,â he says after a minute, and you almost want to look back at him in confusion.
âWhat was the name you gave to the employer who sent you out to find me?â You ask, trying to wiggle some fingers around, bracing your thighs around the horse, trying to keep yourself balanced and upright.Â
The man breathes deeply through his nose, as if he was contemplating telling you. Thereâs no reason not to tell you, if his plan is to kill you anyways. But you plan to escape, and you want to know the name of the man who put you through this hell.
âToji,â he finally says, and you commit it to memory, your mouth falling in the shape of the name, âBut Iâll change it for my next employer.âÂ
You go to say something else, but almost let your disguise slip when you feel your finger make its way through the knot. You move it in circles, moving it across, and slowly you feel the knot begin to unravel. You keep your hands pressed tightly together, but in a few seconds the rope has become undone.Â
You stare at it in shock, not expecting for it to take so little time to unravel, but you look ahead again, shifting a little bit as you begin to think about what to do next.Â
You can feel the sheath of his dagger digging into your back. You remember how it looked when you first saw it, and can confidently say that this was the thing that was there. It was large, but given how large his weapon was, you werenât surprised to find it had an even larger cover.Â
You didnât know how fast you could move, nor how fast he could. You didnât know if there was a latch or specific way to take the weapon out, but as far as you could remember, that was the only weapon he seemed to operate with. If you were able to harm him in some way and get him off of the horse, you might have a chance of escaping.
Though there was the obvious challenge, he knew how to fight far better than you. Whatâs to say that you get the dagger but he doesnât get it out of your hands even faster? And if you did manage to wield it, how fast would it take for him to understand what had happened, how fast his reflexes were? If heâs had multiple employers before, then he must be skilled in his trade, putting you at an immense disadvantage.Â
But you knew that if you didnât try, youâd die at his hands. You knew youâd rather die fighting and on your own accord than at the merciless dagger of a stranger who was paid to kill you.
You let the silence grow, wanting the man to think that you had fallen asleep. You let your head hang down, your chin to your chest, and you slowly, quietly and gently begin the snake one hand out from the ropes.Â
The man grumbles to himself from time to time, spitting to the side every now and then, but from what you can tell, is still unsuspecting.Â
You know itâs a matter of seconds that gives you the advantage, and that any slight fumble or mistake will be catastrophic. You tell yourself that you have to twist your back quickly, pull the weapon out with your right hand, and strike him through the chest. You donât know if one strike would be enough to take him down, but it would be enough to have you force him off the horse and take the animal for yourself.
You breathe deeply through your nose, calming your nerves.Â
And then, you turn.Â
Youâre met with his face, your hand reaching for the weapon, and see the way his eyes slowly fall down to your fingers, and then to you, but youâve calculated his brutish daftness enough to know that a moment of surprise would be his doom.
It doesnât take much effort to get the dagger, but his hand quickly shoots for your throat, his fingers wrapping around your skin as he squeezes tight, restricting your airways. You choke, trying to cough, but with the way heâs seated on the horse you know you canât falter. Your hold on the weapon weakens, but you still drive it forward, and are met with the satisfying sound of his groan.Â
His hand around your throat falls, and you pull out the dagger only to drive it further up his chest, into his ribs.
The man, Toji, grips the handle, but you push with as much force as you can muster at his shoulders. You wonder if heâs ever had people fight back, if heâs ever dealt with somebody striking him hard enough to draw blood.Â
With the way youâre positioned; your dress and robe still underneath him, he takes you down with him. You fall to the ground with a hard thud, wincing at the pain that shoots again through your head. Your vision has gone blurry again, but you can make out the man stumbling on the ground, grasping at his chest in shock.Â
You place your hands on the ground, forcing yourself up. Your head is spinning, swaying up and down, but you know you have to get back up on that horse.Â
Heâs shouting at you, saying something but you stand up, almost falling back down with how your legs are shaking, but you hold yourself upright by the horse's saddle. Youâre shocked that it hasnât been spooked away, but donât find time to question why.Â
Youâve ridden enough times before to know how to haul yourself up, but itâs a trying effort that takes a couple swings. The man is still on the ground, clutching at his wounds, and you canât revel in your victory just yet.Â
When youâre up on the horse you feel your vision start to clear up a bit and your ears stop ringing.Â
You look down to the man, trying to make out what it was he was saying.Â
â...canât go back,â he spits, blood coating his lips, staining them red as he coughs out more, âtheyâd never take you back.â
You stare at him, dazed.Â
âYou committed treason,â his voice is hoarse, and he tries to grab at your foot but you kick it away, âThat letter? Donât you remember?â he smiles darkly, and his teeth as red, âAnd if you go back, the king,â he chokes, spitting out some blood, but he chuckles, a mad look in his eyes, âThe king would kill every single person you care about. Heâll rip the throats from your maids, send an army of unkillable men to kill y-your dear lord.âÂ
You look down, his words slowly making their way into your brain.Â
The letter.Â
You remember now. It wasnât just a goodbye, but a confession of even further betrayal. You had denounced the North and its power, had said that the Lord of the North was an enemy of every state.Â
And even if you did go back to prove that you were forced to write it, whatâs to say that his words werenât correct? If he was able to spy on you long enough to know your schedule, your maids, when to attack, then the South was truly capable of sending in more assassins. And Gojo might be able to take them, but what about Alina? What if the king decided to target Gojoâs parents, your friends, people youâve come to care deeply about?Â
The man grins cruelly when he sees the way you begin to understand his words, the threat behind them.Â
The man wasnât standing up not because he was weakened, but because he knew that even if he didnât kill you, youâd wind up dead anyways. He knew youâd give up and let him go through with his initial plan. Because in that case, only youâd be dead. But you returned back to the Gojo estate and would have you killed, alongside everyone else you loved.Â
ButâŚbut if you ran, ran away to somewhere hidden, it might be avoided. The war, the bloodshed, everything. You could actually be doing something good.Â
He laughs, blood falling from his lips, staining the floor when he sees the tears fall down your cheeks. You go to wipe them away, but it doesnât matter anymore. In that moment youâve made up your mind, have seen that there was no other way.Â
Youâd be leaving behind the man you loved in return for saving his life, as well as everyone else's.Â
You think about his smile, the way his lips felt against your skin when he kissed you goodbye. You think about the way he laughs, a hearty sound that makes you laugh in turn. You think about the warmth you felt when wrapped in his embrace, the way he smelled like cinnamon after spending time with you in the kitchens. Your heart churns when you think about the love you hold for him, just how much it drived your everyday life. How youâd do anything to save him, even if it wasnât a lot. You think about Gojo, and how for a little moment in time, you truly had the world in your hands. How he would do the same if the roles were reversed, knowing that the way you feel for him is just as intense as how much he feels for you.
And you finally think about how leaving might preserve those little things, even if not for your experience. If you were to disappear, this might all be forgiven. And that was a price you decided there that you had to pay.Â
You turn away from him, and maybe under different circumstances you might have gloated at the confusion that takes over his face, not knowing why you werenât stepping down.Â
With shaking fingers and a shattering heart you look ahead, kicking the side of the horse as you send it running. You could hear his yells from behind you, calling for you to come back, but you kept repeating in your head that this was the only way.
Your eyes were blurring with tears from just how fast the wind was hitting your face, your cheeks and nose growing cold. You leaned forward, holding onto the reins with all the strength you had.Â
Please forgive me Satoru, your mind begged, please forgive me.
â
âMiss?âÂ
You dream of a sound, a soft, gentle sound. It circles around you like a mothers tender care, making the coldest parts of your soul warm slightly. You smile a little bit when you imagine it again.
âMiss?â
A shower of icy water, colder than anything youâve ever felt, washes over you, and your eyes sprout wide open, your mouth open in a loud gasp as you sit up as fast as you can, your chest heaving up and down with labored breaths. Your fingers jump to your face, trying to wipe off the freezing feeling away, and blink rapidly, trying to get a grasp of where you were.Â
âMiss?âÂ
Your head swivels to the voice, and you feel your eyes burning. The voice is overshadowed with the burning sun behind them, but they crouch down over you, shoving you with a little force. You blink again, trying to make the spots go away.Â
A woman, you think. Not Gojo.Â
The last thing you remember was going to sleep, your stomach empty after multiple days of night finding any food, shivering your soul away as you curled up. The horse that you had stolen was set free a couple days ago after you felt bad for not being able to provide anything for it to eat or drink. Knowing that it had left somewhere for itself puts you in a better state of mind.Â
You couldnât remember how many days it had been since you had run away. You lost track after the twentieth night. You had no map to guide you, nobody you trusted to tell you where to go. You walked around with a hood over your head, looking through different towns and villages, scrapping around for their garbage. You were running both from the man that had been sent to kill you, but your old life as well. You didnât know if Gojo believed the letter, if he had sent people out to look for you. You knew you just had to get as far away from the North as possible, even if it meant you die trying.
After a few days of doing this, your feet had given out, marked with blisters and scraps, and you fell in your spot, sleeping near a tree as you let the exhaustion finally settle deep in your bones. You remember closing your eyes, thinking of the time when Gojo woke you up with sweets from the bakery you adored. You could smell the sugar beneath your nose, your fingers itching to grab one, your mind not able to tell what was imagination and reality anymore. You would wager that hunger was making you do this, but you couldnât care anymore.
You can only look at her, forgetting the words needed to form a proper sentence.Â
âAre âye alright?â She asks you finally, and you can slowly begin to make out the crease in her face and the color of her eyes. You can see the wrinkles that adorn her forehead and cheeks, all scrunched up together in worry as she looks down at you.
Your hands pat themselves across your body, trying to make sure you werenât dead. It had been a while since you had spoken to someone, especially when they werenât throwing sticks at your head to get you to stop looking through their discarded piles of vegetables.Â
You swallow thickly.
âCan âye hear me?â She asks louder, bending down a little closer to you as she rests her hand on your forehead.Â
She doesnât seem too old, most likely a few years older than your father, but you feel stricken by her appearance. A part of you wonders if you truly have died and this was the afterlife; an old lady taking care of you.Â
But with how hard sheâs jamming her finger into your ribs it makes you think otherwise.Â
âAre âye hungry darling?â She continues to talk, her gray brows pinching together as she glances over your frail appearance, âWould âye like something to eat?â
Your eyes widen slightly and she takes note of it.Â
A small smile makes its way onto her face as she eases back upwards.Â
âMy husband and I own a small tavern,â she says, and with the sun framing her head she looks like a divine power, âIâll take âye there.â
You stare at her outstretched hand, look at her fingers, at the way theyâre reaching out to you. You canât remember the last time somebody offered you help, or looked at you like you were more than a common thief. Youâd cry if there was any water left in your system.Â
But slowly you raise your hand, holding hers as she heaves you up. You show her your feet, and she tells you not to worry. She sits you on the back of her donkey, telling you that the animal looks stronger than youâd think.Â
You donât have any will to argue, letting the old woman, who told you to call her Miss Murray, guide you and the donkey through a dirt road. You sway in and out of consciousness, blinking to find the scenery changed from what you last remembered.Â
Miss Murray talks to you, but you don't have any energy to respond. She checks behind her shoulder sometimes to make sure you were still alive, and would only look back to the road when she was satisfied you were.Â
It takes nearly another thirty minutes before you start seeing little homes begin to appear from over the hill. Thereâs a town in the distance, one that you see is bordering a vast blue ground.Â
The ocean?
You blink to make sure you were hallucinating.Â
You were only aware of larger cities that bordered the ocean, but this was a small little town at most. The roads were dirt and unpaved, the homes made of wood and layers of hay. The cities you were aware of were far richer, their structures made of sturdy stone and glass. And you knew that despite your delirious travels, you hadnât rerouted and gone back up North, the only other place you knew that had cities near the water.Â
âHome,â Miss Murray says with a content sigh and you look at her, your eyes slightly squinted in confusion.Â
You swallow some spit, trying to wet your mouth.Â
âWhere,â your voice sounds foreign to you, and even the woman looks back in surprise when she hears you trying to speak. Your fingers are at your throat, wanting to have your voice sound normal.Â
âWhere a-are we?â You finally get out, and the woman smiles gently at you.Â
âAs far east as âye can get,â she replies and you look back to the ocean. The water is shining off of the sun, the cold air thatâs biting at your skin is a reminder of the winter thatâs about to come.Â
The color reminds you of a pair of eyes, the same eyes you often thought about before you went to sleep, not knowing if youâd wake up.Â
âIâd wager yer a far way from home dear, no?â
Your body sways with the donkey's gentle movements, and your mind is slow. You know you need food and water, but her question isnât one that reminds you of this. Itâs a cut that runs deep through your aching soul, one that hurts to admit.Â
So you only give her a little nod, one that she seems to understand quickly.Â
âDâye plan to stay here?â Her gray curls frame her face in a nice way, her plump cheeks pink and soft.
You look to the water and then to the town. Itâs a far distance from the North, and hidden enough that nobody would recognize you or find you. Itâs surrounded by a forest, a densely thick mass of trees that stretches as far as the eye can see. The town is quaint, at most a few hundred people inhabiting it. Even if the news of your runaway had heard their ears, it was doubtful that theyâd recognize you. Especially now, that even without a proper mirror youâre sure your appearance has changed drastically.
âYes,â you mutter, your throat raw and unused.Â
She hums, pulling you carefully down the grassy hill and closer towards the busting town. People were walking and shouting to one another, carrying trays of breads and pastries, flowers and fabrics from one place to the next.Â
âIâll fix âye up something to eat when we get to the tavern,â she promises, having surely heard your eager stomach, but you shake your head slowly in a form of protest.Â
âNo, no coin,â you tell her, your eyes falling down in embarrassment, âI donât haveâŚany coin,â you say slowly, your tongue heavy in your mouth.Â
Miss Murray looks at you for a second before throwing her head back and laughing.Â
âDear, Iâm sure âye need that food more than I need that coin.â
Your heart beats a little faster, your eyes glimmering slightly.Â
You want to tell her why youâre like this, that you werenât this way a few months ago. That you had a husband who you cared very deeply for, people who you loved helping. You want to tell her that you would give her all the coins you and your name if you could, but you bite your tongue from doing so.Â
You no longer were the Lady of the North. You were married to Gojo Satoru, and you had no title, no coin, no amount to your name. But you still had respect and dignity, knowing you couldnât lose every shred of yourself while trying to stay alive.Â
âIâd like t-toâŚpay you back,â you stammer out, âI want to pay you back, please,â
You watch as Miss Murray pauses, the donkey halting its movements as your body lurches forward slightly.Â
You watch silently as she observes your face, looks at the cracks in your skin, the stained clothes you were wearing, and your lack of proper hygiene. She feels something when looking at you, something that wasnât right. Thereâs a certain stubbornness, a fight in your eyes, one that somebody only gets after surviving for so long.Â
She knows you wonât back down, especially after youâve had something proper to eat.Â
ââYe need a job, no? Some coin?â She finally asks, and you look down at your torn up clothes and your bones fingers.Â
You look back up to her and nod.Â
She thinks for another moment before starting her walk again.Â
ââYe can pay me back by working for the tavern,â her fingers curl around the donkey's rein as she controls it through a winding road, âAye, weâre in constant need of firewood. It will make us even for this meal, and every day after that Iâll pay âye for yer help. Deal?â
You feel a little light shine down, maybe from the gods as she turns her head to look at you, raising a brow as she waits for your answer.Â
For the first time in a while, you feel your lips quirk upwards, a small, miniscule grin on your face. Miss Murray smiles at the sight.Â
You nod slightly before you murmur a quiet, âdeal.â
ââ
Miss Murray took you to her tavern and fixed you a large meal, something even your old self would gawk at if served at the estate.Â
And she introduced you to her husband, the other keeper. She told him that she found you and knew you were willing to work, to which he took one look at you and decided she wasnât going to budge on her decision.Â
The old man showed you after a week of rest what it was you had to do. He demonstrated how to use an axe, how to cut up the logs in a way that would fit into the tavern's fireplace. He showed you which trees would be easiest for you to cut down, and which ones to avoid.Â
The old man told you that his previous lumberjack had left town in search of a new life, and with how strenuous the job was, he couldnât find anybody to do it eagerly in the short amount of time he needed. His son, who you slowly became familiar with, would do a majority of the workload, meaning youâd just have to bring in the smaller branches and twigs that kept the fire going throughout the night.
Miss Murray also showed you an old shack they had been using to store some equipment, saying that you could stay here for as long as you liked as long as you cleaned it out yourself. It was a little way away from the tavern, but still close enough that you wouldnât have to drag the logs for a great distance. You were near trees and a few homes scattered around you as well so that you werenât isolated. She told you she wouldâve given you someplace nicer, but this was all she had.Â
It takes a while for this strange new routine to become normal for you, but you quickly decide that chopping wood and lugging it around beats the hunger and cold you felt for weeks before you found this little town. That the motions almost became therapeutic, and offered you a peace of mind, letting yourself try to forget about your previous life, your husband, Gojo, and focus on getting your job done.Â
You get the old shack as clean as you can, pleasantly surprised to find that underneath all the rubble and blankets there was a fireplace with a chimney still intact. You set a little bed up for yourself in the corner on the floor, made out of multiple sheets all piled on top of each other (all borrowed from Miss Murray) and a pillow that she had given you.Â
You never told Miss Murray of where you were running from, who you were running from. You didnât tell her that you were married or that you were from the North. Though she asked about why you ran, you never gave her a clear answer. It hurt thinking about him, let alone voicing the fact that you had left a loving husband in hopes of sparing thousands of people their lives. Some days, the pain was so numbing that you didnât know how to move. You would hear his voice in your thoughts, could see his smile when you closed your eyes. In these moments you wondered if he misses you as much as you missed him. If he still slept in the same bed, or had his room completely changed. Did he get rid of your books, your oils, your clothing? A part of you hopes he did, hoping that he didnât have to be cursed with the memory of you after what you had done. The more time passed, you wondered if he had decided to forget about you, if the thought of you was something he decided was better hidden rather than called upon.
Slowly, you began to turn the shack into your home, delivering the firewood as your daily routine, and made the town that bordered the ocean somewhere that you considered safe.Â
But each night that passed and you went to sleep you dreamt of your old home, your old bed, the strong arms that wrapped around you, and you woke up, pretending the tears that had drenched your pillow werenât there.Â
Though you knew that after a while, when the talks of the Northern soldiers died down, that you had to move on. And when Miss Murray excitedly knocked on your door, a month later, telling you that the war had been called off, you offered her a gentle smile, knowing that you had done the right thing. She showed you the papers that were making their way across the kingdoms, the ones that said the North had agreed to pull their forces out from near the Southern border, releasing their final statement of neutrality. You skimmed the page, your heart hammering when you read that The North credits their Lord for the sudden decision, claiming that after months of searching for his missing wife with no luck, he agreed that continuing war efforts were barbarous and unnecessary.
Your vision goes blurry for a moment.Â
He had been searching for you? For nearly six months?
It had been almost half a year, if you had done the math correctly, since you were first informed that a war would be happening. Six months of hardship, pain, tears, blood and half of your soul to end it all. Nobody in your little town knew of what you did, and you knew to keep it that way. Hiding your true nature was safe, no matter how much it stung when you realized that the North had most likely decided to forget you. That night you stayed in your little cabin while everybody was in the square celebrating and crying, not knowing what else to do. They were partially tears of joy, but mainly an accumulation of guilt and longing, wondering why your absence was what was needed to end a war.
Slowly, that pain began to seep into your bones, but you knew that you must go on with your life if you ever wanted to make it worth it. The days and nights turned into weeks, which then turned into months, and after some time, you no longer considered yourself the old Lady of the North. You melted into this life, and pretended that this was what you were destined to live from the start. You cut wood, collected pieces of dry bush and twigs to help keep the fire going at Miss Murrayâs tavern. On the days when they didnât need any fire wood, you helped her and her husband out with food and serving drinks. When she wasnât busy, you found yourself listening to her talk, filling your silent moments with the gentle-hearted lady.
When a year had passed since you came to this town, you let yourself forget about everything. Everything your mind began to tuck away, all but for the lingering ache that longed for the man you loved so many moons ago.
â
Winters in a town near the ocean was something you never experienced until last year, and this year you knew how to prepare yourself.
The North was notoriously known for its freezing winters, but this town could rival it, youâd wager coin on this fact. The lakes in the woods nearby would freeze, snow piling on the ground, reaching a little bit below your knees in some areas. The ground was sometimes slick with ice, and if you didnât have a careful eye to catch it youâd often come tumbling down, your cheeks heating in embarrassment when people nearby would laugh.
Last winter you had barely gotten on your own two feet before it had hit, but Miss Murray helped you out as much as she could. She spared some meat cakes from the tavern, bringing you what was left of their bread when the night was over. She lended you some of her old winter clothes, ones that she had outgrown, and you took it appreciatively. There were some nights you were sure youâd freeze to death, and other mornings when you werenât sure you werenât going to wake up. But you reminded yourself of all that you had been through, everything that you had survived, and pushed to open your eyes. So, in these past months, much like others in the town did, you prepared for this icy season, knowing this year you had to learn on your own.Â
You stocked up on breads and pastries in a corner of your home which was always keen on never staying warm. You kept jars of jams, pickled vegetables and potatoes near the breads, somewhere dark and away from the morning sun. You learned from other townspeople how to prepare for when the cold settled in your home, how to fight it off late into the night. You watched the baker as he explained how to keep your bread from going bad, and how to store it properly. When you were content with the amount of food you had accumulated over the summer and fall months, you then prepared your clothing.
You had learned over trial and error to begin with wrapping your hands up once with some gauze (this would also prove to help once you were using the axe and looking through the shrubbery for things that could easily burn, seeing that it provided a buffer zone) and a thick pair of gloves that Miss Murray knit for you. You always had a fire running in your own fireplace, tending to it from the moment you woke up till late in the night when you went to sleep. The tavern needed its delivery each night, so until then, when you werenât chopping, you either bundled up with a couple blankets or walked through the town, looking through the bakery and small bookshop (those two stores always were toastier than the rest).
If you had some spare change youâd buy a couple of loaves of bread and see if there were any old books the bookkeeper was going to throw out, and in between your free time, this seemed to be the best way to go about the freezing months instead of wasting away in your little cabin.
When night came, you hauled the wood, leaves and twigs into the wheelbarrow Miss Murray had lended to you and headed for the tavern, making sure your scarf was tied around your neck multiple times before you left the warm retrieve of your home.
It was only a ten minute walk from where you were to the inn, and if you hurried enough you could finish it in almost eight minutes. The colder it got, the slower your joints would work, but you also reminded yourself that the faster you got there, the faster youâd be met with the tavern's overwhelming and comforting warmth. You had the hood of your cloak around your head, keeping your ears from freezing and your scarf wrapped tightly around your neck. It was hard pushing the handcart through the snow, but you had learned where to go over the past weeks, which roads were more forgiving.
It had become clockwork as you neared the oak doors, the windows lit orange from the amount of candles inside. You could smell the meat roasting and see the smoke from the brick chimney as you neared it. You were already hearing the loud boisterous laughter from inside, some from town natives, some from travelers making a stop at the place for the night. You knew to walk around back, follow the track that led to the stables and ultimately the smaller door that would lead inside the kitchen, open it with the key Miss Murray had given you. You make a note of a couple of men standing near the horses, the usually empty rooms now filled with the animal. They were most likely tending to them, trying to keep them warm.  Youâre greeted with the familiar sound of the bustling kitchen; the cooks yelling at the other cooks about what to get ready, the loud roar of the fire, the sounds of knives chopping away their vegetables and meats. You can smell the usual pies and stews they made nearly every night. This night seems to be their specialty of chicken pie with potato gravy soup. If there was a moment you could slip away and taste some, you reminded yourself to do so.
Glancing around the large room you take in the sight of the visitors of the night. There are a few wooden beams that restrict your vision, but you donât need eyes to know just how packed it is. The sounds inside are even louder than the ones you heard walking near the place, and youâd wager that there are far more people staying here than usual. Youâd guess that with the recent and abundant snowfall, some travelers were forced to re-route, and by the looks of it, you see far more strangers than familiar faces.
But you donât let that distract you, walking over to the fireplace as you crouch down, making sure your cloak and skirt werenât bunched up under your boots. You set the cart down near the fireplace, taking your gloves off as you held it near the heat for a few seconds. The gloves did a great job with keeping the cold from your hands, but they limited your mobility, and when you had to unload the logs, the branches, twigs, and everything in between, you wanted to do it as quickly as possible. You place them all into the large basket, observing the flickering flames. Itâs still going strong, but there are some embers of coal that seem to be dying out, and so you tug carefully the door of the fireplace open as you place some wood inside, fanning it so that it would grow a little more.
You brush your hands against your legs, getting rid of the spare bits of bark and wood, and hold it back up to the fire as you feel the tension in your fingers and wrists begin to melt away.Â
âWe donât pay âye to keep up our space, yâknow,âÂ
You turn your head around to the voice, smiling when you see Miss Murray standing behind you with her hands on her hips, her apron stained with spilled ale and some food splatters. Her gray curls are pulled underneath her cap, her full cheeks red and rosy, her lips pulled into a slight frown.
She tries to look serious, but her act slips away instantly when she sees you, moving closer as she wraps her around around you from behind, her arms reaching your shoulders, just barely, as you crouch a little to pull her in for a hug.Â
Itâs only been a night since she sees you, but this is always how Miss Murray greets you.Â
âAre âye warm?â She asks, her eyes worried as she looks at your hands and your slightly runny nose.Â
You chuckle, nodding your head so that she doesnât fret.Â
âIâm warming up,â you tease your brow slightly raised, holding your fingers up to her cheeks to show that they were no longer cold, wiping your elbow across your nose as you go back to holding your hands over the fire, âAnd dare I say itâs my right seeing how itâs my wood thatâs burning?âÂ
Miss Murray chuckles, pinching you softly on the side as you yelp, moving a little bit away from her as you giggle.
She stands next to you, looking over the crowd as she takes in who needs more beer and food, making a mental tally in her head. Once your entire body has finally thawed, you stand up straighter, turning around to look at the busy crowd, not a single chair going unused.Â
âItâs busier than usual, no?â You ask, crossing your arms across your chest as you look to Miss Murray, tucking your hands into your elbows to keep the warmth.Â
She nods, her eyes turning to yours slightly before she goes back to assessing each table.Â
âAye,â her voice is slightly lowered, not wanting others to hear, âThe storm caught many travelers by surprise. Thereâs a group of young men coming in from Lolygrad,â a Western town, you note, a name you remember from ages ago, âSaid they wanted to go up ânor but their horses cannae walk through the snow.âÂ
You chew on your lips, looking at the large group of men gathered near a corner, their beards and shaggy hair covering up most of their faces. Most of them had their backs to you, and the ones facing outwards were hunched, their shoulders sagging as they leaned their ears in to hear clearly what was being said. The rest of their features were pinched together as they let out howls of laughter, swinging their mugs of beer around as they listened to one of their members tell an animated story.Â
You slightly smiled at the hearty sound, against your own will.
âOh, dear, before I forget,â Miss Murray suddenly turned around, gently holding your hands as you look a little bit down, âEwan,â her son, another worker at the tavern, the poor fellow who was tasked with almost every job, including getting the hefty tree trunks cut into bits, âSaid he saw âye heaving that barrow through the snow-â you began to shake your head, knowing what she was going to say but she raised a hand midway to stop you.Â
âHe told me to tell âye to leave it near the stables. When the snow has settled and thaws a bit, heâll bring it to âye.âÂ
Your brows furrow, lips parting slightly as you go to protest.Â
âBut what about the firewood? I canât lug it up on my own,â you joke a little bit, your lips quivering as Mis Murray smiles, patting your arm as she shakes her head.Â
âYeâve brought us enough wood to supply a week, maybe even more,â she says, and you look behind your shoulder at the overflowing bin, knowing there were at least three more filled with logs waiting out back, âGive yerself a rest dear.â Her kind face looks at you in such a way that you canât argue, sighing deeply through your nose as you debate it. You have enough coins to last you for a while, and seeing that you already have some bread and food prepared, it shouldnât be much of an issue. So you nod.
You move to get your gloves, pulling them on as you head back out through the kitchen. You brace yourself for the cold, wrapping your scarf tighter around your neck and throwing your hood over your head as you open the door, quickly leaving and shutting it, knowing how much he cooks bickered when you let the air in.
You keep your head down, nose scrunching as your boots crunch as you walk through the snow, nearing the corner of the tavern, the one that rounds into the road that leads you back home before a yell catches your attention.Â
It comes from behind you, the sound slightly muffled with the hood and scarf slightly covering your ears, but you glance over your shoulder to see what it was.Â
In the distance, one of the men is waving over to you, his body illuminated slightly from behind from one of the lit torches that hang on the wall of the stables. Your eyes squint, moving a few steps closer as you try to make out what he was saying.
â...glove,â is all you make out, the wind roaring around you not helping. But he waves a red glove around, and you look to your hands to see that your right glove was missing. It had been so cold that you didnât notice it had been blown away, the only thing covering your hand being your bandages.Â
You shake your head, rolling your eyes at the thought, and slightly jog back, bringing your hand to your lips as you blow some hot air on it. Your cheeks feel like they're on fire with how freezing it is, the tip of your nose about to fall off, but youâre able to muster up a thankful smile as you near the man.Â
âThank you!â you call out, laughing a little bit at the absurdity of it all, boots scrunching and sounding like ice being shaved as you run a little bit closer to him, the man taking a few steps himself so that you wouldnât have to go the full distance, and you squint your eyes more, trying to make out his blurry appearance thatâs slightly coming to as he nears another torch, âItâs so cold that I didnât even noticeâŚâÂ
You stop.Â
It seems like time has stopped.Â
The snow seems to have frozen in mid-air, not falling as it stops around you. The wind no longer howls, but has fallen silent. The snow on the ground doesn't glisten, the torches lit with fire slowing down.
Your lungs donât work. You canât feel any air coming in through your nose. It might be because your nose refused to inhale. You canât feel your heart, canât feel a singular beat to keep you alive. Your pulse has fallen silent, your ears hearing every sound but no sound at all.
Gojo seems to have stopped breathing as well.Â
His hand is still reaching out, your glove held tightly in his fingers as he stares,Â
And you stare back.Â
Your chest heaves out a single puff of air.
You blink once before everything suddenly goes black.Â
â
â...is it reallyâŚ?âÂ
â...never found aâŚthought she hadâŚthere must beâŚâÂ
â..last time I saw him look like thatâŚâ
There are multiple voices that blend together, and you canât tell whatâs happening aside from the fact that you canât feel your limbs and your eyes feel like theyâve been turned to lead. You canât open them, canât move, canât do anything but try to figure out what is happening around you.
â...doubt he knew,â a voice, louder and more clear than the rest fills your ears, sounding a little less like it was coming from underwater, â...searched for monthsâŚlooks like herâŚâÂ
Her?Â
The conversations around you continue, and you feel your fingers slightly twitching, a good sign that you werenât completely incapable of moving. You feel your lashes flutter, lips parting a little bit.Â
You try to listen more to the voices, but suddenly a loud slam happens from somewhere in the room. You nearly flinch, eyes moving back and forth between your lids and you will yourself to sit up, to do something.
The voices suddenly all fall silent, and your ears are becoming more in tune because you can pick up on the heavy thud that rings around the walls, loud but quiet at the same time, heavy and deep.
The sound nears your ears before it completely stops.Â
You feel a touch, light, barely there, but you feel it. Itâs the grace of a feather upon your body, a fingertip that slightly moves across skin. Your pointer finger moves a little bit, but itâs so miniscule that you doubt the touch noticed.Â
Itâs familiar, you think to yourself, youâve felt this touch before. It wasnât Miss Murray, for her fingers were more round and rough. It wasnât foreign, because sometimes you still got off put by a stranger's touch. This was something you knew once, had carded somewhere in your mind when your skin felt raw and barren.
âNothing?âÂ
The voice, itâs even more familiar. You hear it not only settle deep into your eardrums, but it rattles around your head, flowing down into your blood, seeping into your bones. Your brows scrunch a little bit, and you feel like a little bit of life is flooding back into you. Your toes curl in your boots, fingers itching against the wooden surface you feel yourself lying back upon.Â
âNothing at all?âÂ
That voice. The touch. The feel of those fingers against your skin, the way the voice breathes.Â
Gojo. Â
Your eyes suddenly snap open, your chest concaving in as you take in a big gasp of air. You shoot upwards, your hands resting on either side of you as they balance you on the table, your chest moving up and down with big movements as you look around wildly.Â
The men that surrounded the table were the same men you saw earlier that night. But you know them all. Samson, Ren, Kenji, Declan, Koji. You remember now, how they all challenged each other to grow the longest hair and beard in the winter months, the winner taking the head of a hog they had hunted. Malcolm, OisĂn, Shiro, Genji.Â
They all stared back at you, their faces clammy and pale, as if they were staring at a ghost.Â
Your body is shaking, your neck turning when you look to your side.Â
Gojo.Â
Thereâs a hitch in your breathing, your lips trembling when your eyes take in his face.Â
Those eyes, the same eyes that stared back at you the day you married him. A foggy storm, oceans clashing upon each other, dark and messy. His hair was as white as the falling snow right outside the window, slightly longer than what you remembered, but still the same shape.Â
His lips, red as the blood that stained the bandages around your hands. You take in the shape of his nose, the lashes upon his lids. The sharp line of his jaw, the slight twitch of his eyes. You take in the lifeless appearance of his skin, his cheeks lacking their usual pink hue. His figure looks even sturdier, more pronounced muscles around his shoulders and chest, the fabric around his arms tight. He looks exactly like you imagine him each night.Â
You had forgotten some little things over time; like the scar near his left ear or the mole above his brow. You donât remember how there was a slight crook in his nose from when he had broken it as a child from falling down a tree, but itâs still him. Itâs Gojo.
Your fingers itch to touch his face. Your nails dig into the wood.Â
You look at him. Look at the way his chest rises with each breath. This wasnât a dream. This was him. He was real and staring back at you.Â
You had to get out.Â
It feels like a force pushes your body forward. You donât know what strength it was that allowed you to swing your legs over the table, what power it was that allowed you to lurch yourself away and fall into him. He doesnât budge, doesnât falter, but you hear the others around you exclaiming some things in surprise at your sudden movements.Â
You donât stay on him for too long, forcing your feet that feel like iron ore to take one step at a time. You limp and stumble your way through, blindly grabbing for things as you pick up your pace, not looking over your shoulders as your hand reaches for the door.Â
âCome back.âÂ
Itâs his voice. You feel yourself shiver at the sound.Â
But you donât know what to do except escape, your palm touching the door knob.Â
âCome. Back.â His voice is steady, biting, warning, and he doesnât say anything else because this itself is the extent of what heâs willing to say.Â
You pause, not looking behind you, your knees shaking as you support yourself upright on the door, one hand sprawled out on it as you heave. You feel like throwing up, feel like your head is about to burst.Â
This canât be happening. This canât be real.Â
You feel your body shaking, your arms quivering, your legs wobbling. Your shoulders are moving up and down as you struggle to breathe again, and you feel your legs slowly give out beneath you, and you crumble down onto the floor, your hand still on the door as the other one covers your mouth, trying to keep your broken soul contained.
âMy lord, should we-âÂ
âGet out,â Gojo says, barely above a whisper, but perhaps the most forward and heavy command youâve ever heard him give.Â
Thereâs a confused silence that follows, his men faltering with the sudden order.Â
âBut-âÂ
âOut!â He roars, and you donât make a move from the door, canât find a bone in your body that has the ability to pull yourself away.Â
Thankfully, you think this is one of the more advanced rooms of the tavern, and when you hear the patter of footsteps and a door latch open from another side of the room, one that most likely leads to an office that has another door out to the hallways. It takes a minute, but the footsteps begin to slow and finally they cease, the door quickly clicking shut as the last man closes it behind him.Â
But thereâs still one person remaining, and you could distinguish who it was by the sound of his breathing alone.
Your back is still facing him, your hands moving to hold your head as you fall sideways to the wall next to you, your hands moving down to hide your sweaty and clammy face from the one person you had convinced yourself youâd never see again.
He doesnât say anything. He doesnât move.Â
You curl your legs up to your chest in an effort to hide as much as yourself away from him as possible. It feels like your heart isnât working correctly. It rattles around at an odd pace in the limited space of your rib cage, bouncing around erratically, trying to warn you that something was wrong. Your hands grasp at your chest, fingers digging into the skin as you try to calm it down.Â
But you soon realize that thatâs not your only problem. Your head was spinning in a way that made you see twos of everything, your forehead beading with sweat. It feels like youâve lost control over any of your movements, your body working as one, your mind as a totally separate entity. You wondered if this was you dying, if your body had suddenly given up.
âSlow your breathing down.âÂ
You falter, eyes looking above your direct line of sight which was staring at the wall adjacent to you, traveling upwards when you slowly looked up and saw muddy boots, then a familiar pair of black trousers, upwards till you landed on his chest and then his chin. You see his face, looking down at your form, his eyes dark but focused on your face, his lips pulled into a thin line. You hadnât heard him come near you, but you also doubt youâd hear a canon go off in this state.Â
Gojo.
You shake your head, looking instantly away from him as your lips tremble, snot falling from your nose as you look anywhere else. It seems difficult to breathe, the simple but tiring task bordering on impossible.
You canât see him, but hear a small thump sound a few seconds later. You glance from above your lashes to see that heâs taken a seat, resting his back on the wall thatâs facing yours. His legs are sprawled out, long things that you used to tease him about, and the tip of his boots almost reach your knees.Â
âReach your hand out,â he says after a beat of silence.Â
You almost scoff at the insanity of it.Â
But you look at him, truly look him in the eyes this time, and see that heâs being serious.Â
You look back down to your shaking hands, cold and still bandaged up, and then back to him. It feels unreal. You feel your hands shake even more when your mind computes again that itâs Gojo thatâs two feet in front of you.Â
âOne hand at a time,â Gojo says, his voice lowered, and he demonstrates by sitting up a little bit, leaning a breathe closer, still feet away from you as he lifts his hand up from where it was resting on his thigh, holding it up in the air, fingers sprawled from each other, âLike this.â
Your mind tells you to move, just a little bit, and your fingers twitch against your knees that were sitting close to your chest. It takes a few seconds but you will raise your hands upwards, slowly, gently, just like he did. Itâs shaking, he isnât, but he doesnât say anything about it.Â
His eyes look over the bandages on your hand. Some spots are dotted with red blood from your most recent cuts. He looks at your fingers, the dirt beneath your nails and the way theyâre cut at odd angles. He finally focuses on your fourth finger, lingering on its bareness, and you donât realize in that moment just how much he was mourning the absence of your wedding ring.Â
âBring it away from your body,â his voice is barely a whisper, thick with unspoken emotions that have plagued him for the past year and a half, his own eyes glossing over slightly when he takes you in, just as you were doing to him.
You find that in these last moments your erratic breathing has slowed down a bit, so you go the distance, gingerly stretching your arm out so that your hand is straight in front of you, still trembling just a bit.Â
âIâm going to hold your hand with mine. It helps, I promise.âÂ
I promise.Â
Your teeth clatter against each other, your tongue laying flat and like a stone in your mouth. You canât speak yet, but thereâs a sharp look in his eyes. The same one that happened whenever he made his promises to you. Ones heâd never break.Â
So you slowly tilt your head down in a small nod.Â
He watches this, observing your behavior. He shows you his hand, never putting it down, just carefully outstretching his arm like you did, and he moves a little bit away from the wall to get a little closer to you.
You never blink as you watch his hand stretch out towards yours, fingers straight, and in a few seconds they hover above yours. Heâs not wearing his ring, you note, but put your focus on the fact that in another moment his skin is touching your skin, his fingers curling slowly over yours. In another moment, his hand moves, gently holding yours in his. That touch, the same touch you feel like a lingering ache at night.
The two of you donât say anything, looking at where your hands meet with bated breath.
The touch was grounding. You feel his fingers against your palm, long and steady, unlike your own. His skin is warm, comforting, inviting. Itâs not soft, but it never was. Years of yielding swords, bows, spears, using his fists as means of destruction caused that. But when he held you, it never felt like the hands of a warrior, just of a man. Your own fingers stretch outwards, your tips gracing his large hand, slightly above his wrist, where his pulse point is. You try to forget that the last time you touched him was so long agoÂ
âBetter?â He asks simply, taking in how your chest had slowed its movements, the sweat on your forehead stopping. Your eyes are still glossy, but he knows itâs more than just an episode thatâs causing that.Â
You swallow thickly, looking down at your hands and not to him as you nod again.
Thereâs a silence that follows, the only sound being the small exhale that you would give, and his slight inhale.Â
Youâre the first to move, your hand going slack in his as you begin to pull away. His own finger twitches, not wanting to let go for a minute, but he falters and lets you move away, resting your back up against the wall as you cradle the hand close to your chest, as if it was searing.Â
Gojo moves back too, his shoulders square as his hands go to rest on his thighs again, letting out a large puff of air through his lips. After another moment his head dips, fists clenched as he pinches the bridge of his nose, his eyes squeezing shut as if he too canât believe any of this. He runs a hand through his white hair, pushing it back, before he allows himself to open his eyes again and stare at you.Â
âIâve looked for you for sixteen months.âÂ
You look at him blankly, but inside something cracks.Â
âI thought you were dead after the first eight,â Gojo says, âSo I've just been searching for your body.â
You look away from him, the sight of him here and speaking to you too much to bear.Â
He waits for you to say something, anything, a flash of anger crossing his face, his nose flaring and lips stretching thin as he tries to control himself. He had convinced himself for a while now that you were dead. He wondered what heâd do if he found you somewhere, not knowing how to prepare himself for the sight.Â
But in the beginning, when he was sure that heâd find you, Gojo wondered about what he might say to you if he ever saw you again. He told himself that heâd yell, heâd beg you to tell him why you ran away, why you never wrote back, but his anger faded and dissipated the minute he saw you. The anger, the frustration, the pain, hurt, breaking, everything that he feels now is from seeing you alive, knowing that you were alive this whole time and never once said anything. The tears and the bite in his throat he has to fight back being from the sole reason of how much he missed you.Â
He sees you here, alive, your chest moving with each breath. He sees the flutter of your lashes against your cheek, the plump of your lips. He sees your eyes, more tired and filled with unknown sorrow, but still that burning color he loved so much. He watches the way your arms wrap around yourself, the curve of your jaw and the way you try to blink away your tears. Gojo sees you and though there are small changes to your appearance, still remembers you being as beautiful as the day he last saw you.
His wife, Gojo thinks, his wife was alive after all this time.
âWhy didnât you say anything?â he thinks his voice comes out breathy, almost like he was trying to stop himself from cracking in front of you, âWhy didnât you send a letter? OrâŚor a sign?â
You bite down on your lip, your head turned away from him so that he couldnât see your face. You feel yourself choking as he speaks, your eyes stinging with tears again. You canât do this, you canât.
You blindly walk back into the other part of the room, where he and his men originally were. You hear him move instantly behind you, as if he was fearful youâd try to make a run for it again, but youâre searching for a pitcher, your throat dry and aching.
You stumble around, wiping away at your wet cheeks, hands stiff as you turn desperately to find anything, something to just wash away the biting and choking feeling you had that was settling deep in your chest.Â
Your eyes almost light up when you see a pitcher, making your way through it as your fingers grasp the handle, finding a cup next to it as you bring it up. Itâs heavy, filled with water, and although youâve gotten stronger these past months lifting and carrying wood, you canât seem to properly pour.Â
It must be from how your hands are still shaking. Water pours messily from the sprout, getting everywhere but the cup. You let out a frustrated cry, wiping the tears away from the corners of your eyes with your elbow as you try again.Â
Something stops you. You look over your shoulder to see Gojo, his hand hovering over your arm thatâs holding the pitcher. Silently, he grabs it, fingers curling around the handle as you let go. He reaches for the cup in your hand, which you give him, and sniffles when he calmly pours some water for you, handing it back with the cup full.Â
You take it after a beat of quiet, bringing it to your lips as you chug it down. You finish it in seconds, wiping your lips as you squeeze your eyes shut, feeling his heat radiating off of him from how close he was to you.
âYou have to leave.âÂ
Your voice comes out frail and hoarse, and you're staring at him through tear stricken eyes, your lips pressed firmly into a little frown, one that you do to help you from crying even more. You cross your arms over your chest, wincing slightly when your bandage rubs the wrong way, but you refuse to drop your gaze from his.
âY-you canât know Iâm here,â youâre shaking your head adamantly, stuttering as you think of everything that has happened and what it means, the repercussions that could come from it, all of your sacrifices amounting to nothing, âNone of you canâŚplease, gods, IâŚâ You let out a gasp, hands covering your mouth as you frantically walk away from him, pacing around the vastness of the empty room.Â
You run your hands over your face, wringing your fingers, fidgeting with the fabric of your bodice as you shake your head repeatedly. They know youâre here, they know youâre alive. If anybody finds out, if word gets out of where you are and your true identity, gods, what if the king finds out?
Youâre muttering words to yourself, tears catching on your cheeks, chin, falling into your lips, and you phase Gojo out. You act like heâs no longer there. It feels like what youâve done for the past year, pretending like his ghost, the thought of him, wasnât haunting you when in fact it was at every single second of the day.
âLeave!â You shout, your voice hoarse, âGet out! Leave! Please!â Youâre pleading with the gods above to make him listen to you, to cast away his stubbornness and pride and make him listen to your words just this once.
âLeave?â He says with a stutter, a chuckle of disbelief falling from his lips, âWhat are you sa-âÂ
âGet out!â You scream, cutting him off, pointing at his chest and to the door, âI donât want you here! Go!â
He shouts your name, loud and clear, and you instantly stop.Â
Your brows are furrowed down the middle, a crease between them, and you feel like your eyes are slightly twitching. You must look mad to him, not the person he once remembered. You hope he feels disgust, wanting to leave as soon as he gets a few words in. That would be ideal. Maybe he despises you so much he doesnât talk about you ever again, satisfied to see just how poorly youâre doing by yourself
But to be fair, he doesnât look any better himself.Â
There are dark circles under his eyes. His skin seems flushed, but not in a good way. Thereâs a bead of sweat above his brow bone, his lips moving slightly as if he wants to yell, scream, cry, shout, but canât figure out which one to do. The more you get a look at him the more youâre able to see the cracks in his usual appearance. The way he hides behind his strength but fails to use that strength to keep himself afloat.Â
But oh, how you wish to walk to him, run to him. How you long to collapse in his chest, to feel his heartbeat against our cheek. How you want to feel those sturdy hands wrap themselves around you, give you an embrace youâve been chasing for so long. You want to feel his skin, taste his tears. You want him, all of him. But you canât, you remind yourself. Heâs not yours to have anymore.Â
âThatâs it?â He bites out, his tone furious, âYou havenât seen me in over a year and thatâs it? I have to leave?â He sputters, a bitter laugh falling from his lips as he rubs a hand across his jaw in disbelief, as if he canât fathom the person thatâs standing in front of himself right now is the person he nearly died trying to find.
You glance out the window, the snow storm still going strong. Itâs as dark as ink outside, the only light thatâs illuminating your faces coming from the candles lit that scatter across the room. You wish you were in the snow than in here, the freezing winds better than the hot and burning sensation you feel at the moment.Â
âYouâŚyou donât understand,â you plead quietly, âThis isnât-â
âWhat?â Gojo snaps, cutting you off as your mouth clams up, âThis isnât what? Simple? Easy to grasp?â Heâs cracking, his demeanor slipping from calm to angry, âHow you ran away without any fucking warning? How you evaded all my guards? How you wound up here? What can I not understand? Because Iâve spent a year and a fucking half coming up with every single theory that could explain this!â His voice bounces off the walls and you wince slightly, face cracking as you sniffle, âSo what? What is it? What can I not get thatâs so difficult to comprehend?â
A strand of his hair has fallen onto his face and his eyes have gotten as dark blue as they can get. You let out a little sob, covering your mouth as you turn away from him, shaking your head again and again as you try to think, try to will yourself out of this.Â
How could you explain any of this? How could you tell him without anything happening as a consequence? Thereâs no simple way. If you tell him the truth, whoâs to say heâd believe you. And on the off chance he does, thereâs no way heâd sit still and take it. All your efforts of keeping the two nations from war would break. If Gojo believed that his wife had been abducted due to order from the Southern king, a war was no longer the worst thing that could happen but full fledged destruction. Years of bloodshed and violence and everything you did would be for nothing.Â
But if you didnât tell him? If you lied? You didnât know what to do or say, not expecting or preparing for a moment like this because you never thought it would happen. You tried to live blissfully unawares, hoping that your past life had eventually faded away.Â
âTell me,â he says again, his voice cracking, and his tone has fallen, itâs not angry, not the facade he was putting up because he could never be angry with you, could never yell at you and immediately regret his actions, âIâm here, I found you, so, so please, justâŚjust tell me why,â
You jam your palms into your eyes, beginning to pace around the room again as you breathe deeply.Â
âI, I didnât know,â you donât know what to say, how to lie, what to do to make any of this make sense, how to satisfy sixteen months of questions, prayers, hurt, in the little time you had, âI canâtâŚâ you sigh through your nose, looking at him apologetically, cheeks shining in the candlelight as your lips tremble and you shake your head, giving him a small shrug, âI-I canât tell you.âÂ
âWas it because I left?â He takes a few steps forward to get closer to you but falters when he sees how you take one back, his eyes confused, full of pain as he stammers, âWereâŚwere you scared? Because I came back,â you let out another cry, hiccuping when you heard the tenderness and hurt in his voice, âI came back like I promised you I would.â And you shake your head to that and he pauses, hand clenching and unclenching as he tries to figure you out with your minimal words and even more limited movements.
âSoâŚso why? Darling, please, just tell me why,â Heâs begging you, and Gojo never begs. Not unless he needs to. Not unless itâs without anybody other than you.Â
âYou donât - donât understand,â your voice cracks as you wipe away your falling tears, âItâs n-not that.â How could he think you didnât believe him? The thought that he even believed that, using it as a hypothesis breaks you even more and your chest shakes, fingers itching to hold him and tell him everything that happened.
Gojo looks like heâs struggling to think, like he doesnât know what to do as he throws his arms in the air, his eyes pleading with you. You see a slight sheen in them, see the way they quiver, how maybe he too is crying. Maybe from frustration, maybe because he just missed seeing your face.Â
âThen what?â He takes another tentative step closer and you donât move, frozen in place, and he takes one more step to you, until heâs only a foot away, âWas it because ofâŚbecause of the war? Because of what I did? Were you angry with me?âÂ
You lick your lips as you pursue them, squeezing your eyes shut as you cry even more. A sound tears from your throat, a sort of wail that you canât control, and itâs one that you donât mean to let out. You furiously wipe at your face, your head hanging low as you cross your arms across your stomach. It doesnât take another second until you hear his boots thump along the floor, bringing himself to you as he pauses. And slowly, before you or Gojo knows whatâs happening, you feel one of his arms circle your shoulders. Unknowing, a movement he wasnât sure of.Â
But then you break, falling into his chest as you sob, your arm flying upwards to grasp onto anything you could, fingers digging into the fabric of his coat, into his shoulders, around his waist. You can smell the faint lingering smell of smoke on him, the little hint of leather. You sniffle, fingers moving up towards his hair, wanting to feel it beneath your skin. You wanted to cherish it for a moment longer, like you should have all those months ago. You feel the sturdiness of his chest against yours, feel the buttons that engrave into your cheek. You feel him, all of him that there is to offer.Â
You donât realize how he does the same as you. The anger instantly faded when he felt your body against his, when he wrapped his arms around your frame. He could feel the flesh of your cheeks as he moved his hands across your face, over and down your torso as he grasped onto your waist. He wanted to push you away, force you to feel the pain he had all those months, but he couldnât. He had you now, and he didnât know how much longer he was allowed to. His lips are a breath away from your forehead, and he presses them to the crown of your head, his chest shaking as he cries silently, his tears wetting your hair.Â
You donât know why he holds you like he used to, why he comforts you like he still loves you. After all this time you thought that the only way heâd touch was if he were to touch you with a sword, banishing you from the North and from any of their territories if he saw you again. Not this. Never this.
If only you knew how upon feeling you, holding you close to his chest, he first took a breath of air in sixteen months. If only you knew how his heart started to pump, pump, pump, the way it was supposed to, and not the pathetic little beats it did just to simply keep him alive but wasnât living until now. Because the truth was that heâd already forgiven you for what you did. Heâd forgiven everything you had done up until this point and would forgive everything you do later, even if he wouldnât be there to witness it.Â
âIâm s-sorry,â you cry into his chest, âIâm sorry, Iâm sorry, Iâm sorry,â you chant, your words slurring together in a mixture of apologies, guilt, longing, hurt, and every emotion youâve bottled up and decided to put away, hoping youâd never have to touch them again.Â
It was a culmination of months away from the only man you had ever loved. Months of barely surviving, living through peoples scraps and trash as you tried to run away as far away from the only home you had ever known in a last ditch effort to be of some help to the people you cared about. It was a broken plea for Gojo to hear everything you had suffered in just two repeated words, knowing that he could never truly know what you had done and why you had done it unless you told him yourself. He just hugs you tighter, his arms caging you in as you bring yours close to your chest, your hand lying against his torso as your body shakes with cries. His hand rubs up and down your back, fingers curling into your cloak as he just nods, not trusting his own voice, just holding you with as much strength he could muster without crushing you.
Gojo waited for sixteen months, and heâd be damned if he let go of you now. Not after countless nights of staying awake and days riding across the four nations, through rain and mud, snow and storm, heat and desert, weeks spent without barely a blink of sleep, all in efforts to find you. And now he has. And he isn't letting you go. Not now, not ever again.
âDid you mean what you wrote?â He asks against your head, his lips falling open in a silent cry as his hands shake against your body. You squeeze your hands, balling them into fists against his chest. No, you want to scream, no!
âI have to leave. I could never, under any godsâ sky, pretend to keep loving a man as barbarous as you,â his voice is choked, the sentence falling from his lips at such a heart wrenching rate, and a part of your mind flashes to that fated night when the man put that knife to your throat and forced you to copy down those words, the same ones heâs saying now, the words that he memorized after reading your farewell letter over and over again, the letters searing into his mind, âDid you mean that?â You hear how Gojoâs voice cracks, as if hearing you admit to that would be a fate worse than death, as if he regrets asking the question thatâs been plaguing him for months.Â
You feel your tears soak through his coat, your teeth biting into your lips as you control yourself, taking every part of your soul that wants to crawl out and scream, from shaking your head. So you just go limp against him, nails digging into your palms.
âLook at me,â he whispers, his hand trailing up from your back, floating over your side as it comes upwards to grab at the side of your head which was hidden away in his chest. You donât fight him as his fingers latch under the skin of your jaw, or when he cups your face as gently as he possibly could, his touch like a feather as he angles you upwards to look at him.
When you see his face you let out a little shaky exhale, wet and messy as you feel his warmth travel from his fingers to your body, tingling everywhere, a certain type of warmth that you had been missing for a while and only came back because the other half of your soul did.Â
âTell me you meant it, p-please,â his voice travels across the walls of the room, heavy, barely above a whisper but you hear every crack, every single way he breaks down, no longer able to keep himself strong, âThat you ran away because you never loved me, and IâllâŚIâll leave,â his thumb rubs up and down your jaw, a movement he doesnât even realize heâs doing, something thatâs second nature to him and a tear falls from the corner of his eyes, his lashes fluttering as he tries to blink them away, âIâll leave and youâll never have to worry about me ever again.â
No, no no, no this canât be happening all over again. You feel like youâre going insane, his thumb wiping away your tears as you stare silently at him, your lips chapped as you shake your head slightly, knowing the movement itself just cost you everything. You see the way a little spark makes its way onto his face and you shake your head even more at that, not wanting him to get any sort of idea.Â
âN-no, no, no,â you mutter, gasping for air, his hand falling a little bit but you chase after his touch, your head falling into his palm like it was meant to, âNo, IâŚI didnât want to, I m-mean I didnât, I,â youâre stammering, words falling out like vomit and you canât control them.Â
You press your cold fingers to your eyes, shaking your head as if itâs the only thing you can do.
âI,â you sigh, looking up at him with a breaking look, âI d-didnât but,â he deflates a little bit and it hurts to see the most strongest person youâve ever seen look so broken, âBut I canât,â you whisper the last word with as much strength as you could, âI canât go back.âÂ
Gojo lets out a puff of air, his shoulders rising and falling, his hand pulling away from your face, most likely thinking you didnât want it there when it was the only thing you wanted, the only thing you longed for when you were alone and slept with one eye open.
He looks lost, confused, not knowing what to say to make any sense of this.
You take a step back.
âThen,â he runs a hand through his hair, something he does when he is stressed, not knowing what else to do with his hands, âWhy did you write it? WhyâŚwhy, why did you leave?â
You look away, your mouth opening slightly before you close it again, knowing your best option was to stay silent.
âWasâŚwas there someone else?â Thereâs a slight tremor in his voice, no malice, no blaming, just curiosity, âSomeone here?âÂ
You quickly shake your head, hiccuping a little bit as your nose scrunches up, sniffing when you vehemently try to silently tell him no, that the only person youâve loved and can ever love was him. That youâd rather stab a stake through your heart that makes room in your heart for anybody else but him.
âY-you didnât do anything,â you murmur, a tear slipping down your nose as you shudder, âIt wasnât because of you.â
âThen why?â He presses quickly, pleading, his cheeks red and flushes as he begs for you to talk, to say something other than the empty clues youâre giving him, âIf, if not because of another person thenâŚthen what possible reason did you have for leaving?â Gojo pauses to catch his breath, glancing away from you as he tries to regain composure, âYou left without any other reasons telling me why, coming to a random town on the eastern coast with nobody you know here. Itâs,â he laughs to himself, shaking his head as he shrugs indifferently, âItâs not like you were forced to leave, soâŚso why, why darling, why?âÂ
Thereâs a hitch in your breathing when he utters the simple words. Itâs not like you were forced to.Â
Your mind flashes quickly with memories of that night, the man on top of you, the knife pressed to your throat, urging you to write that letter. You remember waking up on his horse, your hands bound, trying to piece together what was happening. You think back to his greasy hair, the oily smile, his cruel eyes. You can still hear his gruff voice in your ear, the way he ordered you around your own room as if you were his dog, doing whatever he asked you to to spare the lives of those outside the door. You remember his hot breath on your skin, the weight of his body on yours, the way his eyes raked over your figure. You remember him lying on the ground, bloodied, calling you names as you ran away with his horse.Â
Gojo calls your name, once and then twice when you donât acknowledge him the first time.Â
He stares at your body with furrowed brows, taking in the way your chest heaves, your fingers digging into your sides as you stare blankly out the window.
Gojo takes a few brisk paces to where you were, his hands grabbing your elbows, not tightly, just to force you out of your busy mind, his head shaking in utter confusion at the way you suddenly left, and you slowly blink out of your stupor, looking at him and his questioning eyes.Â
Thereâs a strange look on your face, one he doesnât recognize.Â
His mouth parts a little bit, eyes squinting together as he assesses you. He lets out a small laugh, a disbelieving, questioning one, one that he canât control because you didnât react like this to any of his other questions.
âYouâŚâ his hand falls from your elbow, hovering over the back of your head, gently holding your nape, and you feel like a magnet, drawn to him, your hands balled by your side to keep you from doing something youâd regret, âYou werenâtâŚforced to leaveâŚright?â
You just stare at him.
You count to five, trying to steady your breaths. You want to shake your head, to disagree with his question even though it was the only correct thing, but your body stops you from doing that. Maybe it was fighting back, begging for you to tell him the truth. You evade eye contact from him, your tongue resting on the roof of your mouth and you swallow thickly, forcing down the bile.
But Gojo knows you, knows how to read your quiet expressions and little ticks. You donât do anything but stay quiet. Soon, after a few seconds pass and he stares longer at your face, your silence becomes your only answer.
His hand falls away from your head, taking a few steps back as if the air had been punched from his lungs.
It was one of the first things he thought when he was given your letter. Thought you had been abducted, and entertained the idea for as long as he could. But there were just no signs of a forced entry, your bags packed and missing some clothes. He read your letter over and over again, and when they never found you, he began to believe the words you had written down. Different ideas came to him, ones of a different lover, ones that made him believe you truly never loved him, ones that said you had run away on your own free will.Â
He covers his mouth with his hand, a tremor in his breath when you glanced at him with a sheen in your eyes.
âButâŚ?âÂ
Thereâs no answer, no need for one.
You shrug a little bit, wiping at your cheeks once again as you purse your lips together, sniffing as you try to keep everything at bay.
âI, um,â you swallow your spit back, biting your lip as you think for a second, think before the dam breaks and you realize it useless to keep any of this in anymore because Gojo knows and itâs worthless to keep it a secret, âA man came a few nights after you had left. Through my window.â
You peek over at Gojo and quickly glance away because the look on his face is too much to process. You keep your eyes trained on the corner of a carpet, at the fraying end as you decide to continue.Â
âHe was huge, âToru, like nothing youâve ever seen,â you say with a small laugh, one because this entire situation is too much to handle, your hands moving away from your body as you show his width with the space between them, âHe told me heâd cut my tongue out if I screamed, so IâŚI didnât.âÂ
You sniffle again, chewing on the inside of your cheek, pausing slightly as your jaw ticks the more you recall that night.
âH-he had this letter in his, uh,â you sigh, trying to control your breathing as you blink rapidly, brows furrowed as you motion to your chest, âIn his pocket. He told me to write the same words down b-but in my own handwriting.âÂ
Gojo feels his knees give out, holding onto one of the pillars of the bed next to him to keep himself upright, his eyes never leaving your lips, his head suddenly feeling like it was about to detach from his body.Â
âI was told to pack some b-bags and clothes,â you wave your hands around as if that wasnât important, âAnd I think he, uh, hit me in the back of my head,â your hand rises to your head, as if you could still feel the pulsing feeling from when you had woken up days later, âSo I was out for five, six? Six days, I think, before I woke up again and was on his horse.â
The words fell from your mouth like silk, things you had been wanting to see forever spilling like water from a pitcher, and you couldn't stop yourself, the only thing your mouth was willing to do was continue.
âHe said that somebody had sent him. Some bidding for the king, I guess. I think sometime between his talking I realized he was sent to kill me, dump my body in the woods so youâd think I had left. So I knew I had to leave, fight my way out somehow. AndâŚand I donât knowâŚhow, but,â you chuckle to yourself, shrugging at the thought of you when you broke free from your restraints and overpowered him, the look of surprise in his gnarly face when you dug the knife into his ribs, âBut I was able to get away from him. I mightâve killed him, I didnât check.â
Your blurry eyes blink upwards to Gojo as your head tilts to the side as you give him a small smile, full of unsaid words and melancholy feelings.
âI wanted to go back, back home to you and - and everything but,â your teeth dig into your bottom lip as the two of you stare back at each other through tears and even more tears, âBut he said that if I had committed treason of the highest degree, that,â your teeth rattle, âThat youâd never take me back. And that if theyâd send more people like him. To hurt people l-like you, like Alina, my friends, your parents, e-everyone I cared for, everyone that you care for,â you canât control the little cry that escape your lips, your hand flying upwards to your throat as you give yourself a second, âAnd I thought to myself thatâŚthat maybe if I ran away, if you thought that I no longer wanted to b-be your wife then,â one shoulder lifts up in a sad shrug, âThen maybe everything would resolve itself. That thereâd be no war to fight, no cause to die for.â
You wait for a second, air lodged in your lungs.
âI nearly ended up dead on the side of a trail,â you motion around you, to the tavern, the snow, the town, âA lady found me and took me here. I,â you swallow thickly, tears caught on your lashes, âIâve been here ever since.â
You look at him but he isnât looking at you. You want him to look up, just this once, but he doesn't and you allow him his own time to think. You gnaw on your lips, fingers fidgeting with themselves as you tilt your head a little bit.
âIâŚâ Your head tilts down to your chest, your words dying on your tongue, but thereâs a sudden warmth that takes over you and you feel your legs being lifted from the ground as strong arms circle around your waist, your body almost flying back with the force and speed you were picked up with. You feel your arm go to circle around your head, holding you close to his face as he hugs you to himself like he never has before.
Your legs wrap around his torso, your cheek pressing against his and you cry, you let yourself let go of the tears, let go of the lost time, let go of all the feelings you told yourself you aren't allowed to feel, and wrapped your arms tightly around his shoulders and neck, holding him as close as you could to you.
âI j-just wanted to help,â you murmur wetly, choking as you sob, âI didnât want anybody else to - to get hurt,â you tell him in broken phrases, âI didnât want you to get h-hurtâŚâ
He shushes you, lips kissing the side of your face, the corners of your eyes, your cheeks, the crown of your head, your ears, everything he could reach, feverishly. You could taste the saltiness of his own tears on your tongue, could feel his heart beating quickly from the pulse on his neck.Â
âIâm sorry,â he whispers against your skin, his eyes squeezing shut as he shakes his head over and over again, âIâm so sorry sweetheart, Iâm sorry,â his arms grasp onto you tighter, âIâm sorry, Iâm sorry, gods, Iâm sorry, Iâm sorry darling, oh gods, Iâm sorry,â you laugh weakly at his muttered apologies, at the way it sounds like heâs praying and apologizing at the same time; for your forgiveness, for you to believe that he was more sorry than any man has been and could be in his life.
âI s-shouldâve stayed,â he cries out, his lips trembling as he kisses your forehead, between your eyebrows, your lids, âI should never have left,â you shake your head, trying to stop him but you canât, âIâŚI shouldnât have left, shit, gods, itâs m-my fault, I shouldâve-â
âItâs not your fault,â you murmur against his ear, kissing his jaw softly, pulling away a little bit so that you could look him in the eyes, shaking your head a firmly as you could, holding onto the side of his face in your shaking hands, âDonât you ever, e-ever, say that...you couldnât - you couldnât have known.â You shake with cries as you try to smile, try to rake your fingers through his hair to calm him down, twirling his hair around like you used to when youâd wake up next to him. You unlatch your legs from his waist, slowly setting them down as you stand up on your own, your hands still tangled with each other in his hair.
âI never stopped loving you,â you whisper, watching the way his face crumbled upon hearing your words, âWhenâŚwhen I was starving and didnât know if Iâd make it through the night, I tried to pretend you were beside me. And,â your shoulders shake again, âAnd when I didnât want to wake up I pretended I was in o-our bed, about to wake up next to you. Everything - everything I did was for you, and IâŚI know you might hate me for it, despise me for running away butâŚâ you trail off, your thumb running across his cheekbones, his brows, his nose, âBut I hoped that one day youâd understand why.âÂ
You finish your words, staring at him as he stares at you, a storm happening behind those irises you loved so much. You deflate, knowing that this must be your final goodbye. That heâd never want to get back with somebody whoâd ruin their life so easily, whoâd break his heart so quickly and without any remorse. You try to cherish the way he looked, try to engrain the little features you had forgotten in your head for when he eventually pulled away and wasnât yours again. You open your mouth, wanting to tell him that you understand if he no longer shares the same feelings.
âIâm-âÂ
His lips slam against yours, his hand behind your head to keep you steady as you stumble a little bit. Your arms go up to hold onto his, surprised and taken aback by the sudden movement. He pulls away almost as quickly as he had moved in, an apologetic look flashing across his face.
âIâm sorry,â he mutters breathlessly, his lips shining with spit, âI-âÂ
This time itâs you who cuts him off, reaching your hands upwards to tangle back into his hair as your lips slot against and move roughly against his, mixing your tears, spit, love and pain with one another as he eagerly meets you in the middle with another hand sprawled out across your back, pulling you closer to him.
You angle your head upwards, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as your lips press harshly against one another. They move in tandem, in perfect synch, as if you hadnât spent one day away from each other but still with so much passion as if to make up for the months spent without one another.
You moan slightly, your lips opening as the sound escapes you, and he surges forward, his tongue meshing with yours as he licks into your mouth, wanting to taste you, to drink from you as if he hadnât had a proper sip to satiate his thirst in over sixteen months. His lips are soft and plump, just like you remember, and your eyelashes flutter against your cheek at the feeling of him panting into you like a mad man who was suddenly becoming sane.
The hand that he had resting on your back moves upwards, grabign and kneading at your hips, cupping your waist as you whine at the spark his touch brings, feeling lightheaded when he pulls away slightly just to bite down on your bottom lip with his teeth, his nose nudging against yours as you try to catch your breath.Â
âI missed you,â he whispers against your lips, two hands cradling each side of your face, âSo, so much. I never stopped looking for you,â you laugh through your tears, your eyebrows quivering as you hold onto him, âI could barely sleep since youâve been gone and the only reason I did was so that I could dream of you.âÂ
You pull his neck down to press one, two, three chaste and salty kisses against his trembling lips.
âI would have taken you back even if you had burned the entirety of the North,â Gojo tell you in a low tone, âI would have taken you back even if you carved my heart out,â he kisses the tip of your nose tenderly, âWhich you damn near did with that letter.â You laugh softly, his thumbs on either side of your lips as he cradles your face in the palms of his hands.
âI wish I never wrote it,â you say quickly, scrambling, your eyes darting around, âI neverâŚâ but he hushes you, shaking his head as he bring your head forward to place a longing and slow kiss on your forehead, one hand at the nape of your neck to force you look him in the eyes.Â
âIf he,â he pauses, his nose flaring at the mention of the man who tore you away from him, he controls the anger that boils and bubbles at his flesh at the thought of him touching you, threatening you, hurting you, taking you away from him, but he knows itâs not the time for that right now, heâll deliver chastisement when he gets the chance, âIf that man told you to kill me, to kill an entire group of my men so that he wouldnât hurt you, Iâd let you it in a heartbeat,â you feel him wipe a tear away, looking at your features, taking in everything he had been nearly dying without for so long.
âIâm so proud of you, my darling girl,â he says delicately and your eyes well up at his words, never hearing them before and never expecting Gojo to be the one to tell you after everything that you had done, âGoing through what you did? Surviving on your own? Gods,â he lets out a little chuckle, dipping his head down so it could rest on your own, smiling at you through his own tears, âThatâs what Iâd expect from my wife.â
Your mouth parts a little bit and you sniffle, holding onto the back of his arms like heâs your anchor, a tether to reality, to show you that this isnât a dream and that youâd wake up in your shack but that heâs here.
You feel his arms go lower though, grabbing your thighs from behind your skirts and petticoat, a sign that he wanted you to jump. So you oblige him, knowing heâd catch you regardless, and you silently wrap your legs around him again as his lips find yours once more, your chests moving up and down with labored breaths, but you don'tâ need air, you just need him.
âBed,â you murmur against his feverish lips, in between his dizzying kisses as your fingers slightly pull at his white strands, âP-please,â
Gojo pulls a little bit away, his eyes falling to your lips and then back up, almost in silent questioning. You nod once, needing for him to move, but he gets the gist, a smile, the first one you had seen that night, the first one from him you had seen in over a year, breaks onto his face, and he moves slightly back, nudging you with his nose to kiss him again and you do.Â
When his thighs hit the back of the bed you feel like a feather as he twists you around in his arms, your hands never disconnecting from his shoulders he gingerly puts you against the mattress, climbing over your body to resume his movements.Â
The two of you work in tandem, and you know when heâs growing restless, when he wants to explore the rest of your body. His lips trail from your lips to your jaw, pressing wet and splotchy kisses against the skin you have there before his lips move downwards, towards your throat.Â
You lift your chin a little bit, giving him more access as he sucks your skin into his mouth. You let out a little whimper at the feeling, his teeth grazing your soft skin, and one of your mouth slowly falls open in a little part.Â
Gojo feels like heâs finally taken his first breath of air when he sees the way heâs marking up your skin, and he knows that once heâs started, thereâs doubt heâd ever stop. Thereâs sixteen months of his lips and touch and mark absent from your skin, and he wants to make up for that.
His hands are at your waist, but his fingers dig into the fabric covering it, frustrated with the barrier thatâs still between the two of you.
Your eyes creep open when you feel him pull away, looking at his large body looming over yours with a little pout, one that disappear and melts into a little grin when you see him fumbling with the knot of your cloak, looking even more frustrated with trying to take off your bodice as quickly as possible.
âHere,â you whisper gently, your hand holding his as you move it away, sitting up on your elbows as you undo the knot, shrugging off the layer of warmth as you throw it to the side, âThereâs a lace up in the back,â you say, about to twist your body around to show him how to undo the bodice before you hear a loud, almost animated riiip!
You stare down at shock, your chest completely exposed to him, naked and bare, and then to his hands, the culprits for tearing the fabric as if it was a piece of parchment and not heavily lined and stitched top.
Your mouth drops open, hands flying to cover your breasts, but he tsks, swatting your hands aside.Â
âH-hey!â You exclaim, laughing a little bit at the way his eyes look at you, his brow cocked, heat blossoming across your cheeks and chest, your nipples pebbling in the cold air, âYou canât just - just rip it!âÂ
Gojo chuckles, rolling his eyes, moving up to get closer to your face as he leans down, pressing another searing kiss against your lips.Â
âI didnât wait all these months just to be halted by lace,â he mutters, his voice thick and primal and your breathing hitches at the sound, the near growl he has in his tone, and you donât have it in you to argue with him, desperately needing his hands on you as if youâd die without his touch.
His head dips as he looks down, his eyes finally falling onto your tits, your nipples, your chest that moves up and down with each exhale, and feels his mouth suddenly go dry. He remembers the first time he saw your naked top, remembers that night in the fields vividly, but now that heâs spent so long without being able to look at them, it feels as if heâs seeing you like this for the first time all over again.
âWait,â you sputter out quickly, your hands going up to your chest again and this time Gojo moves away, quickly and giving you some space as you sit up a little bit against the pillows and backboard, chewing on your lip in embarrassment, âI, um, I might look different, fromâŚfrom the last time you saw me.âÂ
His white brows pinch together in confusion, but he lets you have the time to gather the words, no matter how much they make you want to see yourself aflame in shame.
The bandages around your hands had slipped off with all the movement, your skin riddles with small scars and bruises that came with chopping and hauling woods. You sometimes looked in your little mirror and saw somebody different.
âMy hands,â you say, looking down at them, at the scratches from leaves and twigs, the coarseness on the pads of your fingers from wielding an axe for so many months, and you feel subconscious when his stare falls down to them, âAnd IâŚI donât know, the rest of me, itâs not-âÂ
He cuts you off, pulling your hands away from your chest, but not for the reason youâd expect. He brings them up to his lips, pressing a kiss against each knuckle, the backs of them, the bottoms of your palms, and the only thing you could do is watch with bated breath.
âDo you want to know what I thought when I saw you again? Just outside, in the snow?âÂ
You shake your head, eyes peering at him with an air of curiosity.
âAt first I thought that I had died,â he says with a chuckle, âBut when I saw you, saw your face, your nose, your eyes, your eyebrows, your cheeks, your hands,â he saws with a little grin, squeezing them in his hands, âI thought that I was dreaming. You looked just like you did when I dreamed of you. And when you woke up, and I saw your eyes again, I felt the happiest I have since the day I last saw you.â
Your shoulders fall, the tension in them dissipating, and you smile gently at him. Of course Gojo would know how to ease your worries, even after a year and counting of not seeing you. And he pauses, a silent talk happening between the two of you, one where he wanted to make sure you were still comfortable. To which you nod, biting your lips a little bit in nervousness, good nervousness, as you do.
His large hands falter, fingers reaching to grab the soft mounds. You watch through your lids that were slightly dropping, the anticipation causing a heat to blossom in your core, and you bite your lip as you wait for him to move.
âYouâre so beautiful,â he says in a hushed tone, wonder dripping from his voice as if he was seeing a statue come to life, a painting moving in front of him, âAs beautiful as the day I last saw you,â his fingers rub soothing circles on your waist, âMy beautiful girl,â he mutters, a small smile on his face that you mirror.
After another second of staring, Gojo makes his first decision, long slender fingers trailing up from your stomach, up your navel and to your left breast, cupping it, his thumb rubbing across your hard nipple as a small sigh escapes his lips.Â
âG-gods,â he stammers, squeezing the flesh, feeling like a teenage boy rather than the man heâs grown up to be, âSoft,â he chokes out, leaning his head down, âSo soft,â he murmurs, his lips latching onto it as you let out a gasp, his tongue rubbing over your areola and your back arches up into him.Â
He sucks the tit into his mouth, his other hand moving upwards to squeeze and knead the other one, not wanting to leave her unattended. Your lashes flutter at the feeling, mouth dropping open in a quiet sigh when you feel his teeth scrape against your nipple, biting down on it a little bit as your fingers curl into his hair.Â
âO-oh,â youâre able to say, ââToru, oh, oh gods,â you canât think, canât formulate a thought as he latches off with a pop, his chin dragging across your chest, his eyes never leaving yours as wrapped his swollen pink lips around your other tit.
He smiles a little bit at the sight of you crumbling from his mouth, flicking your nipple over with his tongue, biting down on this one as well as he moves upwards, sucking the skin around your breast, watching in satisfaction as dark hickeys bloom in the wake.
Your nails rake against his scalp, tugging a little harshly, but his eyes roll back at the feeling, loving the sting.
His lips continue to kiss your chest, moving down from the valley of your breasts and goes down, his spit shining in the candlelight as he kisses the soft skin of your stomach, just above your belly button and then lower, where the tear from your corset ends and the loops of your work skirt begins.Â
You let out a whine, a keel as he sucks the skin into his mouth.Â
âYouâre s-such a tease,â you stutter out, and he looks at you from his white lashes as his lips make another mark, his tongue moving as he licks the spot, lovingly, and you try to smile back, but your head falls back against the pillow no matter how hard you tried.Â
âIâm taking my time darling,â he corrects you, his hands moving the hem of your skirt, tugging it down a little bit but eyes eyes squint when he feels some resistance, âI need the woman I love to know just how much I cherish her,â he kisses your hip slowly, âWant her, âanother kiss to your lower stomach, âNeed her,â and he finishes by moving a little up to press a kiss to your sternum.
You catch your bottom lip beneath your teeth, one hand wringing into the sheets of the bed as you sigh shakily, the heat thatâs in your core turning into a fire, one that is growing and burning you from inside out.Â
Before everything happened, the two of you were burdened with the ever impending need of consummating the marriage. Gojoâs parents were understanding, never pushed the two of you, but the outside world seemed to ponder why your belly hadnât grown in the months you had been together. Truth be told, you were always nervous, not knowing how to do it, what to do, where things go, and so youâd freak whenever the two of you got close to having sex. So Gojo would always pull back, assuring you that your comfort was the most important thing to him. And though there were nights when he's eating you out, bringing you to ruin on his tongue and fingers, but that was it. But now, it feels different. There was a growing desire in you that felt like it was about to burst the longer you didnât feel him inside of you.
You can feel the ghost of his touch on your legs, the way his fingers trail slowly up your calves and to your knees, not long before settling on the meat of your thighs, squeezing them as he feels the soft plushness beneath him.Â
Itâs all so maddening.
ââT-toru?â Your hands search for his, your chest moving with each labored breath, and you feel his hands move upwards, lacing his fingers between yours as his eyes search for what it was you wanted, ââToru, please, oh, please, I need you,â you murmur weakly, âNeed you i-in me, please,â you beg, and see the way his pupils grow, his eyes barely even blue when you say the words inches away from his lips.
He lets out an animalistic grown, his eyes rolling back in his head as he plants a sloppy kiss against your lips, his hands falling down to the waistline of your skit, fingers fumbling to find the loop before he gives up, scrunching up the fabric between his fingers before you hear another rip. Looking down you see your skirt in tatters, the fabric looking like it had been mauled by a bear, and watch as he bundles it up and throws it to the side somewhere.
You go to argue but he raises a brow, wondering how you expected him to stay calm and put together when you utter such filthy words in his ear.
It takes you a second to find that youâre now completely naked beneath him, and while that doesnât cause you to cover up the way you expected, you find yourself pouting a little bit, something that Gojo notices.Â
âWhat?â He asks, his hand immediately cupping the side of your face, worried, âIs everything okay? Do you want to stop?âÂ
But you shake your head, hands pawing at his coat, nails scratching as you try to unloop the buttons.Â
ââS not fair,â you mumble, pointing to his chest and then to yours, your lips quirking up a little bit as your pout deepens, eyes all wide and open for him, the way you know makes his words turn to slurred speech, âIâm all bare and youâreâŚnotâŚsânot fair âToru,â there a little whine in your voice, one that causes his cheeks to go pink.
He grins, kissing your cheek apologetically as he nods in agreement.Â
âYouâre absolutely right darling,â he says, able to make quick work at tearing his coat off, swift finger fumbling to get his arms out of the sleeves, his hands going the either side of the tunic beneath him to lift it off and above his head, but the sudden touch of your hands against his skin makes him stop.Â
He looks down to where your fingers are lying, atop his neck, your eyes wavering when you hook something out from underneath the dress shirt.
How could you have forgotten?Â
You think to yourself, looking at the ring he had resting on the delicate gold chain. His wedding ring, the one he had told you ages ago he keeps around his neck so that it does fall off during training. Your fingers rub against it, feeling the cold sting of the gold, a familiar thing. But that wasnât what caught your attention. No, your eyes fall to something next to it.Â
The matching ring. Yours.
You let out a little shaky gasp, looking up to Gojo to only see him staring back at you, trying to gauge your reaction.Â
âIâŚâ he sighs, holding your hand in his, the one that was holding onto your ring, âI thought-âÂ
But you donât let him finish his rambling, pulling him down by the chain of the necklace as you slam your lips against his, a new set of tears sprouting in your eyes as you feel the rings dance around your neck.Â
Your fingers curl into his hair, digging them deep as your tears wet his cheek, your lips trembling against his as you hook a leg around his waist, your other hand holding onto the side of his face as you kiss him feverishly. You need him near you, need him to know just how much you have missed him, longed for him, need him.
But after a few seconds pass, he pulls away from you and your head moves up to chase him, but he sits up completely, your leg falling away from his waist as you watch him move his hands up to the necklace, tugging at it as it unclips from the back.Â
You watch silently as he slides your ring off of the chain, holding it in the palm of his hand as it shines brightly in the candlelight. His white lashes flutter against his cheek as he twists the ring around.Â
âMay I?â Gojo says quietly, and you falter, looking down at your hand.Â
The hand that youâve lived by for a while, using it for cutting logs and trees, to collect twigs and leaves. The hand riddles with scars and bruises, some fading, some new. The hand that always felt light, no matter how many things you were carrying in it. The reason you always knew, but never wanted to admit it.
You bring it closer to his own, watch as he turns the ring around to face your finger. You feel like the seconds have turned into hours, your mind flashing to when the last time he placed this ring on your finger, when you were a little bit younger and naive, not knowing heâd be placing it on your same finger nearly two years later, but this time out of love and not from an arrangement.Â
When it finally slides on you sigh a breath of relief, a tear escaping the corner of your eye, falling into your hairline as you hold the hand up, admiring its lost component that youâve missed so dearly.
âMy wife,â he whispers softly, almost to himself as if he couldnât believe what he was seeing, bringing your hand up to his lips as he presses a kiss that lays over the ring, holding onto your hand tight, giving it a squeeze as he gently set it back down on the bed. He places the necklace back over his neck, taking his tunic off with one fluid motion after it clasped into place.Â
You smile, full, content, and you lie back down against the pillows after a minute passed, your legs spreading a little bit to make room for him between them. His touch goes back up to your thighs, fingers searing in their place as his gaze finally, finally, drops down to your aching, burning core.
You watch as he undoes the buckle of his pants, his trousers being kicked off, his eyes never leaving your glistening folds, and you feel your heart rattle in your ribcage, waiting to just jump out.Â
Your eyes rake over his naked torso. Gods, he looked even bigger if that was possible. He riffs with even more muscles all across his chest, his arms, and his abs, looking even more pronounced from when you last saw him. His shoulders stand broad and sturdy, a thick vein running across the white trail of hair leading down, and you feel yourself growing wetter at the thought. Youâre so busy staring at him you donât even realize that he too has put his focus down. Down to where you need him the most.
Your mouth goes dry at the sight. Itâs the first time youâve seen it in its entirety. Sometimes youâve seen the outline from afar, feeling the length from layers of his clothes, but never like this, never so raw.Â
Itâs long, you think, and though youâve never seen anyone else cock before, you know this must be above what was normal. It curved upwards, not fully standing up from how heavy it was. You wanted to guess that it was at least eight inches, and gods, he was thick. His cockhead spurted more precum, pink, almost red, and it looked like it was about to burst.Â
Little white hairs grow from its base, soft and plush, and your eyes almost blur from lust at the sight.Â
Gojo scratches the back of his head almost in embarrassment, a little flush to his cheeks as he snaps his fingers in front of your face to get you to look back at him and not his little friend downstairs. You gulp, slowly finding his gaze as you stare at his pink face. A blush had traveled across his cheeks and went to his nose and jaw. Your head tilted slightly, bottom lip caught underneath your teeth as you squinted a little bit.Â
Was heâŚshy?
âAre youâŚâ You almost want to laugh, but stop yourself, a questioning look in your eyes as you sit up a little bit, resting on your elbows as you grin, âAre you blushing?âÂ
Gojo rolls his eyes at your teasing tone, pinching your waist as you squeal a little bit, a fit of laughter falling from your lips when he refuses to answer. Though he tries to look tough, his demeanor cracks when he hears the musical sound of you giggling, a new noise that seems to bring a fresh wave of colors back into his dull grey colored life.
âI know you havenât,â he swallows, his throat bobbing when he rubs a thumb slowly up and down your thigh, a comforting touch, âI know youâve never done this before. And if you want to wait-âÂ
âNo,â you say instantly, shaking your head, âNo, I want this. I want you. IâŚI need you, Saotru, I need you so bad I think Iâm going to start going crazy if you donâtâŚâ you trail off, swallowing thickly as you look back to his groin, and your fingers itch to hold it, to touch it, to feel the velvety skin beneath yours.
Gojoâs mouth goes dry, his lips parting as his pupils grow again.Â
You need him. You need him and oh gods does he need you. He thinks his heart will stop if he doesnât have your warmth circling him, pulling him closer to you.
He nods slowly, gnawing on his lip as he continues to rub soothing circles on your thighs, scratching his jaw as he thinks about how to go about this. Though he hates to even think about it, this wasnât his first time the way it was yours. But it was his first time with the woman he loved, and it felt like he was learning how to do it all over again.
âO-okay,â he says shakily, and here he looks like a young man in love, not the Northern warrior people forced him to become, just your Satoru, âIâll go slow, okay? Hold my hands, squeeze them as tight as you want. If it becomes too muchâŚâ his brow furrow, heart lurching at the thought of hurting you.
âThen Iâll let you know,â you finish with a smile, a promising one as you lean up to rest your forehead against his, âAnd Iâm a strong girl,â you say with a little tease, trying to relax the tension, âIt takes a lot to bring me down.âÂ
Gojo chuckles, nodding at your words as he leans a little closer to peck at your lips. You fall back down to the pillows, your legs spreading again as his hands move away form your thighs, going to your cunt, spreading some of his slick on them as he brings it to his cock, breathing slightly through his teeth as his fingers make contact with it, lubing it up as he lines it up with your entrance.Â
He looks at you once, and you nod, smiling, telling him you were ready.Â
He pushes the tip in, and feels your walls clench instantly around him. The stretch is there, and your eyes flutter shut, his hands traveling up through the sheets to grab at yours, your fingers lacing together as he brings them to your head, watching your reactions, fearful that it was too much.Â
But you nod again, wanting him to continue.Â
He pushes his way in little by little, your tight cunt fluttering and squeezing around him with each inch, biting down on your lips to keep the sounds in. Itâs not too much, but you know that if Gojo heard heâd stop it immediately. Because while it does hurt a little bit, the sting is good, and the more he lets you settle in it, the more it actually becomes pleasurable.Â
Gojo lets his cock sink into, letting you take all the time you need to adjust to his size, squeezing his hands as your fingers dig into his skin.
âG-good? Do you want to stop?â Heâs able to bite out, feeling like he was about to cum with the way youâre clenching around him. But his eyes are still filled with worry, not knowing what you were feeling with the way you were staying quiet.Â
You take a deep breath, biting the inside of your cheek as you slowly open your eyes, looking down to where your bodies were connected, and a little gasp escapes your lips when you see that heâs somehow managed to fit all of himself inside your tight walls, your cunt spasming around his girthy cock.Â
You moan, mouth falling open as you grip onto his hands again, quickly nodding, needing him to move.
And Gojo takes it.Â
He slowly begins to pull out, your cunt weeping wetly with his absence, and he gives it a second before he slams back in.Â
âUmph!â You whine, eyesight going white when his cockhead hit the spongy part of your cunt, nudging at it as you feel achingly full, a good full, âOooh, oh, âToru, itâsâŚohh,â and he knew it was a good oh because you were growing wetter around him, your slick staining his dick and the sheets beneath you.
He pulls his hips back out before he goes back in, creating a steady rhythm that makes your legs feel useful, wrapping around him to keep him as close to your middle as possible. You can hear the squelch whenever he pushes himself back inside, and can feel the way you spurt around him.
âYouâre doing great darling,â he says encouragingly, praising you as your finger clench and unclench, âDoinâ so great for me, you know? So perfect, my perfect wife, fuck, oh, s-shit,â
He pulls the back of your hand to his lips, kissing it before he lets go, bringing your now empty hand up to his shoulders, his own hand falling in between your bodies as his finger find your clit, rubbing and pinching at it with such a speed that you feel like youâre finally going towards the light.Â
âS-so tight,â he moans out, head falling down to your chest as he takes in a nipple between his teeth, sucking your tit into his mouth, needing something to with his tongue, âYouâre sâwarm, fuck, itâs so, so fucking good,â
You nod feverishly at his words, mewling in agreement, the ability to talk dying right in front of you, your walls turning to mush the more he slams himself inside of you.
It feels like lightning when his fingers continue their movements on your pulsating bud, his cock molding your cunt into its shape, your hot warmth trapping him inside like a honeypot, barely allowing him to move but pulling him back inside whenever he pulls away, needing to chase after the intoxicating feeling.Â
You feel like crying and laughing, never expecting to have this moment happen. You want to pinch yourself, to see if maybe you were dreaming. You feel all your emotions wash up as Gojo kisses your chest, feel the excruciating pain you first felt when you ran away, the lonely feeling when you were surviving on your own, to live by yourself, pretending that heâd be there to wake you up.
And sure, you dreamed that youâd see him again, but you never thought heâd believe you, let alone forgive you. You never thought heâd be like he always was, kind and caring, loving you with such tenderness that it feels like you never left. You never thought heâd fall in love with you twice, but maybe that was your biggest mistake. Because Gojo Satoru never stopped loving you just like you never stopped loving him.
You feel tears prickle as your eyes, your nose scrunching up to hide your sniffles, a sound that quickly catches his attention.Â
He looks up from your sternum, fear flooding through his eyes when he sees the tears that roll down the side of your face, the watery look of your eyes and the way you turn your head away so that he wouldnât see you.
He instantly stops, pulling out of you as his hands quickly go to your cheeks, tapping your jaw, worried, anxious as he begs for you to look at him.Â
âHey, hey,â he mutters quickly, his hands slightly trembling, thinking he had hurt you terribly, âWe can stop darling, itâs okay, donât worry,â but you shake your head, a tremor in your lips as you look at him, hands covering your face as you feel tears wet your finger.
âItâs not that,â you whisper, choking on a cry, ââS not that, it feels good, really good,â you add, sniffing again as your nose scrunches up. Gojo falters, rubbing away your stray tears, eyes looking everywhere to figure out what was wrong. He lets you find your words, even if it takes a minute.
âIâŚI just,â you sigh, pushing your lips together tightly as you look at him, âI missed you so much Satoru, I m-missed you, and,â you feel his eyes gloss over, âAnd Iâm sorry I didnât write o-or tell you anything. I love you,â you tilt your head up slightly to kiss him softly, âI love you so much. I know this isnât what-âÂ
âNo,â he interrupts, shaking his head to cut you off, knowing that you might spiral, âI donât care about the time, darling, I donât care how long it took to have you again,â a tear off his falls on your cheek, âJust that I have you again. That I have the woman I love back in my arms is enough for me,â he promises and you laugh wetly, rubbing at your eyes.Â
He kisses your tears away, balancing himself above you as he nudges his nose against yours, something he does when he wants to catch your attention, when he knows youâre lost in your own mind.Â
You smile again, your hand falling in between your bodies to line himself up again with your entrance. He stutters, going to stop you, but you shake your head, wanting this, wanting this more than anything, and let your legs wrap around him again.Â
âI love you,â you whisper against his lips, feeling his cockhead push a little bit again past your aching walls.
His head drops down to your chest, not wanting you to see him break. Not wanting you to see the way he cracks because he never thought heâd hear you say those words again, never thought heâd see your lips form around those tender words, to give him such a divine feeling.Â
âI love you,â he says huskily, gasping it out as he sink in a little deeper, âI love you so much, so so much,â he kisses your chin, âSo much that even if it took a century to find you Iâd still love you as much as the day I first loved you,â
You giggle a little bit, kissing him messily as you moan against his lips, your cunt stretching again to fit his size, cradling the side of his face in your hands.
âIâmâŚIâm never letting go of y-you ever again,â you stammer, a little moan escaping you when a vein scratches deliciously against the side of your pulsing walls, ââM yours, S-satoru, all yours.âÂ
He groans, hands finding purchase on your waist as his eyes squeeze shut, too many feelings, all good feelings, coursing through him.
âEverything I have, e-eveyrthing I am and will be is yours,â he says, his voice breaking, âI was always yours to begin with.âÂ
Your nails scratch down the flexing and large muscles of his back, leaving red lines in their wake as he picks up his face, your own tears, spit, juices, everything, mixing together as you moan in tandem.
âSo good!â You whine, toes curling, your arm wrapping around his neck to pull him down to your chest until you were flush against each other, kissing against him messily, licking into his open mouth as you moan even louder when he angles his hips a certain way to reach even deep inside of you, if that was even possible, âT-thinkâŚthink Iâm âgonnaâŚ!â
That same buzz grows, that feeling of an incoming orgasm approaching you quickly. You were warned that it was difficult for a woman to finish during sex, and some of your friends often told you how they usually lay there until their husbands finished. But it wasnât like that with Gojo, not at all. You have no idea how much time has passed, but it feels far quicker than usual.
His fingers never give up their pace on your clit, and your walls clench around him, a new feeling growing inside of you.
ââToru, I think Iâm âgonna c-come,â you hiccup, your orgasm building up, âI t-thinkâŚâÂ
He nods, biting your bottom lip between his teeth, feeling his own release creeping up on him, feeling the white hot flash grow in his groins.
âI know darling, I k-know,â he mutters, kissing the side of your mouth as his motions quicken, needing to feel you come with him, âI know, let go, come on, I know you can, let go for me darling, there it is.â
You let out your last moan when you feel your orgasm wash over you.Â
Itâs blinding, exhilarating, and for a second you think you nearly died from how good it was.
You spray around his cock, gushing with your release. It wets his balls, dripping down onto the sheets, his abs shining wet from the way you squirted all over him. You want to feel embarrassed, but quite frankly canât because of how utterly spent you feel.
Gojo opens his mouth in a silent exhale when his own orgasm happens, spilling his cum deep inside of you, painting your walls white with his seed as he spurts, seeming like it was never ending.Â
You feel yourself clench around him at the feeling, your entire body feeling even warmer at his cum reaching deep inside of you. He came so much that it overflows from inside, coming out from the sides of your cunt, mixing with your own juices as the two of you try to calm down from your mind-shattering climaxes.Â
And despite how tired you feel, a giddy smile makes its way onto your face.Â
Your husband is right next to you. You could have only dreamed this moment happening.
Gojo looks down at you, smiling too, his head tilting to the side.Â
âW-what?â He asks with a quiet chuckle, his cock still nestled inside you, and the thought makes you feel even giddier, turning your face to the side, smushing it against the pillows to mute your bursts of laughter.
But itâs no use, because Gojo leans down to the side of your face, kissing your cheek and jaw gingerly as he smiles against your skin, wiping the excess tears away from the corners of your eyes.Â
âWhatâs got you laughing, hm?â He says, his voice slightly muffled against your cheek and you giggle even louder, unable to control it, his fingers not helping as they place tickling and fleeting touches all over our naked and sweaty skin. He canât help himself and laughs too, the sound hearty and loud, bouncing off the walls as you squirm around, your lips pulled wide, a toothy smile etched permanently onto your face.Â
âS-stop!â You wheeze out, his fingers everywhere, your arms, legs, thighs, stomach, fast and unforgiving, trying to squeeze every but of the wonderful sound out of you so he could bottle it up and keep it forever, âS-satoru, s-stop! Please!âÂ
You push at his chest, eyes bright and full of mirth, looking back at the man you loved, his smile bright and blinding. You want to have this moment forever, over and over again, never ending, and you never want it to end. He finally pulls away, looking down at you with such adoration and love in his shining eyes that you feel like youâre about to go blind.
He pulls himself out of your warmth, kissing the back of his teeth when you pulse around him again, and his limp cock hangs satisfied. He pushes the mixture of his cum and your juices back in with his thumb, something primal filling him seeing you full of his seed.Â
Your legs twitch, slapping his curious hand away when it starts to trail back up to your clit, and watch him send you a little wink, a little sign for whatâs to come later. Not now, though, because he sees the way your eyes are drooping, your hands resting on your stomach as you pat the empty space next to you.Â
Gojo obliges, falling down on the rumpled sheets, turning to the side to look at you.
You sigh, happy, full, and breaking at the seams with love. He lets the same sigh out, his pink lips pulled into an easy grin, months of exhaustion washing away from his body as he loops an arm under your waist, tugging you closer to his chest.
The two of you stay there in comfortable silence, grieving the months you lost, celebrating the moments just spent together, finding each other over and over again even if it tore you apart in the process.Â
He kisses your hairline, your forehead, the corners of your eyes. You preen like a cat, humming when you feel him kiss your cheek and your lips, pressing his last kiss to the tip of your nose, something he used to do when you were about to go to sleep.Â
âSleep nowâ he whispers against the side of your head, pulling the blanket to cover your bodies, his hold of you never letting go, âIâll be here when you wake up,â he smiles, pausing before saying, âI promise,âand you smile softly, craning your head up to look at him.Â
You fight back the tears, at the thought of waking up next to him, just like you always dreamed you would.Â
âYou promise?â You murmur, feeling one last tear fall, one tear of joy, utter joy, and he catches it with his thumb, his blue eyes wavering like a clear sky without a singular cloud, and you watch as his throat bobs, eyes roaming all over your face, still canât believing you were real. He hums deeply, tipping your chin up to meet him in one last longing kiss, lips moving gently along one another.
âI promise.â
#gojo x reader#gojo x reader angst#gojo x reader smut#gojo x you#gojo x you smut#gojo angst#satoru x reader#satoru x reader smut#gojo satoru x reader#jjk x reader#jjk x reader smut#jjk x reader angst#gojo satoru smut#gojo x reader fluff#satoru x you#jjk smut#gojo saturo#jjk#arranged!gojo
6K notes
¡
View notes
Text
Cupid's Chokehold â part two!
PEARL NECKLACE


[previous chapter] [next chapter]
summary: Uncle Tommy gives you everything you want for your twenty first birthday.
pairing: step uncle!Tommy Miller x f!Reader
warnings: explicit sexual content MDNI, stepcest, age gap (reader is 21, Tommy in his mid thirties), size difference, praise kink, oral sex (f!receiving), dirty talk, unprotected piv, begging, dom/sub undertones, tommy yearns bad in this one, a bit of angst mixed in, alcohol overconsumption, reader is made uncomfortable by someone at a bar, references to being drugged (but doesn't actually happen), allusions to addiction, reader gets a facial
note: if you haven't heard yet, i'm turning this into a little mini series!! you can let me know here if you'd like to be added to the taglist. thank you to everyone for the support on this one, I'm so glad you all love uncle tommy as much as i do. let me know what you think of this chapter, i love love love talking to you guys and i promise there's more to come!
wc: 10.8k
[series masterlist] [main masterlist] [AO3]

Tommy Miller is a high functioning addict.
Self aware enough to admit it, hedonistic enough to only manage it. Has been that way for as long as he can remember.
He likes the head buzz of nicotine and the dizziness of liquor and the adrenaline rush of a real bad decision. His favorite high, though, is you. His favorite sound, his favorite taste, his favorite sight.Â
His favorite girl.
After that fateful night in his apartment, the two of you get good at the balancing act. The push and pull. You ride the line of too much and not enough religiously. Have gotten it down to a goddamn science.
But the problem is that an addict never knows when to quit.
He does well for a while. Truly. Learns that itâs a whole lot easier to manage his longing with witnesses around, and goes out of his way to avoid being in an empty house with you. He interlocks his fingers together and squeezes when the urge rises in him to touch you. To cradle your pretty face, to run his thumb over your mouth when you make some filthy joke and smile up at him. He bites the inside of his cheek when youâre sitting beside one another and turn to whisper something in sync, bringing you face to face, so overwhelmed with a craving for the taste of your tongue that his heart hammers against his sternum.
For what itâs worth, Tommy tries. Loses sleep over it, even. Stares up at his ceiling for hours, warring with what he wants and what he knows is right.Â
The right thing would be to wean himself off of you. Cut back a little at a time. Day by day, until eventually the thought of you becomes less persistent. Until he stops smelling the faintest trace of your shampoo in his sheets, until he stops transferring that half-smoked cigarette with cherry lip gloss on the filter from pack to pack.
But then, sometimes, he catches this look in your eye when youâre listening to him speak. He could be talking about something shitty that happened at work or telling you about a song he heard on the radio that he thinks youâd like, and you just stare at him like he hung the moon in the sky.
Heâs important to you, and you make him feel it. And itâs this, this that he canât give up. The way you trust him so completely, the way you love him without a trace of doubt.Â
You say it once, in passing. Everyoneâs sitting in lawn chairs in the backyard, enjoying the nice weather before the rainstorm moving in from the west hits. Youâre sitting next to Sarah, but your feet are resting in Tommyâs lap.
Sarahâs talking animatedly, telling everyone about her college English professor and how theyâve been playing matchmaker all semester. On three separate occasions, theyâve paired groups together, and couples have emerged from them. Sarah thinks itâs intentional, but your mom and Joel arenât so sure.
Tommy stays quiet for most of the conversation. But then he says, âDefinitely a little weird. But, uhâŚanyway, I wanted to let everyone know Iâm a changed man. Dropping the whole blue collar act and going back to school to study English.â
Everyone laughs, and you kick the side of his thigh lightly with a shake of your head. Through your giggles you say, âI fucking love you,â and it fills him with so much warmth heâs overflowing with it.
He rides that high for days. Gives you shit for it, even.Â
When he steals your half finished slice of pizza right out of your hands and you call him a dickhead with a smile on your face he says, âYeah, but you love me anyway.â
You donât deny it, and even that makes him feel special. Tommy takes every crumb of affection you throw at him and eats it up with a fork and knife like itâs the most delectable meal heâs ever had. Consumes your sweet words and your closeness so thoroughly, itâs almost comical. Like heâs a dog with a bone, desperate for it, because he is.
He stays balanced, though. Never lets it go too far. Can feel right when his desire begins to cloud his judgment and knows when to call it.Â
But things change one night at the dining room table.
You and Joel sit beside each other. Heâs in front of that shitty laptop he bought decades ago, trying to write an email that sounds both professional and assertive without using the words asshole or fucking idiot.
Heâs grumbling and typing with his two pointer fingers and a single thumb on the keyboard, shaking his head as you explain, âYou have to capitalize her name, Joel. Youâre not sending an email to your friend, sheâs a CEO.â
âYeah, well, capital letters are meant for people. Not for corporate lizards trying to fuck with my company.â
You catch Tommyâs gaze from across the table, making you both snort and fall into rambunctious laughter, earning you a glare.
âItâs not funny,â Joel says sharply. âStupid I even have to do this. I donât know why people donât just leave well enough alone.â
âEveryone wants a piece of the pie,â you explain. âYouâre making good money doing good things, and she wants to be a part of it. You guys keep taking on more projects this year, and inquiries like this are just the beginning.âÂ
âItâs a good thing, ainât it?â Tommy shrugs. âMeans youâre doing somethinâ right.â
âExactly,â you agree. You lean across the table and swipe the glass bottle from his hands to take a sip.Â
Tommy knows you donât like beer and isnât surprised when you cringe at the hoppy flavor, wrinkling your nose at him. He thinks maybe you drink it anyway not for the alcohol, but to put your lips to the same place his were seconds ago. He tries not to let the warmth that idea elicits in his chest spread too far.Â
âWell, I donât need some uppity lady who works in an office telling me how to do my damn job,â Joel adds.
âSo say that,â you tell him. He starts typing on the keyboard again, so you lean in close, peering over his shoulder. âOh my God. Not word for word. You have to paraphrase.â
Joel throws his hands up in the air and groans in frustration. âHow do I say fuck off in a nice way?â
You and Tommy both laugh again, which only serves to piss Joel off even further. Itâs not funny, not really; itâs just the dramatics of it all. And, truthfully, Tommy finds everything funny when he's with you.
âYou write it,â Joel says, pushing the laptop towards you.Â
âThatâs not gonna solve anything,â you say, shaking your head.Â
âWhat if I pay you?â
âThen youâll be in the same situation next time. Youâre gonna have to learn how to be a business owner, Joel. Not just a contractor.â
âOkay, so make it permanent, then,â Joel says, shrugging. âLike aâŚa receptionist. Come work for me and quit that coffee place. They donât even offer health insurance.â He says it with such disdain, and Tommy knows exactly why.
Theyâd discussed it on the way home from work one afternoon. Too god damn smart for a place like that, Joel had said, and Tommy could do nothing but agree.
âI canât quit my job to write your emails for you,â you argue.
âNot just that,â he says. âCan be in charge of payroll and schedules and the licensing bullshit. All the things Iâm bad at. Weekends off, whatever hours you wanna work. Iâll pay you double what youâre makinâ now, and you get health insurance.â
Hesitation shows on your face. Tommy knows his brother means what he says, and he thinks you know it, too. But itâs a lot to consider. A big change.
âYouâre good at talkinâ to people,â Joel continues, closing the laptop. âAnâ it would mean a lot to me.â
Thatâs what does you in, Tommy knows. The nail in the coffin. He sees it in the way your shoulders drop and your eyes soften. Selfless girl, he thinks. Always taking care of the people you love. âWhat if I donât like it?â
âYou will,â Tommy answers. Because he knows Joel will take care of you, too. Make sure you have everything you might need. But more importantly, Tommy knows you. And even though he can sense the way it threatens his balance on that already thin line between safe and depraved, he knows youâll enjoy it.
And heâs proven correct on that very first day.
Joel sets you up in the air-conditioned trailer they haul from job site to job site. Mostly, they use it to cool off during lunch, everyone piling into the small space for half an hour before going back out into the Texas heat.
The two of you spend most of the day going over all the contacts Joelâs acquired over the years, and how to schedule a consultation, and where to order materials. He gives you all of his passwords and clears off the cluttered desk that never gets used.Â
Everyone on the team is awfully eager to meet you, and Tommyâs no fucking idiot. He knows exactly what goes through their heads as they shake your hand and introduce themselves and stare a little too hard at the shadow of red lace beneath your thin white top.
They conveniently wait until Joelâs out of earshot before the comments start pouring out of their foul mouths.
Pretty little thing, ainât she?
Joelâs got that livinâ under his roof? Christ. Poor old man.
You see the way those jeans fit her?
Is it too early to start callinâ Joel âpopsâ?
Tommy wonders briefly why they feel so comfortable saying shit like this in front of him, knowing who he is to you, but then realizes heâs said far worse in the past about girls half as pretty. They feel comfortable because in any other situation, he would be joining right in.
Noahâs the worst of it. Takes things a little too far when he says, âStepdaughter videos ainât number one on the hub for nothinâ.âÂ
Tommy clenches his teeth. Keeps his head down. Tries and fails to fight his smug ass smirk when you come grab his truck keys a little after four and return to the trailer wearing his Carhartt hoodie, the one heâd left in the back seat a couple days ago.
Later that night, Tommy follows you up to your room. Door wide open, with Sarah just across the hall and Joel and your mom downstairs. Not that he has any intentions other than checking in after your first day. Itâs justâŚprecautionaryâan added layer of security to prevent a backslide.
He flops back in your unmade bed, hands folded behind his head, and watches a little too closely as you bend over to unlace your sneakers. âWell?â
You unclasp your necklace and drop it into a ceramic bowl on your dresser. âI loved it,â you admit. âIt was a little stressful, butâŚI donât know. I liked feeling like I could make a difference. Like Iâm not just going in there to do my job and go home, I felt like I was being productive. It was nice.â
Tommyâs pleased to hear it. Loves the way your voice sounds in his ears. Happy, satisfied. He knows right then and there that he needs to set a firm boundary with Noah because youâre never going back to that coffee place, and Noahâs not going anywhere near you. âSaid youâd like it, didnât I?â
With a roll of your eyes, you sit beside him and pull your legs close to your chest, resting your chin on top of your knees. âJoelâs kind of a hard ass.â
It makes him laugh because itâs true. Canât count on both his hands just how many times his brother has nitpicked the way things are done. He can only imagine the pressure you'd felt in that trailer, likely being told how to talk to this person or that one. âOnly the beginning, darlinâ,â Tommy says.Â
The sunlight leaks in through your bedroom window, sheer lace curtains casting rays of gold over your skin. Youâre beautiful, Tommy thinks. Painfully so. Sometimes heâll catch you at a certain angle, just like this one, and it makes his heart rate stutter.
In another world, Tommy wouldnât let you out of sight fucking ever. Would accompany you whether you were going to a nightclub or if you were just going to the corner store. Because he knows from experience that all it would take for a man to fall to his knees before you is a single look from those pretty eyes. In another world, one where he wasnât your Uncle Tommy, one where he could just be yours, heâd make damn sure youâd never need anything from another man.Â
Never need a door opened for you, never need to pay for a meal, never need to confide in anyone else. Heâd take care of you. Do it all. Satisfy you in every way of the word because itâs what you deserve. He wants to take care of you, wants to be a provider.Â
Tommy supposes itâs what heâs always wanted, despite his actions reflecting the opposite. He wonders if maybe heâs just been waiting for you this whole time.
You ask, âWhat are you thinking about?âÂ
And he doesnât lie. âYou.â
With a scoff, you playfully pinch his side. A sliver of his abdomen is exposed where his t-shirt has ridden up, and feeling you there is a shock to his nervous system.Â
And when your touch lingers, his body tingles, and his brain becomes foggy. Tommy Miller has never wanted anyone the way he wants you. Is reduced to the simplest, most carnally driven man just at the feel of your delicate fingertips on his skin.
Your attention is centered on your hand as you slowly move it across his soft belly, eyes hooded and filled with desire.Â
Tommy knows that look now. Knows the filthy thoughts invading your brain, knows exactly what youâre reminiscing about. He knows, too, that the balance is skewed. The longer he lies here with you, the closer he comes to caving. âYour turn,â he says. âSpill your guts.â
When you speak, your voice is quiet. A barely-there whisper. âIt would be so easy, you know.âÂ
He does. Has rolled the idea over in his head a million fucking times. âSâthe problem,â Tommy explains. âCanât stop myself twice.âÂ
âThen donât,â you say simply, continuing to run your fingers over his skin. He sees his favorite troublesome smirk begin to form on your sweet mouth and has to squeeze his eyes shut to keep himself from finding too much joy in it. âCould do it right here. Bet theyâd never know.â
The edge of your pinky finger dips just below the waistband of his jeans. Barely there, but Tommy notices everything you do, and this is no exception, hyper aware of your every movement. He lets out a slow, shaking breath and swallows hard. He canât bring himself to move or push you away like he knows he should. All he manages are two, hesitant words. âAinât right.â
Your response is quick. Honest and true. âI donât care.â
It only makes his will to abstain that much harder. Knowing he isnât alone in his longing, knowing youâre suffering in such a similar wayâŚit hurts him just to think of it. But itâs different for you. Easier. Because youâre just at the beginning of your life, while heâs nearly halfway through his.
You have time to bounce back from this. To choose someone your age whoâs a lot less twisted. Someone you donât have to hide from the people closest to you, who you can kiss out in the open without shame.
And TommyâsâŚwell, Tommy knows there will never be anyone else for him. Has sat with that fact for quite some time. Accepted it by now, and considers himself lucky just to have had that one, stolen night.
Slowly, you move further down the mattress. The same one he once slept on that now belongs solely to you. You slot yourself between his strong thighs and his cock swells as you look up at him through your lashes.
Thereâs an experiment here, Tommy knows. The two of you are just alike. So similar that sometimes it frightens him. He can see the challenge in your eyes, testing the waters, seeing how far you can go before he pulls you back.Â
You lean forward, bracing yourself with your hands on his hips. And when you press your lips to the bulge in his jeans, Tommy bites back a moan.Â
This is too far, he knows. Way too fucking far.
His heart hammers in his chest. The door is still wide open, and everyone is home. All it would take is one person to walk down the hallway, and it would all be over.Â
But it would be easy. Quick, tooâTommyâs never had much control when it comes to you.
With a quick flick of your thumb, you pop open the silver button. Saliva gathers between your parted lips, mouth watering for a taste of him.Â
Tommy Miller is weak. Corrupted. Sick and twisted and perverted andâ âBeautiful, baby,â he whispers. âYouâre so fuckingâŚChrist. You got any idea how fuckinâ pretty you are?â
He gently strokes your hair, and when you smile up at him, he grins right back. His cock is already hard but then you pull his zipper down with your teeth and Tommy thinks he might die without relief.
Sarah calls your name from across the hall.
You scramble away from each other, sitting at opposite ends of the bed seconds before she rounds the corner.Â
âDo you remember Summer? That girl from my biology class?â Sarah pays Tommy no mind as she sits beside you.
Itâs not out of the ordinary for him to be in your room, after all. Heâs the first to lend a helping hand when you get the urge to move your furniture around and has carried up your laundry from the basement countless times.
âYeah, of course,â you say. âThe one youâŚâ
Sarah flushes a deep crimson. Her eyes flicker between your face and Tommyâs, and heâs smart enough to read the room.
âGuess thatâs my cue,â he says, standing from the bed, tugging at the hem of his t-shirt.
You grab his hand as he walks past. Just briefly, but it turns his insides molten. One more lingering touch before he leaves. A way of saying, I donât want you to go, but I know you have to.
Once out in the hallway, Tommy zips up his jeans and takes a few long, deep breaths before he goes downstairs to say goodbye to your mom and Joel. The two of them talk briefly, and Joel asks how you felt after your first day.
He says, âAnâ I know you know that girl like the back of your hand, so donât lie. She like it or not?â
Tommy isnât quite sure why the words leave him feeling dizzy, but they do. He likes that he knows you so well and likes even more that the closeness you share is so visible. If he canât outwardly call you his, if he canât outwardly be yours, then heâll take whatever this is. âShe likes it.â
Joelâs shoulders sag in relief. âGood, cause sheâll make my life a hell of a lot easier.â
The next morning, Tommy stops by at seven to pick you and Joel up before heading to the job site. You carry a steaming travel mug in each hand, and before you climb into the back seat, you poke your head through the open driver's side window. âJust milk and sugar,â you say. âRight?â
He doesnât know why you ask when you know the answer. âYou didnât have to do that, darlinâ,â he says. But he happily takes the coffee anyway and takes a careful sip. Itâs the perfect ratio. Tommyâs not surprised.Â
Thereâs a playful lilt to your voice as you say, âI usually take mine with cream, but we were all out. Thought maybe you could supply me with some.â
He laughs hard and shakes his head. âUn-fuckinâ-believable,â he says through his mirth. He glances over the top of your head to see Joel locking the front door behind him.
You uncap the lid. âWell?â
His face burns, but Tommy thinks heâs never had such a perfect start to his day. âGet in the truck before you start somethinâ you canât finish.â
âBut thatâs my favorite thing to do,â you whine, pushing your bottom lip out into a dramatic pout. You listen, though. Replace the lid and climb into the back seat behind him.
Tommy scoffs and says with a grin, âDonât I know it.â
It doesnât take long for you to get awfully good at your job. That first week alone, you manage to slice their payment for materials in half just by haggling with the lumber mill Joelâs bought wood from since the nineties. You accompany him to a handful of consultations, learning what to look for in a client and how to pick and choose which jobs are worth taking.
You convince Joel to buy a mini fridge for the trailer that you keep fully stocked with bottles of water. And when you bring in those electrolyte drink mixes, itâs all anyone talks about for days.
Noah says, âThe peach one is my favorite. Wanna taste hers next.â
Everyone finds humor in it but Tommy.
The words come out sharper than intended. âQuit sayinâ shit like that, man.â
Noah laughs. Like itâs funny. âYouâre telling me you donât want a piece of that ass?â
âWhat Iâm telling you is to shut your goddamn mouth,â Tommy answers. He stops digging through the sand theyâve been moving for the last hour, left hand squeezed tightly around the red handle of his shovel.
âIt was a joke, Tommy. Lighten up.â
âDonât care what it was,â he says, staring Noah in the eye. âI hear some shit like that again and Iâll fuck you up. You understand what Iâm sayinâ?â
Noah sizes him up, and for a split second Tommy thinks he just might be brave enough to step. But Noah just sneers and returns to the task at hand, an awkward silence lingering between the group of them.
But Tommy doesnât care. Sits in that silence happily knowing he wonât have to listen to anyone speak about you like that anymore.
Joel cares, though. And on the way home, he says, âMike told me about you giving Noah a hard time today. You two gonna have a problem?â
âWait, what happened with Noah?â You slide to the center of the leather seat in the back of the cab.
âNothing,â Tommy lies. âAinât gonna have a problem.â
Joel narrows his eyes in warning. âGood. 'Cause thatâs the last thing we need right now. Behind enough as it is.â
He thinks thatâs the end of it.
But then you say softly, âHe asked me out the other day.â
âHe what?â Tommy and Joel say it in perfect unison. Equally floored and equally irate.
Joel turns almost completely around in the passenger seat.
You raise your hands in surrender and look at Tommy through the rearview mirror. âSaid he wanted to take me to dinner, and I told him Iâd rather starve.â
âListen to me,â Joel says with that stern, no bullshit dad voice he sometimes still uses on Sarah. âI donât want you anywhere near those boys. Ainât a single one worth a damn. Liars and cheaters and fucking criminals. All of âem.â
A crease forms between your brows. âSo why the fuck did you hire them?â
âCause theyâre good at what they do,â Joel explains. âBut that donât make them good. Deserve better than that. You hear me, kid?â
âYeah, I hear you. Keep it professional with everyone,â you say. âExcept for Uncle Tommy.â
He chokes. Tries to cover it up with a cough, but it doesnât work in the slightest. His hands pale around the steering wheel.
âExactly,â Joel says.
Later that night, Tommy is smoking on the back porch when you step outside to join him. Itâs the first moment heâs had alone with you all day. âYou tryinâ to get me killed or somethinâ?â
âOr something.â You lean back against the siding and shrug. âKinda sounded like Joelâs blessing to me.â
âYouâre fuckinâ trouble, girl.â Tommy chuckles and passes you his lit cigarette when you reach for it. âJoel wasted all that breath warninâ you about those boys when he should be warninâ them about you.â
âYeah, probably. But you love it.âÂ
Tommy can do nothing but agree because itâs the truest thing heâs ever heard. âYour birthdayâs cominâ up soon,â he says, watching as you take the nicotine deep into your lungs. âTwenty-one. Anything you want?â
That too familiar smirk forms on your face, and Tommy knows what youâre going to say before you even open your mouth. Can see all those filthy thoughts behind your eyes, can almost hear whatever dirty joke youâve got locked and loaded on the tip of your tongue.
âDonât even fuckinâ start with me,â he warns, a playfulness to his voice. But thereâs no weight to it. Your inability to take anything seriously is one of his favorite things about you.Â
Your lips part in a mockery of surprise. âI didnât even say anything!â
âDidnât have to,â he says, plucking the cigarette from between your fingers. âGive me something realistic.â
âOkayâŚâ You tap your index finger against your chin, contemplating. âWhat aboutâŚa pearl necklace,â you say with the sweetest, most innocent smile.
Tommy laughs. Canât help himself. âAlright, you know what? I take it back. You only get gifts if youâre good.â
He thinks the sound of your giggling might be the only thing thatâs ever truly brought him peace. Finds comfort in your joy, in knowing youâre happy. But when your laughter dies down, thereâs a sad sort of look in your eye. A melancholic longing.Â
Then you quietly say, âI just want you.â And Tommyâs ears ring.
This is what hurts him the most. The heavy truth of it.Â
Heâd known that taking your closeness to new heights would change him in irreparable ways. Known that nothing would ever compare, and he was ready and willing to live the rest of his life with that dull ache in his chest. Welcomed the haunting of emptiness with open arms because it was you and it was him and that one fucking night was yours.
But Tommy wasnât the only one whoâd been changed by it. Wasnât the only one to suffer in the aftermath.Â
He wants to comfort you. Wants to take your hands in his and kiss each of your knuckles until his lips turn blue. He doesnât move, though. Not even an inch. Because heâs never felt nearer to a relapse than he does when you look at him like that. Like you see him. Like heâs all you see.
âIâm right here,â he says. âAlways will be.â
Tommy means it. He thinks he would follow you anywhere just to feel the faintest warmth of your affection.
It seems to satisfy you. For now, at least. You give him the tiniest smile, a half effort, but it soothes the sting for him, too. Just a little.Â
Your birthday falls on a Friday. Tommy gets up early and stops at a bakery before heading to Joelâs, and is pleased when he uses the key under the mat to find that the house is quiet. Still.
He creeps up the stairs and slips soundlessly into your room. The day is just beginning, and the light of dawn spills through your cracked window. Tommy sits on the edge of your bed and tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear.
When he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, you stir and stretch out your limbs. Your voice is tired and filled with sleep as you ask, âUncle Tommy?â
âHappy birthday, sweetheart,â he whispers. He cradles your face in his hands and strokes your cheek with his thumb as clarity slowly finds you.
You smile up at him with starry eyes, and Tommyâs stomach flips. Youâre so good, so perfect that sometimes he wonders how the fuck youâre even real.
âCâmon,â he says. âSit up for me. Got you somethinâ.â
Tommy holds your hands when you reach for him and pulls you forward. You push yourself up the rest of the way and fold your legs over one another beneath the blankets.
Itâs only at that precise moment that Tommy realizes youâre wearing one of his t-shirts and the sight of it steals the air right from him. He likes itâloves it. Loves that a piece of him lives here with you. In your closet, in your room, in your sheets.
Heâs not quite sure how you ended up with it, though. Thinks he mightâve left it on a lawn chair after spending an afternoon in Joelâs pool, or missed it in the dryer when the ones at his apartment were out of order.
But then you say, reading his every thought, âI stole it.â
Tommy laughs. âThink youâre supposed to ask before you take things that arenât yours.â
âWhereâs the fun in that?â You lean forward, lips an inch away from his ear. âAnd I know Iâm not the only one with sticky fingers, Uncle Tommy.â
His face burns. He thinks of your cherry lip gloss on his bathroom sink and your tank top on the right side of his bed and your lace panties in his nightstand. Tommy thinks he should know better than to hide things from you anymore. Youâre too close, too similar. âCaught me,â Tommy mutters.
And then he digs his lighter out of the front pocket of his jeans and lights the ten cent candle heâd found at the back of Joelâs junk drawer. He sticks it into the center of the cupcake heâd picked out just for youâlemon flavored, with vanilla frosting and lime colored sprinkles.Â
He holds it between you and says, âMake a wish, birthday girl.â
The flame flickers as your gaze darts between Tommyâs eyes and his mouth. You smile widely, and he canât resist mirroring your joy. Feels it as thoroughly as if it were his own. Tommyâs never cared much for his birthday, but he feels overwhelmed with gratitude for yours. Thankful.
You close your eyes, make your silent wish, and then blow out the candle. He unwraps the wax paper for you, crumbs sticking to his fingers, and laughs when you take a bite and let out a blissful moan. âHoly shit,â you say.
Tommy feels pride bloom in his chest. Thinks pleasing you might be his favorite thing on the planet. âSâgood?â
âItâs fucking amazing,â you answer. And then you turn the cupcake towards him. âIâm not kidding. Try it.â
He does. Leans forward and takes a careful bite right from your hands. Youâre not wrong, either. The lemon is refreshing, and the vanilla buttercream is the perfect sweetness. Tommy nods as you take another bite. âChrist,â he says. âWorth every damn penny.â
You touch your thumb to the corner of your mouth. âYouâve got frosting on your face,â you say with a teasing grin.
Tommy wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. âI get it?â
âMore to the left,â you instruct. But when he tries again, Tommy knows itâs still there when you hold in your laughter. And then you say, âCan IâŚ?â
Tommy doesnât understand right away why you even ask. Youâre always laying your head on his shoulder or draping your legs over his or running your hands through his hair. This is no different, nothing out of the ordinary.Â
But when he nods, you lean forward and lick the frosting off his bottom lip.Â
It freezes him in time. Seconds feel like minutes as they tick by. He can feel the wetness of your tongue on his mouth, and you linger. Close enough that he can taste the sugar on your breath.
His morals hang in the balance. Sobriety threatened. Tommy Miller wants you so badly that he starts to wonder if youâre some fucked up form of punishment. Karmic justice for all those hearts heâs broken in his youth, just to be denied the one woman heâs ever truly wanted.
When you speak, itâs breathless. Nearly inaudible. âKiss me.â
It is your birthday, after all.Â
He fights the intensity that batters against his every impulse and instead presses his mouth to yours gently. Unhurried. So much different than the first kiss youâd shared. Your lips move against his in sync, one soul split into two bodies, whole again for the first time in months.Â
Tommy thinks itâs just instinct when his tongue meets yours. You taste just as he remembers. A little warm and a little honeyed and a little like opium.
When you pull away, he feels the loss like a knife.
But then you cover your mouth with your hand and laugh, elation spilling through your fingers, and itâs like a balm to his heart.
Around another mouthful of confectionery, you insist, âHere. Have some more.â
Tommy sits there with you, waiting for the sun to rise, and the two of you share your birthday cupcake before the rest of the world wakes. You close your eyes and drop your shoulders as if itâs the most delicious thing youâve ever eaten, giggling between each bite.
Itâs such a soft, quiet moment. Only the two of you. For just a little while, you have nowhere to be, no one to perform for. Itâs just you, and itâs just him, and when you take the last bite, Tommy licks the frosting from your fingertips.
Joelâs alarm echoes down the hallway, and Tommy taps the tip of your nose, delighting in the pretty way it scrunches in response. âIâll see you outside,â he says. âHappy birthday, darlinâ.â
On the way to work, Joel asks about your plans for the weekend, and you tell him about how your friends are taking you to that new bar that just opened up downtown. He warns you to be careful, tells you itâs been packed full of people every time heâs driven by it, and says to call if you need anything.
You promise you will.Â
For dinner, your mom makes all your favorite foods, and Sarah gifts you a handmade pony bead bracelet. She wears a matching one on her wrist with the colors inverted, and they both say 4EVER in little black letters.
When Tommy returns to his empty apartment that night, itâs with a deep sadness. He tries to drown it out. Showers off the sweat of the day and watches something mind-numbing on television. But the main character in the sitcom rerun makes a dirty joke, and he can almost hear you laughing at it beside him.Â
Everything reminds him of you.
He thinks about calling one of the women heâs hooked up with on and off throughout the years, but the problem is that Tommy knows how that ends. Knows heâll ask them to leave halfway through, and heâll lie there, unsatisfied and painfully in love with a girl he can never have.
His longing chokes him until heâs devoid of breath, of life. Just a shell of a man without you.Â
This is the wretched low he pays for those highs, Tommy knows. And he pays it without complaint because the highs are heavenly. Fucking spiritual.
He goes to sleep every night without regret. This emptiness is oppressive, but his love for you is transcendent.
His phone rings a little after one in the morning.
Your voice is slurred when you speak. âUncle Tommy?â
Somethingâs wrong. He doesnât know how he knows, but he does. Can hear it in your voice. âWhere are you?â
Thereâs faint music in the background. âThat new bar on Sixth Street. Can youâŚIâm sorry. Can you come get me?â
Heâs out of bed and pulling on his jeans before you finish asking. âIâm on my way, baby. What happened?â
You say, âIâm notâŚIâm not sure,â and Tommyâs heart sinks.
Because whatever it is is bad. Can feel it in his fucking bones. âAre you alone? Whoâs with you, sweetheart? Where are your friends?â
âNo, IâŚIâm just reallyâI had too much to drink, I think. Thereâs just so many people and I donât wanna be here anymore.â
The new bar is halfway across town, but Tommy makes it in six minutes. Itâs at capacity, just as heâd anticipated, all the townsfolk trying to see for themselves what all the hype is about. Tommy might recognize a few faces if he gave anyone but you half a second of thought, but he doesnât.
He makes a beeline for the women's restroom at the back of the bar and ignores the scowls he receives from the two girls touching up their makeup in the mirror. He calls your name and finds you in the very last stall, sitting on the floor, arms wrapped around your legs.
Tommy breathes a little easier when he sees you. Knows that with him, youâll be safe. He kneels at your side and tucks your hair behind your ear. âHey, sweetheart.â
You let out the softest whimper. âUncle Tommy,â you say, voice filled with affection. âYou came.â
âCourse I did. Sâalright. Câmon.â He tucks his arms beneath you and pulls you to your feet. Supports your weight almost entirely as he leads you out of the crowded bar and back to his truck.
When he leans over your slumped frame to try and buckle your seatbelt, you start peppering the side of his face with sloppy kisses.
He says, âOkay, alrightä¸would you justä¸sit stillä¸â
But he doesnât mean it. Not really. Youâre a giggly mess of a girl, reaching for the hem of his t-shirt and sliding your cold hands over his too-warm skin. âYouâre just.â Kiss. âSo.â Kiss. âFucking cute.â Kiss.
Tommyâs smiling hard, but pushes you away as much as he hates to. âCute, huh? Donât know about all that, sweet girl.â He finally latches your seatbelt and quickly rounds the truck to the driver's side.
You're reaching for him the moment you can, arms outstretched and fingers grabbing for him. âHold my hand,â you say, and of course he does. Kisses your knuckles as the engine roars to life.
Tommy says, âLetâs get you home.â
And you respond sleepily, âYouâre my home.â
He tries not to read too much into it. Knows youâre just sappy and drunk. You donât mean it. Not really. Tommyâs seen you trashed before. Has covered for you countless times and has all those drunken texts youâve sent him memorized. Youâre always like this. Loving and overly affectionate, a happy drunk to your core.
But youâve never said anything that moved him quite this much.
Home.
What a perfect way to describe it.
But he just shakes his head. âHow much have you had, kid?â
You toss your head back and laugh like itâs the silliest question he ever couldâve asked. âToo much! Thatâs why I called!â
Still holding tight to his hand, you roll down your window all the way. The air is cold but fresh, filling the cab of his truck with the scent of the early morning dew. You lean your head against the leather frame and close your eyes.
Tommyâs not quite sure when you fall asleep because your hand remains in his, squeezing tight even in your unconsciousness. He checks on you every couple of seconds, monitoring your breathing and the soft, slumbering noises you make.
He hates to wake you, but does it anyway when he returns to his apartment. You groan in defiance when he makes you stand, and it takes everything in him not to give in and carry you.Â
âI know, baby, I know. But I need you awake for a little while longer,â he says. âGotta get some food and water in you first, okay?â
You fight him each step of the way. Defy Tommyâs every instruction, once bubbly demeanor now replaced with agitation. But once heâs got you inside, he lets out a sigh of relief. He lays you on the couch and disappears into the kitchen for only long enough to make some toast and fill a tall glass with icy water.Â
He holds your head up with one hand and tilts the cup against your mouth with the other, doing everything for you apart from the actual hydrating. You eat the toast slowly and argue between each bite, but he persists.
While you sleep, Tommy sits on the floor beside you. Half monitoring, half admiring.
He doesnât take his eyes off you for a single second. Even though exhaustion weighs down his limbs, Tommy is more concerned about you than he is about himself. He spends the night stroking your hair and making you drink a little more water each time you stir in your sleep.
A few times, you wake up completely, turning over to try and find comfort. You whine and sniffle, and Tommy repeats the same tender words until you fall back asleep. âYouâre alright. Iâm still right here. Uncle Tommyâs got you.â
Itâs late by the time you sober up, almost noon. Tommyâs back aches from sitting on the hardwood for so long, and he needs a coffee or a nap or bothâbut the important thing is you. Always you.
You smile when you see him, and itâs so warm. A kindness that heâs only ever received from you.
Itâs a visceral reaction, his mouth pulling up at the corners. Like he just canât help it. He sees your happiness and feels it, too. âHey,â he whispers.
âHi,â you say. And then you grab his big hand and press it against the side of your face. Tommy can feel your joy, can feel the way the muscles strain as you fight off your sleepy giggles.
He runs the pad of his thumb gently over your cheekbone. âHowâre you feeling?â
âLike my headâs going to explode,â you say, voice filled with so much faux cheer that itâs comical.Â
Tommy chuckles and stands to his feet, knees cracking. âLet me get you some aspirin.â
Heâs not at all surprised when you follow him to the bathroom, never far for very long. While he sifts through his medicine cabinet, you sit on the edge of the tub. âCan I tell you something?â
âAlways,â Tommy promises. He dumps two aspirin into his palm and hands them to you.
It takes a second before you speak. You turn the little pink tablets over and over in your hand, eyes downcast. And then you say, âI was too drunk and overwhelmed last night, but that isnât what scared me. Noah was there.â
Tommyâs heart sinks to his feet. His jaw clenches, his knuckles turn white.Â
âHe keptâŚI donât know. He wanted to take me home, and I was dodging him all night, but he just wouldnât take no for an answer. Followed me for an hour, trying to change my mind. He didnâtâŚdidnât do anything, but it freaked me out.â
Tommy thinks heâs never wanted to hurt another man so badly in his life. He takes a deep breath, makes sure his rage isnât fueled by any rash decision. And then he leaves the bathroom and finds his shoes. âIâm going to fucking kill him.â
âWaitâTommy, please donât.â You follow, clawing at the back of his t-shirt. âPlease.â
The fear in your voice stops him. He thinks maybe you donât quite understand the gravity of the situation, so he tries to explain. âCanât let this one go,â he says, shaking his head. âNotâChrist. Not this. He doesnât get to make you that uncomfortable and get away with it. Fuck no.â
âI love that job,â you reason. âAnd I promised Joelâ!â
âHeâll be just as pissed when he finds outââ
âI donât want him to find out. Please, donât.â
Tommy takes your hands between his. âDo you understand how much worse it could have been?â Tommy feels sick, thinking back on all those times Noah had made jokes about roofies and Tommy had just discounted it as dark humor. âRuined your fuckinâ birthday,â he grumbles.Â
You say, âHe didn't ruin it. I got to spend it with you, didnât I? Thatâs all I wanted.â
He squeezes his eyes shut. Tommy canât hear such sweet words when heâs like thisâhot and angry and murderous. âNo.â He shakes his head. âHe doesnât get toââ
âIf Joel fires me for this, I will never forgive you,â you suddenly say, voice holding a cutting edge.
Tommy doesnât understand. âWhat? Sweetheart, heâs not going to be mad at you, okay? Youâve done nothing wrong. Nothing. Joel will understand why I have to do this. Heâs going to be mad at Noah, baby, not you.â
âWho I swore not to cause issues with!â Tears well in your wide eyes, and Tommy feels something inside his chest crack wide open. Heâs never seen you cry before, not like this.
He pulls you into an embrace. Holds you tight against his chest, arms wrapped around your shoulders. His hands shake, unable to get a handle on either his anger or his despair.
Against his shoulder blade, you murmur, âPromise me you wonât tell Joel.â
And Tommy does. Swears to keep this as far away from you as possible. He refuses to make matters worse for you and, Christ, the sight of you crying makes him fucking miserable. Heâs never hated anything more.
Once you sniffles subside, you lift your head and say, âI smell fucking awful.â
Tommy laughs, tension bleeding from his shoulders. âGo shower. Iâll find you some clothes.â
He picks out an old t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants with a drawstring, sets them on the bathroom sink and decides to make you breakfast. But Tommy notices quickly that his eggs are expired, and the box of cereal on top of the fridge has gone stale. He has nothing to offer you, and heâs not sure why, but the realization leaves him feeling hollow.Â
Eternal bachelor with nothing to his name. You can never be his, and Tommy knows this, but he thinks maybe if he wereâŚbetter, somehow, that maybe you could be. But youâre too good for him. Too sweet, too lovely, too you.
And TommyâsâŚwell. Heâs Tommy. And just because you look at him like he puts the stars in the sky doesnât mean he actually does. Heâs not like Joel, never has been. Has always gotten into trouble, doing things he knows he shouldnât. Fighting or drinking or just being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Tommyâs never had his shit together a day in his life, and you deserve someone who can take care of you. Someone less disappointing.
Someone who can make you breakfast, for fucks sake.Â
He feels you before he sees youä¸your warmth at his back. Tommyâs eyes flutter closed when you slip your arms around his waist and lay your head in the space between his broad shoulders.Â
You say, âThank you for always keeping me safe,â and Tommy wonders how the fuck you always know exactly what to say. Like youâre in his brain, somehowâa sixth sense finely tuned precisely to him.Â
Emotion bubbles up in his throat. Thick and smothering. He loves you, Tommy knows. Has never and will never love anyone like this again.
âYou make me so happy.â Thereâs a tenderness in your words, soothing his every ache. âI wouldnât know what to do without you.â
Tommy turns in your embrace. Cradles your face in both hands and promises, âYouâll never have to find out. Mâalways gonna be here for you.â
You kiss him, and Tommy lets you, even knowing he shouldnât. Itâs a little different than the one youâd shared at dawn in your bedroom. A little more heated, filled with clear intent.
He can sense it. Feel it in your every movement. Knows just what you want, what you need, and slips his tongue into your mouth when your lips part anyway. Let's you tilt your hips against his, feeling the growing hardness there, and swallows up your moan as he slots his knee between your legs.Â
His breath comes fast, and heâs aware of just how wrong it is, but you make him feel so important. Like you really, truly want him. Not for the things he does but just for himâflaws and disappointments and all.
An addict who always craves your fix.
You rock your hips against his knee and breathe a sigh of relief into his mouth. Tommy helps you, grabbing at your soft thighs and pulling you back and forth to increase the friction.Â
Itâs too much. Too far.
This isnât a drunken night. Itâs the morning after. Stone cold sober, inexcusable.
âWe should stop.â
âI know,â you say. But neither of you takes your own advice. He only kisses you harder, soaking up all of your benevolence for as long as he can. You slide your hand between your bodies and palm his cock through his jeans.
The surety of your touch is dizzying. You want him. Itâs clear as day, but he wants to hear you. âSay it.â
You donât hesitate, reading him like an open book. Tommy suppose, for you, he is. With sugary sweet words, you admit, âI need you, Uncle Tommy.â
Heâs never been good at denying you anything. âI know, baby.â In one swift movement, he lifts you off your feet, and your legs wrap instinctively around his waist. He kneels down and lays you back, right there on the kitchen floor, and tugs your borrowed sweatpants down your thighs.
You kick them out of the way, and he pushes your t-shirt up over your breasts. âTouch me,â you sigh.
Tommy presses his mouth to the center of your chest. Inhales deeply, taking the familiar scent of you into his lungs. He cups your breasts in his big hands, the rough pads of his thumbs grazing over the peaks of your nipples.
He kisses and licks and bites down the center of your belly, leaving shallow indentations in the shape of his teeth on each of your hips. When he presses his mouth to your pubic bone, Tommy leans back just enough to get a full look at you. âYouâre the prettiest girl Iâve ever seen.â
A soft flush crawls up your cheeks. âIâve missed you so much,â you say.
Tommy understands. Even though heâs been right here, right by your side, he hasnât been completely honest until this very moment. Not with you, and not with himself, and not since that night in his bed.
Itâs like being unclothed. Bare boned. You both know the truth of it, know that heâs your Uncle Tommy and that itâs corrupt and perverted for him to be here, kneeling between your legs. But heâs here anyway, and his mouth is watering, and he fucking loves the sounds you make when his slides his tongue through your slit.
He licks up the wetness that has gathered, groaning at the heady taste of you. Your hands tangle in his hair when he circles your clit with a pointed tongue, drooling down his chin.Â
With one arm wrapped tightly around your thigh, keeping you in place, Tommy uses the other to gently press his two middle fingers into you. The sight of your arched back is extraordinary; the kind of goddess-like beauty the poets write about. Your pussy clenches around his fingers when he twists them inside of you and pushes firmly against that spot that has you writhing.
âThatâs soä¸â You inhale sharply. âFuck, itâs so good.â
It pleases him to hear it. Loves knowing that in this, he can never fail you. Tommy sucks your clit into his mouth, tongue flicking over the sensitive nerves, and thrusts his fingers a little faster. He thinks heâll never grow tired of this. Of the way you taste, the way you sound, the way you call his name.
âOh, God. Please donât stop, please.â He wouldnât dream of it. Your body shakes beneath him, thighs trembling in the grip of his rough palm. He can feel your walls pulse around his fingers, and Tommy knows youâre close.Â
When he pulls his mouth away, he slides his thumb easily through your folds to swipe it over your clit. âYouâre so fuckinâ wet, baby,â he murmurs, kissing your soft belly. âYour pretty pussy always get this messy?â
You shake your head and say brokenly, âNo, itâs justâŚjust forâhmmâjustâoh my Godââ
âShh,â he coos, chuckling lowly. âSâokay. I know itâs just for me. I know how much she likes it when Uncle Tommy kisses her like this.â He angles his hand and pushes it deeper inside of you, cock throbbing at the way you soak his fingers. âGive it to me.â
With a stuttering breath, you let out a salacious moan and your orgasm hits you hard. Your hands tug at the curling strands of his hair, your every muscle tenses, and your spine bends off the linoleum. His name falls so fucking beautifully from your sweet mouth, and Tommy wants to taste it.Â
So he does. Slides up your body and presses a kiss to your lips. You whimper into his mouth and he swallows down the sounds of your bliss like fine wine. âThere you go,â he whispers tenderly. His thumb on your clit doesnât slow until heâs sure heâs pulled every last drop out of you. âSâthat feel better, sweetheart?âÂ
You nod and giggle softly, a wide grin stretched across your face. The moment is filled with such happiness that it warms him from the inside out.Â
And even though his cock aches, Tommy thinks this alone is enough to satiate him. Enough to curb that craving, just seeing your pupils blown wide and the pretty flush on your face. Knowing youâre fulfilled and content and that heâs the one whoâd brought you to that high does wonders for his confidence.Â
âYouâre so good at that,â you say, and it makes him laugh.Â
âCanât get enough of you,â he explains, kissing you hard. âCould eat you all fuckinâ day and still feel hungry.â
Tommy laughs when you turn your head to press your face into your shoulder, hiding the way your nervous smile grows.Â
âDonât go gettinâ all shy on me now, darlinâ,â he says, pressing his stubbled cheek to the side of your throat. He presses his lips to the curve of your jaw and grins when goosebumps form on the back of your neck. âUncle Tommy just had your pretty pussy in his mouth. Least you can do is look him in the eye when he tells you how fuckinâ good it tastes.â
He can feel the way your spine bends, pressing your body firmly against his. But youâre a giggling mess beneath him, squealing at his filthy words as if worse hasnât come out of your mouth.
âSâalright if you ainât got nothinâ more to say,â Tommy tells you. âGonna have to start from the beginning âtil you learn to use your words again.â His mouth moves down the column of your throat, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses down to your collarbone.
Heâs slow in his pursuit, listening to the way your breaths become shallower and shallower as he lowers his head to the valley between your breasts. When he makes it to that sweet spot just below your navel, he stops.
âWait,â you say, and he does. âI wantâŚmore.â
Tommy knows. He knows, and yet still, he urges, âTell me, baby.â
âI want you.â
He thinks suddenly about the conversation youâd had on Joelâs back porch. The last time youâd admitted that you wanted him, that heâs all you wanted. Tommy doesnât understand it, in truth. Will never understand what the fuck you see in him or why you not only give him the time of day but why you seek him out.
But what he does understand is this.
Tommy sees your need and matches it. Exceeds it.
You slide your hand down your body, fingers slipping through the wetness between your thighs. âWant you here,â you say. âI need it, Uncle Tommy.â
He knows he shouldnât.
But you want him. And thatâs the best high of all.Â
âMâcomin, sweet girl,â he promises. He leans back on his knees and grabs his shirt by the back of the collar, pulling it over his head. You watch him with half-lidded eyes as he undoes the button of his jeans and pulls down his zipper, and Tommy watches you. âYouâre so fuckinâ beautiful,â he murmurs, shoving the denim down around his hips just enough to take his heavy cock out.Â
You take him in your delicate hand and press his tip to your clit, sliding it slowly through your slick folds. Such a gentle movement, but it has his breath stuttering already, and Tommy has no fucking idea how heâs going to make this last. âGo slow,â you say. âWanna feel every inch.â
Tommy notches himself at your entrance and does just as you ask. Pushes into you so carefully itâs almost painful. His every instinct urges him to surge forward, to split you open and bury himself inside of you. But the whimpers you make as you adjust to the stretch he creates keep his head on straight.
Itâs the most pornographic image heâs ever seen, watching your sweet pussy greedily swallow up his cock. Youâre so wet, dripping for him, and it makes these obscene sounds with each pressing inch that has Tommyâs heart beating hard against his sternum.
âShit,â he hisses. âYou feel so good, baby.â Once heâs fully seated inside you, his waist pressed against yours, Tommy rolls his hips, and the movement has you gasping. He can feel your walls clamp down around him, and it only spurs him on more. He does it again, a gentle pressure at the deepest part of you he can reach.
âItâs soâso big,â you whine, fingernails clawing at the back of his shoulders.
Tommy only smiles. Kisses your mouth tenderly and says, âYou can take it. Hm? My perfect girl. Made just for me.â
One of his hands slide up the back of your thigh, hooking your leg around his waist, while the other comes to circle your clit. He can feel your bodyâs reaction, can feel the way you squeeze tight around his cock.
You nod frantically, the beginnings of tears welling in the corners of your eyes. You breathe out the word, âYours,â and he feels his orgasm threatening already, building at the base of his spine. âIâm all yours.â
Tommy circles your clit and sets a steady pace. Fucks you slow, fucks you deep. Just how you need it, delighting in your moans. He presses his mouth softly to your temple, your cheek, and spends a little extra time with his teeth at that spot just behind your ear. âLook at me, baby,â he says, nudging his nose against yours.
When you do, your eyes are all starry in that way he loves, filled with awe. Youâre the only person to ever look at him like that, with not an ounce of disappointment. Itâs like youâre just happy he exists, and Tommy feels emotion build in his throat.Â
âDonât stop,â you say, and so he quickens his pace, circling your clit faster. âDonât stop, God, IâveâIâve missed you so bad, Uncle Tommy.â
Itâs the most dizzying thing heâs ever heard. It nearly tips him over that edge. But he needs to feel you first, needs to make sure you get everything you need. âYeah, I know it,â he says tenderly, thrusting in deep. âMissed my baby, too.â
He thinks itâs an understatement. Feels wrong, saying heâs only missed you when heâs thought of nothing else.
Tommy knows youâre close, can feel the way you pulse around him, breathe stuttering. âThatâs it,â he mutters. âYou gonna cum for your Uncle Tommy? Hm?â
âFuck, fuck, Iâmââ
âSâgood, baby,â he whispers against your mouth, keeping his rhythm. âSo fucking good for me.â
Your moans echo off the walls as you reach that peak, thighs trembling around his hips. He can feel a rush of moisture against his cock and he tears a low sound from somehwere deep in his chest.
He doesnât stop, chasing his own high, even when you start to squirm beneath him. His fingers stay circling your pretty clit, ratcheting the pleasure higher and higher untilâ
âMy face,â you suddenly say. âWant you to cum on my face.â
Tommy thinks youâre going to be the death of him.
Perfect, filthy girl.Â
He pulls out of you quickly, orgasm dangerously near. You prop yourself up, palms against the kitchen floor behind you, while Tommy takes his cock in his hand and squeezes. âGoddamn,â he groans. âAsk me nice.â
With the prettiest, most innocent smile, you say, âCum on my face, Uncle Tommy. Please, please, please.â You stick out your tongue and look up at him, and thatâs what does him in. The fucking love in your eyes.
Tommy cums hard, stroking his cock over top of you. Sticky, white ropes of his release coat your face, leaving splotches on your cheeks, your chin, down your chest. Itâs disgusting. Easily the worst thing heâs ever done in all his life.
But when heâs finished and his cock begins to soften, you swipe the mess off your chin and push it onto your tongue and moan. Like itâs everything youâve ever wanted. And any remorse he once had vanishes into thin air because how can he be sorry when you look so happy?
You giggle and say, âGuess I got that pearl necklace after all,â and Tommy has to look away to keep from laughing too hard.
He cleans you up with a hand towel and water from the kitchen sink, shoulders a little lighter. And once youâve got his borrowed clothes back on, Tommy watches with reverence as you move around his kitchen as if you belong in it.Â
You open the freezer and go right for the half empty carton of mint chip ice cream. Itâs your first choice. Not expired eggs or stale cereal.Â
Seeing it gives him a flicker of false hope.Â
Because he knows he canât be what you need forever. Knows he wonât keep you in the end, knows that whatever this is isnât sustainable. But maybe he can justâŚkeep you happy to the best of his ability. Just for now.
You only grab one spoon but offer him the first bite. âMint chip is the best flavor by a fucking mile,â you say. âAnd anyone who says otherwise is delusional.â
âKeep that up when Sarah finds out itâs your favorite,â Tommy insists. âCause sheâll fuckinâ tear you apart. Believe me, I know from experience.â
Laughter falls from your lips when he hands you the spoon. âOh, I know. Was a victim of her chocolate chip cookie dough defense monologue, too.â
Tommyâs phone rings on the kitchen counter, and he swallows hard when he sees Joelâs name flash across the screen. When he answers, thereâs a trace of alarm in Joelâs voice as he asks if heâs seen you. âJust a little concerned is all. Figured her phoneâs dead or somethinâ butâŚhavenât heard back since last night. Just wanted to make sure she got somewhere safe.â
Heâs never lied to Joel in all his life, and Tommy knows he would sense it the minute he tried. So he tells as much of the truth as he can. âYeah, she uhâŚcalled me early this morning. Picked her up from that bar anâ let her crash on the couch. Iâll be bringinâ her home in a minute.â
You gather your things, and Tommy tries not to let that sliver of emptiness trickle in too fast. Youâre still here, still with him, and this moment still belongs to you even at its close.
Like always, you sense his gloom before itâs even fully hit. And when he pulls into Joelâs driveway, you thread your fingers through his and say, âStay for dinner. I miss you already.â
Tommy knows he shouldnât. Knows that feeling lightheaded just from your words alone is a real problem for him.
But heâs never been good at telling you no.

taglist; @theretrofuturista @chuutu @gabymalikk @nana90azevedo @alidiggory92 @marisemonteiroo @ivyinthesun @hollowgracie @moyavsemoya @madadadison @polkadotsocks1993 @malewifejoelmiller @mmmunson @ssssc0m @skye-44 @tateypots @joelscowgirl69 @dbs5647 @cuntyhunty22 @thaliagracesgf @whossbunny @jamespotterismydaddy @whatdoyoumeanhesnapped @rainydayathogwarts @urfavhanna @subconsciouscollapse @worhols @joyridinginzombieland
[divider by @bernardsbendystraws]
#tw stepcest#cw stepcest#uncle tommy#tommy miller tlou#tommy tlou#tommy miller x reader#tommy miller#tommy miller x y/n#tommy miller x you#tommy miller smut#tommy miller fanfiction#smut#angst#fluff#the last of us#tlou#tlou hbo#the last of us fic#the last of us hbo#ao3fic#age difference#size difference#praise#praise kink go brrrr#x reader#female reader#fem reader#pearlessance#cupids chokehold#hbo the last of us
1K notes
¡
View notes
Text
Your World [ Wolverine x Reader ]
Summary: your Wolverine was your whole world.
A/N: I like writing angsty stuff and this movie provided me with the best possible scenarios <3 hehehe I love wolverine
Warnings: Cussing, mentions of blood
Marvel MASTERLIST Link here
SPOILERS BELOW
-
It wasnât an ideal love story that brought you back to Logan.
Being a mutant with incredible healing abilities and a broken heart made it so easy for Stryker to capture you. Your Wolverine had been the one to rescue you from the clutches of Stryker and the horrible fate that loomed over your head. All the days of experiments and cold rooms where youâd be injected with who knows what, it all lead to him.
But you always had to remind yourself that Logan had gotten you out, made you a X-Men, but found the brutal truth of how dangerous it was to be loved by you.
You loved deeply and endlessly, like a void waiting for eternity to be loved and to love. Logan was exactly what your heart desired for years.
Someone who could never die, never leave you.
Fighting alongside each other became a beautiful symphony. And God protect anyone who caused you harm, because Logan would only see red and slice them to pieces. It was a miracle none of the X-men had been torn to shreds, but Scott always came close.
The team would always joke about your relationship, saying how could an innocent soul be in love with such a brute like Wolverine.
But Logan knew the only way he could breathe was to be with you, to hold you, to kiss and love you.
He would always find his way to you no matter the circumstance.
Beast was holding you in the infirmary because he wanted to run tests? Logan was there.
Storm and Jean wanted to have a girls night? Logan was sitting outside the room in case anything happened.
Scott was training you in hand to hand combat? Logan was definitely there.
Your world consisted of him and him only.
And maybe that is why it hurt so much when he let your entire team die, because you had not made them your whole world.
You had been away on a mission by yourself when you received the news of their passing. You returned to a bloodied home, no sign of Wolverine to be found.
Life began to blur after what happened. You had to go into hiding, because people blamed you for what happened, too. And there was no one there to stop you from spiraling into a flurry of self hatred.
Hatred for what you had become. A love sick puppy so consumed with Logan only. Maybe if you had been there, maybe if you hadnât put so much trust in him, maybe if you could have taken the hits for your team.
And the thought that stuck with you the most, if you had been there, screaming for help - would Logan had only saved you and left the rest to die?
Because the love you shared was slowly becoming so obvious to you that it was not pure or natural, but rather so simple it would have made you and Logan public enemy number one.
But you supposed that had already happened, too.
Your mutant abilities were the only thing you had left, so you consumed yourself in underground work. Becoming exactly what the X-men had fought against.
Shedding your uniform, you had to separate yourself from the X-men because people recognized you too easily. It was hard to find any work where people wanted a tainted mutant.
You tried your hardest to not let every moment be consumed by the thought of Logan. He had never reached out to you after the event, despite the grief between you so overwhelmingly strong. He couldnât face you and love someone who would have stepped through hell and back for him.
He felt as if he didnât deserve it.
So time continued to pass as the bond between the two of you was severed so deeply that it was suffocating to be apart.
But it wasnât until Deadpool showed up to your apartment that you were finally addressing your past.
âLeave, now. Iâm not hearing any of your bullshit.â You tried to close your door but he stopped it.
âPlease, câmon. I need you! Wolverine needs you!â
You tensed at the mere mention of him. âIf he needed me so desperately, it is far too late for him to come back.â
âBut youâre his one and only, for fuckâs sake! Every variant Iâve met of him has had a you stalking around like a lap dog. You know how many of youâs have beaten the shit out of me?â He rambled on, and you rolled your eyes.
âI donât care to understand what youâre saying, so goodbye, Wade!â
Deadpool sighed before kicking the door in and stabbing you through the chest with one of his blades. You stared at him in shock and couldnât register anything as he flung you over his shoulder into an orange portal.
You landed on a hard ground that pushed the blade out of you. âWade, youâre a dead man.â
He stepped through the portal and leaned over your body. âSorry about that, but I canât die so youâre stuck with not only me, but Wolverine!â
Deadpool giggled and ran off, making sure to rip the blade out of your stomach. You winced but felt your regeneration cells working to stitch you back together.
Slowly sitting up, you spat out blood.
âI tried to tell him not to bring you into this.â
You froze at the voice you fought to forget, willing calm into your fast beating heart.
Sitting up fully only made your legs wobble and your head spin. But you had to look up into the eyes of the man you still loved.
Logan looked different, healthier and happier. It only made you feel sick.
âIâve been busy.â He said it so casually that it made you want to slap his chest for the lack of greeting. âWade gave me a second chance. I helped save his world.â
âYou havenât seen me in years and you choose to brag?â You scoffed, removing your shirt to assess the damage Wade had done to your shirt.
Logan sucked in a breath as he took in your battle worn scars. Despite your healing factor, you still kept every scar from every wound you had endured.
He remembered the last time he saw you, you only adorned a few on your chest and stomach.
Now it was littered with them.
âYouâve been busy too, I gather?â Logan said with a hint of sarcasm.
You glared at him. âWhy am I here?â
âWade thought that I needed you.â He admitted it with such ease, like he knew it to be true in his heart.
âAnd? Do you need me?â
He hesitated before answering. âIâve always needed you⌠and I think thatâs why I let myself go for so many years. Because I knew that no matter what I did or said to you, you would never forgive me. I would always be the one who let our team die⌠let you go.â
âWell youâre right, because I never would forgive you. Not after abandoning all of us,â you choked out, the tears beginning to creep into the corners of your eyes. âI loved you fiercely, Logan. All it would have taken was one call during those first few days and I would have been there for you. We couldâve been healing together. But you chose this life of despair for both of us, Logan.â
âI know.â He said, his own eyes watering.
âI despise you.â You said, but your heart was breaking, letting out the true feelings. It was bleeding for him and for him only.
Logan stepped closer and you did not stop him.
âI want nothing to do with you.â You said, your voice cracking.
âI understand.â He said, five feet away from you now.
âI hate you.â You began to weep, the blood in your heart revealing what you wanted truly.
âI donât blame you.â Logan closed the gap between the two of you, holding you close to his chest. You cried into his shoulder, holding on for dear life. âIâm never leaving you again.â
All you could muster was a small nod, your tears staining his shirt. His own were dripping onto the top of your head.
And in the empty apartment, you and Logan stood, holding onto each other.
Holding your world together.
#Deadpool and Wolverine spoilers#wolverine#deadpool#wolverine and deadpool#deadpool and wolverine#spoilers#marvel#MCU#hugh jackman#ryan reynolds#Wolverine x reader#Wolverine imagine#Deadpool imagine#Logan x reader#logan howlett#Logan#Logan howlett x reader#xmen#x-men#x-men imagine#x-men x reader#d&w spoilers#marvel imagine#MCU imagine#mcu x reader
4K notes
¡
View notes
Text
wait i can steins;gate these time travel mechanics
#it is too late for me to expand rn but the idea of multiple realities which converge on the same nodes#the main time lines. alpha beta etc never touch. parallel. x person always dies in alpha line for instance. in beta line they may survive.#the things that aren't nodes are basically the various lines within the clusters surrounding the alpha or beta lines#you can change non-nodes within the cluster surrounding a worldline and they're all w/n this alpha line bc the node isn't touched#but make enough changes and eventually you get closer and closer to a reality where the node was different#so say the line where chen xiao got married may actually be closer to the line where the earthquake didn't happen even tho it's not a node#uhhh it's been years since I've watched this so I could be entirely misremembering but okay okay I could deal with s;gesque mechanics#(the thing is I'm generally happy to go for stable loops and observable nodes but the info we have re lg's jump very much implies cxs was-#dead enough to pass on his powers so it couldn't be a case where a stable loop was closed by faking cxs's death so lg still had a reason-#to jump. in other words we really are looking at a paradox unless some other mechanic comes into play or we have sth like a preservation-#(basically anti-paradox) mechanic specifically around the diver. which can be done but doesn't really answer stuff like emma being affected#admittedly this doesn't really work with everything lx says but works with self-repairing timeline idea and his mention of parallel lines-#bc if lg literally manages to cross parallel lines when they should remain separate then the whole certainty/uncertainty thing kinda fits?#ppl should be unable to cross parallel lines bc it throws everything about fate into flux but if the lines are united there's nowhere else#to go. idk these are literally sleep ramblings. don't take them too seriously. I just like time travel mechanics really.
1 note
¡
View note
Text
Pick me boys and MC - Part 1
Characters: Lucifer, Mammon and Levi (x gn!reader, separately)
Pick me girl variant
Main Masterlist
CW: pick me boy behaviour, but Mammon's part has a literal stalker lmao (I got carried away). Jealousy, possesiveness, mentions of marriage, a bit of violence. Mostly fluff, but also cringe
@gayideatraschan not what you offered initially, but you did inspired this <3
.
Lucifer
Look handsome and donât drift away.
Those were the only two requests you had asked from him when you turned the last corner of the hallway and the banquet hallâs doors appeared right before your eyes. There was a high school reunion waiting on the other side and, although youâd never admit how nervous you were out loud, he could still hear the violent pounding of your heart and the shakiness in your breath.
Thankfully, one of the requests was always accomplished without being asked to. Sadly, you were the one who drifted away from his grasp as soon as those rusty metal doors closed after you; one moment he was holding your hand and the next someone was calling your name and making you say hi to everyone willing to recognise you.
Itâs not like heâd ever blame you, obviously; especially when you had spent that last week stressing over what to wear, who would be at the party and what to say to them in order to satisfy their curiosity while literally hiding your demons and still giving yourself some credit for your merits. In the end, all youâd decided to tell was that you had been studying Human Relations at a private academy and were now an apprentice under the tutelage of a prestigious scholar. Of course, it was all too vague, but the truth was far too complicated to explain and your audience seemed satisfied with your answers.
But it was now your turn to listen to your former friends, and even some acquaintances, which Lucifer perfectly understood, still, damned it if he wanted at least to know where you were!
The melody of your laugh and your voice teased him, floating in the air and merging with the rest of the noise without giving any clear directions of your exact location. Unfortunately, although superior, your magic was also fused with weaker power sources in the large room; probably green or divination witches, which were incredibly common in modern times.
A long half-hour passed before he finally surrendered and let fate reunite you both again.
You deserved to enjoy your time with your past peers, anyway.
So there he was, mindlessly wandering amongst the crowd with a plastic cup of watered-down wine in his hand. It somehow tasted sour and expired, but there was nothing better at the table and he wouldnât be the one bringing his own bottle to a gathering where he didnât know anyone. A couple of strangers had stopped him a few times, sure, but conversations were short and strict; Lucifer never told more than he needed and he never wandered away from what youâd previously agreed upon.
His brother had been your supervisor at the academy and soon you became friends with the whole family, ultimately forming a relationship with him by the end of your first year.
Cute and simple.
Shouldnât have caused any trouble.
And yet.
And yet.
What he was hearing wasnât a voice. It was a whine. A pitiful moan. A pathetic show of affection that fell on deaf ears and forced a familiar sadistic smirk out of him.
Behind him, protected by a circle of reluctant listeners, a weasel-looking man hunched over his drink with a pout and a frown. He gestured wildly, shamelessly looking at you with longing and at Lucifer with envy; even when his back was turned, he could tell. Plus, the jealousy and resentment in his words did nothing to keep him discreet.
âI just donât understandâ he was saying, his rant resembling more a childish tantrum than an unwanted opinion. âI mean, theyâre so cool and carefree and he looks so boring! They should totally be dating someone elseâ
âI donât know, manâ answered someone else, clearly trying to keep the peace. âThey seem pretty happy to m-âŚâ
âThatâs what he wants you to think!â the weasel interrupted them. The othersâ chuckles and sighs only seemed to add fuel to the fire. âYeah, sure, MCâs entitled to date whoever they think itâs best, but he doesnât love them! Itâs obvious! Look, theyâre miserableâ
Something in the sour speech, Lucifer wasnât sure of exactly what, irked him the wrong way. He could feel the familiar tingling in his back and his head, hidden limbs begging to be released along with his magic in a demonstration of power, but he liked to think he had always been good at staying calm until the time was due.
And also, it was your moment.
Thankfully, by some sort of miracle, the crowd slowly parted before him and started to form small groups. You were in one of them, talking lively to a pregnant woman. He could see a blush in your cheeks from where he was, the nervous jerk in your movements when the other human pointed at your hand obvious to his trained eyes.
Of course, the Ring of Light.
His chest puffed slightly when you spread your fingers and let the lady gasp in delight. Made out of gold and a small diamond, it probably looked like a wedding or an engagement ring for anyone who didnât know what it truly was.
âYeah, dude, theyâre crying and everythingâ
The small group behind him laughed, finally giving him a reason to turn around.
Lucifer was surprised to see the weasel man so quiet, actually expecting him to stomp his feet if his reddened face and bulging eyes were any indication, but quickly pushed down his expectations when he saw him walking in your direction. For what, he wasnât sure. To be your knight in shining armour? As if you needed one to begin with.
His movements were quick and elegant as he hurried towards the human to stop his heroic stride, but there was nothing graceful in his grasp when he closed his hand over the weaselâs shoulder.
He winced at the pain but kept looking at Luciferâs dark eyes with fragile self-assurance.
Lucifer snickered, amused.
Cute.
âYou donât deserve MCâ he said with a deeper pout, as if Lucifer towering over him and making him bend with the force of his hand was just a slight inconvenience.
He had to give him points for trying, that he had to admit, but his patience was wavering and he really didnât want to make a scene.
âThey donât deserve youâ he finally said, spitting the last word with distaste. Then, he cleaned his hand on the other manâs inappropriate graphic t-shirt and turned around to walk straight towards you.
His smile was calculated, innocence and charm pouring out of him while he shook your friendâs hand, but he knew you knew better.
Good luck getting away from him now.
Mammon
Your stare was fierce, murderous even, but it was difficult not to act bitter when he had been promised a date downtown only to be betrayed by his own partner and the worst older brother in existence.
Falling from the heavens? A mere warning.
Forced to work on club activities for extra credit? Actual divine punishment.
Sure, maybe he had skipped class too many times and perhaps his grades were plummeting at an embarrassing speed, but what else could he do when, even after all those years, Levi was still so careless about his figurinesâ safety and a new pawn shop had opened right next to the House of Lamentation? He hadnât seen so many coins and bills in his hands ever since he sold Asmoâs bath towels to his fans during Valentineâs Day! And that was for sure something elseâŚ
Honestly, why couldnât anyone see that the true one at fault was the owner of the establishment? Mammon was, sadly and simply, a victim of circumstances.
And you? You were a damn traitor. It didnât matter that you were wearing that cute outfit he bought for you on your birthday or that your jewellery matched his; at the end of the day, your words were empty and he shouldâve known as soon as you kissed him good morning earlier.
It was so obvious! Why else would you be awake so early on a Saturday morning?
And why was RAD open on a Saturday to begin with??
He sighed again, louder that time, and made sure to avoid your eyes when you turned to glare at him with an even deeper frown. Before he could think about it though, you apologised to the sad-looking incubus goggling at you and marched straight in Mammonâs direction.
His body tensed and he felt himself shrink, but he made an effort to keep ignoring you as you sat on your heels and grabbed both of his knees to create more space.
âBabyâ you cooed sweetly.
He knew better than to trust the welcoming tone.
âYa better be here to apologise, MCâ
He closed his eyes showing an indignant expression, even turning his back on you and crossing his arms over his chest to really drive the point home. Hopefully, youâll feel guilty enough to regret your actions, kiss him a couple of times and take him out of school for the promised date.
Luck was not on his side that day.
âYou wishâ
âOh, câmon!â
Mammonâs interruption came out as a whine as he let himself sink deeper into the couch before, not even a second later, sitting up straight to point an accusatory finger at you. Your gaze seemed innocent, but he knew you enough to accurately guess how much you were enjoying his suffering.
âWe were supposed to be out there shoppinâ, not here watchinâ pictures of⌠yourself!â
âWhy, I thought you liked watching my picturesâ
You spoke in a low voice, yet he still understood you. Warmth quickly rushed to his face and his hands didnât waste a moment in covering your mouth, but he could feel your smile under his skin.
âDoncha say those things in the open like that, idiot! Besides, ya know the pictures I like are in my room⌠These are just super creepy!â
Behind you, the incubus you had been previously talking to was listening with little to no discretion, standing in the middle of the room and talking to no one despite the endless activity surrounding you. His body was slightly turned in your direction, but his eyes were stuck to the floor.
Mammon squirmed in his seat at the shameless eavesdropping. A wave of irritation spread through his body and an uncomfortable weight sat in the pit of his stomach.
âThey are⌠weirdâ you admitted, getting up only to sit on his leg. Had you been the only ones in the study room he wouldâve melted instantly, but there were too many demons around and one of them was seriously getting on his nerves. As if sensing his discomfort, you cradled his face to force eye contact, clearly annoyed at his attitude but also slightly regretful. âBut this is my fan club, Mammon. What did you expect they had on the walls? Honestly, Iâm surprised youâre not more excited; you know, since youâre so⌠obsessed with me and everythingâ
âI am⌠What-! Obsessed??â
âYouâre in love with me, Mammonâ
Thankfully, you were merciful enough to sing your teasing in the lowest tone possible, right next to his ear so no one else could hear. Still, he covered up your mouth again like you were shouting profanities.
Laughing cheerfully at his bashfulness, you gave him a quick peck on the cheek and got up.
âWeâre almost done here. Act like youâre doing something and then Iâll take you to Majolish and the cinema or wherever else you like. My treat!â
He perked up at your words, immediately jumping away from the couch before walking towards one of the tables. Your giggles followed him with each movement, but he was too stoked to mind.
Finally! Finally, you were getting out of there!
However, he couldnât help but feel a bit annoyed at the situation.
Lucifer, no doubt showing the loving and caring personality that gave him his infamous reputation, knew what he was doing when he made Mammon reach his required semester credits by going to your fan club.
Since it was relatively new, most of their activities revolved around investigating you; your habits, your hobbies, what you liked and disliked, food, school subjects, clothes⌠ They had newspaper cuts with your interviews, fliers and tickets for events that involved you and, of course, pictures. Taken from your Devilgram account, from the newspaper, from the brothersâ Devilgram accounts and your friendsâ, but also from real life. Pictures taken behind your back in the Cafeteria and even in class.
It was creepy. It irked him and sent a shiver up his spine.
Compared to the pictures in his walls, taken with that plastic junk youâd bought on the human internet for less than the average minimal wage, the images scattered around the surface of the table in front of him looked like a stalkerâs love letter. While Mammon got to wake up every day to your immortalized smile and the priceless memories youâve made together, the lead photographer in your fan club was clearly hidden behind bushes on at least half of his creations; there were leaf-shaped shadows on the corners of the photos and some of the angles were off, coming from the ground and making a certain part of your body stand out more than the rest.
And look, he knew what his brothers would say- What anyone would say if he complained about this weirdo, but this went way beyond what he felt for you as his partner. The newspaper and the Devilgram stalking, he could understand from a bunch of losers, but the rest? Following you on your way home? Eavesdropping private conversations?
He turned around, searching for the incubus that was becoming too comfortable for his own good, and found him standing right behind you while you talked to some of the other members.
Too close, head tilted down, shamelessly staring where no one but Mammon was supposed to look.
He didnât realise he was walking until he got there.
Something hot and electric rushed through his body, making the ends of his hair stand out. He felt like an animal ready to pounce, like one of his crows defending their territory, chest puffed out and feathers ruffled.
But it wasnât the moment, nor the place.
The only reason he was there was because heâd borrowed some toys from Levi, and Lucifer was a miserable demon who couldnât see anyone around him being happy without convulsing. If Mammon dared to show any sign of ill behaviour while on this⌠glorified detention, there was no way heâd get out of the staircase and the familiar burn of the rope around his body for a long while.
And he wanted you to have a good time with him, dammit. A date where the both of you could go around town spending some money and, hopefully, kiss a little at the very end.
But he wouldnât have any of it if he beat some nobody to a bloody pulp.
Ugh.
What a hassle.
âHeyâ
A faint touch in his middle section caught his attention. Your hand, dancing over the skin of his clothed hip-bone, brought a teasing chill with its touch. Mammon looked at you with a raised brow. Despite the way you hugged his waist to bring him closer to your embrace, which was nothing short of caring, your eyes were narrowed and filled with suspicion.
âWeâll leave in a minute, okay?â you murmured under your breath, just for him to hear.
However, the weirdo seemed too interested in what you wanted to say. His silhouette moved in the corner of Mammonâs eyes, leaning forward in an effort to capture the meaning of your words, and ultimately managing to trip over his own foot and fall over your back. Unsurprisingly, and as sweet and understanding as always, you just smiled politely and watched as he blushed and stammered some half-assed apologies. The rest of the group only giggled at his clumsiness.
Mammon seethed.
He took a deep breath and stepped away from your side, raising both hands above his head and stretching as much as his body allowed him to. His bones cracked and the hem of his shirt rose up, bringing your eyes to the exposed skin in his tummy.
âAll this hard work got you tired?â you chuckled, playfully bumping your hip with his.
He fought the urge to squeeze it, and instead let his arms fall to clasp the incubus nape. The slap echoed across the room, and the noise lowered down almost immediately. His fingers curled around sweaty skin.
âOh, Iâm exhausted, MCâ he teased back, sharp nails sinking and making the incubus squirm.
Like clockwork, your gaze changed into one of concern and focused in the weirdoâs direction. You opened your mouth, clearly wanting to ask what was going on, but nothing came out, and Mammon took the opportunity to side hug the demon beside him and forcefully drag him to the doorway.
âWh-âŚâ he muttered, frantically looking around as Mammon pushed him to the hallway. âWhere are we going?â
âMammonâŚ!â
âIâm taking interest in the clubâ he shrugged, sporting an unusual innocent voice.
âMammonâ you repeated, sterner that time.
In any other occasion, your crossed arms and your flaring nostrils wouldâve had an effect on him, but that day was different.
That day, he had been lied to and bamboozled, forced to stay in a classroom full of needy puppies when he couldâve spent a perfect Saturday dragging you by the hand from one store to another. He was dressed up, looking more handsome than ever, and you looked like a dream, yet the one under his arm was the creepy photographer from your fan club and not you.
No. Today your ire was not enough.
Hiding a smirk behind slender fingers, Mammon winked at you and finally stepped away before closing the door. He knew heâd pay for it in the long run, but he tended to enjoy punishment as long as it came from you.
People called him a masochist for a reason, right?
âWhat are we doing here?â
Mammon turned, his face expressionless, and stared at the incubus in complete silence. Although the incubus was trying to sound nonchalant and casual, the tremor in his voice was painfully evident and he couldnât stop his hands from shaking. Noticing how interested the Avatar of Greed himself seemed in them, he eventually put them in the pockets of his uniform.
Big mistake.
No way to get rid of Mammon if his hands were tucked away.
So, without losing his stone-cold composure, and faster than the incubus wouldâve ever processed, he grabbed his throat and pushed. Pushed, pushed and pushed until all he could feel was muscle, tendons, bones and the cold stone behind them both. It was a miracle that the lower demon didnât choke when he tried to gulp down his nerves.
It was gratifying, in a sense, feeling the panic coming out of his pores as he pathetically tried to scatter away, kicking his legs and scratching Mammonâs arms.
âYou think youâre so smart, doncha?â he murmured, grip seemingly effortless despite lifting the other demon in the air a couple of inches. âGoing after my MC, taking pictures and sharing them with the class⌠Being so good at hiding, you couldâve done so much more, but you stayed there. Why?â
He stayed silent for a couple of seconds, not really expecting an answer. Although the incubus could open his mouth and let out some sounds, there was nearly no air in his lungs to form a sentence.
Still, giving him the illusion of choice was entertaining.
âThought you could learn enough to make them fall for you?â he ended up saying in the end, already knowing the answer. That time, however, he didnât wait for anything to happen. He could feel the embarrassed heat from his cheeks. âJust how pathetic are ya, huh?â
He retreated.
The thud of the body falling to the ground wasnât as satisfying as he hoped itâd be, but seeing the incubus grimacing in pain and blushing with shame did bring some amusement. His teary eyes were the cherry on top.
âYou act like a childâ he sobbed, glaring at Mammon with defiance despite the pathetic state he was in. âI was studying them, so what? I understand them now. Iâd treat them better; make them feel better. Someone like them has to be with someone that gets them. And thereâs no one like meâŚâ
His coughs interrupted his little monologue.
Mammon crouched as the other demon cleaned his mouth with a sleeve and fanned himself with a hand, still hot and flustered from almost being suffocated to death.
A part of him, the one with poisoned spines and sharp fangs, wanted to finish the job and come back to you after everything was done. The other part, soft and pliant, yearned for a long deserved date with no hard feelings and no fighting between you.
Still silent, but now smiling, Mammon gently grabbed the demonâs chin and slightly lifted to bring it forward.
âWhat are you doing?â he asked, horror rooted deep in his voice.
Mammon pursed his lips and tilted his head, teasingly, but there was no humour in his tone when he talked.
âMaking sure I donât forget who you areâ
Leviathan
Until he met you, Levi thought there was nothing in the three realms that could compare to the beautiful complexity of what the 2D media offered, less alone be better. The fluid motions in animation, the range of emotions displayed with the simple stroke of a pen, voice actors reaching their limits in an effort to show what the character was feeling⌠And that was only the technical part. If he started talking about the possible plots, the character developments or the values and lessons thought through anime and manga, then he wouldnât go to bed for days and he would talk himself to death.
Everything outside of his room was just so⌠fake. Playing pretend all of the time and rejecting individuality for the sake of fitting in. The same thing everywhere, over and over and over again, predictable and devoid of meaning. Why would anyone settle for that?
However, even someone as strict as him could accept when some specific things were occasionally similarly enjoyable to his lifestyle.
For example, ever since he became your friend, and eventually your boyfriend (thank Lord Diavolo this is inner dialogue, because he wouldâve never been able to say that out loud), Levi came to discover that said beautiful complexity was even more beautiful when you were there experiencing it with him.
Daily marathons and gaming sessions became common in your couple activities repertoire. You also exchanged books on the occasion to share opinions, but there was something about sitting in the same room without constantly interacting that made your relationship feel intimate and cared for. He wasnât talking to you, but you were still absentmindedly playing with his hand while absorbing what you were seeing on the screen; and you were talking to yourself as you brutally decimated the final boss in his newest RPG, but his tail was comfortably wrapped around your leg.
Not needing to repeatedly reassure the existence of your relationship was far more comforting than he could ever put into words.
Today was just further evidence to prove his point.
Hours had passed since dinner ended, yet you both were still awake, eyes glued to different screens in his gaming setup as your characters separately covered the terrain, slayed enemies and healed the rest of the team. Heâd chivalrously given you the chair, opting himself for the bean bag, and although his back was killing him and heâd had a sore neck in the morning, there was no way he would let you be so uncomfortable in his presence. Sure, youâd offered to sit on his lap while he sat on the chair, but of course heâd rejected it!! That was too much!!
AnywaysâŚ
Back to game.
Normally, you liked to keep your sessions private, especially when you played choice-based games, but this time was different. This time was your first with his online friends: kind strangers heâd met over the years who understood him better than anyone in his own family. Some were other, lower demons, and some were humans who had no idea of who or what he was, yet treated him with the same comradery as an old childhood friend would.
The idea of you meeting them and potentially befriending them as well made him giddy. So giddy, in fact, that he had long gone abandoned his screen to focus on yours.
And you were incredible at it, blending perfectly with his group and working like greased machinery even on survival mode. You knew how to use your character and which were your favourite weapons, annihilating every monster that came in contact with merciless brutality and the tiniest of teasing miles.
He felt like his heart was about to burst from excitement.
And his friends thought so well of you too!
@/mym0mm4demedothis: Make sure to shoot him again MC, I think he still can breathe lmao
@/pigeonsRDgvmnt: Damn, I didnât even have to grab the controller for this 0-0
@/omegakitten4display: Can you suffocate me?
That last one unnerved him a little bit, but he was well aware of this particular userâs sense of humour; nothing worth worrying or being jealous of. Besides, youâd made sure to kiss him on the cheek extra loud right next to his microphone for everyone to hear and tease him about, so he really didnât have any reasons to complain.
Except⌠WellâŚ
Did he, though?
You werenât especially annoyed about It, but he could see it was slowly getting on your nerves, judging by the way you occasionally rolled your eyes and clicked your tongue. Still, playing hero for you when you were ignoring the problem so gracefully didnât sit right with him, so Levi stayed silent and let his head rest on your shoulder while he watched you play.
@/grinninManIac: try support next time, mc, itll be easier :)
@/mym0mm4demedothis: Boy, shut up and improve your aim
@/grinninManIac: just offering advice
This wasnât one of his friends, but rather a friend of a friend of a friend who didnât have anyone to play with that night. Heâd sent countless messages to the groupchat asking for their friendship codes, and at one point youâd felt so much pity for him that your human nature had flourished and your compassion made you immediately offer your code first, pushing the others to do the same.
Levi was sure you were regretting that now, though.
But what did he expect? If you were nice and good to even the scummiest of scum on earth, Mammon, then everyone else was prone to be treated just as sympathetically.
@/TheOvineGOAT: thanks, but Iâm good with my main
The response was instant.
@/grinninManIac: r u sure? i can teach you how to use the others
@/TheOvineGOAT: Lev can do that just fine
@/grinninManIac: u can depend on other people, u know ;)
You paused, staring blankly at the screen before quietly turning off your mic and forcing out a gag. Levi was so offended on your behalf that he couldnât even laugh at your exaggerated disgust.
He opened his mouth, ready to shoot back and defend your superior abilities in the game, but you eagerly took your index finger and shushed him with it. The warmth of your skin and the intimacy of the contact dragged a tiny whimper out of him.
Thankfully, though, the microphone didnât capture it.
@/mym0mm4demedothis: Teach them?? Do you even know how to play??
@/grinninManIac: iâll have you know that ive been playin for more than a year, every day, the whole day :)
@/grinninManIac: you could call me an expert haha ;))
@/pigeonsRDgvmnt: How about you put that controller down⌠ -_-â
@/omegakitten4display: Suffocate
@/TheOvineGOAT: No need :3
Levi shook his head in disbelief and slight embarrassment. He had been so focused on the conversation that he hadnât seen what you were doing on the screen: sneaking under the enemiesâ radar, stealth mission style, and placing yourself behind the newcomer in his friend group.
Your friend group.
Silently, with a smile so wide it could brighten his days forever, you powered up your ulti and blasted your teammate without mercy, loot falling to the ground and a small penalization for enemy fire appearing in the corner.
A couple of seconds passed in silence where no one in the call talked.
Then, and rather uncontrollably, everyone started laughing. Loud and shamelessly, like a pack of hyenas. No one noticed the new guy leaving the call under all the noise.
@/grinninManIac: u didnât have to b such a bitch about it >:(
Surprisingly, you just rolled your eyes at the written message before blocking the user. If the crass word bothered you, it didnât show on your face, and Levi couldnât do more than stare in awe and blush uncontrollably as you focused on the game again and got ready to forget the whole incident.
His friends continued laughing for a while, applauding your lack of hesitation, and it didnât take too much before they started teasing him for his sudden silence.
But what could he say?
You leave him speechless.
.
.
Taglist: @simpdeaether @sleepy-gamer-mom @deadflycomputerlogs @mysstical-siren @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf @hello-gloomy @the-sassiest-toaster @hero-nii-blog @yourlocalyin @elaemae @eliciria @darkflowerav @ilovecandys2010 @ollieoven @kingofspadesdelusion @whimsybloom @mia4gotcookiez
#obey me#obey me! shall we date?#om! shall we date#om! swd#obey me lucifer#obey me lucifer x mc#obey me lucifer x reader#lucifer x mc#lucifer x reader#obey me mammon#obey me mammon x reader#obey me mammon x mc#mammon x mc#mammon x reader#obey me leviathan#obey me levi#obey me levi x reader#obey me levi x mc#leviathan x mc#leviathan x reader#levi x mc#levi x reader#obey me fluff#obey me x reader#obey me x gender neutral reader#obey me x gn!reader#obey me x gn!mc#obey me fanfic#obey me writing
520 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Obey me! Headcanons
Summary: Headcanons of things that weren't addressed/were rushed through or things from the game I wish were in there. Also includes headcanons I created or enjoyed from other authors.
Rating: horror, hurt, comfort, mature
Warnings: This fic contains spoilers for the entire original Obey me! campaign, one mention of Nightbringer. This fic is SFW but contains violence. Cryptids are mentioned and gone in depth aboout
It takes all seven packs to regain your human form, residing in your sheep form until you make the last pack with Lucifer. We all know that Mc only wears a little tie in their sheep form, so it's debatable that they'll be wearing clothing when they regain their humanity.
mc either has a curse or a divine blessing(you get to choose, yay!) due to their ancestry. This decides your overall luck and life path; to be cursed is to suffer, and to be blessed is to suffer. Both paths will lead you to the same outcome. Your actions in the human world decide your fate, though you won't ever make it to heaven. Your ties to the underworld will always land you in hell; God is not a fair being. Humans are inherently sinful beings; This, of course, is because Eve ate the apple.
The ring of light is burned into your skin; it must permanently stay attached to you to hold your power back from disrupting the three realms; if it comes off, the hole ripped in the universe will only continue to grow.
You have physical marks to show your pact, and the area they reside in is decided upon by the demon you've made a pact with. When you feel the effects of a sin, such as pride upon praise, the pact mark will begin to burn or ache. Depending on the location and which demon the pact belongs to, the pain will be different. ranging from a sharp stabbing pain to the feeling of somebody cutting across your skin with a rusted blade. in addition to that, when you are wrapped up in sin, the brother who it belongs to will know that you are feeling their sin.
You would be immediately suspicious of Belphie when meeting him in the attic. He clearly is no human, and Lucifer's behavior around the door contributed to your suspicions. You were wary over the situation in the attic, unsure if Belphegor genuinely was a human. Discovering the photo of Belphie with Beel, you thought about leaving him in the attic, but after seeing how his absence affected Beel, you resolved to reconnect them.
Mc has trouble ingesting the Demonic foods served to them, often feeling sick after eating or being afflicted with food poisoning.
About lesson 16, it would've taken much more time for MC to get acquainted with Belphie and even more to genuinely feel safe alone with him. Mc fully understands Belphie's actions and the reasons behind the attack, but that doesn't stop them from feeling afraid of Belphie. Mc would have nightmares for quite a while, the hatred he had for them ingraved in their mind.
Mc probably gets made fun of or ridiculed to an extent by outsider demons, detested for being a human, or the center of a jealous tangent. During your first few weeks at RAD, you would be unable to escape the whispers and eyes behind your back.
Devildom days are much longer than human world days, spanning to about 48 hours. At first, you can hardly find a way to function, barely staying awake in class and passing out on the couch after school. You'd drink energy drinks and hellish coffee to boost your performance, but every day, you'd drop your bookbag and fall face-first onto the couch.
The weather is quite extreme down below. The devildom is separate from the seven rings of hell, where hellfire burns brightly. In the Devildom it's actually quite cold, hence the need for multiple layers.
Mcs memory was lost apon travelling to the Devildom, later when they regain their memories through a painstakingly long year their personality undergoes a change.
The brothers are pretty clueless about human biology, being unsure if a bloody nose will kill MC. They could kill you if they were just rough enough, so it makes sense why they see you as more delicate than you actually are. To the boys, you're just a little lamb that needs a shepherd. The bare reality is that you are a very capable sorcerer; you can defend yourself in a situation where you're attacked by a demon or even a human.
Throughout the entire campaign, Solomon has been teaching you magic. By the end of the school year, when you're supposed to return to the human realm, you have amassed quite the power as well as the skill of utilizing that power. You can summon the boys, draw out their power to use as your own, summon magical weapons, cast spells, inflict blessings and curses, summon and cast without chanting, and use magic in other ways.
The brothers are well-versed in Devildom and celestial history but are fairly uneducated about human history and achievements. They're often surprised when you speak of major historical events in the human world. When they learned of the bible, they were extremely curious of human interpretation. They would say humans "got it wrong" when referring to some events, laughing at some of the mistranslations.
Cryptids and folklore monsters typically exist, having passage from the Devildom directly into the human world. Some cyptids are lost in stories, their figures being misconstrewed or evolved over the years of a retold story. These beasts are often different than how they were depicted in human media; for example, wendigos are not some lanky creature with a deer skull, that is fiction. Wendigos are the manifestation of a loss of humanity. Native Americans more accurately depict the creature as an emaciated corpse-like monster. It bears sucken eyes, its ribs protrude, it seems to be human but behaves exclusively like an animal, and their skin takes on a frost-bitten state. Wendigos are creatures that were once human, tainted by their hunger for survival, the cause of this state is the devouring of human flesh. Many other cryptids, such as wolfmen or humanoid creatures, are a reality for denizens.
After they've gone back to the human realm, Mc is stalked by multiple demonic entities. A human being in hell is unheard of, especially if they're still alive, which creates a large target on your back. Your life as you know it will never be the same,
Authors note; if you wish to see any of these topics in a full fledged fic or in more depth, let me know.
#obey me#obey me mc#obey me lucifer#obey me shall we date#obey me x reader#obey me hcs#hc#headcanon#obey me nightbringer
501 notes
¡
View notes
Text
â˘The Queen of Cursesâ˘
Part 1 / Part 2
(Ok So think of this as like a Sukuna wins and everyone dies AU lol. True form! Sukuna. Added the cursed blood bath for no reason. Suggestive, titty stuff but that's it, MDNI, She/her reader, no use of Y/N)

Sukuna didn't rein over the Heian Era alone. It was always him and his lover, burning and slaughtering together. Their love for eachother was well known across the land. People knew not to be fooled by her less intimidating looks (in comparison to her husband) for she was just as brutal and heartless as he.Â
All that changed when sorcerers from the era used all they're combined might to seal the Curse Queen inside a small cursed object, formed only from the combined sacrificed corpses of their comrades.Â
They knew that the only way to defeat the King and Queen was to separate them and they succeeded. After hearing of the fate of his lover Sukuna flew into a blind rage leading to his own defeat at the hands of the same sorcerers.
One thousand years of relative peace passed with the two lovers separated but still yearning for each other.Â
Luckily for the lovers, the ever devoted Uraume never stopped looking for a way to set their masters free. After centuries of searching and begrudgingly accepting a little help from Kenjaku, they finally found the cursed object that their Queen had been trapped in, a simple orb a little bigger than a tennis ball. It made Uraume's stomach turn thinking of such a powerful force being shoved into such a small thing. They carried the black orb with them everywhere while continuing the plot to releasing Sukuna. They found themselves whispering to it, compelled by the obsidian globe. They didn't know if their master could hear but they felt like it was right, like they could almost sense their masters overwhelming aura, compelling them to spill out everything they know. So Uraume spoke to it quite a lot, telling the dark orb and the beast inside about Sukuna's fate, about the new world, about Kenjaku and the plan to free her and her lover.Â
The plan that finally comes to fruition. Sukuna is freed, his true form is restored in all its glory and hes wreaked havoc on most of Shibuya just as a warm up. Uraume kneels before him.
"Master Sukuna."
 They say bowing their head.
 "Hmm?"Â
Sukuna hums an acknowledgement, eyeing them with contempt.Â
Uraume brings the dark crystal like ball out of their loose robes and holds it up, presenting it to their king. "Now, with your power fully restored we can release the Queen from her containment."
Sukuna stares at the ball in the sorcerers hand and gestures for Uraume to give it to him. He holds it as gently as his colossal hand is able to. It seems to get hotter in his hand, so hot it would surely sear the skin of a mortal. He pears into the orb only seeing his reflection in it, the Curse king nods to Uraume. He places it on the ground and they both step back, arms reaching out towards the orb on the ground.
In unison they both let out powerful blasts of cursed energy aiming right at the cursed seal. Strong streams of power, one white hot and the other pearcing cold, the orb starts to crack emitting a glowing white light. "It's breaking! Don't stop!" Sukuna orders and Uraume grunts but dutifully follows orders. The cracks grow wider and the light shines brighter before it's too blinding and they both cover their eyes as a powerful blast pierces the air.
In the settling dust stands a figure that's all too familiar to the both of them. They both watch as the figure shifts, leaning back and stretching their arms above their head, releasing a groan that is appropriate for someone who hasn't been able to move much in a thousand years. When the woman finally turns to Sukuna she sighs and smiles, letting out a relieved huff. Sukuna grins triumphantly and opens all four of his arms expecting a tide of thankful affection from his lover. When she takes the first few steps towards him her smile starts to waver until it's down to a grimace. Sukuna tenses as her eyes darken. He opens his mouth to ask what's the matter as she walks up to him and-
*SLAP*
Silence envelops the already desolate atmosphere. Sukuna's head is turned to the side, his eyes wide. He blinks before glaring at the offender with a look that could kill. She stares up at him with eyes just as deadly.Â
"HOW COULD YOU LEAVE ME IN THAT FUCKING BALL FOR SO LONG!!?"
Sukuna stares with his mouth open for a second genuinely shocked into silence until that second is over and he responds with equal vitriol.Â
" HUH?! THAT WAS YOUR OWN FAULT WOMEN! DONT BE UNGRATEFUL!"Â
The two fiery curses glare at each other with such violent intent, the very air around them heats up.Â
"WHAT KIND OF SHITTY HUSBAND ALLOWS HIS OWN WIFE TO GET SEALED!"
"YOU CAN'T BLAME ME FOR THAT! DIDN'T I JUST SET YOU FREE?"
"DONT TAKE ALL THE CREDIT YOU BASTARD! URAUME'S THE ONE WHO-"Â
As if the women just remembered that the other sorcerer exists, she turns around and there her loyal subject is, kneeling in her presence.Â
" Welcome back master, it's good to see you"Â
The woman's face brightens up immediately, "Uraume~" She sings running up to the sorcerer and lifting them into a bone crushing hug that would've killed a lesser being. "Oh, Thank you Uraume. My dutiful subject, you did so good." The Curse Queen coos at the sorcerer, squishing their face into her chest and stroking their duel coloured hair. Uraume doesn't hug back as to be respectful of their superior but they don't push back either, just letting their master man-handle (woman-handle?) them.Â
Sukuna clicks his tongue at the show of affection and crosses two of his massive arms over his chest. No doubt in disbelief that HIS wife doesn't embrace HIM first after a thousand years spent apart.
The wife in question turns to him with Uraume still in her arms, an irritated look on her face.Â
"What's your problem?"Â
"My problem is that MY wife is being an ungrateful bitch."Â
The benevolent woman stills and Uraume peers up at her from their place, nestled into the cleavage of her loose fitting kimono. The woman sets Uraume down onto the ground gently. She breathes a heavy sigh and in less that a second she's on Sukuna throwing a mass of red hot cursed energy right into his face. He blocks it in time and is able to keep blocking her continuous fast attacks. She gets frustrated and lets out a powerful blast that shakes the earth and forces him to jump back to avoid the blast.
She laughs with relief, finally being able to let out all that pent up cursed energy feels amazing. Her tattoos (similar to Sukuna's but not quite the same) almost seem to glow with the immense energy output being let off from her body. Only the tattoos on her face, neck and wrists are visible but Sukuna knows very well what the rest looks like, having traced every inch of ink with his fingers.
Sukuna takes the opportunity while she's distracted by the pure euphoria of letting her energy loose and comes barreling towards her, she can't react before he tackles her to the ground. He pins her hands down with two of his hands and another goes to roughly grab her jaw.
"Does it feel good to finally let off some steam, Baby?"Â
The king of curses teasingly remarks from above her.
"Baby? That's new." She questions with a teasing grin. Her words are a bit slurred from the way her husband is holding her jaw.
"Might as well get with the times." He bites back with an even more cocksure grin. She scratches and kicks at him and bites at his hand. With all her concentration she channels the sheer amount of pent up cursed energy in her body and lets it burst out in a deafening blast that knocks Sukuna off of her. Static reverberates in the air.
In the few seconds it takes for him to recover she takes the opportunity to pounce on him pinning him to the ground. Grinning from her place above him her heavy breaths and beating heart match his. Her crazy, alert eyes meet four others with the same sentiment.
"I missed you so fucking much." Sukuna says before he pulls her by her robes into a deep kiss. The kiss is somehow aggressive and sensual.
Two of Sukuna's massive hands go to her waist and thigh holding her body to his as he sits up. The third hand is on the floor for balance and the last is tangled in her hair pressing her further into the kiss, as if that's even possible. Both Cursed beings are glad that they don't need to breath or else they surely would have suffocated each other by now.Â
The queen of curses has never been more pleased by the fact that her husband doesn't seem to know what a shirt is. Sukuna has voiced many times that he wished his wife shared the same sentiments only for her to scoff at the suggestion, although, now she thinks the idea is one of the best he's ever had.
They fight for dominance with their tongues. Still locked in the passionate sloppy kiss the woman unlatches her hands from his hair to slip off the robes she was wearing over a loose fitting kimono. She unwraps the black accented white Kimono, rather slowly in sukunas opinion to let her breasts fall free to the warm air.Â
Sukuna releases his mouth from hers, licking his spit slicked lips to stare down at his beautiful wife's beautiful tits.
"Yeah, remember these are mine. Only mine." Sukuna grumbles lowly before smooshing his face right between them, sighing deeply like a thousand year old itch has finally been scratched.
"Aww, is RyĹ a little jealous?" The woman preens in a patronising manner while lightly stroking his fluffy hair.
"Poor baby~" She coos, repeating the pet name he used for her. Her teasing only gets a glare and a growl from the beast of a man currently buried in her tits, holding her impossibly closer to his face.
She chuckles down at him, a loving yet menacing look in her eyes.
"Well maybe I should let Uraume- where did they go?"
She looks around the scorched city landscape looking for her white haired subordinate and as if they heard her words summoning them they appear with a respectful bow.
"I have made the preparations for your bath."
"Thank you, Uraume~"
The woman beams and turns to the man who is still occupied with her tits, he's now picked a tit to suckle on, fondling the other in his rough hand.
"come now Ryo, it's time for our bath." She says curtly and the man groans with his mouth full, absolutely dreading even the idea of his tongue leaving the hardened nipple he's been sucking on. If the two objects poking her ass are any indication if it was up to him they would never get to the blood bath Uraume so kindly set up for them.
She tries standing up and pulling away but the man is latched on tightly, all four arms clutching around her as if they never want to be an inch apart from her again. The more she struggles the bigger the two chubs in his pants grow. She sighs and struggles once more.
"Uraume planned this out very nicely for us, Ryomen. Just do what I say Damnit!"
She pulls at his hair and he bites down on her tit in response, earning a yelp and a harsh smack on the head from her. He laughs, not with the mouth on her tit but with the mouth on his stomach. She peers down at it, as if she just remembered it's there. Without wasting more time she grabs the large tongue crushing it with her grip and tugging on it hard.
Sukuna releases her tit to yell out in pain.
"OW, WOMAN! You should be grateful for every ounce of attention I give you! OW!"
As Sukuna rages, she snorts and jumps out of his now loosened arms. Turning her back to him, she approaches the other sorcerer who's head is still bowed.
"Uraume, would you kindly show me to my bath?"
"Of course, Master"
Uraume stands and bows their head. Holding out their arm for their Queen.
She holds onto Uraume's arm, purposely squishing her still exposed breasts into the sorcerer's side as she smiles down at them.
"I guess we'll have the bath all to ourselves then, Uraume~"
Uraume closes their eyes with a knowing smile and nods in response, very accustomed to the games the two lovers would play with each other, often forcing them right in the middle. Their Queen would often promise that she'd one day make Uraume flustered, something that to this day has yet to occur.
The sorcerer doesn't even flinch at their powerful master fawning over them, stroking their arm and pressing her now marked up tits closer into them as the two walk off towards the bath Uraume prepared.
"HEY!! WHAT THE HELL!?? URAUME!"
Sukuna sits in disbelief at his wife's antics. As if he's only now remembering what a tease she is and has always been.
His wife looks back at him over her shoulder, she shrugs her kimono off her shoulder, exposing her tattooed shoulder to him before turning back to Uraume snickering.
Sukuna huffs and grins, shaking his head. He's so fucking happy to have his wife back.

(AN: I was originally planning to make this smut but... It just got away from međđ sooo... Maybe in a part two? đđ)
#this art of Sukuna will live in my head forever now btw#Uraume my beloved#jjk x reader#sukuna#sukuna x reader#sukuna ryomen smut#sukuna scenarios#jjk smut#jjk sukuna#true form sukuna#uraume#uraume x reader#queen of curses
5K notes
¡
View notes
Note
Recently got into the walking dead and let me just say iâm obsessed with your carl fics. Itâs alarming how many times iâve read them lmao.
CLINGY c.grimes

 â WORD COUNT - 2.4K



CARL GRIMES X FEM!READER
 â SUMMARY - being clingy was the most natural thing in you and carl's relationship after all the trauma you'd both endured. but when things get too much for carl, he shuts you out, leaving you to assume only the worst.
 â WARNINGS - clingy relationship, crying, blood, gore, mentions of death, walkers, mean!carl, yelling, stress, mentions of violence, weapons, (2) use of y/n, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread đЎ

clingy was a word you had much distaste for.
when the world literally ended, there wasn't much to do aside from survive and hold onto your loved ones. you'd been alone so long, people slowly falling, dying, leaving. before you knew it, it was just you and the group you'd found. well, they'd found you.
more specifically, he'd found you.
the boy with the sheriff's hat, eyeing you with his gun in the air. you made no sudden movements, eyes cast down on the ground as if you didn't care whether or not the bullet would fly from his gun.
it was just you in the house they'd raided. you didn't have a family, nor a group. just you, covered in blood, starved and in a kind of fetal position, knees pressed against your chest as you eyed the pool of blood surrounding you. some of your own, some from the ones before.
when you'd met the group, you had nothing. dead parents, dead siblings, nothing seemed to matter anymore. the world was gone, the people you loved either dead, taking the easy way out or leaving it to the walkers. or perhaps they'd left you, walking out when things got tough, leaving you and the remains of your family behind.
the screams from outside of the house would alert you of their soon fate afterwards.
you opened up, albeit it was slow.
you liked to believe there was an instant connection between you and the boy. he lowered his gun almost instantly, realising you weren't a threat behind the blood and glassy eyes. how he'd known, you weren't sure. he just did.
he rushed towards you, calling downstairs for his father in a panic.
you didn't speak much at first, staring when he'd offered his name. carl grimes. the boy you'd soon learn to love.
and with time, you made a new family. daryl dixon was a good idea for a father, you soon learned, carol sort of alike a mother when she snuck you an extra one of her homemade cookies.
you lost others, more fell. but you and carl never frayed.
rick and michonne would always catch you together, smiling and looking at one another knowingly. it was safe to say that it was no surprise when carl announced you were together. after all, you were practically joined by the hip.
this brings us back to the beginning. the word clingy.
you hated the word as much as you hated the death surrounding you. could anyone truly be clingy in a world like this? is anyone really too much? you liked to believe that there was no such thing as too much anymore. people died, left, separated. any day could be someone's last. you'd prefer to know that you'd spent all the time with them as you could.
if that was clingy, then so be it.
carl was used to this side of you, he catered to it, if anything, he matched it. he was used to the way you laid against him, talking lowly as he went about his tasks.
there was a grey cloud looming over alexandria at a time like this. the survivors were getting more powerful and it was plaguing carl's mind. you did your best to be as gentle as you possibly could, attempting to console the boy but it seemed no matter what you did, he would find himself bubbling over with anger.
"will you pass me the carving knife?" he cut you off mid-speech, ignoring the way your lips instantly shut closed, eyes searching your side of the table.
you weren't hanging from the boy as you usually were, picking at his hands and fingers, playing with them as though they were dough. you weren't snuggling into him while he placed his arm around you. your normal routine simply didn't exist with the past week or so.
but if space was what he needed, you were more than happy to offer that to him. "okay." you mumbled, picking up the knife you thought was the carving knife and passing it to him.
you didn't know much about knives and guns, usually sitting your head on your knees and listening to the boy speak about them. yet, every time he told you what was what and their intent, everything went in one ear and out the other. he'd often admire the way you asked a thousand questions over, one's he'd already answered. he'd only smile, answering them again.
now you realised perhaps you should have been listening.
apparently, you'd passed him the wrong one. you heard what you assumed was a swear pass his lips in a whisper as he placed the knife back to the table roughly. "what's wrong?" you questioned softly, watching him pick up a thinner knife, sanding it down with the block in his hand.
"got the wrong one." but his voice was anything but the gentle carl you knew and loved. this one was sort of mean, a tone of anger behind his words. "how many times have i explained all of them to you? i mean, you still don't know, seriously?"
it seemed as though the dark cloud over alexandria had moved into the room belonging to carl grimes. you found yourself sneaking your knees closer to your chest, just like the day he'd found you. "sorry." you mumbled, glancing away.
confrontation wasn't exactly your fortĂŠ.
it didn't help that fighting with carl was a rare experience. "maybe if you just listened to me every now and again we wouldn't have this problem."
offence took over your face, brows knitting together. "I do listen to you." but when he talked about things like knives and guns it was sort of hard for you to keep up.
a scoff left his lips. "sure you do." angry carl never failed to show you a different side of the boy you loved.
you stared at him in shock, wondering where the sudden attitude towards you was coming from. you knew he was stressed, understood it even but you'd done nothing to deserve the hatred being thrown your way.
that was when the shaky, "why're you being so mean?" left your lips.
like i said, confrontation wasn't something you practiced often. you were sort of unsure of where to go in this situation.
carl breathed out a ragged breath, practically throwing the tools onto the table. you jumped slightly, staring at him with widened eyes. "maybe you're the one being too clingy." his eyes stared into yours but they didn't look like the ones you'd fallen for so deeply. "just..." breathing through his nose. "just leave me alone for a bit, yeah?"
clearly, he wasn't in the mood for any of this.
and neither were you.
you spoke no words as you quickly scooped up the bag on the ground, making a haste exit towards the door. the sound of a quick sniffle before you shut the door closed was enough for the weighing bricks to fall down on carl.
the sudden severity of the situation dawned on the boy.
he'd made you cry.
and he swore never to be the cause of your tears.
he didn't run after you, though, much too caught up in his own head. the stress of the entire situation of the saviours was weighing on him too. he crashed his elbows onto the table, shoving his head between his hands and groaning. he wondered if he'd ever get anything right.
before he could get too far with the self pity, his bedroom door swung open to reveal his father.
"what was that?" the older man questioned, not giving a clue to what he was talking about. but carl could guess. "y/n just ran out of here crying, you have somethin' to do with that?"
in a moment like this, disappointed dad gazing at him, carl would have done anything to wipe that look off his face. "dad, you don't get itâ" about to explain himself, weave out of whatever this was.
"i don't care." was the answer he gave, having better things to be doing than sorting out this teenage relationship himself. "fix it." and finally slamming the door.
rick always taught carl how respect worked, he punished him when he was wrong, rewarded him when he was right. he didn't teach him to act like this.
it was night fall when carl finally found himself walking around the town of alexandria. he was sort of hoping you were out here instead of back at home for he really didn't feel like speaking to daryl at the door and asking were you home. however, he searched every nook and cranny, every place you usually went when you were upset and yet he walked back empty handed, realising you definitely hadn't been outside.
finally, he found himself standing on your doorstep, sucking in a breath before knocking on the white door, the light from above shining down on his face making him squint.
the door opened to reveal carol, thankfully not daryl. carl really couldn't imagine what daryl would have to say to him right about now. he just hoped he was out hunting somewhere or other, at least then he wouldn't get the urge to haul the boy off his front porch.
"y/n?" is all carol questioned, she was dressed in her own hunting attire and carl could only guess that she was on her way out too.
he pressed his lips into a thin line. "she home."
the woman nodded. "upstairs." before swapping places with the boy, making her way outside while inviting him in. "carl." he looked towards her. "don't make me regret leaving you inside."
he only nodded, allowing her to close the door from the outside.
finally, the silence of your house enveloped him.
you, carol and daryl all lived in the same two story house but sometimes it seemed only you lived here. all the decorations were your work, pictures and photo frames, some of before, some of now, everything screamed... you.
it was that cosiness about you that made him fall for you all that time ago.
his boots found the stairs, making his way up and finding your bedroom door, the last door on the right hallway.
your door was white, a brass handle leading him into the room he'd seen a thousand times before.
he'd imagine your room at the other side of the door, pretty pink bedsheets with matching curtains. he'd found the curtains for you on a separate occasion, you'd been over the moon. and the pretty lights that decorated your walls along with the picture frames and the stuffed animal he'd found tucked away in your bloodied back so long ago, now fresh against your bed.
a sort of comfort from the world before.
he knocked, receiving no answer.
"sweetheart? it's carl." again, he was met with the mere silence as his fingertips hung heavy against the door handle. "i'm coming in, okay?" it wasn't a question, more like a warning.
when he did walk in, he was met with a sight he'd seen before.
tears coating the edges of your eyes, sitting criss-cross legged on your bed in your favourite pijamas, pretty stuffed toy between your legs. carl had seen this before, held you through it, comforted you and swore that whoever hurt you would pay. what was he to do now when he was the cause of your sorrow?
"hey, baby." his tone was as gentle as could be, making his way to sit next to you on the bed. "missed you."
you two were so different.
carl had the stubbornness of a mule, when things got tough he found it awfully hard to apologise, not that he ever had to do it much. though, he'd much prefer for everything to disappear in a blink of an eye, forget everything ever happened and go back to the way you two were.
and when you were upset? you shut off.
"i was thinking..." still avoiding the two words that would seemingly make it all okay. "maybe next week we can go someplace? find somewhere to hang out for the weekend, like a night away." his words prodded no reaction from you. "how's that sound, angel?"
a shrug was the only thing he was met with.
your glassy eyes strayed far from his, not even attempting to look him in the eyes. he sighed, unsure of where to go. "look at me, sweet girl." long fingers entrapping your chin and turning it towards him.
there was a pang of guilt as he looked in your glassy red eyes, evidence that you'd been crying earlier that day. and he'd been the cause of it.
finally, the long awaited. "I'm sorry." and carl the stubborn mule grimes didn't just apologise to anyone. "shouldn't have talked to you liked that, c'mere." in a time like this, all you needed was comfort, that was what compelled you to move with his hands, climbing into his lap. the sound of your soft cries soon filled his ears. "i know, i know, 'm so sorry." hand rubbing circles against your back, holding you close.
you didn't mean to cry the way you did, but the weight of the day collapsing on you was enough for you to cling to the boy.
you buried your head in the crook of his neck, wisps of his own hair in front of your face, his hat steady on his head as he held you so gently, as though you were made of glass.
a wobble of your bottom lip as you pulled away from the boy, holding your hands up to your face as if to shield yourself. there was something so scary about him seeing you cry. "i didn't..." your own voice cracking. "i didn't mean to be clingy."
his heart quite literally shattered.
"no, no." his voice sort of high pitched as he pulled your hands from your face. "no, you're not, sweetheart, i promise you're not."
you sniffled at the boy. "but you saidâ"
carl couldn't dare to hear the rest of such a sentence. "i didn't mean it, baby, i promise." he pulled you back towards his chest, head finding his neck again only this time you didn't cry as hard, mere sniffles leaving your nose. "was bein' an asshole, baby, 'm so sorry."
it'd take a while for you to believe him.
but he'd do whatever it took.

main masterlist/carl's masterlist
#carl#grimes#carl grimes#carl x reader#carl grimes x reader#carl x you#carl grimes x you#carl x y/n#carl grimes x y/n#carl imagine#carl grimes imagine#carl grimes drabble#carl grimes oneshot#carl grimes smut#carl grimes fluff#carl grimes angst#carl drabble#carl oneshot#carl smut#carl fluff#carl angst#the walking dead#twd#twd x reader#twd x y/n#twd x you#twd imagine#twd fluff#twd angst#twd oneshot
1K notes
¡
View notes
Note
HIHI i read your jungwon hogwarts au just now ( i had been planning to read it for a while now ) AND IT WAS SO GOOOOODD đđŤśđťâźď¸ also your ni-ki ones were insanely good too đĽšđŤśđť i wanted to ask maybe if you have time could write another jungwon hogwarts au? Sorry if its too much ! Thank you forr reading and have a great day/night ahead ^^
Hogwarts in Fur - Y.J

OMG THANK YOU!! This made my day fr. I am very happy that you liked them! its not too much! really :) have a great day and please enjoy this one <3
P: Hufflepuff!Jungwon X Fem!Reader
Warnings: Fluff, Love Confessions.
Synopsis: After years of secretly admiring your brother's friend Jungwon, a mysterious and overly affectionate black cat appears just after Jungwon goes missing. Now who does this cat belong to? Why does your brother seem nervous? And most importantly, where has Jungwon gone?
masterlist
/á Ëľ> Ë <Ëľă
You weren't best friends with your brother. As siblings, you had a tendency to bicker, picking fights over the smallest thingsâwhose turn it was to set the table, who had borrowed whose stuff without asking. It was just how things were, and neither of you made much effort to change that. So when the Hogwarts acceptance letters arrived for the both of you, the thought of being sorted into the same house made you cringe.
You couldnât imagine anything worse than sharing a common room with him, dealing with his sarcastic comments every day, or worse, being seen together like you were⌠friends. Fortunately, fate, or the Sorting Hat, was on your side. He ended up in one house, and you in another. The relief was instant. You thought that would be the end of it, and the two of you would drift along separate paths without much need to cross each otherâs.
At least, thatâs what you thought until you saw one of his friends.
It was always by chanceâmaybe you were walking through the courtyard or passing through the Great Hallâbut there he was, standing next to your brother, laughing with that damn dimpled smile. His laugh was low and smooth, something that caught your ear and refused to let go. Your gaze lingered longer than youâd care to admit, taking in the confident way he leaned against the stone wall, the way his eyes sparkled with mischief.
And you couldnât help but wonder why your brother, of all people, got to be friends with him.
You didnât really mean to end up meeting your brotherâs friendâdefinitely not after youâd spent years pointedly ignoring their group whenever you saw them in the halls. But here you were, sitting in the library with your brother, who had been pestering you for daysâbegging, reallyâabout helping him in Transfiguration. At first, you ignored him, telling him to figure it out on his own like everyone else.
He had struggled with some spell that McGonagall had been drilling the class on, and though you initially refused (because who really wanted to give up their free time to help their sibling?), his relentless begging finally wore you down.
"Okay, okay, fine!" you had snapped. "Iâll help you, just stop whining about it."
Now, watching your brother fail the same transformation for the tenth time, you were starting to regret your decision. "No, youâre flicking your wand too fast," you muttered, rubbing your temple. "Itâs not a race, slow down and say the incantation clearly."
He groaned, clearly frustrated. "I am doing it right! Youâre just a bad teacher!"
You shot him a sharp look, your patience already worn thin from the past hour of back-and-forth bickering. "Oh really? So itâs my fault you canât turn a teacup into a tortoise?"
He slumped further into the chair, muttering under his breath while absentmindedly tapping his quill against the desk. You narrowed your eyes at him, watching as he lazily flicked through his notes without even looking at you.
âAre you even paying attention?â you snapped, crossing your arms. âOr is this just a waste of both our time?â
He shrugged, not even bothering to lift his head. "Iâm trying! Itâs not like youâre explaining it any better than Professor McGonagall does."
You sighed, rubbing the bridge of your nose in frustration. "Maybe if you focused for five seconds instead of acting like this is some kind of joke, youâd actually get it."
He shot you a glare, the frustration clearly mutual. "Maybe if you werenât so bossy, I wouldnât have to!"
"Youâre the one who begged me for help!" you snapped back. "If you donât want it, just say so and Iâll leave."
For a second, there was silence between you, both of you glaring at each other.
âHey, sorry to barge in. I didnât know youâd be here.â
You looked up, and there he was - Yang Jungwon. He was standing next to your brother, a relaxed grin on his face as if he hadnât just disrupted the painfully slow progress of your study session.
Your brother immediately perked up. âOh, hey, Jungwon! Iâll be done in like⌠five minutes?â he said, casting a hopeful glance at you.
Jungwonâs eyes flickered over to you, curiosity lighting them up. âOh, I didnât know you had a tutor,â he teased, sliding into the chair opposite yours without waiting for an invitation.
You opened your mouth to retort that you werenât a tutor, but your brother jumped in first. âYeah, lucky me, right?â he said, grinning cheekily, ignoring the way you glared at him.
Jungwon chuckled softly, leaning back as though he had all the time in the world. âIâm Yang Jungwon, by the way,â he said, his gaze finally locking onto yours, and you couldnât help but notice the warmth in his voice.
âYeah, I know,â you replied, trying to sound indifferent but feeling a little thrown off. You hadnât expected him to show up here of all places.
âSo, what are you two studying? Transfiguration, right?â Jungwon asked, glancing at the textbook.
âTrying to,â you said, emphasizing the word as you shot a look at your brother. âThough, heâs not exactly the best student.â
Jungwon laughed, the sound easy and light, and you found yourself listening a little too closely. âIâm sure youâre doing fine. You always manage, donât you?â he teased your brother, though his eyes kept flickering back to you. There was something in his gazeâcuriosity, maybe, or amusementâthat made it hard to look away.
You tried to refocus on your brother, but the atmosphere had shifted with Jungwonâs presence. And your brother seemed all too happy to let the tutoring session come to an abrupt end. Before you realized what was happening, he had packed up his things, slipping his quill and parchment into his bag with quick, practiced movements.
âWaitâhey, weâre not done,â you said, standing up from your seat, your voice carrying more frustration than intended.
Your brother shot you a cheeky grin, already halfway out the door with Jungwon by his side. âIâll finish it eventually!" he called back, not even glancing over his shoulder.
You opened your mouth to protest further, but it was too late. The door shut with a soft click, and the sounds of their fading footsteps echoed down the hallway. You let out an exasperated sigh, sinking back into your chair, the weight of unfinished work settling on your shoulders.
Just as you were about to lay your head on the desk in defeat, you caught sight of Madam Pince, walking by with her usual stern expression. She stopped next to your table, clutching a book in her hands. âItâs a struggle, isnât it?â she said, her voice softer than expected, though there was an unmistakable air of disapproval about her.
You blinked at her, still frustrated. âYeah, something like that.â
Without another word, she handed you a thick, worn-out book youâd requested earlierâone you had specifically asked for to help your brother with his Transfiguration problems. The irony wasnât lost on you as you stared at the cover.
"Hereâs the book you asked for," Madam Pince added. "I hope it helps."
"Thanks," you muttered, though your enthusiasm had drained. The moment she left, you groaned and let your head fall onto the desk with a thud.
Typical. Your brother was off having fun while you were stuck with the work he was supposed to be doing. Just your luck.
/á Ëľ> Ë <Ëľă
The next day, you headed to the courtyard, spotting your brother lounging with a group of his friendsâJungwon included. You took a deep breath, trying to suppress the irritation bubbling up as you approached. In your hand was a rolled-up assignment for Transfiguration that he had yet to complete, and you werenât about to let him get away with neglecting it.
âHey,â you said, walking up to the group and dropping the assignment on his lap. âYou need to finish this by tomorrow, or Professor McGonagallâs going to have your head.â
Your brother groaned dramatically but grabbed the parchment anyway. You were about to turn and leave when you noticed some of his friends eyeing you, their teasing smiles quickly making you uncomfortable.
âHey, Y/Nâ one of them said with a sly grin. âWhy havenât we seen you around more? You should join us sometime.â
Another chimed in, leaning in slightly. âYeah, maybe we could get to know you better. Bet youâre a lot more fun than your brother.â
You rolled your eyes, already tired of their attempts. But before you could respond, your brother cut in sharply. âOi, knock it off. Sheâs off-limits,â he said, his tone protective. âNo guyâs good enough for her.â
As much as you appreciated his overprotective attitude sometimes, this was one of those moments when it was more annoying than endearing. You crossed your arms and shot him a pointed look. âExcuse me? I decide when I want a boyfriend, and I sure donât need your approval.â
He scoffed, leaning back as if he had the upper hand. âYeah, well, you canât just pick any random guy. Iâm only looking out for you.â
You raised an eyebrow, your annoyance growing. âLooking out for me? Youâre just trying to scare off everyone. I can handle myself, thank you very much.â
The bickering began to escalate, the two of you going back and forth as his friends watched with barely concealed amusement. It wasnât until Jungwon, who had been watching quietly, stood up and approached that the argument came to an abrupt halt.
âAlright, thatâs enough of that,â Jungwon said with a calm smile, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. He grabbed your wrist, gently but firmly. âIâm walking her to her next class.â
You blinked, momentarily caught off guard, but before you could protest, he was already leading you away from the group. âYouâwait, whatââ
âTrust me,â he interrupted smoothly, glancing at you with that same easy smile, âyouâll thank me later.â
You reluctantly let him guide you through the courtyard, your brotherâs protests fading behind you. As you neared the Charms classroom, Jungwon slowed his pace, releasing your wrist and turning to face you.
âWell, here we are,â he said, his smile softening. Then, with a teasing tone, he added, âThough if you want me to walk you to class more often, all you have to do is ask.â
You raised an eyebrow, feeling your face heat up slightly at the unexpected flirtation. âVery smooth,â you muttered, trying to sound unimpressed, though the small smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.
Jungwon grinned, taking a step back. âI aim to please. See you around.â And with a casual wave, he walked off, leaving you standing at the door, your heart racing just a little faster than before.
The day after, you found out your brother had failed his Transfiguration lessonâagain. Much to your dismay, you heard about it through one of his friends who casually mentioned it in passing, as though it was no big deal.
When you finally confronted him in the courtyard, his response was as nonchalant as ever.
âI failed, so what?â he said, leaning back and shrugging. âIâll figure it out eventually. Itâs just one lesson.â
You crossed your arms, glaring at him. âYou do realize that if you fail again, Professor McGonagall will send a letter to our parents, right?â
That seemed to get his attention, but only for a moment. He still didnât look particularly bothered, which only made your frustration grow.
âAnd,â you continued, eyes narrowing, âyou wonât be allowed to continue playing Quidditch.â
His expression changed instantly, the casual attitude melting away as panic settled in. âWait, what?â
You smirked slightly, leaning in as if to drive the point home. âYeah. You think professor McGonagallâs going to let you get away with failing and still keep your spot on the team? Good luck with that.â
Your brother sat up straight, the reality of the situation sinking in. âButâQuidditch is⌠I canâtââ He ran a hand through his hair, looking genuinely worried now. âIf I canât play Quidditch, Iâll lose my spot for next year, and⌠and Mum and Dad will kill me if they find out Iâve been failing.â
You raised an eyebrow, enjoying the shift in power. âSo maybe you shouldâve taken our last session a little more seriously, huh?â
He shot you a desperate look, his usual bravado nowhere to be found. âAlright, fine! I get it. I messed up.â
You tilted your head, waiting for the inevitable.
âI need your help,â he admitted, his voice quieter now. âI canât afford to fail again, not with Quidditch on the line.â
You were just about to refuseâafter all, you had warned him plenty of times before. But before you could get the words out, he pleaded, âNo distractions this time. No friends, no tricks. Just me, focused, I swear. Please.â
You paused, arms crossed as you studied him. His expression was serious, and the desperation in his eyes was hard to ignore. It was a rare sightâyour brother begging for your help without any sarcasm or half-hearted promises.
âI donât know,â you said, pretending to think it over. âWhatâs in it for me?â
He groaned but quickly recovered, realizing this was his last shot. âAnything! Iâll do anything you ask, alright? Just⌠please.â
You smiled smugly, relishing the moment. âAnything, huh?â
He nodded frantically, looking like heâd sell his soul at this point if it meant saving his Quidditch spot.
âAlright,â you said, a slow grin spreading across your face. âIâll help you⌠but Iâll be cashing in on that âanythingâ promise sooner or later.â
He sighed in relief, though there was a hint of hesitation in his expression. âFine, whatever you want.â
You smirked, feeling the upper hand. âDeal.â
True to his word, your brother showed up to the library that evening, looking more focused than youâd ever seen him when it came to schoolwork. He set his books and wand down on the table, already prepared to start, though you could still sense a bit of reluctance in his posture.
âAlright,â you said, sitting across from him and opening the Transfiguration book to the chapter on animal transformations. âNo distractions. No shortcuts. Youâre going to get this right if itâs the last thing I do.â
He nodded, swallowing hard. âIâll try.â
You pulled out a teacup, placing it in front of him as you tapped your fingers on the table. âOkay, you know the incantation. Focus on the form of the animal, not just the spell. Visualize it fully.â
He sighed, gripping his wand tightly. âI know, I know. Itâs just⌠hard.â
âNot an excuse,â you said, not letting him off the hook. âGo on.â
He took a deep breath, aiming his wand at the teacup. âVera Verto.â
The teacup shook slightly, wobbling on the table before it started to change shapeâslowly, very slowly. For a moment, it seemed like he might actually do it. But just as the teacup began to take the form of a small tortoise, it reverted back to its original state with a sharp clink.
He groaned, slumping back in his chair. âSee? I canât do it.â
âYouâre close,â you said, keeping your voice calm even though you were starting to get frustrated too. âYouâre overthinking the spell. Donât rush itâfocus on the animalâs form.â
He sat up straighter, taking a deep breath. âOkay, okay⌠letâs try again.â
Over the next hour, you guided him through the steps again and again, watching as he triedâand failedârepeatedly to get the teacup to fully transform. Each time, it got closer, but never quite there. Either the tortoise would have an odd shape, or the spell would falter halfway through.
Your patience started wearing thin, but you pushed through, determined to help him succeed.
âLook,â you said, leaning over the table and pointing at the page in the book. âYouâre rushing the incantation. Break it down, slower this time.â
He nodded, taking your advice seriously for once. He aimed his wand at the teacup again, this time speaking the spell more carefully, enunciating each word with deliberate focus. âVera Verto.â
The teacup quivered again, its edges shifting into a shell. Slowly, the handle morphed into a tiny, clawed foot. You both watched as the tortoiseâs form finally solidified. A small, slow-moving tortoise now sat on the table, blinking up at you.
Your brotherâs face lit up in surprise, his mouth falling open. âI did it?â
You couldnât help but smile, despite yourself. âYou actually did it.â
He beamed, picking up the tortoise carefully as if he couldnât believe it. âFinally! Merlinâs beard, I didnât think Iâd ever get it.â
âYeah, well,â you said, leaning back in your chair, âyou only got there because I was a great teacher.â
He snorted, setting the tortoise back on the table. âYeah, yeah, sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night.â
You raised an eyebrow, playfully swatting him on the arm. âDonât push your luck. Remember, you still owe me for this.â
He winced, but a grin tugged at his lips. âAlright, alright.â
You smirked, already plotting.
The next day, your brother returned from his Transfiguration class with a huge grin plastered on his face. He practically burst into the Grand Hall, eyes alight with excitement, and you knew immediately that something had gone well.
âI did it!â he exclaimed, rushing over to where you were seated. âI actually did it!â
You raised an eyebrow, setting your book aside. âWait, you actually passed?â
âNot just passed,â he said, standing tall, practically puffing out his chest. âI nailed it! McGonagall didnât even have to correct me once. She even said it was one of the best transformations in class!â
You couldnât help but laugh at how giddy he looked, the tension from the past few days completely gone from his shoulders. âIâm impressed. I didnât think youâd pull it off, honestly.â
âHey, Iâm not that hopeless,â he shot back, but his smile stayed wide and bright. âBut seriously, thanks to you. If you hadnât made me practice all those times, Iâd still be failing.â
You smirked, giving him a mock-salute. âWell, thatâs what good teachers do. And, you know, you can keep playing Quidditch now, so I guess thatâs a bonus.â
At the mention of Quidditch, his excitement seemed to double. âYes! Merlin, if I had to quit the team, Iâd be dead. Thereâs no way Iâm telling Mum and Dad that I failed Transfiguration and got kicked off the team.â
You chuckled, watching him bounce on his feet like an overexcited first-year. âWell, you donât have to worry about that anymore. Now you can focus on your matches without McGonagall breathing down your neck.â
He nodded eagerly, practically vibrating with joy. âExactly! I canât wait for the next practice. Iâm going to crush it.â
You shook your head, amused at how his mood had completely flipped from just a few days ago. âJust remember to keep up with your studies, alright? Iâm not going to bail you out every time you forget to do your homework.â
He gave you a mock pout. âWhat, youâre not going to tutor me forever?â
âNot a chance,â you said, laughing. âIâve got my own work to focus on. Youâll just have to survive on your own from now on.â
He groaned dramatically but was clearly too happy to complain for real. âFine, fine. But seriously, thanks. I owe you big time.â
You grinned, leaning back in your chair. âIâll hold you to that.â
As he ran off to tell his friends the good news, you couldnât help but feel a little proud of him. Despite all the bickering and the endless complaints, he had finally pulled it off. And, in a way, it felt like a win for both of you.
/á Ëľ> Ë <Ëľă
The courtyard was buzzing with students enjoying a rare free afternoon, and your brother, now full of confidence from his recent success in Transfiguration, had taken it upon himself to show off his newfound skills. With a small group gathered around him, he cast spell after spell, transforming objects into animals with exaggerated flair. He was basking in the attention, especially from his friends, who cheered every time he succeeded.
"Watch this!" your brother said proudly, aiming his wand at a stray quill. âVera Verto!â
The quill shifted into a small, fluffy rabbit, hopping around on the cobblestone, much to the crowdâs delight. He grinned, feeling invincible now that he had McGonagallâs praise under his belt. Emboldened, he attempted another transformation, but his next spell shot out of his wand faster than he anticipated. It veered wildly across the courtyard, completely missing the intended target.
The errant spell flew in an arc, headed straight for the far end of the courtyard where Jungwon had just been walking, completely unaware of the chaotic show your brother was putting on. Before anyone could react, the spell hit Jungwon square in the back.
In a flash, the Hufflepuff boy wasnât standing there anymore.
Instead, a small black cat with bright, intelligent eyes stood in his place, looking confused for a split second. Jungwonâor rather, the cat that had been Jungwonâflicked his tail and darted away before anyone in the crowd could notice the commotion. He vanished between the hedges that lined the courtyard, disappearing into the maze of gardens beyond.
Your brother stood frozen for a moment, his eyes wide as he realized what had happened. One of his friends nudged him, oblivious to the seriousness of the situation. "Nicely done! What did you hit this time?"
âUhâŚâ he stammered, looking in the direction where Jungwon had been, but the cat was long gone. âI think I mightâve just⌠hit someone.â
One of the other students burst into laughter, thinking it was part of the fun. âWhat, you turned someone into a rabbit again?â
Your brother didnât laugh. âNo. Worse. I think I just turned Jungwon into a cat.â
The laughter around him died down quickly as the reality of what heâd done began to settle in. âWhat do you mean, a cat?â one of his friends asked, their tone becoming more serious.
But before your brother could respond, he was already hurrying toward the edge of the courtyard, scanning the area where Jungwon had disappeared. âWe have to find him before anyone else does!â he muttered to himself, a growing sense of dread filling him.
However, Jungwonâor the catâwas nowhere in sight. He had bolted the moment the spell hit, and now he had vanished without a trace, leaving your brother to deal with the consequences of his reckless display.
The problem was, turning someone into an animal was one thingâbut reversing it? That was a whole different level of Transfiguration.
Your brother searched frantically, darting around the courtyard and calling out for Jungwon. âJungwon! Where are you?â he shouted, a note of desperation creeping into his voice. The laughter from his friends had faded, replaced by concerned murmurs as they began to realize the seriousness of the situation.
He sprinted around the corner where Jungwon had vanished, scanning every nook and cranny, every shadow cast by the towering castle walls. âCome on, this isnât funny!â he pleaded, hoping that maybe, just maybe, Jungwon would pop out from behind a bush or the edge of a statue, ready to reveal that it had all been a prank.
But Hogwarts was vast, and as the minutes stretched on, the reality began to sink in. Jungwonânow a catâhad disappeared without a trace. Your brother ran a hand through his hair, panic rising within him. He couldn't afford to get caught for this.
Turning back to his friends, he lowered his voice, urgency clear in his tone. âOkay, listen. You canât say anything about this. If any professors find out Jungwon is missing, weâll all be in trouble. We need to find him before anyone notices.â
His friends exchanged worried glances but nodded in agreement. They understood how serious the situation was. âRight,â one of them said, trying to lighten the mood, though the tension was palpable. âLetâs just act like weâre studying for the next couple of hours. If we canât find Jungwon, maybe heâll come back on his own.â
Your brother nodded, but doubt gnawed at him. What if he didnât? He felt responsibleâif he hadnât been so eager to show off, Jungwon wouldnât have been turned into a cat in the first place. âWeâll check all the usual spots,â he said, determination sparking in his eyes. âHe might head for the Hufflepuff common room or the kitchens.â
They split up, your brother retracing his steps back through the castle, checking every corner, every common area, and even asking other students if theyâd seen a small black cat. But the castle was sprawling and labyrinthine; the longer he searched, the more overwhelmed he felt.
As the minutes turned into an hour, frustration bubbled up inside him. âThis is pointless!â he muttered under his breath, leaning against a wall in a deserted corridor. âHow could I let this happen?â
After another fruitless round, he finally returned to the courtyard, panting slightly. His friends were gathered in a huddle, whispering amongst themselves, and he felt a flicker of hope. âDid you find anything?â
One of his friends shook his head. âNo sign of him anywhere. Itâs like he just vanished.â
Your brother sighed, frustration and guilt mingling in his chest. âIf we donât find him soon, itâs only a matter of time before someone notices heâs missing from class. Professor McGonagall will have our heads.â
Just then, a flicker of movement caught his eye. He turned, but it was only a crow flitting across the courtyard, cawing loudly. Your brotherâs heart sank. Hogwarts was just too big; how could he possibly find Jungwon in a castle that could swallow whole entire groups of students?
With a defeated expression, he sank onto a bench, burying his face in his hands. âWhat am I going to do? I didnât mean for this to happen.â
His friends joined him, unsure of how to comfort him. âWeâll figure it out,â one of them said, trying to reassure him. âWe just need to keep looking.â
But deep down, your brother couldnât shake the feeling that they were running out of time. He was the one responsible for turning Jungwon into a cat.
/á Ëľ> Ë <Ëľă
You were sitting on the ground near the edge of the Hogwarts grounds, tucked away from the hustle and bustle of the courtyard. The view was peaceful, and with a gentle breeze rustling the trees around you, it felt like a perfect moment to relax with your book.
Just as you settled into the first chapter, a small rustling sound caught your attention.. You looked up, surprised to see a small black cat making its way toward you, its greenish-gold eyes trained intently on you. The cat was sleek, with a slight glimmer to its fur under the sunlight, and it moved gracefully, weaving through the grass until it was at your feet.
âHey there, little one,â you murmured, smiling as the cat sat down, regarding you with an almost curious gaze. Without hesitation, it leaped into your lap, settling down with a soft, contented purr.
The book forgotten, you brought a hand up to stroke its head, running your fingers gently over its soft fur. The catâs purring grew louder, and it nestled into you, pressing its tiny head against your hand as if asking for more.
âWell, arenât you a friendly one?â you said, chuckling as it leaned into your touch. You hadnât expected it, but this little black cat was endearing itself to you quickly. Every time you paused in your petting, it would nudge its head under your hand, practically demanding more affection.
You laughed, charmed by the catâs insistence. âAlright, alright, you win. More pets it is,â you murmured, resuming your gentle strokes.
The cat sprawled out across your lap, stretching its small limbs and settling back down with a sigh, its eyes half-closed as it drifted into a state of utter relaxation.
Minutes slipped by as you sat there, the black cat curled up happily in your lap, and any thoughts of returning to your book faded completely. âWhatâs a cat like you doing out here all by yourself?â you asked softly, smiling as it nudged its head up to meet your gaze. The cat simply blinked at you, its eyes clear and bright, before it began to purr even louder, pressing its small paws against your legs in a way that was almost⌠human-like.
You let out a small laugh, rubbing your thumb over the top of its head. âAlright, alright, youâre stealing all my attention,â you murmured. âI should be reading, but youâre just too cute.â The cat looked up at you with an expression that almost seemed like a smirk before closing its eyes again, purring louder than ever.
With a contented sigh, you leaned back against the tree, unaware that youâd just found Jungwonâand that he was thoroughly enjoying your company.
Eventually, the afternoon sun began to dip lower, and you knew it was time to return to the castle. With a sigh, you shifted in your seat, giving the cat a gentle nudge to encourage it off your lap.
âAlright, little one. I have to get back,â you murmured. The cat gave a low, disappointed-sounding meow, but leapt gracefully onto the ground as you stood. Just as you turned to gather your things, however, the cat started to weave between your ankles, pawing at your robes with insistent little meows.
You tried taking a step, but the cat was immediately at your heels, pressing against your leg as though it had no intention of letting you leave. When you moved forward, it darted up and batted playfully at your robes, trying to climb up and cling on as you walked.
âOh, Merlin, you really donât want me to go, do you?â you muttered, bending down to scoop the cat into your arms. As soon as you lifted it, it relaxed, its head nuzzling against your neck as it purred deeply, seeming more than content to be carried. You couldnât help but smile, feeling the soft fur warm against your skin and the gentle tickle of its whiskers along your throat.
âAlright, you can come with me,â you said with a soft chuckle, the catâs wide eyes blinking up at you as though it fully understood. You held it securely, feeling the vibrations of its purring as it squished its head into the crook of your neck. It was surprisingly calming, and you found yourself enjoying the quiet presence of this affectionate little creature as you made your way back through the castle halls.
By the time you reached your common room, you had half a mind to keep it, especially as it snuggled closer, its whiskers brushing against your chin. âIâll have to find your owner,â you whispered, though the cat gave no sign it wanted to leave your arms any time soon.
With a sigh, you stepped into the common room, glancing around at your fellow housemates and wondering if any of them had ever seen this black cat before. But as you felt the warmth of its tiny body snuggled against you, part of you wasnât in any hurry to hand it over.
As you asked around the common room, you realized none of your housemates recognized the little black cat nestled in your arms. Some shrugged, while others asked to pet it, and each time you shook your head, a small part of you felt a guilty spark of relief. No one knew where it had come from, and no one seemed to be looking for it.
With the sky darkening outside and a long day behind you, you headed up to your dorm to change, gently setting the cat down as you pulled on your coziest clothes. No sooner had you settled onto your bed than the cat leapt up, its movements silent and smooth. It padded around your blankets, kneading the fabric with its tiny paws and purring so loudly you couldnât help but smile.
âOh, no, noâif the house-elves find fur on the bed, theyâll be madâ you muttered, making a half-hearted attempt to shoo the cat off your bed. But when it turned and met your gaze, its bright eyes watching you with an innocent curiosity, you found yourself softening. The cat tilted its head, curling up against your side, its eyes half-closed as if perfectly content in your presence.
âFine, you can stay,â you sighed, scooting over to make a little more room. The cat wasted no time, settling down right next to you and resting its tiny head on the blanket as if it belonged there.
With each slow, deep rumble of its purr, a calmness settled over you. You rested a hand lightly on its back, feeling the softness of its fur under your fingers. Soon, its gentle kneading softened, and the rhythmic rise and fall of its breathing lulled you into a state of relaxation.
Just as your eyes were beginning to flutter closed, the cat shifted, moving to rest its head against your hand, a contented weight in the dim quiet of the room. You chuckled softly, feeling the warmth of the small creature by your side, and drifted into sleep, the catâs purring accompanying you into peaceful dreams.
/á Ëľ> Ë <Ëľă
Jungwon blinked, his new vision sharper in the dim light, taking in every detail of your sleeping face. The feline instincts were strongâcomforting, evenâbut his human mind lingered just beneath them, stirring with a confusing blend of emotions.
When heâd first bolted from the courtyard, his mind had been clouded with panic. All he could think of was escaping, getting somewhere quiet, somewhere safe. But then heâd picked up on your scentâsoft, familiarâand without a second thought, heâd followed it. His cat instincts hadnât questioned why; they simply led him to you, to the one place that felt right.
Now, as he curled beside you, his heart pounded in a strange mixture of relief and guilt. He should be searching for help, finding someone who could reverse the spell and put an end to this humiliating predicament. But looking at you now, seeing the peaceful expression on your face and the faint smile gracing your lips, he felt something different.
You looked⌠happy. Content. The way you had opened your arms to him, stroking his fur and letting him stay closeâit had made his heart race even in this small, helpless form. In the past, heâd admired you from a distance, always caught off guard by his nerves whenever you were near. But here, under the guise of this small, black cat, he was finally close to you without the hesitance.
He felt torn, his human logic telling him this was ridiculousâhe had to find a professor, get back to normal, explain to you what happened. But another part of himâthe soft purrs escaping without his control, the way his little paws kept kneading against the blanketâwanted to stay just a little longer. Just until the morning.
For now, he let himself settle into the comfort of your presence, letting his instincts guide him. After all, you looked far too pretty to disturb with a frown when you found out the truth.
/á Ëľ> Ë <Ëľă
The days slipped by, and despite your best efforts, you found yourself no closer to finding the catâs owner. Youâd asked around, stopping classmates in the hall, mentioning the small black cat that had so readily taken up residence on your bed, but no one claimed it. Each time, you received the same answersâshakes of the head, puzzled expressions, a few amused smiles.
With every passing day, the cat became more of a fixture in your life. Each morning before leaving for class, youâd give him a little scratch behind the ears, feeling his soft purrs ripple through your hand. And each evening, youâd return to find him curled up in the same spot on your bed, his little form nestled in the blankets, his tiny paws tucked under his chest as if he owned the place. There was something comforting about his presence, and you noticed how heâd glance up at you with those intense, knowing eyes every time you walked in, as if heâd been waiting for you all day.
The catâwho youâd started calling âOnyxâ in your headâseemed perfectly content. Heâd stretch luxuriously when you arrived, basking in any attention you or your housemates would give him, blinking slowly and rubbing his head against your hand, as if he were marking you as his own. And he was endlessly spoiled by your housemates, who would sneak in to pet him whenever they could, laughing over his unusual attachment to you.
Meanwhile, your brother seemed on the verge of a complete breakdown. Every time you caught sight of him in the hallways, he was muttering under his breath, eyes darting around as if he expected Jungwon to materialize out of thin air. His friends could barely keep up with his frantic pace as he searched the school from top to bottom, interrogating classmates, making excuses to professors, and even peeking into the kitchens.
One afternoon, when you saw him dashing through the courtyard, you raised an eyebrow at him. âYou look like youâre about to explode. Whatâs going on?â
He ran a hand through his hair, clearly exasperated. âNothing, nothingâjust⌠I lost something really important. And if I donât find it soon, Iâm going to be in so much trouble,â he said, casting a wary glance over his shoulder as though he expected it to appear any second.
You patted his shoulder, offering him a sympathetic smile. âGood luck, then. Iâm sure youâll find it,â you said, trying to reassure him. But you had no idea that the âlost itemâ he was so desperately searching for was happily snoozing on your bed, completely unaware of the chaos heâd left in his wake.
Jungwon, or Onyx, stretched lazily, content to continue napping in the warm scent of your blankets, savoring each gentle pet and scratching his cheek against your hand whenever you came close. His human instincts occasionally tugged at him, whispering that he should reveal himself, that he should find a way back to normal. But the comfort of your presence, the gentle affection, and the sound of your laughter as you spoke to him were too good to leave just yet.
Four days after youâd found the little black cat, it struck you that you hadnât seen Jungwon around. Usually, youâd spot him at least once a dayâsitting with your brother at meals, laughing with his Hufflepuff friends in the courtyard, or even catching him in the hallways. But now that you thought about it, heâd been strangely absent, his cheerful presence nowhere to be found.
Curious, you tracked down your brother between classes, catching him just as he was shoving books into his bag. âHey, have you seen Jungwon? Itâs been days. Is he alright?â
Your brother stiffened ever so slightly before glancing up with what he probably hoped was a casual look. âJungwon? Oh, yeah, heâs⌠heâs fine. Just sick. Nothing to worry about.â
You raised an eyebrow at his rushed answer. âReally? I thought heâd usually be back by now. Heâs not usually the type to miss this much class.â
âHeâll be back soon, donât worry about it,â your brother said quickly, slinging his bag over his shoulder. âHeâs probably just lying low until he feels better.â
âAlright⌠well, tell him I hope he feels better,â you said, giving him a small smile before turning back to your own things.
Your brother nodded, though his face was tight with worry. But you didnât notice his nervous glances, already distracted by the thought of getting back to âOnyx,â who was likely curled up on your bed, waiting for you. You didnât give Jungwonâs absence much more thought, trusting your brotherâs explanation, but you made a mental note to check in with Jungwon as soon as he returned.
When you slipped into your dorm room, carefully unwrapping the napkin bundle, the savory scent of chicken filled the air, and the cat immediately perked up. The moment you set the pieces down, he eagerly devoured them, tail flicking with excitement. You chuckled softly, watching as he polished off every last bite, licking his lips in pure satisfaction.
As you turned to grab your bag, Onyx suddenly jumped up, landing neatly on your shoulder. Startled, you reached up instinctively to hold him steady, and he nuzzled against you, purring loudly. You couldnât help but laugh, scratching behind his ear. âYou know I have to go, right?â
Onyx blinked at you, his bright eyes wide, and let out a small, soft meow, almost pleading. His paws lightly pressed against your chest as he settled into your arms, curling his tiny body closer as if he had no intention of letting you leave.
âAlright, alrightâŚâ you sighed, giving in as he snuggled into your embrace. Muggle Studies could wait, couldnât it? What were a few facts about telephones compared to this soft, warm ball of fluff purring contently against you? You slipped off your shoes, set your bag down, and climbed onto your bed, pulling the blankets over the both of you as Onyx nestled against your shoulder, his purring a gentle hum in the quiet room.
As you traced gentle patterns along his fur, he stretched his little head up, his whiskers tickling your cheek as he nuzzled closer, eyes half-closed with contentment. The warmth of the moment filled you with a sense of peace, and you drifted off into a light nap, your arm curled protectively around him, wondering absently why this small creature felt so right here with you.
The following day, as you sat nestled in a corner of the library, flipping through your notes, your brother slid into the seat across from you, an odd look on his face. You glanced up, raising an eyebrow at his nervous expression.
âHey, I need⌠um, a little help with something,â he started, tapping his fingers against the table.
You set your quill down. âAlright, spill it. Whatâs going on?â
He cleared his throat, glancing around as if worried someone might overhear. âI just⌠well, I wanted to know the incantation to reverse⌠an animal transformation. You know, from animal back to human.â
âAn animal transformation?â you repeated, giving him a quizzical look. âWhy would you need that? UnlessâŚâ You narrowed your eyes. âDonât tell me youâve been practicing transfiguration spells on yourself or your friends.â
He waved his hand dismissively, though his nervous laugh didnât help his case. âNothing like that. Iâm just⌠curious! Thought Iâd get a head start, just in case we need it for class.â His voice was unconvincing, and you tilted your head, not buying it.
âUh-huh. Right. So you just need a random incantation for a transfiguration reversal?â you pressed, crossing your arms.
âExactly,â he said, nodding eagerly. âItâs really just for, you know, future knowledge.â
You werenât convinced, but he was desperate, and you found yourself softening under his pleading gaze. âFine, Iâll teach you. But you owe meâno, you owe me two favors for this.â You held up two fingers, your expression firm.
âDeal,â he said instantly, relief flashing across his face.
With a sigh, you gestured for him to take a seat beside you, flipping open your transfiguration notes. âAlright, listen carefully. The reversal incantation isnât simple. You have to focus on the original form of the person and their essence before casting. If you donât concentrate, itâll either fail or, worse, only half-work,â you explained, watching as he nodded along, his expression tense.
As you practiced the incantation with him, you couldnât shake the feeling that there was more to this story. But, for now, you focused on teaching him the spell, repeating it until he could say it smoothly, his confidence growing with each repetition.
"Just⌠remember, donât go using this on any poor creatures for âfun,â alright?â you added as you finished up, giving him a stern look.
âYeah, yeah, of course,â he replied, though his gaze darted away. You rolled your eyes, hoping heâd stick to his word.
/á Ëľ> Ë <Ëľă
As the days stretched on, Jungwon felt the line between his human and feline instincts beginning to blur. Heâd started feeling strange, odd urges pulling at him that he didnât quite understand but felt impossible to resist. The need to chase things that moved quicklyâflickering lights, loose threads, even the feathery tips of your quill as you wroteâall of it stirred a primal thrill in him. His ears perked up at the slightest sounds, and he found himself irresistibly drawn to the cozy comfort of curling up beside you.
At night, heâd stretch out over your stomach or chest, his paws kneading into you as he settled down. The warmth of your body and the steady rise and fall of your breathing soothed him, and he would close his eyes, purring loudly as he drifted off. During the day, whenever you studied in the common room, he would find a spot to settle between your thighs, his little head resting comfortably against your leg, peeking up at you whenever he wanted a little scratch behind the ears.
But the more he settled into his role as your personal shadow, the more possessive he became. If one of your male housemates so much as got too close, his eyes would narrow, his ears flattening as a low, warning hiss escaped him. His back would arch slightly, and they would back off quickly, shooting you wide-eyed looks as they muttered apologies. The second they were gone, Jungwon would leap up onto your shoulders, his tail flicking with satisfaction as he licked your cheek, snuggling against you as if to say, Mine.
When you wore oversized hoodies or sweaters, he couldnât resist crawling under the soft, cozy fabric, his little head poking out at your collar. It was his favorite spot, snug and warm, and heâd curl up contentedly, letting out a rumbling purr every time you scratched his head. Your housemates couldnât help but laugh, dubbing him âyour sonâ and teasing you whenever he was glued to your side.
âHeâs practically attached to you, isnât he?â one of your friends laughed as Jungwon, true to form, climbed onto your lap and lay there, eyes half-closed in contentment.
You shrugged, petting him gently. âGuess he just knows heâs found someone whoâll spoil him.â
He would chase after loose threads from your clothes, batting them playfully with his paws as if they were the most fascinating toys in the world. His playful antics brought you endless joy; you often found yourself laughing as he pounced and rolled, completely entranced by his own reflection in a nearby window.
When nighttime fell and you settled into bed, Jungwon would curl up on your chest, his small, warm body rising and falling with each breath you took. In those quiet moments, he would gaze up at you with wide, adoring eyes, completely mesmerized. In his cat mind, you were the woman for himâhis perfect companion. He would think about how soft your skin was and how lovely it was to be close to you, relishing the sound of your heartbeat beneath him.
He became clingier than ever, following you around the common room and weaving through your legs, his purring becoming a constant background noise in your life. If you left the room, heâd meow softly, almost in protest, as if urging you to come back. When you werenât around, Jungwon would curl up on your bed, his eyes half-closed as he waited patiently for your return. Each time he heard the sound of the door opening, heâd perk up, tail flicking excitedly, ready to shower you with affection the moment you stepped inside.
If you were studying or hanging out with friends, Jungwon would find a way to squeeze into your lap or snuggle against your side, his soft fur inviting you to pet him.
He would often steal your attention, meowing softly until you looked down at him, his bright eyes pleading for affection.
Your pet owl, however, became a rare source of conflict. The moment you started cooing to it, stroking its feathers, Jungwon would watch with narrowed eyes, his gaze intent, as if he were sizing up a rival. Heâd immediately trot over to you, swatting gently at your hand with his paw, a soft mrrp leaving his mouth as he demanded your attention. If you gave in, heâd snuggle close, basking in the affection as if heâd won some unspoken victory.
To everyone else, it was obvious you had somehow become this little black catâs world.
/á Ëľ> Ë <Ëľă
One crisp afternoon, you stepped out of your dorm with your housemates, the sun streaming through the tall windows of Hogwarts. You all laughed and chatted, excitement buzzing in the air as you discussed plans for the weekend. Just as you were about to leave the common room, one of your friends suddenly exclaimed, âOh no! I forgot my Potions book!â
âIâll be right back!â they called, dashing back inside the cozy room.
The rest of you continued down the corridor, blissfully unaware that the door had swung ajar, leaving just enough space for a curious little black cat to slip through unnoticed. Jungwon, feeling adventurous, seized the opportunity to dart after your friends, his instincts kicking in as he decided to trust his nose to find you. Your perfumeâsweet and comfortingâdrew him in like a moth to a flame.
Navigating the familiar halls of Hogwarts, he quickly made his way through the bustling corridors, weaving past students and ignoring the occasional glance thrown his way.
Finally, he spotted you in the courtyard, nestled comfortably on a bench with your favorite book in hand. The sunlight filtered through the trees, casting dappled shadows around you, and for a moment, Jungwon was mesmerized by how serene you looked, completely absorbed in your reading. He couldnât help but let out a little meow, excitement bubbling up as he began to sprint toward you.
But just as he was about to reach you, your brother appeared out of nowhere, stepping directly into Jungwonâs path. The sudden block caught him off guard, and he skidded to a halt, a startled yelp escaping his mouth. Your brother crouched down, arms outstretched, attempting to scoop Jungwon up, but he had other plans.
With a quick flick of his paw, Jungwon hissed, his instincts kicking in as he squirmed to escape. âHey! No!â your brother protested, eyes widening as he struggled to keep a hold on the wriggling black cat.
Jungwon protested, hissing and wriggling in his grip, desperately trying to escape. The sound was startling and unusual, catching the attention of several students nearby who turned to witness the scene unfolding, including yours.
âWhatâs happening?â you shouted, your heart dropping as you recognized the little black cat your brother was trying to grab. âOnyx!â
At the sound of your voice, Jungwon's ears perked up, and he whipped around to look at you, desperate for help. Before your brother could fully grasp him, Jungwon managed to twist free from his grip, leaping out of his hands and bounding straight into yours.
You caught him with a gasp, the soft weight of him settling against you instantly warming your heart. âWhat are you doing?â you exclaimed, cradling him protectively as you shot a glance at your brother. Jungwon meanwhile purred loudly, rubbing his cheek against your hand as if to say, Yes, this is exactly where I want to be.
âWhatâs going on?â you asked, concern lacing your voice as you glanced at your brother.
âUh, itâs nothing, really,â he replied, attempting to brush off the situation with a half-hearted smile.
You narrowed your eyes at him. âCome on, just tell me the truth.â
Your brother sighed, his shoulders slumping as he relented. âOkay, okay! The cat youâre holding... itâs Jungwon. I, um, accidentally turned him into a cat during Transfiguration practice.â
Your heart sank as you looked down at Jungwon, who was nestled comfortably against your chest, blissfully unaware of the chaos surrounding him. âAre you sure this is Jungwon?â you asked, concern lacing your voice.
He nodded vigorously, a hint of guilt flashing in his eyes. âI swear! It was an accident! I didnât mean for it to happen, I justââ
With a deep sigh, you set Jungwon down gently, your mind racing. Pulling out your wand, you focused on the spell needed to reverse the transformation. âAlright, just hold still, Jungwon,â you instructed softly. âReverso Animus!â you said clearly, watching as the familiar golden light enveloped Jungwon.
In an instant, the small black cat began to shimmer and shift, growing in size until you were staring at the unmistakable form of Jungwon himself. Your eyes widened in shock as he stood up slowly, looking at his hands, then down at his body as if he couldnât believe he was back to normal.
âIâm back!â he exclaimed, a bright smile spreading across his face, laughter bubbling up as his friends and your brother rushed to surround him, excitement and relief evident on their faces.
âIâm so sorry, Jungwon!â your brother shouted over the commotion, his voice filled with a thousand apologies, clearly trying to make amends for his mistake. âI didnât mean to!â
Jungwon squirmed in the midst of his friends, a frown tugging at his lips as he watched you walk away. His heart raced, the familiar urge to be near you pulling at him like a magnetic force. He tried to push through the throng of excited voices and laughter, reaching out for you with desperation, but his friends held him back, oblivious to the intensity of his need to follow.
âCome on, Jungwon! Celebrate with us!â one of them cheered, clapping him on the back, but Jungwon could barely muster a smile. His eyes remained locked on your retreating figure, the sight of you disappearing into the building stirring a pang of disappointment within him.
âCome on, Jungwon! Youâve got to tell us everything!â one of them exclaimed, laughing as they playfully tousled his hair. Another chimed in, âYouâve been a cat for days! We want the scoop!â
He felt the playful nudges and laughter of his friends, but they only served to heighten his frustration. No longer just a cat who sought warmth and comfort, he was a boy desperate for connection, with you. He bit his lip, glancing between your back and the cheerful faces surrounding him, feeling an overwhelming urge to break free.
When you finally disappeared through the doors, Jungwonâs heart sank. With a determined huff, he pushed past the clutches of his friends, murmuring a half-hearted excuse that went unnoticed amidst their excitement.
âGuys, Iâll be right back!â he called out, his voice firm as he took off in the direction you had gone.
He navigated the winding corridors of Hogwarts, his mind racing as he thought of all the things he wanted to say. Iâm sorry for the chaos, he wanted to tell you. Thank you for changing me back, and more than anything, I love you.
However, as he rounded a corner near the Great Hall, he lost sight of you. The bustling crowd of students moved like a tide, and just like that, you were gone. A wave of defeat washed over him. He pushed through the throngs, glancing into classrooms and common areas, calling your name softly, but there was no response.
Frustration bubbled within him, mingling with disappointment. Why did I let them hold me back? he berated himself. He felt like a fool for not breaking away sooner, for not insisting on finding you right away.
With a heavy sigh, he leaned against the cool stone wall, he could picture the look of confusion on your face, the hurt in your eyes when you realized.
âIâll find you tomorrow,â he promised himself, determination creeping back in. It would have to be enough for now. He knew he had to make it right, to explain everything and show you just how much he valued you.
Resolving to make a plan, Jungwon walked back to the common room, his mind swirling with ideas. He would catch you after class, or maybe in the courtyard where you often read. Heâd find a way to make sure you heard him, no matter what it took. Tomorrow, he would not let anythingâor anyoneâget in the way of what he needed to say.
/á Ëľ> Ë <Ëľă
The next day, the bustling halls of Hogwarts seemed to stretch endlessly as Jungwon searched for you, his heart pounding with anticipation. After your final class, he spotted you in the corridor, laughter spilling from your lips as you chatted with a few friends. His heart raced at the sight of you, and he felt a surge of determination.
Summoning every ounce of courage, he quietly approached from behind, his nerves buzzing. Before he could second-guess himself, he gently pulled you into an empty classroom, the door clicking shut behind you with a soft thud.
âY/N,â he said, his voice steady yet filled with urgency, âwe need to talk.â
You blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift in the atmosphere. The moment felt charged, a whirlwind of emotions swirling between you. Jungwon took a moment to gather his thoughts, his gaze unwavering. âIâve wanted to say this for so long,â he continued, stepping closer. âI love being with you. These past days, especially with everything that happened when I was⌠you know, a cat. I didnât realize just how much I needed you.â
Your heart raced at his confession. âJungwon, I⌠I didnât know you felt that way,â you stammered, surprised by the warmth blooming in your chest. The memories of cuddling with him as a cat rushed backâhis soft purrs, the way heâd nuzzle against you, how safe and happy he made you feel. âYou showed me your vulnerable side. I cared for you so much, and I want to be with you too, but I need some time to process everything that happened.â
Jungwonâs expression softened, understanding flooding his eyes. âI get it,â he said gently, taking a step closer. âBut I want you to know how I feel. I loved every moment we spent together, even when I was just a cat. You were there for me, and it felt so real. Itâs like I could finally be myself around you.â
You felt your heart swell at his words, the sincerity behind them washing over you like a warm tide, glancing down at your feet for a moment, feeling the weight of your feelings pressing on your chest. âIt was confusing at first. But seeing you back as Jungwon⌠it feels so right.â
Jungwon stepped even closer, his hand brushing against yours, sending a spark of electricity up your arm. âI care about you so much, Y/N. Itâs like youâre my safe place, and I want to be able to share everything with you, the good and the bad.â
His sincerity wrapped around you like a warm blanket, and you couldnât help but lean closer, feeling drawn to him in ways you couldnât explain. âI feel that way too,â you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper.
âWe can take it slow, see where this leads us without rushing. I just want to be with you, no matter the form it takes.â
Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a warm embrace. You melted against him, feeling the tension dissolve in the comfort of his presence.
When you both pulled back slightly, Jungwon's expression turned serious. âIf you ever feel unsure or need space, just tell me, okay? I want you to feel safe with me.â
You nodded, appreciating his sensitivity. âI promise.â
He smiled, a mixture of relief and affection lighting up his face.
/á Ëľ> Ë <Ëľă
Over the next two days, your mind was a whirlwind of emotions. Every moment was filled with thoughts of Jungwon, replaying your conversation in that empty classroom. You knew you had to make a decision, and every time you thought of him, your heart swelled with a sense of belonging and excitement.
Finally, the day arrived when you couldnât hold it in any longer. After your last class, you took a deep breath, steeling yourself as you made your way through the bustling halls of Hogwarts, searching for him. When you spotted Jungwon leaning against a wall, laughing with a couple of friends, your heart raced.
âHey, can we talk?â you called, trying to sound casual, though your nerves were anything but.
His gaze shifted to you, and the moment he saw you, his smile widened. âOf course!â He excused himself from his friends and walked toward you, the laughter fading as anticipation filled the air.
You took a deep breath, glancing down momentarily to gather your thoughts. âIâve been thinking a lot about what we talked about the other day,â you began, feeling your heart race. âAnd I realized⌠I want to be together.â
Jungwonâs eyes lit up with joy, and before you could react, he stepped forward and twirled you around in an ecstatic hug. âReally? Are you serious?â he exclaimed, laughter bubbling in his voice.
You laughed along, feeling weight lift off your shoulders as you embraced the happiness of the moment. When he set you down, he looked into your eyes, a mixture of surprise and delight on his face. âI canât believe this!â
His joy was infectious, and you couldnât help but smile back at him. âI just⌠I really like you, Jungwon. Iâve felt it for a while now.â
His expression softened as he stepped closer. âSo, can IâŚ?â He hesitated for a moment, then grinned cheekily. âCan I get a kiss?â
Your heart raced again, but you nodded, feeling a rush of excitement. You leaned in, and as your lips met, the world around you faded away. It was gentle at first, but as you melted into the kiss, it deepened, filled with all feelings you both shared.
When you pulled back, breathless and smiling, your thoughts suddenly turned to your brother. You remembered his protective stance, always claiming that no guy was good enough for you. The sudden wave of worry hit you, and you glanced down, biting your lip. âUm, so⌠about my brotherâŚâ
Jungwon raised an eyebrow, a hint of curiosity in his expression. âWhat about him?â
You sighed, feeling a bit sheepish. âHe can be a bit⌠overprotective. Heâs probably going to have a lot to say about us being together. I just⌠I hope he doesnât freak out or anything.â
Jungwon chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with mischief. âI think I can handle him. Besides, Iâm the one who got turned into a cat. If anything, I should have some kind of clout, right?â
You couldnât help but laugh at that. âTrue, you do have a unique story. But still, I just donât want him to think poorly of you.â
âHey,â he said gently, lifting your chin so you met his gaze. âI promise Iâll do my best to win him over. I care about you, and I want him to see that. Plus, if he sees how happy you are, he might just come around.â
You nodded, comforted by his words. âYouâre right."
With a playful grin, Jungwon wrapped an arm around your shoulders. âThen letâs tackle this together. How about we talk to him after dinner? Just the three of us?â
âOkay,â you agreed, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension. âLetâs do it.â
After dinner, you felt a mix of anticipation and nerves as you and Jungwon made your way to the courtyard to meet your brother. The moon hung high in the sky, casting a soft glow over the stone path as you approached the familiar spot where your brother usually liked to unwind.
He was leaning against a pillar, casually flipping through a book. When he noticed you both approaching, he closed it and set it aside, an eyebrow raised in curiosity. âSo, whatâs the big news?â
You exchanged a glance with Jungwon, and he gave you a reassuring nod. âWe wanted to talk to you about something important,â you began, your heart racing. âJungwon and I are⌠well, weâre together now.â
Your brotherâs expression shifted from curiosity to surprise, but instead of the angry outburst you feared, he broke into a smile. âReally? You two?â
You nodded, relief flooding through you. âYeah, we just wanted you to know.â
To your astonishment, your brotherâs smile grew wider. âHonestly, I couldnât have picked a better guy for you. I trust Jungwon. Heâs the only guy I know whoâs worthy of you because I know heâll treat you right.â
The weight lifted off your shoulders as joy washed over you. You turned to Jungwon, and without thinking, you both leaned in, sharing a sweet kiss under the moonlight. The moment was perfectâuntil your brother suddenly coughed, breaking the spell.
âHey! No kisses in front of me!â he declared, mock annoyance in his tone, but there was a teasing glint in his eye.
You and Jungwon pulled back, laughter bubbling up between you. âOkay, okay,â you giggled, feeling warmth spread through you at your brotherâs acceptance. âNo kisses in front of you.â
With a playful grin, Jungwon stepped forward and pulled you into a warm hug. You melted into his embrace, feeling a sense of comfort and happiness enveloping you. âThanks for being so cool about this,â Jungwon said softly, his breath tickling your ear.
Your brother crossed his arms, shaking his head in feigned disapproval. âJust keep the mushy stuff to a minimum around me, alright?â
You laughed again, feeling giddy. âWe will, I promise.â
As you pulled back from the hug, you saw the genuine happiness in your brotherâs eyes. âJust remember,â he added, a more serious tone creeping into his voice, "treat her right, alright?â
Jungwon nodded earnestly, a serious expression crossing his face. âI promise I will.â
/á Ëľ> Ë <Ëľă
Bonus!:
The day of one your brother's Quidditch match had arrived, and the atmosphere around the pitch was electric with excitement. You had made your way to the team tent, filled with an eagerness to support your brother. As you entered, the familiar scent of fresh grass and a hint of waxed wood filled the air, along with the chatter of the team gearing up for the game.
You found your brother pacing nervously inside the tent, his Quidditch gear scattered around him. The atmosphere was charged with excitement and anticipation, and you couldnât help but smile at the sight of him. He looked up, surprise washing over his face when he saw you.
âWhat are you doing here?â he asked, his brow furrowing.
With a playful grin, you pulled out a bright yellow chicken costume from behind your back, waving it triumphantly. âI came to collect one of the favors you owe me!â
His eyes widened in disbelief, and he groaned dramatically. âYouâve got to be kidding me! Youâre making me wear that? Right before the match?â
âAbsolutely!â you teased, stifling a laugh. âA chicken mascot would really boost team morale. Just think of it as a strategic advantage.â
He shot you a look that could only be described as a mix of annoyance and resignation. âYouâre going to be the death of me,â he muttered, snatching the costume from your hands. âFine! But if I get ridiculed out there, Iâm blaming you.â
âHey, at least youâll be memorable!â you shot back, unable to hold in your laughter as he started to put on the ridiculous outfit. The fluffy yellow feathers looked utterly absurd against his determined expression.
As he struggled to pull the costume over his Quidditch gear, you couldnât resist teasing him further. âCome on, embrace your inner chicken! Youâre gonna be the star of the show!â
âIâm going to be the laughingstock of the school!â he retorted, but you could see a hint of a smile tugging at his lips despite the exasperation.
Once he finally managed to get the costume on, you took a step back to admire the spectacle. He looked utterly ridiculous, and you burst into laughter, doubling over at the sight. âYou make a great chicken! Youâre gonna fly out there and peck the competition!â
âVery funny,â he grumbled, but there was a hint of amusement in his tone as he glanced in the mirror. âAlright, letâs just get this over with.â
âJust remember,â you said, suppressing another laugh, âyouâve got a chicken in your corner cheering you on. Youâll win for sure!â
With that, he rolled his eyes but couldnât hide the smile on his face. âI better not regret this,â he muttered as he headed out of the tent, his confidence bolstered by your playful energy.
/á Ëľ> Ë <Ëľă
You and Jungwon stood in front of your brother, a mischievous glint in your eyes. âSo, we have a bit of a favor to ask,â you said, trying to sound as innocent as possible despite the excitement bubbling up inside you.
Your brother looked at you skeptically. âWhat is it this time? Because I swear if it involves another chicken costumeâŚâ
âItâs nothing like that!â Jungwon interjected, stifling a laugh. âWe want you to turn us into cats.â
Your brother blinked in disbelief, processing your request. âSeriously? You two want to be turned into cats? Why would you even want that?â
âBecause it would be fun!â you replied, barely able to contain your excitement. âI promise, itâll be worth it!â
He hesitated, clearly torn between disbelief and amusement. âAnd why would I even consider this?â
You exchanged a quick glance with Jungwon before speaking up again. âRemember that second favor you owe me. This counts, right?â
He groaned, running a hand through his hair. âFine! But if this backfires, Iâm holding you both responsible.â
âThank you!â you both chimed, practically bouncing on your toes with excitement.
With a sigh, your brother pulled out his wand, muttering the incantation under his breath. A warm light enveloped you and Jungwon, and suddenly you felt yourself shrinking, your limbs transforming as your human forms faded away. When the light dimmed, you looked around with wide eyes, realizing you were both small, furry creatures now.
Jungwon turned to you, his eyes sparkling with delight, and let out a soft, inquisitive meow. You mirrored his expression, feeling the softness of your new form and the thrill of being a cat. You nuzzled against him, your whiskers brushing against his fur, and instinctively, you both began to purr.
Your brother, now looking utterly baffled, shook his head in disbelief. âYou two really went through with itâŚâ he muttered, a mix of amusement and exasperation in his voice. âJust be careful, okay?â
But before he could say anything else, you and Jungwon turned your attention back to each other. Without a second thought, you dashed over to Jungwon, who had already curled up on a nearby cushion. He looked up at you with bright eyes, and you couldnât resist the urge to snuggle up against him. You nestled into his warm side, feeling the comforting rhythm of his purring resonate against you. He responded by wrapping his paws around you, drawing you closer.
As the two of you settled into a cozy heap, Jungwon began to groom you, his rough tongue lapping at your fur in gentle strokes. You closed your eyes, surrendering to the soothing rhythm of his actions. You felt safe and content, purring softly as he continued to lick your fur, making you feel warm and loved.
Drifting off to sleep, you felt Jungwon shift slightly, wrapping his body around yours as if to protect you. He looked down at you, his eyes full of affection, and for a moment, nothing else mattered. You were just two cats, snuggled together, enjoying the peacefulness of the moment as you drifted off to sleep in the comfort of each other's warmth.
#enhypen fic#yang jungwon#jungwon x reader#jungwon x you#jungwon x y/n#enhypen#enhypen imagines#enhypen x reader#yang jungwon x reader#yang jungwon imagines#yang jungwon enhypen#yang jungwon fluff#enhypen jungwon#jungwon enhypen#fanfiction#enhypen drabbles#jungwon imagines#jungwon fluff#jungwon drabbles#hogwarts au
582 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Five months ago, you didnât know how you were going to raise your baby all alone. The baby that was created with the man you loved, whose fate met with a tragic incident. You saw it. The flames igniting and devouring the home he once grew up in. The flames that took everything from you that day.
A month after that, still grieving, still mourning the life taken away from you did you learn that a new life was growing inside you. The life that is the product of the love between you and him is now the only piece of him you will ever have.
The baby was born on a stormy night. You looked out the window from the hospital bed, raindrops dripping down. There was another couple in the room next to yours, they just had their baby. A son. It was a lovely sight, the baby cradled in the girlâs arm while she shared a kiss with her partner. A sigh escaped your lips, as you waddled your way through the long hospital corridor.
That stormy night, when you held your baby for the first time, it felt like holding something very familiar to your heart. She was so tiny, so fragile that you were scared but so in love with her. Snuggled up in your arms, eyes closed in peaceful slumber.
The endless cries and the sleepless nights wore you out but your love for the tiny human being in your arms only grew each day.
Five months ago, if someone came to you and told you that the man you grieved every single day was going to return, you would've called this person insensitive for giving you false hope. But now that man is right here, begging for you to come with him, to give him another chance.
âI'm not going anywhere Caleb.â You looked away. âMy life is here, and I'm staying here in Linkon.â The baby wiggled in your arms, fussing to put her to sleep. âNow if you'll please..â
Guilt was eating Caleb alive as he stood there, eyes yearning for you.
A week has passed since your encounter with Caleb. He kept in touch. Surprisingly he had your contact and you did the mistake of accidentally receiving his call when he called randomly while you were in the midst of feeding the baby. The same old conversation, him begging you to come live with him, to at least try and give him one more chance.
Though, if you were being completely honest, you could really use his offer. Living on your own was hard enough and now you have a baby. The rents, the food for baby, the diapers and other stuff, it was getting harder for you to afford them. Your job wasn't paying you much. You had to drop out of college to support the baby.
And you didn't want to separate your child from his father. Be as it may, Caleb was still the father of your child and he was willing to be in her life. Of course, you still feel betrayed by him but your concern is your daughter now. And it would benefit you both by moving in with him. Just for now, you thought to yourself.
Writing after a hiatus is difficult because of writer's block. Author's note: Reader was a college student while in a relationship with Caleb, while he was a DAA Fighter Pilot so yes there is a bit of an age gap.
Series Masterlist
Taglist- @drogonfruitzen @starlightzoey @crowleysthings @melonmelo99 @i-messed-up-big-time @deadbydad @jayzioxx @erensfeed @cordidy @quiet-oracle @subliminalwish @yaeg3er @blipblopblopblip @1marvelsimp @theloveofnagiseishiroslife @mcdepressed290 @lunia-likes-pomegranet @nezuswritingdesk @blorbohunter @kazuko-stuff @honeyluvender @novthirty @twilightsmissingfur @kira-loves0905
#caleb x reader#love and deepspace#caleb x reader angst#lnds caleb#love and deepspace caleb#lnds x reader#love and deepspace caleb x reader
242 notes
¡
View notes
Text
âá°. united by fate, separated by time.


alas, even long-lived species must meet their demise.
featuring : general lilia, nrc lilia. (cameo appearance: malleus, silver, sebek)
cw : gn!fae!reader, book 7 spoilers(might be inaccurate because i haven't finished book 7), BIG angst, may be ooc, bad grammars, reader used to fight alongside lilia
a/n : i wrote this in one sitting so i hope this is enjoyable lol :P
â when the feared general of briar valley first confessed his love for you hundreds of years ago, your brain stops functioning. lilia, a general capable of wiping an entire camp of those human warriors single-handedly, is averting his gaze from you while offering you a flower.
â the first question that you asked was, "are you well?", which makes him scowl at you. nevertheless, you still accepted his confession while giggling at the ridiculousness of it all.
â and so you started dating. it was rough being a couple on the battlefield, having to tone down your affection for him simply because of his title. of course, just like any other couples, the two of you often get into meaningless arguments that can be solved with simple communication.
â "name, i told you many a times already. don't ever call me any of those names while we're on duty. why can't you understand such a simple request?!"
â "it was just a slip-up. you don't have to yell at me for it! i already apologized, lilia!"
â "that's general to you."
â those arguments left a bitter taste in your mouth every time you thought of it. but of course, in the end, the two of you would always talk it out. even if lilia isn't the best at showing his feelings with words, he would usually leave a few trinkets he found by the road with an apology letter.
â a few years passed in the blink of an eye, and the war had finally ended. the two of you were entrusted by meleanor to take care of her unhatched egg, and yet, without her magic or love, the egg was unable to hatch.
â you both spent years traveling the world trying to find ways to hatch the egg. you would sing lullabies to it, and lilia would tell it stories as if it already hatched. two centuries passed, and when the egg was in danger of dying, the two of you were summoned to the castle.
â with lilia and your aid, the egg had finally hatched. after hatching, he was unfortunately separated from the two of you, his only source of companionship. the two of you now reside in an abandoned cottage by the valley, accompanied by a human baby that lilia found somewhere in an abandoned castle. the human baby was then named silver.
â at age one, silver was already learning how to walk with lilia's help. though you sometimes would worry and give lilia and silver a scolding(unfortunately for the latter) because the two of them would suddenly disappear in the middle of the day and come back late at night. simply because lilia wanted to 'show the real world' to the child. (he's one year old for god's sake)
â when silver was three years old, he was sent to the doctor in briar valley after eating lilia's special cereal(how did he even managed to fuck that up?) because silver was having mild fever. you scolded lilia for it in front of baby silver, and he just cackled, saying that this is his way of making the child stronger.
â one day, meleanor's son, malleus draconia, visited your beloved cottage and met silver. he was curious about the 'different looking' infant and asked lots of questions about it. "his name is ... silver? but why silver? is it because his hair is grey? then, shouldn't he be named grey instead?"
â his questions made lilia almost pass out from laughing, making you sigh. you then ask the little malleus if he would be so kind as to take care of silver for a few hours while you and lilia go buy something from the market. malleus agreed, curious to know more about the 'fragile' human.
â at age ten, silver was already playing with wooden swords along with another child in town, sebek zigvolt. they would often play fight with lilia, roleplaying as the strongest knights in briar valley. lilia finds it cute(and funny) at how sebek and silver seems to always fight for the position of general. which, to your dismay, you have to be the one to break the fight while saying, "there can be two generals in the battlefield, you know? there is no need to fight."
â one day, silver ran away from home in the rain because he found out that he wasn't your biological son. you spend a few minutes after that, crying and feeling guilty for making him feel that way, and also hurt to be reminded of such fact. lilia comforted you by saying that everything would be okay, and after that, he brought silver back home.
â when silver was sixteen, he received an invitation letter to night raven college, which makes lilia go into a nostalgic ramble about how the two of you once also received the letter but threw it away back then. somehow, the headmage allowed the two of you to enter even if the letter was over 300 years old.
â life in night raven college was not easy. malleus was often feared by other students, silver would often doze off somewhere and not attend classes accidentally, sebek doesn't have that many friends upon entering because of his loud personality, while lilia would always make students get scared by pranking them with floating chairs. it was chaotic, but it was fun.
â so, what happened to all of that?
â your vision is blurry, and all you see in your peripheral vision is malleus surrounded by a black liquid substance. your body hurt, your head is dizzy, and you can't move at all. the only thing you want to do right now is to sleep.
â you try to reach out to lilia and silver's unconscious body with your last bit of strength, but alas, it wasn't enough to move a single muscle.
â you began to think that, if such things as another universe exists, would the two of you live happily ever after in that universe? would you be able to go back to your life in your shared cottage, drinking coffees, and sharing stories like the old couple that you are? would you be able to sleep in bed beside him again, sharing sweet words and laughter with each other, knowing that there will be another tomorrow?
â you're dying to know the answer.
naomi-nana. do NOT repost, do not use (with or without permission), do not recommend or talk about my works outside of tumblr.
#nao.writes#twisted wonderland#twst#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x reader#lilia vanrouge twst#lilia twst#lilia twisted wonderland#general lilia vanrouge#general lilia#general lilia twst#general lilia x reader#lilia vanrouge#lilia vanrouge x reader#lilia twst x reader#general lilia twst x reader#fae reader#lilia x reader#general x reader
267 notes
¡
View notes
Note
how about yan!dilf finding out that his darling has an onlyfans account?
Yandere DILF! Reaction to You Having an OnlyFans
Warnings: 18+, Smut, Manipulation, Blackmail, Infidelity, Pet Names, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except You.
Wordcount: 4364 words
⥠Good Lord, WHO gave this man internet access.
⥠Going to keep it real with you, babe, youâre finished if he finds your OnlyFans account. And so is he (in more ways than one) â but more on that later.
⥠Letâs say Domninicâs many, many hours of internet sleuthing (stalking) have led him to the pearly gates of your Only Fans account, the only thing separating him from whatever lies on the other side being a pay wall. One of the only kinds of walls that canât stop Dominic.
⥠Of course, he buys a subscription. Of course, he does it under an alias, through an unlisted online banking app, on a burner laptop.
⥠And, upon seeing what youâre offering, heâs glad he took so many precautions.
⥠At first, the two emotions Dominic has felt most commonly throughout his lifetime flash in his ribcage, dance along the edge of his eyelids â make his eyes grow heavy.
⥠Lust and rage.
⥠Lust for the obvious. Rage for that which shouldnât have angered Dominic.
⥠In a lot of ways, Dominic is a traditionalist; oneâs significant other is for their partner and nobody else (even if Dominic doesnât abide by this logic himself). Thus, to see you, the person he wishes heâd married, the person he knows is fated to be his, spreading their legs for any guy with enough money to buy a coffee, mortifies him.
⥠One, because youâre his. Two, because you sell yourself for such a low price.
⥠Dominicâs too wrapped up in his wrath to see to the vague throbbing between his legs. Heâll just make it Marilynâs problem later when she returns from book club or whatever it is she does these days â and continue to make it her problem well into the morning when she struggles to emerge from bed, her legs buckling beneath the weight of his anger.
⥠For now, he paces around his office, checks the camera inside the bear heâd given to you months before.
⥠How had he not noticed sooner? He watched the footage from that bear enough times that he can recite everything youâve ever said, can predict everything youâre going to do, has memorised all the unconscious quirks you adopt when you think no oneâs watching.
⥠Dominic comes to the conclusion that you must be conducting your business in another location. One where you wonât be so easily found.
⥠Sure, he could go out, follow you to this location when you think youâre alone. He could even pay someone else to do it. But, amidst his rage, an idea sparks.
⥠No, he has a much better, much more cunning trick up his sleeve.
⥠The next day, Dominic comes to you with an offer he knows you canât refuse.
⥠âMarilyn and I are going out tomorrow night and weâd like for you to babysit the boys for us.â
⥠You tried to refuse. You tried to make up a reason less nefarious than the one you held in your mind as to why you couldnât do it. And Dominic only smiled, his eyes never crinkling, the sentiment never reaching them. He looked through you.
⥠He offered to raise your pay to an amount you both couldnât accept and couldnât pass up.
⥠This newfound amount was, considering how few subscribers you had on OnlyFans, irresistible. A godsend, in some respects. Especially when Dominic began taking his wife out more and more frequently, needing you to care for his children more often than not.
⥠To Marilyn, Dominic was finally, finally, trying to fix their marriage. To make good on the world heâd promised her those twenty-or-so years ago when heâd imprisoned her in a loveless marriage.
⥠To you, Dominic was being an understanding neighbour who was offering you a chance at a normal living wage out of the kindness of his heart.
⥠To Dominic, it was all a ploy to get you right where he wants you.
⥠The weeks passed. Dominic kept a close eye on your OnlyFans page.
⥠It would soon be time for you to upload your newest batch of material. If you ever found the time to do so, of course. What, with all the extra work Dominic had given you, he wouldnât be surprised if youâd forgotten. Or simply hadnât the time.
⥠It mattered little to Dominic now. He knew he had you on the ropes.
⥠The shift from one foot to the other as he offered you yet another night to babysit his boys, only for your eyes to lower. Uneasy.
⥠Youâd tried the old âIâm sorry, Mr. Laurierââ
⥠âPlease, (Y/N), weâve been over this.â He smiles down at you. âCall me Dominic.â
⥠You try again.
⥠âDominic â Iâm sorry, but I just donât think Iâll be able to tonightââ
⥠And Dominic used the tried and tested: âOhâŚis it the pay? I can pay you more, if thatâs the issueââ
⥠Issue. Youâre making a problem out of this, not him.
⥠You backpedal. You sigh. You try to stand your ground.
⥠Unfortunately for you, the ground youâre standing on is merely a sheet Dominic is going to pull out from under you at any moment.
⥠You tried. Really, you did. Tried to reject Dominicâs kindness.
⥠And he looks down at you. Heâs too beautiful for a grimace, he knows this. He puts on a mask heâs sculpted just for this moment â the false front.
⥠âI see,â he says, his voice low. His gaze shifts off to the side. He pretends to look for the right words to say. He already has them in his back pocket.
⥠âI understand. Itâs just thatâŚwellâŚâ He sighs. Places a hand on his hip. A change in posture. Somethingâs shifted about him. Youâre paying attention, the oncoming of regret starting to form in the pit of your stomach.
⥠Dominic looks you dead in the eyes.
⥠âDonâtâŚtell anyone I told you this,â he looks behind him. Turns back to you. âBut, Marilyn and I donât really trust anyone else with our babies â we only keep asking you becauseâŚwell, youâre brilliant with them.â
⥠He says it like itâs common sense. Flattery is every manipulatorâs best friend.
⥠He senses reservation in you. He keeps going.
⥠âAndâŚno, forget it, itâs fine. Weâll just cancel,â he smiles down at you. This time, the smile does reach his eyes. Makes it look like heâs hiding something else. Sorrow.
⥠You gasp inwardly, you take a step towards him.
⥠âOh, Iâm sorry! No, no, I can watch them tonight. Iâll justâŚdo my work tomorrow,â
vYou try to smile. Dominicâs becomes genuine.
⥠âYou sure? Weââ Marilyn and I, halve the blameâ âwouldnât want to be keeping you from anything important.â
⥠You assure him they arenât. That he isnât. Heâs won this round.
⥠He puts his hand on your shoulder. Youâve known each other long enough now that this is no longer a gesture that would inflict upon Dominic a problem heâd be lumbered with until he can, quite literally, take it into his own hands, and that you donât flinch beneath his touch.
⥠There will be time enough for that. He knows this.
⥠And so, Dominic leaves you with an estimation of the time of his outing and his arrival.Â
⥠âWeâll be back before you know it,â he says. He smiles at you from the front door, the handle in his grip. He leaves, his victory ringing in his head, making his heart thrum.
⥠And he didnât even need to bust out the old âMy marriage is failingâ shtick.
⥠True to his word, Dominic and his wife leave early into the evening, a rehash of their sonsâ bedtimes and snack preferences no longer necessary. Second nature to you now.
-
⥠Your work â your OnlyFans content â played on your mind for the whole evening. Time seemed to slip away and stand still â paradoxy â as you pleaded inwardly for Dominic and Marilyn to return.
⥠The hours bled into one another, tearing away from what you could have been doing instead of guarding the house while Marilynâs children slept upstairs, for truly they were more Marilynâs offspring than they were Dominicâs.
⥠A half hour passed. Forty-five minutes. An hour.
⥠You came to face the possibility â the likely reality â that you would simply have to announce to the few followers you had that there would be no new content this month; that you would supply them with what they paid for twice over in a few weeksâ time. And pray that you actually had an audience patient enough to outlast your absence before that.
⥠Amidst your planning of damage control, an idea poked its head from the shadows. A failsafe. A sequel to your desperation.
⥠You could always justâŚtake a few pictures here.
⥠The idea flashed in your mind like a life alternate to your own; past, with the certainty of already having been lived. All consequences already tangible. Foreseen.
⥠Perhaps that was why the anxiety associated with such expeditions into unfamiliarity had failed to catch up with you.
⥠Or, perhaps something masked it. Desperation, or one of its subsidiaries.
⥠Of course, you tried to stifle the idea. Tried to suffocate it with the smoke through which it walked. Though, its fiery grasp had mastered the art of survival.
⥠It wouldnât go away. Much like Dominicâs lingering gaze whenever his wife was out of eye-shot and only you remained.
⥠Ten minutes crawled by and you almost wished for the rapidity with which the last hours had passed to find you, seek you out amidst this frozen landscape Time had entombed you in.
⥠And, as is the folly of man, you entertained that which should not be. You considered the likelihood â the schematics â of indulging such a proposition.
⥠Nobody was home and the boys were asleep, out of the way. Most rooms were large enough and devoid of personality so to mask your location â especially if the Lauriers had more of the sterile white sheets they laid their bed with.
⥠Then, a memory.
⥠A basement, tucked away between the folds of your psyche as its location within the house. You recalled the couple having one â a sizable one at that â when Dominic had invited you down there with him to retrieve more seating for his lawn party.
⥠You knew where it was. Knew where the keys were kept.
⥠And so, with a hammering heart and a withering step, you sought your fortune.
⥠The keys were easily enough discovered. As was the creaking door of the basement. And, upon your descension â biblical in your visage as the light from the hallway, dim as it were, cast a glow about your silhouette amidst the depths of the basement â you found precisely what you needed.
⥠A space â clean, untouched â equipped with white sheets covering a mass of boxes. Sure, they were creased; stained with Ageâs attempts at youth, gripping onto the sheets and leaving his spectral marks â wrinkles â in their cotton-thin sheets, but they were there.
⥠You cast a keen ear to the ceiling, the living room floor, every few minutes as you looked for a place to start filming, a place to lay the sheets down, something to cover your face.
⥠You find a place, retrieve a Halloween mask from one of the boxes, and, without much deliberation, begin filming.
⥠What you do is nobodyâs business but your own. Well, yours and the hungry men who survey your account for any crumbs you deign to feed them.
⥠What you donât hear through the conduct of your business is the return of the homeâs owner.
⥠Dominic hung up his coat, made little show of announcing his presence, and went straight for the basement.
⥠Donât ask how he knew youâd be there.
⥠His steps grew more deliberate, louder, the closer he grew.
⥠You didnât even know he was home until it was too late.
⥠At the height of your percussion, just when you were about to reach the moment of your video that would make the lead up worth it, something hit the floor behind you.
⥠You jumped. Whipped round to see what had happened.
⥠And there was Dominic. Hair black as the corners of the room, eyes void of any discernible emotion as he looked down at you, arms crossed over his chest, the top of his shirt undone by two buttons, not even out of his work clothes.
⥠You fumbled, the apologies, explanations and defences lodged in your throat as you choked to get them out, slamming your thighs together and reaching for the camera in your bid to shut it down. You tore the mask from your head, revealing blushed cheeks and a light sheen of sweat forming from the neck up.
⥠Dominic made sure to stay out of the cameraâs line of sight, to remain only an anonymous spectator as he circled the room. He said nothing. Did nothing. Just watched and waited, walking.
⥠It was only after he knew the camera was off, your confidence in tatters around you, that he approached.
⥠You tried explaining, but he just shushed you.
⥠âNo need to explain, my Dear,â he told you. He sighed, deeply, brought the corner of his lip between his teeth. He donned the veneer of disappointment.
⥠âI suppose Iâm justâŚshocked,â he said. He leaned against a stack of boxes, solid against his back. He ran a hand through his hair and looked off somewhere. âI never knew you wereâŚthat kind of person,â
⥠The way he said that, like it had bleached his tongue just to speak it, made your heart sink lower.
⥠âI mean, what do we do now?â He made sure he gave you an incredulous glance, feigned disappointed abashment. âI pay you to look after my sons and I find you here, doingâŚâ He looked to the camera, briefly, then away. As if he could still see what you had done on the tiny screen attached to it.
⥠You apologised profusely, tried to defend yourself: âMr. Laurier, please â I didnâtâ I neverââ
⥠He didnât interrupt you. He let you tie yourself in knots. Like a pretty present, all for him.
⥠Once you had exhausted your ability to explain yourself, Dominic let your fear hang for a moment, let it sink before you like a darkness bowing the ceiling above you. The singular lightbulb flickered.
⥠Dominic sighed. Pushed off the boxes. Came to you.
⥠âHonestly, (Y/N), if you were that desperate for money, you couldâve just asked.â
⥠He knew that wasnât why you were doing this. But he also knew youâd accept whatever out he gave you. You listened.
⥠âHave I not been paying you enough? Have I misvalued your capabilities for this position?â
⥠The way his eyes flickered to your locked-together legs as he said position made your skin shiver.
⥠âOrâŚâ he looked down on you. Relaxed his posture.
⥠âIs there perhaps some other reason you chose toâŚconduct yourself here?â
⥠When you didnât answer, trying to decode his crypticism, he cocked his head ever so slightly to the side.
⥠âCould it be that youâŚwanted me to find you like this?â
⥠You tried to deny it, tried your utmost to say youâd never do such a thing to anyone, least of all your married neighbour and employer, but Dominic would hear none of it.
⥠âIâm flattered, really.â He says. He cast his eyes down, as if mulling over a secret. âMy wife and Iâs deteriorating marriage must be worse than I thought if it was so apparent to you of all people.â
⥠You knew such a comment, especially under these circumstances, shouldnât have stung the way it did. Dominic only let you ruminate on it for a moment.
⥠âMaybe you wanted to show me something you knew Marilyn couldnât.â
⥠Your jaw dropped. Dominic came to stand behind the camera. He toyed with it, general, not looking at anything in particular. You begged that he wouldnât find a way to review the footage.
⥠Domonic stood back, looked down at you.
⥠âHow about a compromise,â he offered. You watched him, eyes wide, heart pounding, stomach churning, breath short. He gave a pale smile.
⥠âYou help me burn off some of the tension Iâve had building up over the last few weeks,â his eyes darkened. âAnd weâll never speak a word of what happened here tonight.â
⥠Your words caught in your throat again.
⥠You knew Dominic was attractive, sure, but to help him cheat on his wife? And one so kind and loving as Marilynâ
⥠Your head span. Dominic had thrown you a lifeline.
⥠With a sigh, you evaluated your options.
⥠Your OnlyFans rarely made enough money to keep you financially independent, even for a short while; you had more to lose if you couldnât keep your babysitting job. And you knew there was no chance Dominic would let you babysit again if he thought this was what youâd be doing during the dark hours of the evening.
⥠And what if he told Marilyn? What if she told their neighbours, your parentsâ
⥠In your vulnerability, your worry for your own preservation, you quietly agreed.
⥠And besides, you rationalised with yourself as the weight of the situation, of Dominic settling behind you, sank in. Better for Marilyn that heâs doing this with me rather than someone she doesnât know, right?
⥠Given your bottom half was already bare, Dominic didnât have to waste time undressing you himself. Though, under any other circumstances, heâd have jumped at the privilege.
⥠Heâd often dreamed of this entire process being slower, gentler, and in the comfort of a bed in some lush space â usually a hotel. Not the sheet-covered ground of his cold basement.
⥠That evening, the mask Dominic wore was that of the common thief, for from you he stole your dignity. Your future.
⥠What you hadnât realised was, as Dominic had been stood by the camera, heâd set it to record. Premeditated.
⥠You didnât question why he pulled the mask from beside you onto his head. You just assumed, in your post-panic haze, that this was something he was into. Something he hid from Marilyn.
⥠Dominic still wore his work pants and had them pulled down to the bottom of his thighs. Heâd also done away with his shirt from what you could feel of his skin; he radiated heat like youâd never felt before, even when youâd been in close proximity to him prior to this.
⥠You didnât even have chance to think of much, to let the guilt and abashment of this whole situation weigh in on you as, with Dominicâs hands about your waist as if to steady you, he pushed in, filling you by an inch or two.Â
⥠You were easy to penetrate given your recent activity, but that only served to quell the stretch by a slight margin. You gasped, jolted, and Dominicâs grip about your middle tightened. He pulled you back, inadvertently pushing more of himself into you. You bit your lip, trying not to enjoy the mortifying implications of this entire affair, the feeling of being filled by the man who held your future in his hands.
⥠He was, regardless of whether youâd done this before, nothing like youâd ever experienced. He alternated between being gentle and rough, eventually lodging himself inside you entirely and guiding you up and down his shaft at a rate that suggested patience. Just a minute later, heâd pick up the pace, pulling out and slamming back in, pushing you down so he could reach the deeper parts of you.
⥠And all the while, you could feel a tightness below your stomach. One which, to your panic, strengthened whenever you considered that you were helping a married man cheat on his wife, that your situation was buried beneath so many layers of complexity you feared youâd never see the light of clarity again.
⥠A married man. One who, if his soft touches and stifled moans were anything to go by, held rather a fondness for you in this moment.
⥠Dominic didnât talk at all throughout the entire encounter, opting only to communicate with an occasional squeeze to your thighs, reaching around to your front to touch you in ways that had you whining and crying, and tugs to your hair whenever you tried to hide your face in your hands.
⥠The whole sordid affair hadnât unfolded exactly how Dominic had wished â dreamed â it would.
⥠In his dreams, it had been gentler â consistently so. More private. Though, no less taboo.
⥠Now, he was harsher. Rough, though not enough to hurt you. Just enough to make sure you felt every inch of him; just what these subscribers of yours would pay to see.
⥠Dominic pressed close to you as the camera recorded, your face exposed for whoever came into possession of the video to see.
⥠Of course, so long as you remained an obedient little pet, Dominic would never have to release it to anyone.
⥠The transaction, one which left you breathless and sweltering, finished only when Dominic did. He made sure you were satiated, too, something to think about over the coming weeks as you curated more content for your subscribers, every moment no doubt a reminder of your encounter with him.
⥠Afterwards, he removed himself, though with much hesitance. Heâd finally, finally attained that which he wanted most â you â and yet it hadnât been under the circumstances heâd romanticised for so long.
⥠He tried not to think about it, storing it with the rest of the undesirable humanisms he had locked away elsewhere in his psyche. He focussed only on how explosive it had felt, howâŚalive he was in comparison to all the other times heâd been with someone, using them as nothing more than a mannequin to pump himself with rather than someone to give himself to.
⥠He let you lie on the floor, a blanket draped over you as he sorted himself out. He clicked the camera off, took out the memory card and kept it firmly attached to his palm â all while you werenât looking, werenât listening, senses still dazed with all Dominic had given you, done to you.
⥠As he removed the mask, there was a sheen to his skin and a passive glint in his smile that suggested something inhuman and false about him. Something you discovered too late, it would seem.
-
⥠After that evening, you had no choice but to continue on as if nothing had happened. For so long as Dominic was in possession of that night â that memory card â nothing had. You, of course, knew nothing of the card at first. Not until Dominic had let it slip that the camera had been rolling the entire time.
⥠And still, you didnât question his use of the mask. The serendipitous timing of it all. You could hardly breathe for the ocean boiling in your stomach, your heart bleaching white and your brain paling as you realised youâd just filmed a sex tape that could ruin not just your life, but Dominicâs too.
⥠Oh, if only you knew just how little Dominic cared.
⥠Dominic told you not to worry, that heâd salvaged the memory card and put it somewhere safe only to now return it to you.
⥠Heâd duplicated the video, of course. That, he kept somewhere even safer.
⥠Sure, heâd allowed you to upload it to your account when you asked him with wide eyes, your face blurred and his figure already unrecognisable to any of your simps. You still needed content, after all, so why not profit off your late-night tryst with your neighbour?
⥠Which was what led you to come to him now, eyes downcast as he stood before you, arms crossed, smile ready to split his face in half and reveal the parasites that made up his interior.
⥠The truth you gave him? Your account had garnered a great deal of traction since yourâŚuploaded encounter. About three thousand new subscribers, to be exact.
⥠âOh?â Dominic offered. âAnd why are you telling me this, mon Chèr? Do you plan on splitting your earnings with me?â
⥠He graced you with his charm, his humour. Tried keeping the situation light.
⥠A redness rolled across your face. Dominic smiled, slim and sly, and allowed you to foster his silence, his attention.
⥠You suggested filming something else. Something that could make the guilt you felt for your last encounter with him feel half worth it.
⥠Nothing ever would, of course. But you could at least try.
⥠And so began a lustrous alliance between yourself and Dominic, the man who had once been your neighbour, then your employer, now your owner.
⥠He used you as he pleased, donned the mask and bent you over under the guise of being the conduit for your growing fanbase. In reality, the scorching, pulsating, blistering reality you inhabited with him, you were his. His star who he made and will break when he sees fit.
⥠So long as he had that memory card, and the growing catalogue of blackmail you keep adding to in your bid to chase what you thought was the weight of your self-worth in cash, you were his.
⥠Infidelitous, yes. But that mattered little to Dominic. Nothing mattered more now that he had you in his hands, whimpering for him, coming undone for him, all while he maintained the safe anonymity of both his mask and the façade of a loving, caring family man.
Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)
Masterlist Yandere AI Masterlist Masterpost
AO3 Wattpad Tumblr Backup Account
#yandere#male yandere#yandere male#original yandere#yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere x y/n#yandere x darling#yandere smut#yandere oc#yandere oc x reader#yandere dilf#yandere dilf x reader#yandere blog#yandere writing#tw yandere#yandere imagines#yancore#yandere headcanons#yanderecore
2K notes
¡
View notes
Note
Just read your yan! Farmboy piece and i really liked it! đ i wanted to give an ask but just ignore if you dont like it or its too heavy for you. (Has self ending option so just ignore if it triggers you or just too much) though- i had an ask similar to another one with the âmorally greyâ reader? How would danny react to an âescapedâ reader who managed to get away before he could have got to them?
In the piece the reader is treated cruelly by basically everyone in town and sometimes even their own parents, right? So it got my gears thinking of a more- off the deep end type? Say a reader who has been sick and tired of being the outcast and target of cruelty despite doing nothing but existing. So they scrounge up every dollar, every penny and quarter they find to save up a good sum for the day they leave and high tail out of there? Bus, cab, or anything would be fine but with barely a backpack of their legal documents and clothes- they set off. Thinking âi want to at least try. I wanna at least give myself the chance to be more and have betterâŚ.. if not- then i dont know what i would do.â *could go a suicidal route if you want* how would he react to that? How would the town or parents react to it? Id honestly think they would say âgood riddanceâ or sum.
THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME!đđ i love ur work and hope your doing well. đ
Tw. For mentioned suicide
If the reader managed to escape, then I think Danny would lose it. He's pretty in control most of the time, and part of that is based in how predictable he views the town he lives in. But leaving? Actually escaping would be far beyond anything he had expect. Now you'd be somewhere he couldn't control, where he couldn't corner you in a way he knows would work.
I think he'd try to follow you and bring you back. He'd spin the story to be a bit more sympathetic to your situation. The new version of events he'd tell would be like some ill fated pair that were separated by class. "We fell in love. And we slept together. She got pregnant, but she got worried that people wouldn't accept that we wanted to be together. She's confused, scared, and somewhere out there. I need to bring her home."
He gets the support of people in town, and suddenly a missing report is put out for you. You're missing. You're not mentally well. You need to come home. Your own parents back his story up to the police, and he goes to the city to find you.
A few strings pulled here and there, and he finds out the women's shelter you're staying at. He puts in an anonymous tip, and they go there to bring you back into his waiting arms.
I think if you did try and leave like this, he'd be more aggressive about keeping you locked up. Plus, now the town think of you as some poor, mentally unwell girl while he's you benevolent caretaker.
If the reader ended it, I think then that the Danny would be devastated. He'd be angry, but he wouldn't have anyone to direct his anger at. I think that no one would blame him for your passing, but rather blame it on your family for raising you in such poor condition. I think at that point your family would've been chased out of town, and Danny would have nothing.
Like I said in a previous ask, Danny never pictured himself with anyone other than you. I think maybe he'd marry someone else eventually for the sake of holding appearance, but he'd never love them.
#yandere x reader#tw yandere#x reader#yandere x you#answered asks#fanfic writing#yandere concept#male yandere#yandere#yandere male#yandere farmboy#tw sui implied
211 notes
¡
View notes
Text
| cw: smut, slightly dark luke if you squint hard enough
luke castellan who refuses to fuck you even when you cry. he was completely oblivious to his own filthy pleasure. but curiosity would never stop luke from making you beg.
he wouldnât even let you touch yourself. and every time he saw the slightest shift of your thighs against one another to alleviate the unbearable pressure, heâd make you wait another agonizing day.
though luke never clearly stated why you were being punished, you assumed it had something to do with the way you teased him at night. meeting up with him at the bathrooms, whispering beyond vulgar things as you pressed your hips forward against his, only to leave him minutes later; alone, and with the worst case of blue balls heâs ever had.
yeah, it was probably that.
but now, lying under him and just having to take the ruthless friction against your fully clothed heat, you fully regretted every second of it. in your eyes, this was past cruel. he wouldnât even allow you to feel how hot his skin was against your wet cunt. you imagined him to be warm and throbbing, soothing your neglected folds as he rubbed through them.
the fabric separating your bodies was slowly becoming soaked. it was embarrassing. humiliating, even.
and all you could do was cry and beg. but lukeâs personal favorite was when youâd thank him after he reminded you how lucky you were to be receiving any attention at all.
you were so greedy, always pleading for more of him. he had you wrapped around his little finger, certain that youâd do anything for him.
he wondered that if he gave in and fucked you roughly like you deserve, youâd still follow him as he lead a deceitful life for the rest of his time at camp. and if youâd join him in the end of olympus.
the sobs and borderline hysterical pleas for any type of unclothed, physical contact that left your swollen lips made it seem that way. and the streams that wrecked every delicate pat of a beauty sponge, and every pass of the mascara wand over your now red, puffy eyes could only add to his confidence. youâd be with him until the end, however that fate may be.
oh, how luke loved it when you cried.
#luke castellan pjo#lukeâs!world#luke castellan smut#luke castellan pjo smut#luke castellan x you#luke castellan x reader smut#luke pjo#luke castellan x reader#luke castellan fanfic#luke castellan
1K notes
¡
View notes
Text
Request: Can I request for Illumi, Pakunoda, Kurapika, Feitan, Pokkle from HXH and Aki and Makima from CSM with a tragic darling? Who was cursed to have a miserable and devastating existence? Who is forced to go through horrifying tragedies over and over again? And is destined to die a horrific and miserable death either by outside force, or the yandere themselves killing them and has no way to stop it?
Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional behavior, overprotective behavior, paranoia, isolation, abduction, violence, mentions of darling's death, suicidal behavior
Tags: @jamayah @chxxz @leveyani @shenryu-sama @maggiequinn59 @hyakki-yosai
S/o is cursed with a miserable life
Kurapika Kurta
âď¸âIt is your curse that has bought you into the clutches of Kurapika but even as you are stuck with him, your life doesn't end up being safer or more peaceful. Tragedies and accidents haunt you no matter where you hide or run to and the curse bestowed upon your life pushes Kurapika's mind quickly over the edge. His own sanity deteriorates at a rate he would have never expected as he fails over and over again to protect you from the fate that is inevitable for you. He doesn't believe your words, doesn't believe that an early death is the only outcome for your life. His eyes glow a scarlet red whenever you even utter those words as he blames you for having given up far too easily. His hunt of the Phantom Troupe is joined by a desperate pursuit for an exorcise who can remove the curse that has been cast upon you yet he is plunged into dark despair whenever they fail to shatter the fate that gets closer every day. The paranoia festers into an untamable beast as his hold on you tightens, his fear growing that one day you will slip through his fingers and he will lose you forever. Hatred, desperation and fear burn his eyes red, a colour that will forever stay with them the moment your fate catches up with you.
Pokkle
đšâIt is obsession that ties Pokkle forever to you yet he has been hurt more times than he has experienced the bliss that he once daydreamed about would come with a life with just the two of you. Your fate is one of suffering and heartbreak, your time on this earth limited. Pokkle has been witness to so many horrifying accidents and tragedies you have gone through and has never left any of them without bruises and scars all because he always shields you with his body to ensure that nothing happens to you. Mentally and physically he is shot. His hair is tousled, heavy eyebags rest under his eyes and he is constantly covered in bruises and wounds all because he is more than just desperate to protect you. At night he is too terrified to even sleep, dreads that you will pass away if he allows himself even a minute of rest. His emotions are all over the place, his sleep-deprived brain unable to function. In one moment he is sobbing in your arms that you can't leave him, in the next he's chaining you up with a hysterical look in his eyes. The moment everything happens as you have always known, he will fall into a deep depression where he will neglect himself until his weak body gives up on him.
Illumi Zoldyck
đ¤âIllumi is someone who believes himself to be in the right to own you and control you. It is the very curse of your existence that threatens this claim that he believes himself to have. You are kept separated from the rest of the clan much like Alluka as tragedies of yours should not befall the rest of the family. Only the butlers are there to protect you from yourself and only Illumi is the one who is allowed to converse with you at all. He denies you even the freedom of speaking that everything will be useless in the end as there is on force on earth that could save you, punishes you for speaking those words. He searches everywhere for an exorcist who will be able to release you of the curse you are in yet one after the other lets him down, their constant failures only being paid with their death in return as their existence is from that moment on of no worth for Illumi. Unable to control your life like he normally always does with his needles, Illumi finds himself filled with emotions that have his focus wavering, something that has never happened before. The moment you are no more he will move on with his life yet the memory of yours will be from that day on the curse haunting him.
Feitan Portor
â ď¸âThere nothing to be gained from keeping you yet it is your defeated mindset that agitates him more than anything. It is clear that you have already given up and resigned yourself to your fate yet for Feitan this won't do. You are not allowed to wallow in self-pity whilst putting him through so much trouble. He will make you suffer somehow and if it is the last thing that he will do. Feitan refuses to give you over to your cursed fate, rebells against it as he hunts down everyone who may be able to break you free from the life that you are otherwise doomed to live. His patience is of no saint though as all threads snap whenever a failure happens and he lets out his growing frustration on those who failed his expectations. You are his. You are not allowed to die an early death that he has no control over. You aren't supposed to die already. The agitation, the helplessness, that he is put through as he slowly has to understand that there is indeed seemingly nothing he can do is guaranteed to drive him mad. Perhaps ending your life through his own hands is the only way for him to exhibit a semblance of control over your existence. It will not bring him any joy though. Only a memory to forever torment him.
Pakunoda
đâDenial will not bring you very far nor will it bring Pakunoda very far. She is quick to understand that there is nothing she is able to do after trying and failing to figure out a way or to find a person who could ensure your survival. Even with all the connections and information that she has with her own Nen abilities as well as the Phantom Troupe there is nothing that she can do nor is there anyone else out there who could do anything to help you to lead a normal life. It is this knowledge that breaks her heart. The moment she accepts that though she decides that there is no reason for her to hold back with her own obsession. Time is ticking for you after all and it is ticking fast which leaves her with no time to take everything slow with you. Your own cursed fate leads Pakunoda to the decision to not hold anything back at all and to indulge in you as long as there is still time. She will not be denied the fleeting time that you have left on this earth. She herself comes to the conclusion that she will end your life at the end herself, giving you perhaps the most merciful death that you could have gotten. She will never be able to move on nor will she allow herself to do so though.
Hayakawa Aki
đâPerhaps it is his own cursed fate that has led him to find you and has also guided him to fall in love with you. Aki's own life is marked with nothing but tragedies and failure so your fading existence seems to be the cherry on top of everything. What was he thinking, believing that he could do something right with the only person he has ever loved as intensely? Your past, your present and your future all shatter him as the facade he tries to put on so desperately around you shatters. Deep down Aki is after all still a boy who has never gotten over the pain of losing his entire family in one flashing moment. No words could describe what he is feeling as he sheds tears of frustration and fear, unable to breathe properly as he clings to you. Is this really it? Is this how your life is going to end? Is this how his life is going to end? Without a single memory that can be just happy without the stain of death and sorrow? Aki comes to genuinely hate his existence and curse whatever gods exist up there for putting him through so much, for the fact that they will even take you from him. The only thing he can do though is focus on his revenge after you are gone until he too will die full of misery and regret.
Makima
âď¸âWhat an anomaly you are. Makima is the Control Devil, the entire premise of her very existence is that she is the conductor who manipulates everyone. Yet she cannot control you. Your life is slipping right through her hands like sand as she can't hold on to it as you are cursed to die live and die in misery. In a way you are the very embodiment of everything she wants to get rid of as a world without pain, curses and death would be the ideal world for you. As of now she still hasn't achieved that goal of hers though and your time is ticking away. Still, she expresses no visible sorrow or grief even though she knows all about your fate. She doesn't know what it feels like after all, unable to react emotionally. Instead she searches for ways to keep you alive even if she has to use nonorthodox methods that might destroy the very core of your humanity. You will dangle within her chains one way or another and she doesn't care what methods and sorcery she has to resort to. She almost revels in the sensations she feels once you pass away though her goals aren still the same. She preserves your body, keeps it as she waits for a chance to bring you back. She will not tolerate her loss of control over you.
#yandere x reader#yandere hunter x hunter#yandere hxh#yandere kurapika#yandere kurapika kurta#yandere pokkle#yandere illumi#yandere illumi zoldyck#yandere feitan#yandere feitan portor#yandere pakunoda#yandere chainsaw man#yandere csm#yandere aki#yandere hayakawa aki#yandere makima#hunter x hunter x reader#hxh x reader#kurapika x reader#pokkle x reader#illumi x reader#feitan x reader#pakunoda x reader#chainsaw man x reader#csm x reader#aki x reader#makima x reader
287 notes
¡
View notes
Text
ᥣ In Another Life, May We Meet Again, But Under Better Circumstances đŠ
Summary: The first time Phainon spotted you in Okhema, he had thought that you were an interesting person. He didn't approach you or anything, just watching you from afar everytime he went on a stroll around the market. As time passed, these simple moments became something more, when the white-haired man realized that he had fallen in love with you, a ghost wandering in this world. So in an effort to get to know you better, he decided to talk with you for the first timeâ that would one day be the moment where fate brought the two of you together, but would also separate you both in the end. (wc: 3.4k)
cw: touch-starved f.reader, lovesick phainon, love confession, reader falling for him but not realizing it, angst, romance, gentle love, bittersweet ending, "dangerously yours" quote mentioned at the end.
Note: requested by @fianur I know it's supposed to be fluff, but I can't help but also want to insert some angst cause of the potential for this trope.. sorry! (Hope u don't mind tho) Enjoy:3
Ever since Phainon met you, a ghost wandering in the midst of the bustling streets of Okhema, seeming to be lost in your own thoughts, he knew that his fate would already be sealed; the moment it brought the two of you together.
Despite already experiencing the taste of the afterlife, your soul remained fixed on the outside world, walking amongst the living people; albeit, secretly. He would see how you would observe bystanders when they walked around the streets, having been finished with their own activities in order to spend the whole day.
He would notice how your gaze would stay glued onto these people, a hint of longing etched into your eyes, despite them looking empty most of the times. It was as if you had the hidden desire to join them, to actually walk among them... Instead of hiding yourself from them behind layers of wall, not wanting to be seen by anyone.
But, he noticed you. He had always been.
From the moment the white-haired man came to Okhema to fill in his role as a Crysos Heir, he had always been keeping an eye on you. Not to be wary of youâbut to understand you. To notice that, despite already been embraced by Thanatos' touch, your lingering presence was proof enough that someone like you still continued to exist in this world; not just as a spirit, but as a personâwho longed for the presence of others, who longed for the touches of others, despite knowing that they wouldn't be able to afford to give you one, given that you no longer had a physical form for them to touch anymore.
But even so, your soul continued to cling onto the sheerest of hope that someone, anyone, would be able to give you what you desired most. Even if you had to wait for an eternity for it to happen.
Knowing that, he couldn't help but want to fill in that role. Not to indulge in himself, but to make those empty but longing eyes that he had long since been keeping a watchful eye on from a distanceâto share and give bits of light in them too, in order to make the woman he noticed be happy.
In order to make the woman he fell in love with; be happy.
Walking passed by the people in the market, his steps were overshadowed by their owns. Their voices ringing throughout all of Okhema, relishing in the bustling streets as per usual.
Nonetheless, Phainon continued to take small steps, taking his time in order to reach his destination. His face remained calm, before turning into a cornerâwhere most citizens would hardly passed by.
A perfect spot to hide oneself, as his aquamarine eyes spotted a familiar figure being alone, as always. Her body crouched down, attention glued onto the ground, using a wooden stick to draw whatever images passed by her mind in order to distract herself from the pain of being left all aloneâin a world where everyone else were still able to live in. But not for her anymore.
Not for you anymore.
Due to being used of not being seen by anyone, you didn't even hear the sound of footsteps coming from an unfamiliar figure standing from a distance, watching you from behind as you continued to distract yourself. Even if you did, you would assumed that the person wouldn't be able to see you, and walked passed by you without a care in the world to what they just walked in on.
Seeing you like this, Phainon couldn't help but feel even more pitiful for your situationâbut also determination, on being able to change your fate to something better. So, with a composed manner, his feet started to move, approaching you slowly, not wanting for you to be frightened by his presence.
Stopping just a few feet away from you, his head turned to look down, his attention being drawn toward the drawings you made on the ground. Admiring them for a moment, his mouth then opened, bending down slightly with his palms pressed on his ankles.
"I see that you have quite the skill in performing arts. Were you, perhaps, an artist in your previous life?" He inquired, keeping his tone light and casual, making sure that his presence wouldn't be seen as a threat to the distracted woman, doing anything he could in order for your reaction to be less undesirable for the both of them.
But no matter how the man attempted to make light of the situation, he didn't fail to notice the sudden pause in your action upon hearing his question, freezing for a good momentâas if trying to figure out whether or not the person you heard that question from was talking to someone else, or you.
A few seconds passed by as silence stretched between them, giving the air of the surrounding a rather chilling atmosphereâin your eyes, atleast. Slowly, you turned your head to look behind, still clinging onto the faintest of hope that the person you heard was actually talking to someone else, and you were just being panicked for nothing.
But, looking up from the ground due to your crouching position, your eyes caught the glimpse of two pair of aquamarine eyes from a white-haired man, his gaze strangely warmâif it wasn't for the fact that he was looking at you, when nobody should've been able to. And even if somebody could, you wouldn't allow for them to actually be able to spot you that easily.
In the midst of the continued stretching silence, Phainon continued to focus on nothing else but you. Not toward the ground, not toward the other corner where the other exit was supposed to beâbut you.
He was looking at you, specifically.
At that moment, your mind finally reached an understanding of what was going on, despite the situation being so sudden. Your gaze remained wide open, not being able to hide your surprise from slipping through your face, couldn't believe that any of this was actually happening. Out of instinct, your fists gripped nervously onto the fabric of your clothes, a rush of adrenaline creeping inside of you.
Despite how surprised you looked, taking note of your gripping hands, Phainon didn't take your reaction into heart, already expecting that you would react to something like this. Instead, a stark contrast to your own, his eyes softened when he was finally met with the pair of eyes that he deemed empty when noticing them from a distance in the past at firstâbut ended up noticing the hint of yearning from them the more he looked into them, as you remained isolated from everybody else, due to your state.
The only difference wasâthose pair of orbs were now looking at him for the first time. After every mild observations he did in order to study you a bit better, even by only doing it from a far distance, they were now finally looking into his own set of ones. He would no longer have to imagine how it would feel if those pair of eyes would look at him anymoreâ
For he had already achieved his wish, right at this moment. And he would be able to experience it over and over again in the near future. If you would let him, that is.
Beautiful, he thought to himself. His smile widening a bit upon admiring your physical features more. Even though your skin looked paler than the others, and most likely cold if he could touch your hands, given that you had already diedâhe still looked at you as if these features were a normal thing, and not the other way around.
And through the rush of adrenaline clinging onto your form, you couldn't help but to also feel the slightest hint of warmth, upon noticing how this man's gaze looked uncharacteristically gentle, along with his charming smile; despite only encountering him now. You failed to notice whether or not his gentle expression hid a hint of malice behind it, only being able to see the pureness plastered on his face.
Weird.
Who was this person?
A few months had gone by from your first encounter with him, like a lullaby gently lulling an infant to sleep. Now, Phainon had become someone who was a main importance in your daily life. When you found out that he could actually see you, you made sure to distanced yourself from him at first, not wanting to get involved with anything. Not to mention, how he was actually a member of the renowned Crysos Heir.
Perhaps, that was one of the reasons on why he was able to see you, without you needing to show yourself willingly.
Even when Phainon made sure to hold a casual conversation with you everytime he's got the chance, wanting to get closer to you, you remained firm in your judgement. Despite having the hidden desire to be able to get in touch with someone who was still in the realm of the living for awhile, but with the way this white-haired man kept approaching you whenever he spotted you in a corner, sometimes acting more like someone who's head over heels for you, rather than a simple friendâ
You knew that you would have to do something in order to stay away from him, and to also make him lose interest in you.
Because, if your deduction turned out to be correct, then one day, he would most likely confessed his feelings to you, hoping that you would accept. As if forgetting that the whole reason on why you were still able to wander in this worldâwas because you were a wandering spirit. Nothing more, nothing less.
A fleeting shadow of what you were once was, soon to fade away when your time in this world finally reached its climax. When that time comes, you knew that you would have to say goodbye to this world once again, albeit forever. So, with a man who wanted nothing more than to express his innocent love for you, in the hopes of being reciprocated by the endâyou knew that you would have to make a move, in order to not end up upsetting the poor man in the end.
Because, you couldn't bear to hurt the man in front of you. Instead of letting him be closer toward you, increasing his level of affection in the process, that would one day be pointless on the day when your footsteps would take one final step away from the world, ceasing to exist anymore in this realm of the living you had grown attached toâyou would rather choose to prevent that from happening, by never letting him do them in the first place.
So, with your biggest efforts, the first thing you did when he started to approach you more was to disappear from his sight. He spotted you in the corner? You'd disappear. He approached you in order to strike up a conversation? You'd disappear. He searched for you in hopes of making you to go easy on him? You'd disappear. Even when he only just took one step toward you, your form would instantly vanished, as if you had never been there in the first place.
Due to how constant these moments were, you were more than confident that your plan to make him lose interest on chasing you would work. Just needing to wait for the perfect moment where this plan would reach a fascinating result, and by that moment, you would be able to rid yourself off of the unshakeable feeling that had been gnawing inside your heart, from the moment his aquamarine eyes set on you for the first time in that fated encounter.
That was how you were supposed to be until the end, but...
Your heart couldn't help but fluttered everytime his attention would be focused on you, even though you had attempted to avoid him at any cost. Even through your mask of indifference, Phainon had never let your actions to persuade him into stopping, for he had already been so in love with youâto the point of no returning back.
So, when he noticed you becoming more and more opened up toward him, albeit even just a littleâhe knew that he had won in this little game of cat and mouse. Seeing you starting to give him short answers upon his questions, his heart would also leaped at the sight of your bashful expression that you so hardly attempted to conceal by avoiding his gaze with a small frown, attempting so hard to remain indifferent, but failing miserably.
He had known of your unfamiliarity toward being vulnerable, even without you telling him that. So, seeing you acting like this made his hands to clench at his sidesâresisting the urge to just grab ahold of your face, so that he would be able to admire your radiant face up close. If only he could do that, his mind continued to tell him so.
But, he knew he couldn't. Not because of waiting for your permission, but knowing that you no longer had a physical form that he could touch anymore. And that was the worst thing to ever come in-between you two, because both of you yearned to feel the innocent touches of eachother, albeit secretly. He had to accept this, whether he wanted to or not.
But, of course, there was one more thing that was even worse than this. That would leave one of them, if not, the both of them to feel that they had been separated from eachother already, even though it hasn't happened yet.
But he knew that he would still have to try, regardless, in order to get his feelings out one way or another. In order for the both of you to finally let yourselves out of your cages after so long.
And that, was what he intended to do next.
"...I love you, (Name)." His voice was warm upon saying these simple but life-changing words, with a hint of hopefulness that the person who received this would be able to reciprocate back. His smile never wavering even after expressing his pent-up feelings that he had been harboring for you, wanting to be especially composed for this important occasion.
Despite knowing that this would happen someday, your eyes still widened upon hearing his confession, full of conviction and devotion for you. No hint of hesitation was found, not with the way he said these words with a tender smile he would use everytime his eyes would set on you, but more loving, and... Genuine.
A moment of silence lingered after that, one where the both of them couldn't help but feel nervous. One being nervous of the other's response, while the other...
Lips pressed into a thin line, your hands clenched by your sides, before looking down with a hint of vulnerability plastered on your face, one that made the man in front of you couldn't help but to widen his eyes upon noticing it, his smile finally wavering.
He was used to seeing you being indifferent all the time. So, seeing you like this without attempting to mask your genuine feeling for the first time was...
"...You do realize that I'm still a ghost, regardless... Right?" Your murmured words finally broke the silence that had been stretching in the air for awhile, making Phainon's breath to hitch. "Just a wandering spirit walking in this realm of the living." You continued, before looking up, albeit hesitant. "...One where I would fade away when the time comes, eventually."
"I..." Taking in your words, Phainon felt his mind going blank for a good moment. His lips parted, struggling on what to say to that. He knew of your situation. He knew of your eventual departure from this world in the near future. He knew... And yetâ
Swallowing the lump in his throat, he took a step closer toward you, his expression replaced with a hint of a fiery determination in his eyes. "...Even so, that doesn't mean that I will let you, nor myself, to walk away from this path. Not like this." He murmured, his tone taking a serious turn, continuing to look at you with longing in his eyes.
"I love you, (Name)." He repeated it again for you, head lowering down. "...I have always been." He whispered, fists clenched weakly by his sides, making you to can't help but widened your eyes again, looking up from the ground to meet his eyes that you had grown accustomed to. Noticing your attention back on him, his head turned up to meet yours. "I know that you are just a wandering spirit nowâ but to me?" He approached again, continuing. "To me, you are more than that. To me, you are still a person. The person who I've grown a liking towardâ No, the woman who I've grown attached to be by her side with."
His eyes twitched, desperation evident behind his attempted confidence, his lips almost wavering. "The woman who I want to spend the rest of my life with." He added once again, before ending his sentence with a final confession.
"...The (Name) that I loveâto the point of no returning back." He murmured, reaching out to take ahold of your face, but stopped when he remembered that you no longer have a physical form for him to touch. Even so, his hand stayed close to your cheek, trembling slightly, wanting so desperately to just cradle your face for the first time. Even for a moment.
You couldn't bear to see his expression upon this moment, knowing that he was fighting the urge to just touch you.
After a few seconds, his hand finally moved to rest by his side again, his attention focused on the ground. "I'm aware of your situation, I do..." He murmured, eyebrows furrowing. "But that doesn't mean I will just walk awayâ not being able to tell you of my harboring feelings for you. Not like this." He stated, feeling like he was convincing himself, rather than you. Regardless, his eyes widened, before looking up at you with full conviction. The gaze in his eyes telling you that he wasn't about to hold back.
"Not when the woman I love is standing right in front of me." He announced, his words carrying no hint of reluctance, nor any false truth. He had never been. Your heart sank at his words, but there was also a hint of bliss creeping in your chest, from the moment he uttered these words.
As if you were glad that he was willing to tell you all of this. To be able to tell you this, with no intentions of backing down.
After another moment of silence, the tension was broken with the sound of a breathed chuckle. Not coming from the white-haired man who had let out all of his pent-up feelings for you. No. It came from you.
"...You're a fool, Phainon." You remarked, closing your eyes to turn your head down, shaking your head with a strained smile. Despite telling such harsh words, your tone didn't hold any irritation, just amusement. Admittedly, you couldn't help but revelled at this side of him.
At first, Phainon froze upon hearing your sudden remark, feeling like he had just done something wrong by upsetting you. But when he spotted the strained smile your face held, with the sound of a hidden amusement coming from your words, he knew that it wasn't the case. So, with a followed-up chuckle, he tilted his head, looking at you with both adoration and fondness, before closing his eyes with another smile.
"Haha.. But isn't any man who falls in love are?" He replied, taking this chance to joke around for a bit.
Your breathed chuckle came to a halt, your eyes widening upon hearing his words. Not long after, your smile widened too. This time, more genuine. More loving. Adoration evident in your eyes, couldn't help but to look at the man in front of you again, but with a difference than your previous judgement. No, there weren't any differences in both of your judgements from the start.
You were just unwilling to disclose them, in the hopes of not hurting the poor man in the end. In the hopes of not hurting the both of you in the end.
He was right. Everything he said was right.
And you were no exception.
masterlist (feel free to request)
#phainon x reader#phainon#hsr phainon#phainon honkai star rail#hsr x reader#honkai star rail x reader#honkai x you#honkai x reader#honkai star rail#phainon x you#angst#romance#doomed by the narrative
244 notes
¡
View notes